preparation

Cooking: delightful skewers of chicken, fresh pineapple, red bell peppers, and zucchini. Dinner before a long day of fiber overdose at Stitches West.

Packing: my bag with knitting, snacks, water, a book (one always has a book to read at all times), and lunch, as well as an extra train ticket which was sent to me. I paid for one, was charged for one, and received two. Yes, I will be turning it in to the "proper authorities."

Checking: yarn yardage and weight needed for some patterns.

waking up

This gives one a visual, much better than I could ever describe, on how I am gradually woken up each morning, with the exception of the bat...insert any of my "favorite" last-ditch efforts: plinking of the blinds, thumping of the bathroom cabinet door, engaging gravity by knocking over (usually onto the floor) something from the dresser, hanging on the door latch--all done over and over and over.

muggle's technology stumps me

First something fun:

Doris Dumbledore and I were stuck on the moving staircase last night. As we sat there, wondering what we were missing for dinner in the Great Hall, she told me about a wand quiz she had read about in the Daily Prophet. I couldn't resist. Here's the result.




My score on The Harry Potter Wand Test:

10 1/4", Yew wood, Veela core

"A yew wand signifies a wizard of great wisdom and intellect and is very useful in transfigurations. The veela hair as a wand core means that you are slightly unpredictable but very powerful."

First Year's stumbling with the Muggle's systems:

Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress has paired Sally-Anne Clearwater, of Gryffindor, and I up for this term. I was very excited and decided to order my Gryffindor fiber right away. With my owl out hunting and not being allowed to use magic outside of school, I bravely chose to use the Muggle's ordering system of the internet. Since Gringotts doesn't do transactions in the Muggle world, I decided to use my Paypal account, which I know Madam Milkin will accept.

With confidence, I logged on to the site I was ordering from, hunted down the colorways needed, checked them into the "cart", and proceeded to checkout, choosing Paypal as the preferred form of payment. This is where the trouble started.

"Incorrect Email"...no, I've used only this one. I tried two more times. I tried another email account (yes, I have several, all for a different use/reason) even though I knew it wasn't the email I use for Paypal. "Incorrect Email". I tried a different route: I pretended to not remember my email. Paypal asked me for personal information, which I gladly provided. "Incorrect account number." What? What do you mean? I know my credit card number! Thinking maybe I typed it in wrong, I tried several more times. Nope. I went back to Paypal, entered my email, and pretended to not remember my password. I am told I would get a message through my email on security questions, followed by my password. I looked at my emails thinking Paypal sent me an email (I know...but I have hope that the electronic systems intuitively know what I want and will have mercy on me). No emails. Maybe it takes time, so I went about doing some laundry, knitted a little, and came back to the computer. I logged on to my emails. No new emails from Paypal. No personal security questions. No password. Well, let's just wipe this clean and get a new account. No. The system won't let me create a new account because I have a perfectly good useable account already. Big bright red letters formed in words tell me this. What's a knitter to do?

New tactic: I called Paypal (this is not a toll-free number, folks) and got a laundry list of choices (all recorded voice). Do I already have an account (speak clearly into the phone and say "yes" or "no")...yes. Using the keypad of the phone, key in your phone number. Done. Did I forget my password? Yes (why not...). The automated voice tells me to go the the computer and follow the directions to receive an email about my password. Yes, I think to myself, but that doesn't work. I try ignoring that request and press 1 for more options. At this point, my memory is fuzzy. After several tries at circumventing the now-annoying automated voice, I am given an option of staying on the line for "customer service" (what was it up to this point, I am asking myself). Another computer voice tells me I may be recorded. Yes, please record this so that future customers can maybe avoid this dilemma. The nice guy on the line (yes, yes, a real person) walked me through, quite patiently, (like leading an addled geriatric up the stairs), all the processes I had already tried. I kept telling him the email address was wrong in his system. I held my cell phone to my ear with my shoulder (not the most comfortable position) and went through each step he wanted to try with me on the computer. After twenty minutes, two email addresses and three credit cards later: "You're email is missing a character." No, it's the same address I have had for over three years. "No it is missing a character." How could that be? I get email. I log onto it regularly. Finally, he says, "You are missing an exclamation character." Huh? There is no such creature in my email address. After a few more rounds of this conversation, he says "Let's change your email." Yes, here we go. The screen prompts me for the last four digits of the credit card number. I will spare you the long and sorted conversation pieces. In the end, the credit card numbers I thought I would have used, were not the one I used on Paypal. After many tries, the last credit card numbers I put in worked. With a phone call on my land line to verify who I was and a few codes put into the Paypal system, I gratefully thanked the guy on the phone. I changed my email to the correct address, changed my password, and recovered from "cauliflower ear" for being on the phone so long.

I returned to the fiber site, to complete my transaction. The site had said all items put in your "cart" stay there (basicly forever until you delete or order). Nope. I had to go back through, find the fibers and colorways, re-ordering them. This time, Paypal *ding* worked like a charm. I now await for Muggle mail in the large brown trucks to deliver my package of goodness. Gryffindor colors will soon be on needles.

road trip

Even if you have nothing planned, nothing in mind, just getting out of town (yeah, into another town, but still out of your own) lends itself to a freshness, a clearing of the cobwebs. W (my DH) had meetings on the UC Berkeley campus earlier this week. I went along for a chance to breathe sea air, take in sites, and meander through book stores as well as a couple yarn stores.

We had planned to be there only Monday so I had planned out my routes for the day, trying to maximize time. Time for some walking in a park along the shore, time for knitting, and time for shopping.

**Now, I'm not one for shopping. I don't like to go to the grocery store. Too many people. Usually too crowded (it doesn't help that I go when I'm tired and hungry). I don't like the mall. I have an idea, a fairly firm idea, of what I want, but have no patience to look for it.**

Armed with the technology of a GPS in the Prius, addresses in my notebook, and a cell phone, I found Article Pract, the yummy yarn store I have been dieing to go to for months. I parked, noticed that it was just after 10am (the store didn't open for an hour), fed the meter (which was good for one hour only--strictly enforced), and set my sights on a little coffee shop next door. I walked over to the yarn shop, confirmed on the sign that the open time was 11am (yup, 11am), and prepared to load up on caffeine.

This coffee shop only had fresh bread (for toast), fresh jams, and expresso drinks. Oh, but they decorate their drinks with pretty designs in the foam of the milk. So nifty (don't laugh at my word). I ordered two but didn't think to get the camera out until the second cup of double expresso.

Wired with caffeine and with purpose, at 11:10am I walked next door to the yarn shop. Huhh...no lights on, door locked. Looked at the watch. Double checked by looking at my cell phone time. Yup. Time correct. Ha, those of you who live in the Bay Area can chuckle all you want now...I looked again at the sign on the door with numbers and letters big enough to read from the busy street: CLOSED MONDAY. But this is Monday, I thought. Still not quite registering, I tried the door one more time, just in case someone might be there, knowing that there are knitters out there looking (needing) to touch and buy. Like a nerd, I even pressed my nose against the window with hands at each side of my face to peer into the window. Yup. There were many, many skeins of yummy yarn there.

That night we had reservations for Chez Panisse, a restaurant started by Alice Waters, who is mentioned in Ruth Reichl's books. Yummy fresh food. Happy birthday (June 25) to my husband of almost 29 years. He's been with me more than half his life.

The following morning we had breakfast at Guerilla Cafe. W decided to stay for another day of meetings, so I was left to sit by the San Francisco Bay and knit my little heart out. The result was two hats for the Charmed Knits KAL: one for Ravenclaw (with 7 stripes, one for each of the 7 books of Harry Potter), and one for Gryffindor (with checks that somewhat mirror the seal of the house of Gryffindor). My entry for these two hats can be seen here.

On my way meandering through town to the UC Berkeley campus, I came across a local restaurant celebrating their 5th anniversary. They had blocked off the street, filled it with tables covered in white cotton table cloths, and provided fresh food from the their kitchen of roasted pig, couscous with almonds and currants, and fresh bread free of charge. To complete the atmosphere, there were musicians playing French music. I found it wonderful and soul-filling to see couples dancing together amidst the crowd.

cables and fur

Knitting cables shouldn't be that difficult...they aren't...I know they aren't. Just simple mathematics consisting of two stitches: knit and purl, sometimes held in front, sometimes in back, and twisted. Yes, twisted. Cruel and twisted. Somewhere along the cables I was blissfully knitting in the twilight hours just as the sun was setting this weekend, enjoying the pink, purple, and blue hues in the sky, enjoying no mosquitoes, enjoying the simplicity of a quick hat in yummy alpaca, I lost one stitch. I counted again. I squinted in the failing light (like I was gifted with better vision if I looked real close and narrowed my vision to devote all my energies into finding that stitch, that error). I was careful. I had counted out-loud. I had ignored conversation with my DH. I'm a visual person so I got out the graph paper and pictorially drew out the last several rows of stitches to compare with the disaster I had on my lap. Nope. Nothing. I counted the number of purls then knits then purls on the graph paper, compared it to the directions again to confirm correctness. Then compared stitch by stitch with my hat. Zip. Nada. Still missing one stitch. At this point I had put in over an hour of work and frustration because I was avoiding the inevitable...I had to take out my last row. Why couldn't it have been a row that was only straight-forward knit purl, no cable? So, here it sits on Wednesday, three days later, the hat still sitting in my basket looking just as luscious as I know it to be except it has been meticulously tinked back, stitch by stitch for three rows. Three, you question? Well, even though only the last row was *foo-barred* I managed to mess up the other two in the process. Lessons: don't knit in the dark and it takes less time to just rip out a big section of knitting than try to save each stitch. Too much love can be a dangerous thing.

Da Vinci gets brushed at least three times a day, more if he can beg his way into it. This is a good thing (that he likes to be brushed) since his long, dense fur is prone to felting on its own. In just a few short days, the brush fills up with his undercoat. Humm...I wonder if it can be spun into yarn? If I combine that with the dust-bunnies--well, more like dust-buffaloes--that seem to multiply and spread into all the corners of my house each week, I could have a nice side business. Too bad there are those poor people who are allergic to cats. I pondered this thought to my DH, the civil engineer nerd who is usually so practical and keeps me on track even though he doesn't really fit into the "engineer nerd" mold. He got this "I can't believe what I just heard" look on his face, those gorgeous hazel eyes that are normally a green hue turning a grey (from fear I think), like he knew I was really going to do this. Wow. I was just communicating. Although... What do the spinners out there in blogland think? Surely spinning long cat hair has been bantered around in small closed door meetings?

saturday, saturday, dance to the music...

Sitting in the early morning sunlight on the back patio... knitting on the Greenery Hat (thank you Lilith) with my baby alpaca... keeping an eye on da Vinci (the escape artist cat who is survivor challenged)... Sirani keeping a watch on my knitting... drinking coffee from England out of my coffee-swap cup... life is good.

Getting on to brunch time, I cooked up some soup chock-full of vegetables from the garden with homemade chicken broth and chicken sausages with sun-dried tomatoes and basil, along with toasted rye and french bread. Ahh, summer is here.

What is a morning without a Sudoku puzzle? Or two or three?

a felting we will go

Felting: the act or process of making felt. Well, that sounds a bit confusing...our language is rich, so I looked for a better definition. Felt Frenzy says 'felting...is an art...the process of deliberately tangling and shrinking wool...fibers.' 'If you already know how to knit and do laundry, you have the skills and supplies you need...' Humm. I like art. Check. I knit. Check. I do laundry. Check. Sweet--I have the skills! Let's do it.



But wait...I was not trying to felt. I just had an old wool blanket that the cat threw-up on and it needed to be washed. In the wash it went, on gentle, no big changes in temperature, no major agitation (to the blanket). It got washed twice (accident...there begins the problem). I don't remember putting it in the dryer. I am usually better at these things. But in the dryer it went as a double/queen size wool blanket, out it came as a throw blanket, too small for even a twin size. Notice the hole in the lower right? Da Vinci loves to chew, no... eat..., wool. Curiousity is always lurking with cats. Sirani was caught peeking up behind the blanket--one never knows what might be there.

constants and notables

Notable: I have been derelict in by duties blogging. Busy. Busy. Looking at a change for next fall makes me crazy. I have been chastised by friends and family...in a nice way but I get the point. Bear with me a couple more weeks.

Constant: There will always be enough zucchini for the family, neighborhood, co-workers, and beyond.

Notable: My daughter is amazing.

Constant: "Each particle of matter attracts every other particle with a force which is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them." That is Sir Isaac Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation. Well, I do know for a fact that gravity works. The particles of matter in my knees and hands were very definitely attracted to other particles on a sidewalk in Chicago. There was force applied. The mass of concrete won the contact sport (me being the soft, squishy one of the two). Surprisingly nothing was majorly damaged (on me...who cares about the sidewalk that wasn't flat to begin with). There is not going to be a picture of this event. No one wants to see the bruise that extends from my right knee to my ankle, the cut toe that bled in a pool inside my sandal, or the scraped up palm.

Notable: The graduation was, well, like most graduations. No one can see well, the speeches are dry (for the most part), people bring infants who won't remember the event anyway but make it unpleasant for everyone around when crying commences (out of boredom and someone holding them all the time when they aren't used to being confined). I do understand that families want to be there...I commend them for the support they give. Maybe consider hiring a nanny or babysitter for the day to help so that you, too, can enjoy the celebration.

they come as I plan to leave

The invasion has begun. Battle lines drawn. The first wave of soldiers...well, let's say there's carnage everywhere. It's too gruesome to share pictures with you. Many were flattened, most were poisoned with Clorox 2. Food was destroyed down the garbage disposal. Soldiers trying to escape the grizzly death by grinder were not spared, but flushed down the opening with water. The weakness in my defense (where they entered) was poisoned and sealed.

It's ant season...not the big ones that you find on logs and picnic tables in the woods. These ant are very small. Very determined. They create freeways of traffic in a short time. They invade cupboards and cat food. My mom calls them "piss ants" because they piss her off. Cute, huh? What's next? Moths in my wool? I shutter at the thought.

The clorox smell attracts both cats. Have I mentioned that my cats are "chem cats"? They love the smell of clorox. The one cat who is a bit high strung (I haven't been able to take a picture of her for a story yet) has several chemical issues: clorox (she rolls around on the floor where I just wiped up the dead ants, purring, eyes glazed over in ecstasy), tape (it gets chewed on or licked--it's the sticky side she goes for), and fresh rosemary (she regularly chews on fresh sprigs of rosemary). I swear I didn't create these issues. I am good at picking out defective cats. My cat-picking history speaks for itself. I won't give you all the details, but I'm sure my DH or daughter would love to share.

We will be flying off to Chicago Friday. I had planned to not have a friend come over to check up on the cats (they can be left alone for a few days)--then the invasion. I am rethinking the check up part. Our daughter graduates from Northwestern Law School on Mother's Day. What better gift can I possibly get? I don't know a lot of folks that are as driven and focused as she is: eight years out of high school = two bachelor degrees (European history and psychology), and now a JD in law.

Knitting for the plane has been packed. Nothing too big in size. I've included a nice variety of projects since four hours can seem like an eternity if the mind and body are not occupied. No long sharp instruments made out of metal (although I am in love with my Addi turbos, never thought I would knit with metal, but the circulars are so well connected, not kinked, and are sleek). Several projects have been put in a back pack (the easiest way to carry and store for me on a plane, as I have never seemed to outgrow that need to have a back pack and my baskets would get squashed). Double checked the packing of patterns and enough yarn.

yummy treats

Three Lopi pattern books! I have already started on one using the yarn featured. More to come as the project starts looking like something...I frogged three times (wrong color combo, twisting, and skirmish with the cat where wool was partially digested before being thrown-up) but the number four seems to be working for me. Until I get to the yoke, it's pretty boring with knit, knit, knit in the round. The main body color? The dark green, which is not as shiny as it appears in the photo (early morning lighting and a bit of the wrong angle).

Starting with a few key ingredients--"three crab" fish sauce, rice sticks (noodles), peanut oil, garlic, fresh limes, hot sauce, and fresh cilantro from the garden--(this is not all of them, and of course I made a few adjustments to the original recipe--who cooks directly item by item, word by word from a recipe anyway?) and the wonderful recipe from Ruth Reichl's book, Garlic and Sapphires...

...this

delectable

dinner

was created and eaten with relish.

Just "warm" from the hot sauce, tangy from the fresh lime juice and fresh cilantro added at the last minute.

welcome to my world!

I introduce to you: da Vinci with the look of trouble.

Da Vinci's footprints to the right as he makes his great escape through the mud this morning to the up-righted pallet leaning against the fence, which acts like a ramp for just such an occasion. On the other side: paradise--two foot tall green grass to graze. My footprint to the left as I follow in hot pursuit trying in desperation to catch him before he sails over the fence, all the while calling frantically "kitten, kitten" like a crazed woman, still in pajamas and sporting "morning hair". Now, he loves the outdoors but he is not the brightest cat and I'm afraid he would forget where he is and that he has a home. This is the cat who will watch you walk through the room but instead of turning his head, will drop his head back, watching you upside down. This is the cat who climbs ladders like we walk up stairs...yes, ladders. This is the cat who can open the front door (we have a handle that pulls down to open...not a doorknob) by jumping up, tapping, and hanging on the handle. This is the cat who will stop everything to be brushed...and brushed...and brushed. This is the cat who eats my sweaters...eats my wool. I'm afraid to put him with sheep.

The wisteria is taking over the side of the house. Check out the fantastic shade it's providing. (This is directed to my daughter who wished for something green and alive on that side of the house when she was at home.)

Oh, the thrill! Oh, the joy! Tomatoes are growing! Sweet summer is approaching with the taste of fresh produce from the garden.