Nietzsche Goes to Off-Track Camp

For some reason, Thing 1 always chooses to begin theological discussions while we are in the car. So the other day, as were on our way somewhere, she pipes up with, "Mom? Is God real? And is He really invisible?"

"Well," I replied, "Lots of people think so."

"But the other kids at off-track camp* said that God is dead!"

*We have year round schools here; the grade schoolers are on track for 3 months and then off for 1. Thing 1 has been attending a city-run off-track camp during February.

When Life Interferes with Hobbies

I haven't had much time to knit lately. First there was our trip, and then there was all the work waiting for me when I got back from the trip. There was also the beginning of the semester. And then this weekend, hubby decided to paint our bedroom and bathroom. This is a good thing, as these rooms were previously decorated in Builder's Cheap White Flecked with Dried Dog Drool. The bedroom is now a glorious Cornflower with American Anthem trim, and the bathroom will soon be Laurel Mist (who makes these names up??). But his painting meant I spent the entire weekend on Child Entertainment Duty, a task made worse by the rainy weather that has descended upon us. So, not much knitting.

I did take the camera in this weekend to get it fixed. They said it would cost $200, so nevermind. For exactly $201, I have ordered a new one that's half the size of the broken one, and has more and better features. It does seem a shame to just toss the old one, but I haven't yet though of a creative use for a camera with a busted lens mechanism.

Tube Maps

I love London's Underground system. It's fast, it's clean, it's convenient, and it's a snap to navigate. Many of the stations have pleasingly amusing names (how can you not enjoy getting on a train whose final stop is "Cockfosters"?); the Central line alone stops in Barkingside, Fairlop, and Chigwell. The conductors tell you to mind the gap and there are Cadbury's vending machines in most stations. There's something quaintly anachronistic about the stations. The official Tube website has a quirky little online poll on Tube etiquette. And, like most public transport, it offers excellent peoplewatching opportunities.

Sure, it has its quirks. The routes from train to the way out and between lines at a single station are often labyrinthine. The lift was broken at Earl's Court on the day I had to drag myself and my suitcase back Heathrow (but, thankfully, not the day I arrived, when I would have had to drag my suitcase UP those stairs). The 7-day transport card I'd ordered ahead of time and had shipped to me in California was demagnetized, and also some outmoded form, and nobody I asked at 5 different stations could fix it or replace it, so I spent a week having to be specially let through gates by (mostly cheerful) transport employees. My husband's card, ordered at the same time, worked fine.

Still, if it's not my very favorite public transport system, it's certainly in the top 3.

And this site has a bunch of creative variations on the Tube map, including my favorite, the Musical Map.

Sites for the Inner Voyeur

I think we all have a bit of an inner voyeur or eavesdropper, and here are some sites to satisfy those urges: Post Secret, Overheard in New York, and Overheard in the Office.

Great Day

This morning I left the Things in the able hands of their father and I made the 100 mile drive to Santa Clara. It was a great morning for it. The Diablos were rich emerald green, spotted with cows and an occasional tree in full flower, and sprinkled with snow at the very tippy tops. My destination? Stitches West.

I arrived just after the market opened and had to get in a long line, even though I had pre-bought my ticket. However, the line moved very quickly and soon I was inside. I spent over 4 hours (and who knows how many dollars) inside. If my camera weren't broken, I'd post a picture of my haul. But it'll just have to suffice to say I came away with hand-painted angora and cashmere, banana fiber (!) rayon in lollipop colors, a big skein of Socks that Rock, and some dyed roving for needle felting. Of course, much, much more caught my eye as I was there, but because I already have a closetfull of yarn, I tried to keep myself under control.

My only real complaint about the market was that at times the crowds were so overwhelming that it was hard to browse. For example, Habu Textiles had a booth, and I would really have liked to take my time and examine some of their intriguing fibers, but I couldn't even get near them.

On my way home the sunlight was that particular ethereal color it gets when the sun has to peek between rain clouds. As I crossed over the Altamont the air was actually clear enough for me to see across the entire valley, all the way to the snowy Sierras. The radio was playing some of my favorite songs, there was nobody else in the car to complain when I sang along, and I didn't even mind when I got stuck in traffic, as usual, in Tracy.

Thoughts

Some more random comments from our trip:

1. Stonehenge is really cool. You can't get right up to the rocks, and it was pretty crowded even on a cold February day, but it's still cool.

2. London sort of reminds me of New York, but cleaner and with politer people. You hardly every hear Londoners honk, and they will stop to let pedestrians cross the road. Within a block of the Earl's Court Tube station, which was near our hotel, I met a well-dressed middle-aged gentleman who offered to carry my suitcase up a flight of stairs, and then wished us a good trip; another well-dressed middle-aged man who saw us reading a menu in a restaurant window, and stopped to give us a bunch of (good!) tips on where to eat; and a sweet waitress at a Chinese restaurant who asked us all about California and gave us all sorts of suggestions on what to visit in London, which Tube stops to use, and where to avoid pickpockets.

3. It horrifies me that I could have legally driven a car in London. It would probably take me years of being a menace on the road to get used to driving on the left.

4. If a particular ritual was silly 500 years ago, it isn't any less silly now.

5. Despite the weather, February is the perfect time to visit London. We walked right into watch the Houses of Commons and Lords without queuing at all, and practically had the Tower of London to ourselves.

Egg Questions

Okay, here's something that's been bugging me for a week and a half now. I noticed that all the grocery stores in London stock their eggs on shelving, and not in refrigerated cases. Every grocery store I have ever been in in the US sells the eggs refrigerated. So here's what I want to know: (1) Is it safe to store eggs at room temp? (2) If so, why do stores in the US bother to refrigerate? (3) If not, why aren't the British dropping dead in droves? (4) What explains this strange difference in grocery customs? (5) How do grocers in other countries store eggs?

I know in the grand scheme of things these questions are hardly of vital import, but they're bugging me, and I'd love to have some answers.

Back in the USA

I didn't have time to blog while I was gone. And I didn't get to do any yarn shopping, although we saw lots and lots of sheep. The afternoon we wen to the V&A, they had the floor with the textiles closed off for some reason, but I did see some very old knitted items at the Museum of London (which is definitely worth a visit in any case).

To the right is the ceiling of the Grand Court in the British Museum. By the way, the British Museum has very hard floors. Ask my camera. And that is why there are no pictures here of Stonehenge, which we visited after.

Here is Genuine British Dish Soap. I'm not sure why I took a picture of this; I guess to show even dish soap can be a little exotic when you're abroad.

And now it's time for my Ode to Clapotis. We lucked out in that it was clear almost the whole week we were in London (actually, they're having a drought). But it was also quite cold, especially to those of us who are acclimated to California. I wore my clapotis every day, and it was wonderful. It was warm, soft, and snuggly against my neck. No scratchiness at all. And unlike some scarves, it did not tend to shift around or tighten up around my neck; it just stayed put like a nice little thing. It wasn't too bulky to stuff under my coat. If I lived in a colder climate I would knit clapotis in every color I could.

Here is my clapotis visiting the Tate Modern:

And finally, when we were at the Museum of London we saw a painting from the late 19th century that depicts the members of a theatre company. And look what was front and center in the painting:

According to the caption, the Saint is "Mr Smith's dog."

Off to England

My clapotis and I (and hubby, too) are off to London in the morning. Theoretically, I will have internet access there, but frankly, blogging will probably not be my first priority.I still haven't decided whether to take a knitting project with me. I'm trying (with mixed success) to pack very light.

MagKnits

New MagKnits is up. Knitted sushi!

Goths, Olympians, and Terrorists

Those whose taste tends towards goth might enjoy a new online knitting mag, The AntiCraft. The first issue's title is, "You're Going to Die Anyway, so You Might as Well Knit." There are patterns for a voodoo doll, skull armwarmers, and several other items. Actually, while there's certainly nothing cutesy-cutesy here, the designs aren't actually all that goth, really. Even those whose wardrobe includes colors other than black might find something they like. My only complaint is that some of the photos are so artsy that it's hard to get a good idea of what the item really looks like.

Yarn Harlot is hosting a Knitting Olympics event. The idea is each contestant chooses a project that will challenge her, casts on during the Olympics opening ceremony, and finishes before the Olympics do. I won't be participating because I'll be in London for a chunk of that time, and because what should be 22 hours of perfect knitting time is ruined by the fact that Virgin does not allow knitting needles in carry-on luggage. I suppose this makes sense. We all know about the links between knitting and terrorism.

A favorite picture

I actually took this photo a year ago, but I like it a lot, so I decided to post it. I use it as wallpaper on one of my computers. The picture was taken at sunrise, on the deck of our timeshare at Kingsbury Grade, above Lake Tahoe. The shot is looking down on the Carson Valley, from an elevation of over 7000 feet. When the clouds clear, the valley's not so exciting-looking, but this picture always seems to me like you're looking down from heaven. Except in heaven, your children don't wake you before dawn.

Wavy Gravy

Ruthie Toothie models the Wavy Gravy scarf from Stitch 'n Bitch Nation. I think she looks good in purple.

Confession

I am a grown woman, and I am currently hiding candy bars from my own children.

When I was a kid, my favorite candy bar was the Marathon Bar, a long, braided piece of chewy caramel covered in chocolate. No nougat nonsense. No nuts. Just caramelly, chocolatey goodness. I'd walk to the Plaid Pantry and buy one for a quarter, and then savor it slowly the whole way home. And then, at some point during my youth, Marathon Bars disappeared. Alas.

About two years ago, though, I discovered with much joy that Cadbury's makes a Marathon clone called the Curly Wurly. The problem is that they don't sell them in the United States, so you have to order them from companies that import candies or British foods. And during the warm months (which is a good part of the year here in the San Joaquin Valley) you can't order them at all, or else all you'd get would be a melted gooey mess. Plus, they're pricey--about $1.30 each plus shipping. And, of course, no immediate chocolate caramel gratification.

I was planning on importing some bars for myself when I go to London in a couple of weeks, but there's probably a limit on that. I can only imagine explaining to TSA offocials why I have a large hoard of candy bars in my suitcase. I'd probably end up on a list somewhere.

Last weekend we visited our nearest BevMo so that Dennis could stock up on beer for football-watching (on which I will comment, parenthetically, that if you have to get kinda buzzed to enjoy something, it's probably not that interesting to begin with). And there, to my great delight, was a whole box of Curly Wurlys (at $.99 each). I instantly snatched up 10 or so and tucked them into the cart behind the beer, where the prying eyes of small children wouldn't spy them. When I got them home, I spirited them away into the back of a cupboard, where I have been slowly doling them out to myself. In my defense, I have been sharing with Dennis, but maybe only because it's a lot harder to hide candy from him than the kids. The kids are perfectly satisfied with more common forms of junk, and we can save the Curly Wurlys for the more discerning adults. I'm just glad to have found a local source.

One problem: you can't knit and eat a Curly Wurly simultaneously.

Tell me about your mother...

As promised, fresh off the needles...it's Knitted Sigmund!

I used the "Knit Your Own Rock Star Pattern" (Henry Rollins version) from Stitch 'n Bitch Nation as the body template. But the facial features and clothes design were my own creation. Siggy was a bit fiddly to make, mainly because of all the layers of clothes, but I did enjoy adding a pocket watch chain and, of course, the cigar.

When I began this project, I didn't know that Anna knitted. I may have to knit an Anna as well.

For now, I can imagine a friendship that may, perhaps, exist in the Hereafter:

Anna Knits!

I'll be heading to London in a few weeks, and while I'm there I hope to visit the Freud Museum. That's what comes of having a PhD in Psychology. So I was just visiting the museum's web page, and happened across this little bit of information about Anna, Freud's daughter (and a well-known psychologist in her own right): "Anna Freud was a keen weaver and a knitting enthusiast, this latter activity being one which she practiced during analyses of patients." The museum has her loom on display. I wonder what she knitted as she listened to her patients?

Felting Fun

The other day I completed a couple of felted vases. I really like the one on the left, which was made using two strands of Plymouth Galway (one red, one off-white) together. Nice and valentiney. The one on the right, however, felted oddly. It was made with Berroco Foliage. As my hubby commented when he caught sight of it drying in the bathroom, "What is that thing growing in there??"

Okay.

But what to do with it? Seems a waste just to dump it. Then I turned it over to dry more thoroughly:

and inspiration struck. Hideous, malformed vase, but not a bad pincushion! So I'll just stuff some fiberfill inside, and pincushion it shall be. I may even pretend I meant it to be a pincushion. So there.

And no, this isn't the mystery project to which I alluded yesterday. That one's still in progress.

More Unusual Knitted Things

Courtesy of Knatolee, here are links to a fiber artist who has created, among other things, a knitted ab roller, and to an elaborate knitted garden blanket. I have an unusual project of my own on the needles right now. Hint1: "Anxiety is the price we pay for civilization." Hint2: It is not any bodily organs.

Hoody

Thing 1 models her new hoody. The yarn is the natural-colored wool from KnitPicks that she and I Kool-Aid dyed several months ago. She chose the colors herself. The pattern is from Sally Melville's The Purl Stitch. I think it turned out cute. I wish I'd made it a little longer. It's fine for now, but she grows so fast! Oh well, Thing 2 can inherit it later. I do like the way the yarn color worked out, and the whole thing still smells faintly of Kool-Aid, which isn't a bad thing. Now if she'll only wear it. Thing 1's thermostat is apparently set really high, and I have to argue with her to wear anything but a t-shirt on even the coldest days. Or maybe it's the perpetual motion that keeps her running warm.

This Is Not a Hat

This is actually intended to become a felted vase thingy. But Thing 2 discovered it before I felted it, and for a while it got to be a hat.

Thing 2 pulled it over her own face, as you can see in the first picture. I had to persuade her to just wear it on top of her head. I'm not sure quite what she resembles in the first pic. A miniature bank robber in footy jammies? A rasta hostage? A very strange alien?