Unfurnished Brooklyn

Still more changes

An amazing thing happened yesterday: I picked up my notebook, and I wrote. For a writer who hasn't written in a very long time, that is amazing.

After I wrangled Miss Sleepyhead into her clothes and got her into the daycare van, I had to slog through the rain to pick up my laundry. I was still tired when I got home (I stayed up late paying bills online), so I flopped onto my bed. Five minutes, that's all I wanted. Then I'd get up and dress for work. But lying on my back, I noticed something I haven't taken the time to notice before: the way the rain hits the window, and the patterns the raindrops make as they slide down. Just barely perceptible through the woven cane blinds, but there. And I never stop to notice these things. I never seem to have time.

So I picked up a notebook, and started writing about how far from nature I've gone. How I go from noisy subway to concrete building to noisy subway again. My only view of nature at work is a tiny section of the East River, between still more office buildings. I wrote 2 pages, and then I was out of words. It is a very rough draft, but I like it. Especially since I haven't written anything in ages.

I'm not even away from the Evil Empire yet, but things are falling into place. Coworkers (who don't yet know I'm leaving) notice a change in me. I'm not taking any crap (I'm filing my first grievance in 5 years; my manager tried to write me up about something I had no control over, and I put my hand up- before you say another word, get a steward in here. I'm not accepting this). I don't know, I can't explain it, but its like a veil has been lifted.

And I got my Noro Iro that I won on eBay. I figured I won't be in a position to splurge on yarn for some time, so go out with a bang.

Horrors! Its a monster!

I send my lovely little girl off to spend a pleasant Sunday afternoon with her father at the Aquarium, and this is what he brings back:

Frightening.

Changes ahead

I've decided to leave my job.

The Evil Empire has offered a separation package. Last December, the company laid off hundreds of workers in violation of our union contract, and a few months later were forced to rehire them, with back pay. They still want them out, but now the company has to offer compensation for people to leave voluntarily. I'm going to take it.

Waving the white flag

That's it. I surrender, and admit defeat.

The Bermuda Triangle hat has defeated me. I attached the sections, and it just didn't look right, but I figured that when I did the brim it would rwork itself out. It didn't. And the herringbone pattern doesn't work out knitted in the round, so I started working back and forth, but it looked horrible. So its off to the Isle of Lost Projects.

I picked up the mohair sweater I started last year and abandoned when I decided I didn't like knitting with mohair. I had one sleeve done, and had started on a second. I ripped back the second sleeve, and to my surprise, you can frog mohair, even when its been in a closet for over a year. I cast on stitches for the back and did about 3 inches. This time I'm using Clover bamboo needles. The Addis I used last time were too slick, the stitches were flying off faster than I could handle. Maybe things will work out this time.

A coworker has been coveting my poncho in Big Wool. She followed me for 20 minutes trying to convince me to knit one for her. I tried to brush her off by telling her it would be verrry expensive. She wants it anyway. So I might make a pretty penny for something I can knock out it a couple of days. But it made me wonder, what would I charge if I did this more often? How does one decide on a price for handknit items?

The Bermuda Triangle Hat

So I'm knitting this hat from the Vogue Knitting on the Go book (Caps and Hats Two). The "wayfarer cloche" in Koigu Kersti. It's driving me crazy. Yeah, I know I said I love the yarn and its going well, blah blah. That's when I was sitting at home. Once it left the apartment, all hell broke loose.

Stitches just disappear. I'm knitting away, then when I get to the next row, the number of stitches has changed. And I can't figure out what is happening, its just different. The hat is knit in a herringbone pattern, and the stitches wrap around each other so that if you drop one, you'll never find it because its looped tightly around the one beneath it. Or next to it. I don't know- I can't find the damn stitch.

So me being Miss I-Can-Knit-Anything, I just figured I rip back a row and start over. Ha. Like if you're lost over the Bermuda Triangle and you think, I'll just double back and find my way out. The stitches are made by decreasing and increasing in the same stitch, and when you rip it out, well, I just don't know how to describe what happens. My stitches are gone and they ain't coming back. I've had to completely tear apart the same section twice and start over again. But I'm done.

Fortunately the hat is made in sections. The pattern says make three sections, and the brim is worked on a circular needle, with short rows. Eff that. I'm making four sections, and working the brim in the round. I've learned short rows, but I'll be danged if I mess with short rows on this crazy-ass hat.

On the bus today I saw a woman wearing a really nice mohair sweater. And I looked at the Bermuda Triangle hat, and realized it is in the same colors as the Portrait mohair yarn languishing in my yarn stash. And now I want a mohair sweater. So once the crazy-ass hat is done, maybe I'll work on the mohair sweater I started last year. Of course, as I type this, I turn and see the chunky sweater that's nearly done, just waiting for sleeves. Why do I get sidetracked so easily?

It really does come in threes, doesn't it?

Last night I called my sister to get directions to the second funeral I have to attend. It's way out in Queens, and I'm using public tranportation. After we work out the details, she muses about when the other funeral will be.

Yes, another death. The grandfather of my cousin, whose funeral I'm attending today, died Saturday night.

When we found out about the first two, everyone got antsy, because we do believe in that "death comes in threes" theory. Morbid as I am, at Marilyn's funeral on Thursday, I scanned faces wondering who was ailing, who was really getting on in years, who might be the third. I learned last night that at the funeral, one of my cousins was really ill, but didn't want to skip his sister's funeral. He did seem off, but I thought it was his grief. In fact, his heart is barely functioning.

I'm the "baby" of my family. I didn't feel like I was included in the mysterious world of grownups until I gave birth to my daughter when I was 32. In fact, I was always called by my nickname until I was pregnant, then- wthout discussion, like my big round belly was the equivalent of an Eastern Star ring- I became Iris. But by the time I joined the club, others were grandparents a few times over. I'm seeing all these relatives growing older, living their lives, raising children and grandchildren (at the funeral, I caught hold of Marilyn's first grandchild, a 3 month old boy, and wouldn't give him up). And I wonder, where did the time go?

One cousin- who was the clown of the family, always kept me laughing- moved out of state, and we were talking about his city (because I'm thinking of leaving NY, and am scouting out other cities). While we were talking, his 19 year old daughter was looking on. Did I fall through a wormhole?? Is there a crack in the space-time continuum? I can't be having a grownup conversation with him! I'm just a kid! A 36 year old kid.

Or maybe its just that all this death is making me reflect on life.

Today I go shopping for a winter coat for Cheburashka, and end up with a few skeins of yarn. And no coat.

I couldn't decide between Kings Plaza or downtown Brooklyn, and I decided I'd go downtown so I could make a stop on 7th Avenue and buy a pair of Doc Martens. I haven't had a pair in years, and I used to live in them: oxblood, 8-eye. But the MTA had something different in mind for me. My train would not even go near 7th Avenue because of repairs. I didn't find this out until 2 stops before the last. That's when they announced there was no further service. There were no signs when I got on. So I ended up on a shuttle and was plopped onto Atlantic Avenue. Ooh, Knitting Hands!

And they were actually open. There were a couple of times I went there during regular hours, and it was closed. The owner was there and had a chat about favorite colors with Cheburaska, which led her to pick up a skein each of all her favorites (in different yarns), and announce she was buying all of them. Um, who's paying for that, dear? Especially that $20 Noro?? I told her she could pick a small one for a hat, and she settled on a purple skein of Koigu KPPPM. I made myself a couple of tams with that, and I like working with it, so she's getting a hat.

I found Koigu Kersti in shades of brown, grey, and beige. I'm making the hat I saw in the Vogue Knitting Caps & Hats 2 (the herringbone stitch cloche). I started this afternoon and have the first section done. Its pretty fast going for #6 needles, and I really love the yarn. Yes, the chunky sweater got kicked to the curb for a few days; I've been feeling this hat since I saw the book at KnitOut, but I couldnt find the yarn anywhere, and I couldn't find a decent substitution in my stash.

Last week I made a hat for Cheburashka in Tahki Baby Print, and she wore it today. I was stylin' in my Big Wool poncho, but I felt a little weird- I always feel funny when I go into a yarn shop that I usually frequent wearing something in yarn we all know I didn't buy there. Just like I feel funny shoppig in a store wearing something I bought there recently. Maybe I just feel weird all the time. Anyway, we never did get the coat. We went to Cookie's and found one style I like (question: why is Baby Phat so popular for childrens wear? And why can't I find something without a huge label on the front of it??), but the coat felt too heavy. I thought it was a down coat; it felt like it was stuffed with pennies. So the quest continues.

We saw that they were selling Halloween costumes, and Cheburashka decided she wanted to be a monster. I, of course, wanted to make her a Cheburashka costume (just to hear her sing the theme song all night), but she wanted something scary. So I tried to find a Frankenstein costume. I think she'd make a great Frankenstein. But none to be found. She also likes the Incredible Hulk, whom she refers to as "the Hunk." No Hunk costumes. I was thinking as we searched the racks, how nice my daughter doesn't always buy into the whole pink-for-girls, blue-for-boys thing. And then she spotted the Tinkerbelle costume. Sigh. At least its green. And she does look cute in it.

Anna Karenina

I'm reading it again. I read it years ago, when I was on my Russian literature kick. One day I'll take a course in that...

But, its so different to me now. My life has changed, I've changed. I have a whole new perspective on it. And the writing is so...modern. Maybe what I mean to say is that Tolstoy has such an amazing grasp of human nature, and human nature has not changed all that much, that it could have been written last week.

My hope is to one day read it in Russian. There's a bookstore on the avenue that sells beautiful hardcover Russian classics dirt cheap. I need to go in there one day, with my lame language skills, and buy it.

More yarn harlotry

Really. I am a yarn whore.

All day I've been thinking about this boucle/mohair yarn from Anny Blatt that I saw at Seaport Yarn the other day. When I got home I decided, screw it, I'm going to buy it and make myself a scarf!

Then I saw the new Vogue Knitting holiday issue in my mailbox.

I'm gonna make the oversized, split neck sweater using Rowan Big Wool (same needle size, I'll work out the gauge). There's also a jacket pattern using Noro Iro that I must have or I shall perish. It's a design by Cornelia Tuttle Hamilton that's also in her new book. I saw it in the Ram Wools catalog, and fell for it, but decided I couldn't afford all that Iro. And then the pattern is delivered to my home. Fate. Kismet. It was meant to be. Ah, sweet mystery of life at last I found yooooou.

Get a grip, Iris

There's also a beautiful dress by Maie Landra in Koigu KPPPM that is beautiful, but I would only make it if I broke both my legs and was confined to bed. Tiny yarn, mitering.., I couldn't sit still that long otherwise. But the dress is beautiful. And why do I love Vladimir Teriokhin's designs? Is it the Russian thing? I don't know. But he should put out a book, if he hasn't already.

The regular issue of Vogue Knitting didn't impress me too much, but this one has me drooling. Now I just have to find some cheap Noro Iro on eBay...

A strange conversation

My sisters were talking to each other yesterday about funeral arrangements. One sister mentioned that our cousin had been dead a couple of days before she was notified. The other sister said, "what are you talking about? She died last night."

Then they realized they were talking about two different people. Two of my cousins, both female, died suddenly within a few days of each other. Neither sister knew about the other death.

Strange.