In praise of a loving companion (or two)

When home, I can usually be found in my upstairs space, the former "Man Room" hanging out with yarn and fabric or toiling away on day-job related matters.  When the family requires sustinence, the kitchen is the place to find me.  Searching for me in the evenings? Check the clawfoot tub.  However, wherever I may be, one or more faithful canines can be found at my feet.

With the older daughter in college, her Cairn Terrier Riley has decided I am "the next best thing."  Despite being a terrier-ist, he is a sweetie.  At eight, he has finally calmed down enough to be enjoyed as an inside couch potato pet.  His first two years were touch-and-go.  As a result, he holds the distinction of being the one and only terrier we will ever have.  Although, I have not told him yet.

Remy, the nine-month-old Standard Poodle, thinks I am the bestest, though.  He keeps me in his line of vision at all times.  When I get home in the afternoon and step out to greet him, he repeatedly jumps straight up into the air, eye-level with me, unable to curb his joy as he releases an effusive "Yip! Yip!"  Impressive for a beast whose growl rattles the windows and deep-throated bark sends the meter men running for the front door in the hopes someone is home to contain the dog long enough for them to pop around back.  Remy is definitely the master of the joyful homecoming.

Wee One is not so wee, anymore.  She will be eleven this winter, but she is still the baby.  In recent months she has been regularly plagued with bad dreams, which send her scurrying into our bedroom at all hours of the night.  Her habit had become to appear in the darkness with pillow and blanket in tow, announce her presence a moment before hitting the floor, and bedding down at the foot of our bed for the remainder of the night.

A couple of weeks ago, with the prospect of another school year looming before us, I decided to try something new: I offered to allow Remy to sleep in her room.  Unlike the older daughter who has always been enamored of all creature-like things (snakes, hedgehogs, rodents, and dogs), the younger daughter has typically chosen to appreciate them from afar.  Despite her aversion to being licked, pawed, and nosed, she immediately agreed, explaining she is scared when she wakes at night.

When bedtime came around, she got a treat from the pantry and lured Remy into her room.  He readily complied, the prospect of food being a heady mistress.  As a big puppy (seventy pounds and counting), allowing him on the furniture has not been an option, especially as I share my bed with a 200 pound husband; however, seeing the child take to the dog's loving attention, I did not object when she patted the bed and called his name.  Apparently, neither did Remy.  Flat-footed he sprung right up and settled down next to her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Later that night, I checked on them and found Remy had retreated to the rug on the floor right next to her bed.  She was sleeping soundly, and he seemed content to keep watch over her.

Everyone slept well.

Days passed, and I asked the child if she were still having bad dreams.  "Yes, Ma'am," she answered, "I had one last night, but when I woke up, Remy was there, and I went back to sleep."

Good doggie!

While willing to continue to share my beastie with the baby girl child, I think it is time the husband got a new dog of his own, too.  We lost his Golden Retriever Skeet a year ago to cancer.  Prodding him gently the other day, I sent him a picture from a breeder of Labrador Retrievers in Kerrville.

What is not to love about a face like that?

Yarn poor or dog poor, does it really matter?  The joy is priceless!

Oblique Scarf is now available!

Oblique Scarf

Designed by Christina S. Wilkins

A simple pattern with dramatic impact, Oblique Scarf is the perfect on-the-go project which is designed in two sizes and can be worn as a scarf or wrap.  With a lovely lace edge incorporated into the design and an easy to remember lace pattern making up the length, there are no seams, just an enjoyable knitting experience.

Materials:

• Fingering weight yarn (~ 300 to 400 yards) or dk/light worsted weight yarn (400 to 450 yards)
• Size 4 mm (US 6) needles for fingering weight or 4.5 mm (US 7) needles for dk/light worsted weight

Gauge:

• 6 sts/1 inches blocked across Oblique pattern (essentially 1 pattern repeat, including yarn-over) or 7.5 sts/1 inches unblocked across Oblique pattern in fingering weight
• 5 sts/inch blocked across Oblique pattern or 6.5 sts/inch unblocked across Oblique pattern in dk/light worsted weight

Size:                    

• Blocked the overall length is 72 inches x 8 inches wide in fingering weight or 92 inches x 9 inches wide in dk/worsted weight 

Ravelry Link

The summer of china, crystal, and cabinets

At the beginning of the summer, the step-father-in-law decided it was time to divvy up the mother-in-law's (a.k.a., the husband's mother's) separate property, some five years after her death.  It was kind of an odd, disorganized sort of distribution, but, fortunately, I was not really directly involved.

When the dust settled, the husband brought home a beautiful antique armoire with boxes of crystal and china to fill it, along with a needlepoint foot stool in dire need of repair, and a lovely oval table that will surely be subject of a future post.  There was so much stuff in the boxes, I spent at least half a day washing it all for the girls to pick through and choose what each of them would like to add to their respective hope chests. As the husband's inheritance, it all goes directly to the girls, I am just the custodian.

In any event, after everything was cleaned and other furniture moved from the foyer, the armoire and its contents found a home.

Obviously, the wall color was not chosen for that particular piece, but there were few places to put such a large piece in a house already full of furniture.  The older daughter has called dibs on the cabinet, as well as on a dozen plates and a large oval platter by Johnson Bros in Harvest.  This belonged to the maternal grandmother's mother.

(To be honest, while I thought the plates were pretty, I did not think much of them at the time.  Now that I looked them up on the internet for this post, I see her platter is worth $400...)

As the summer wore on, we received a call from the husband's 93 year old maternal grandmother.  While originally from Tallulah, Louisiana, she and her second husband had moved to the valley (i.e., McAllen, Texas) to live in a retirement community a dozen or more years ago.  They were actually Winter Texans, spending their summers in an RV in Montana.

Well, at 93, I guess you just get tired.  The grandmother and her husband stopped making the annual trips to Montana a couple of years ago.  With the oppressive heat of South Texas and advancing age, they have finally decided to move to an assisted living facility in Baton Rouge, Louisiana to be closer to family.

Last month the husband drove down to the valley to help them pack up.  Before he left down there, he picked up a U-Haul and brought back a large china cabinet his grandmother wanted me to have.  Again, the contents were included.

There were a couple of lovely pieces of Haviland china, several different tea sets, and a large assortment of Spode "Cowslip" that probably represents her wedding china.  The grandmother was born in 1918.  I think she married when she was about twenty.  The china is pushing seventy-five.  The younger daughter, affectionately referred to as Wee One, called both the china cabinet and the Spode.

While not nearly as "valuable" as the Harvest china, Wee One calculated she has about $1,100 worth of Spode.  She is a happy camper.

The china cabinet did not make it into the dining room.  It is not my favorite piece of furniture.  In fact, it spent several weeks in the garage until I figured out what to do with it. However, I am pleased to report it has found a new home, too.

Happiness is...

1)  Finding the perfect pattern to selfishly knit a sweater for one's self.  Bonus that said pattern is also available for free!

(Who cares that I spent a small fortune importing six or eight of the patterns now being offered for free, I did not have to buy this one!)

2)  Finding that I had the perfect yarn already in my stash!

Malabrigo Silk Merino in Blackberry.

3)  Getting gauge on the first try!  (Although, I still need to soak the swatch, I am still feeling pretty dog gone confident.)

I am thinking a cocktail may be in order, after all, the husband and I are celebrating our 21st anniversary tomorrow!

Twenty-one years does not call for paper goods or silver, does it?  It definitely sounds like silk and wool...

Awesome Plum Sauce Scarf

 

 

 

Awesome Plum

Sauce Scarf

Designed by

Christina S. Wilkins

 

The artistry of graduated colors in Curious Creek Fibers’ Wasonga yarn makes an impact in this lacey scarf.  Made in fingering weight yarn, this is an easy lace design with ruffled borders on each end.  The scarf is knit from one end to the other with no seaming. 

 

Materials:

• 493 yards fingering weight yarn (Curious Creek Wasonga Spectra Series in Cyclamen)
• Size 3.75—4.0 mm (US 5-6) needles or size needed to  obtain gauge

 Gauge: 

• 25 sts/4 inches blocked across stockinette

 Size: 

• Blocked the overall length is approximately 70 inches and 9.5 inches wide

 

 

Sarong Song

Years ago, it has been so many that I cannot seem to rightly remember, I began using sarongs as a post-shower cover up, as well as the evening uniform of choice when paired with a t-shirt.

Since we moved to South Texas more than a decade ago, with its relatively mild year around climate, not to mention soaring summer temperatures, there is not a day that I do not tie one around me in some manner.

Before the ten-year-old Wee One was born, the then six or seven-year old Sweet One asked for a sarong of her own. Folding one in half, I tied it around her waist, over a white t-shirt. She looked adorable. When the husband got home from work that day, he laughed we he saw us, in our matching sarongs, and called us his "sarong girls."

We laughed moments later when he emerged from the bedroom sporting one of his own, Samoan-style.

It was that image that saved the husband's hide last night.

A few weeks ago, I bought an interesting Indian block print tablecloth.

It is approximately 90-inches x 70-inches.

When it came in, I promptly washed it on the cold, gentle cycle and hung it up to dry because of the dyes used and the manner in which it was created.

We have been using it, so when it became soiled, I washed it again, in the same manner, and hung it up to dry partially draped over the shower in the master bathroom.

Last night, as I was piddling in the kitchen, the husband came in with a huge grin on his face. He had just showered and announced: "Did you see how nicely I folded your new sarong?"

"What sarong?" I quizzed.

"The one hanging in the bathroom."

Visions of the tablecloth began to dance in my head.

"Geez, honey, that thing would wrap around three or four of me."

Confused, he drew his brows together.

"That's a tablecloth, big guy, that's not a sarong. Thanks for the boost to my self-esteem."

Laughing, he finally admitted, "I thought it looked familiar. I guess, if you cut it up, it would make a nice sarong...or three."

Hello, again!

While there has been a plethora of knitting and other endeavors going on, the blogging has fallen a bit by the wayside.

In the next few weeks, there will be a half-dozen or more new patterns coming out. Yay!

Web design is also in the not too distant future to make this place a bit easier (as in mo' betta) to navigate, as well as showcase, not only the knitting designs, but bag designs!

Further, in my previous blog incarnations, there were lots of fun little stories, tales of the day, so to speak. While a knitting blog, I am giving myself permission to share those, too. Just because I want to.

As a younger woman, one of my primary objectives in life was to prove to all and sundry that there was nothing I could not do. The essential message was that I was not only capable, but in charge, in that personal autonomy kind of way. I hated, as in loathed, despised, and detested for anyone to tell me what to do.

Of course, in the last two ::cough:: or more decades, I have mellowed considerably. So much so, I have taken the time to look around and to begin to appreciate have far off the mark I have actually been in my modus operandi of life navigation.

The wife of a very good friend of mine from law school is the epitome of what I should have done and how I should have gone about it, if I had had a brain way back in the day. She is attractive, intelligent, funny, sexy, and charming. Most importantly, while she is quite confident in her abilities, she has no desire to prove to anyone that there is nothing she cannot do. She is far more content to have people do for her.

I have been so taken with the thought, once the light went on and the concept finally registered, I have held her up to my daughters as an example of what I want to be when I ultimately grow up: I woman perfectly and quietly confident in herself to allow others to fetch and carry for her.

Apparently, at least one of my children has learned this well.

Yesterday, the girls and I were out and about on a mission to score some bubble tea. The older daughter begins college at UT in Austin shortly (nineteen days until she is deposited into a dorm, but who is counting). We were discussing the relative proximity of her dorm to her classes and the time she would have to get from point A to point B, when I asked if we needed to buy her a bicycle.

"Well," she said, "the roommate and I were discussing this. Instead of new bikes, we want ugly clunkers that no one would want to steal."

They had a point, so I offered a pair of mountain bikes my father purchased fifteen or twenty years ago that somehow (Thanks, Mom!) ended up in my attic. One is a Schwinn and the other is a Raleigh.

Once we got home, she pulled them out of the attic to take a better look at them. Certain the tires were dry-rotted, I offered to give her up to a $100 to take one of them to a local bike shop and get it up and running. The roommate was welcome to the other, but its repair would be on her dime. My thought was the money was a lot less than I would spend buying her a new one.

She laughed at me.

"Why take them to a shop?" She asked.

"How else are you going to get them working?"

"Oh, Mommy, you are so funny. I texted "X" (a.k.a "Mr. Triathelete"). He's going to come by in a little while to check them out."

A short time later, X arrived and promptly pumped air into the tires and the kids took the bikes for a dry run. The Raleigh needs a new brake cable and a bit of bike lube, but it is good to go. The Schwinn needs new tubes and tires. She hit me up for some cash and gave it to X.

He is supposed to return this afternoon to switch out the brake cables and replace the tubes and tires on both bikes.

We offered him some cash for his efforts and he smiled: "Now, I wouldn't be doing you a favor, if I accepted something in return."

So here we are, $60 to repair both bikes, instead of the $100 I was willing to throw at one of them, we did not have to take them anywhere, we did not have to go any where to buy parts, and everything has been taken care of.

How the hell did she manage that?

Yeah, I missed something, somewhere on this road of life. I have been short-changed somehow.

I just know two things: 1) I really don't need to worry about the older daughter, it is apparent she can take care of herself or find someone willing to do it for her; and 2) That young man will have a pile of freshly baked homemade cookies when he returns this afternoon.

Have a great day!