Shelter

The New Cat

2012-02-05T08:54:00.000-05:00

I used to knit cats all the time. My first cat was this one:

His name is Groucho Johnson, because he looks like the love-child of Groucho Marx and Betsy Johnson.

Next, I made Goiter:

Goiter was sold to a wonderful person who told me he was shaped exactly like her daughter's cat. Goiter took a long time to make. I knitted him on size 3 needles. He has over 30,000 stitches. I decided after I made him, that I needed to work a little faster.

My mother-in-law gave me a few skeins of this furry yarn which I knitted up quickly on size 8 needles. I started to run out of yarn and did a google search to see if I could find any more. To my horror, I found out the yarn had been recalled because it was highly flammable. My husband did a strand test, and guess what. It is highly flammable. Highly. So I added a black stripe to make up for the yarn I was running out of, finished the cat, and dubbed him "Sparky".

Here's his butt:

I wasn't really satisfied with the fast knitting cat, and I wanted to make one that was licking himself in that lovely inelegant way that cats do. This one took me easily half a year to finish in bits and pieces. In the end, I named him Poopy Lickles. Poopy Lickles is a real name of a real person. You can google him. After I named Poopy and posted his picture somewhere, the real Poopy emailed me to thank me for naming my cat sculpture after him. It was like getting an email from Al Pacino.

After I finished Poopy, I started another cat. I wanted this one to be lying on his back and stretched out just like my muse Furley. Furley is one of my cats. He is 17 pounds and quite the lounger. I started from the back legs and worked up. When I reached the front legs, something was wrong, but I couldn't decide what it was, so I put the cat away for 2 years. The cat languished in my closet until my Aunt Debi created this hat:

With her optimistic encouragement, I pulled it out and went back to work. I realized the trouble almost immediately. His legs and head were completely out of proportion. Why didn't I see this before? It was SO obvious. I quickly frogged the legs and head and started them again. Then I added the ears and tail, shaped the face and, VOILA! Introducing the new cat:

Here he is next to my muse, Mr. Furley:

He doesn't have a name yet. Suggestions please?

Bird Yarn: 40th birthday delights

2012-01-28T09:54:00.000-05:00

I recently turned 40. Last Saturday. While many look at their 40th birthday with trepidation, I was excited for mine. Most of the greatest women in history have achieved their greatest accomplishments after the age of 40. I'm psyched. For my birthday, hubs and Ava accompanied me on a business trip to Florida. We stopped in and visited Aunt Ruth.

Ava and she had never met, so getting them together was a big deal. Aunt Ruth took us to the Homosassa Springs Wildlife Park, and we saw manatees.

That night we went out to Chile's and the waiter carded me.

My mom met us in Florida on Sunday, and brought along a bag of yarn--super soft and delicious alpaca from Crazy Girl Yarn Shop in Iowa near where her brother (my uncle) lives. I totally love thinking about her perusing the shop and deciding what would be just right for me. She also treated me to a set of custom jewelry from my favorite jeweler, Robin Dahlberg.

When Robin asked me what I wanted for this set, I told her to follow her instincts. She's brilliant, and I knew that anything she came up with would be fantastic. I was right.

I came home last night to a box of birthday yarn compliments of my sister. The yarn hails from my favorite yarn store in the world, Needle Rock. They're great. My sister says, "put a box together for Lucy", and they always come up with something fantastic.

This time was no exception. Among the skeins was a beautiful hand painted wool from Montana, a super soft gigantic skein of merino from Italy, 2 skeins of Royal Alpaca and this yarn insanity:

This is the most awesomely wacko and insane yarn I have ever seen. Yes. Those are feathers. My brain is positively dizzy with the crazy potential of this yarn.

Finally, I'll end with a song. This is just about how I feel right now:

Exquisite Chaussettes or Frankensocks

2012-01-15T18:15:00.000-05:00

I belong to a knitting group at RISD. We meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays to knit and gab. The group's fearless leader is a very funny lady named Marny Kindness. Marny's sheer force of will has kept the group together, and even grown it over the year that it's been in action. She's amazing. Here she is knitting to a stuffed deer in the RISD nature lab:

I'm kind of on the fringes of the group. I frequently miss our Tuesdays and Thursdays because of things I have going on or a general lack of motivation. You wouldn't think I would need any motivation at all to get to the group, but my office is at the top of College Hill, and the group meets at the bottom of the hill on Tuesdays, and 2/3 down the hill on Thursdays. This is a big hill. There are grade warnings for trucks. Going down is not so bad, but coming back up takes commitment--commitment I don't always have. Here's a picture of us all knitting just before Christmas. I'm not sure why I look like such a psycho--must be the fact that I have knitting needles in hand:

Marny is not in the picture, but rather, behind the camera.

Anyway, we were knitting just before Christmas, and I proposed an idea to the group. I proposed we make collaborative socks. Each person would knit up two toes--then pass the socks to the next person who would knit a part and then pass it around. I kind of expected the idea to fall flat, but Marny jumped on it immediately, and we put our heads together to flesh out the details of this challenge. I called it Exquisite Chaussettes after Exquisite Corpse drawings -- you know, those drawings where one person does the head, and then folds it over and passes it around, and the next person does the body, and so on, and then you unfold the drawing and get a really weird creature. Here's one my husband and I did when I was trying to explain this whole concept to him:

Excitement abounded, and last week, Marny and I were the first to exchange socks. I gave her my toes, and she gave me hers. I brought them home and started adding to them.

It is really, really weird to knit on someone else's socks. It's almost like preparing a half finished turkey dinner in someone else's kitchen. The way someone knits is so very personal, and knitting onto their knitting can give you some insight into their soul. Once you touch a person's knitting, you can never go back. Marny's sweet and outgoing exterior belies a criminal mastermind. Only someone who has omniscient control over every tentacle of her life could make stitches that tight. She must have callouses as hard as diamonds on her fingers. I had to duel with the stitches to get them off the holders and onto my own needles. As tight as virgins, once there, getting the second needle in was...well, do I really need to continue with this metaphor?

I imagined, with growing horror, Marny, knitting into my relaxed and spongy stitches. She must be thinking, "Lucy's control freak exterior masks a laid back surfer dude interior. Only a total hippy could make stitches so loose. I could fit five needles into one of her stitches, and as loose as Michelle Duggar's...well, do I really need to continue with this metaphor?...the whole mess nearly fell off the stitch holder when I went to transfer it to the needles."

I started to wish the exchange had been anonymous. I didn't want to know that Marny is secretly Madame Defarge. I definitely didn't want her to know that I am secretly Ted (or is it Bill).

Anyway, here is the result of the first pass at the Frankensocks. I wonder what character the next knitter will be channeling, and what they will be thinking of those who came before.

New Year, and Time Gets Away

2012-01-08T09:59:00.000-05:00

I'm always kind of appalled and amazed at how quickly time gets away from me. I say to myself, "I should do a new blogpost." And then suddenly it's almost the middle of January. How does this happen?

Weeks lapse and I don't update my website, because I'm planning on getting to that soon. I need to list some things I've made on etsy, and here it is next month--or next year. How does this happen? I'm not really that busy (though I suppose busyness is relative).

I think the problem is that I'm not definitive enough with my to do lists. Instead of saying "sometime" or "soon" I need to start scheduling a specific day. I need to start doing things the moment I think of them.

This is starting to sound a little new-years-resolution-ish. Hmph. I guess I'll get started...

.....at some point.

The Twelve Days of Knitting

2011-12-20T20:45:00.000-05:00

My friend Melissa inspired me to substitute knitting in a classic Christmas song.

I give you, The Twelve Days of Knitting

On the 1st day of Christmas my true love knit for me

a cute pair of baby booties

On the 2nd day of Christmas my true love knit for me

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

On the 3rd day of Christmas my true love knit for me

3 cabled scarves

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

On the 4th day of Christmas my true love knit for me

4 Fair Isle sweaters

3 cabled scarves

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

On the 5th day of Christmas my true love knit for me

5 cardigans

4 Fair Isle sweaters

3 cabled scarves

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

On the 6th day of Christmas my true love knit for me

6 ipod cozies

5 cardigans

4 Fair Isle sweaters

3 cabled scarves

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

On the 7th day of Christmas my true love knit for me

7 skeins of suri

6 ipod cozies

5 cardigans

4 Fair Isle sweaters

3 cabled scarves

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

On the 8th day of Christmas my true love knit for me

8 felted tote bags

7 skeins of suri

6 ipod cozies

5 cardigans

4 Fair Isle sweaters

3 cabled scarves

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

On the 9th day of Christmas my true love knit for me

9 ruffled boas

8 felted tote bags

7 skeins of suri

6 ipod cozies

5 cardigans

4 Fair Isle sweaters

3 cabled scarves

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

On the 10^th day of Christmas my true love knit for me

10 manly mittens

9 ruffled boas

8 felted tote bags

7 skeins of suri

6 ipod cozies

5 cardigans

4 Fair Isle sweaters

3 cabled scarves

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

On the 11^th day of Christmas my true love knit for me

11 doggy jackets

10 manly mittens

9 ruffled boas

8 felted tote bags

7 skeins of suri

6 ipod cozies

5 cardigans

4 Fair Isle sweaters

3 cabled scarves

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

On the 12^th day of Christmas my true love knit for me

12 short row stockings

11 doggy jackets

10 manly mittens

9 ruffled boas

8 felted tote bags

7 skeins of suri

6 ipod cozies

5 cardigans

4 Fair Isle sweaters

3 cabled scarves

2 texting gloves

And a cute pair of baby booties.

Knitting for Knitters

2011-12-15T21:10:00.000-05:00

Recently, a friend of mine commissioned me to make some booties for her baby.

The project struck terror into my very soul.

My friend is not picky or mean. She's one of my dearest friends in the whole world. She's a lovely person with a very funny sense of humor. I've always felt that she is one of the few people in the world who truly 'gets' me. Back when I had blond hair, people used to think we were sisters.

Her sense of color is amazing. I've never seen anyone who is able to wear chartreuse the way she can. Her handwriting looks like a font. She is an incredible quilter, and has had her work in shows in NYC. She's a knitter too. Or, she was anyway. A few years ago, she decided she had had enough of knitting and sent me all of her yarn. I credit her with getting me off the crap yarn. She majored in textiles at RISD and spent many years working as a textile designer in Manhattan.

I'm guessing you're starting to understand why this project terrified me.

I wanted so desperately for these little booties to be worthy of her and her little baby boy. She sent me a pattern (which I didn't follow), and pictures, which I sort of followed, and some suggestions of yarn types. She wanted something in an earth tone, and emailed me this picture.

I don't very often knit in earth tones, but I happened to have this incredible skein of merino/cashmere/silk that seemed like it had been waiting for that perfect little gift.

I knitted a pair. I didn't like them. The weave was too loose.

I began again and knitted up a second pair. This pair looked good, but something was missing.

I emailed my friend, "So I knitted up these little booties. What do you think? Do they need some embellishment? Embroidered star?"

She wrote back, "OMG!!!! SO awesome!!! (And look at you, sending a photo at 7:30 am. Impressive.) Hmm, yes, I think a star would be the perfect touch! You are the BEST!"

My trepidation vanished. My confidence was utterly restored. This evening, I came home and cut out two felt stars and carefully sewed them on. They're kind of like sneetch stars.

Here is the final result:

I kind of love these little bootie/socks.

Overly Optimistic about Holiday Knitting

2011-12-07T07:02:00.000-05:00

I may have overcommitted myself with the holiday knitting. I have only 2 and a half weeks until Christmas, and I've committed myself to a hat, a pair of slippers, a pair of baby booties, and a new dreadlocks hat (due on the 12th for the RISD staff show).

I know that the best knitters promise items for Christmas, but do not specify which Christmas, and we are notorious for saying, "Christmas of what year?" But I think I might be able to pull it off (is there a pun in there somewhere?).

Not related to Christmas knitting, but still really cool: I got an email from Ingrid right after the sale with pictures of her and one of her grandkids wearing my hats.

An Astonishingly, Incredibly, Awesome Day!!

2011-12-03T21:14:00.000-05:00

This sale was, quite possibly, the greatest I've ever had--for reasons SO much better than money.

To begin with, I completely made up the cost of my table with Etsy sales prior to the sale. This meant that any hats I sold at the sale were above and beyond the cost of the sale itself. With this in mind, I went into the sale utterly and completely relaxed. I affixed my false eyelashes (a tradition), and sauntered in with nothing to lose.

One of my very first customers was a repeat customer named Ingrid, who visits my booth every year, and loves to shower my hats on her family. Last year she sent me an amazing email and a picture of her youngest granddaughter wearing one of my hats. This year, she approached my table and we got to talking. She mentioned how she had read my blog post about the sunset that I saw but didn't photograph. She then handed me two photos that she took of said sunset and had printed just for me!

I was COMPLETELY bowled over by the fact that she had read my blog, and then gone out of her way to print me two amazing pictures of the sunset that I was unable to capture. She also bought this hat. :D.

I was mobbed the entire day. I decided to wear, along with my false eyelashes, the dreadlocks hat. I told anyone that asked that it was for sale, and I priced it at $175, thinking that I would never sell it. But I DID SELL IT!?!?!?!?!?!? Incredible!!! The buyer was totally captivated by it's uniqueness and it's spectacular theatricality.

I saw lots of friends, and was amazed when a high school friend, who lives on Block Island now, stopped by my booth. Though we live in the same state, we haven't had a chance to reconnect. I hadn't seen her in about 25 years (though you'd never know it by looking at her--she's completely fabulous). We said hello, and then she reached into her bag and said that she had brought me a present. What? Why? She handed me an incredibly soft skein of yarn from a company on block island. I don't know why she did this, but this incredibly yummy soft yarn will be cherished for sure.

I also had visits from my neighbor, Melissa, who watched my booth so I could take a (much appreciated) little break, and my other neighbors Ellie and Ed. I didn't have a hat for them, but they really seemed to enjoy the incredible range of work at the sale overall.

I met a young lady who glanced at the tags on my hats, and asked me if I had ever sold them at Needlerock in Telluride. WHAT? How do you know this? Apparently, she's from Telluride, and had visited their shop and seen my hats. We had this whole great conversation about Ann and Ginger and Telluride in general, and then she bought the cell phone hat.

One of the greatest things about the sale, and the thing that makes it so much better for me than Etsy, is that my hats sometimes choose their people. It becomes so obvious that a hat has a destiny in places like the sale. Sometimes I knit these hats not knowing if anyone will like them, and then that one person comes along, tries the hat on and the hat looks like it was made just for them. I love seeing that moment when the hat finds the perfect home on the unsuspecting person that it was made for. That very thing happened with this hat:

It sat in my booth for half the sale, and no one touched it, and then this woman walked up, and put it on and the magic happened. It was made for her. I actually told her that she had to buy the hat because I would cry if she didn't. It was that perfect.

Overall, I beat my previous record by a third. It's possible that this is due to the fact that I started taking credit cards this year. The sale also seemed busier this year than it has. I was on my feet the whole day. There wasn't a single slump in the traffic. And people were much more nonchalant about their spending than they've been for years. I think the dreadlocks hat helped quite a bit too. After I sold it the traffic died down quite a bit. Note to self: Next year bring two.

List of things for the sale

2011-12-02T20:37:00.000-05:00

The car is packed.

Display Set (hand crafted by Alby)
Mirror
Hook
Sheeting
Sales book.
Square thingy.
Pens.
Change.
Tape.
Twine.
Screws.
Screwdriver.
Hats.
Cash box.
Business Cards.
Crochet Hook.
Scissors (crap! still have to pack the scissors).
Hat racks.
Styrofoam Heads.
Tissues.
Ibuprophen.
Sudafed.
Snacks.
Water.
False Eyelashes.
Outfit.
Alarm Set.
Shoes.
Socks.
Belt.
Earrings.
Necklace (yarn cutter).
Purse.
Ipod (charging. hope i don't forget it).
Phone (charging. hope i don't forget it).
Knitting project.
Snappy comebacks.
Rock star attitude.

Bring it on. I am ready.

The Most Beautiful Sunset

2011-11-28T19:30:00.000-05:00

This evening I saw one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. The clouds were lit up in an incredible brilliant orange that streaked across the horizon, and billowed off into less defined clouds of purple and blue. Punctuating the center of these brilliant orange clouds were breaks in the clouds that revealed light blue sky--the perfect contrast to this incredible orange.

It took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. The vision defied the attempts of every artist ever born to create something even remotely as awe inspiring.

The moment I saw it, I thought, "Oh my god! Where's my camera?" I could picture my camera sitting on the coffee table at home, and my cell phone sitting in my car with only 5% of its battery power. "I'm not going to get a picture of this." I thought. So I stopped. I stared. I let the vision fill me.

It occurred to me, as I was driving home still tingling from the sight, that all of our amazing gadgets allow us to save these moments, but sometimes at the expense of living them.

If I had had my camera, I would have snapped the picture and hopped in my car and gone home. I wouldn't have stopped to soak it up. How many times have I watched my daughter's experiences through the frame of my camera or camcorder? I haven't watched her at all. I bring these things home and save them--a hoarder of experiences not really experienced at all. They take up bytes on my hard drive only rarely ever glanced at again.

Today, in the last rays of this incredible day, I was reminded that I can't bottle experiences, or save them like pretty stones or shells. The only true way to internalize them is to stop and open myself to them.

Countdown to the Sale

2011-11-25T13:53:00.000-05:00

The RISD Holiday Alumni Sale is one week and one day from today.

I have opened my Etsy shop and listed many of my hats there in preparation for the big day. I have enabled my ipod to take credit cards (hello 21st century!). I have tagged all of my hats.

I am still knitting.

Here are some hats for you to enjoy:

Jester Crown

Ears

Fringy Wizard

Soft Baby Hat

Warm Winter

Big Ears

Little Antlers

Flapper Flower

Pig Tails

Whale Tail

Squid Hat

Geothermal Part 7: Review of Newport Geothermal

2011-11-24T16:56:00.000-05:00

So the very last bits and pieces of our shiny new Geothermal heating system are in place. The project is FINISHED!!! I kind of wish we'd had some kind of fancy ribbon cutting ceremony, or champagne bottle breaking thing. Hazard snuck in on Monday with a plumber to fix a noise that one of the valves was making, and just like that, we have reached completion. Our house is warm. Our hot water is hot. Yippee! Most people kind of take for granted that their house is warm. I'm not sure I ever will be able to again.

So I thought, as a final blogpost on this subject (riiiight final, I'm so sure), I would write a review of the project and of Newport Geo specifically. If there are any locals out there who are thinking about switching over, you might be interested to hear our experience.

I've already told you how we ended up choosing Newport Geo. I should also explain that the choice wasn't a typical contractor situation. The three quotes we got outlined entirely different systems. Comparing them was really hard. We didn't get three quotes for the same job, we got three quotes for three totally different jobs. Ultimately, given our needs, the needs of our house, and our budget, we chose Newport Geo. It was scary though, because we kind of felt like we didn't really have any other choice. Happily, it all turned out okay (or seems to have so far).

Our experience with Hazard and his crew was a good one, and if I had to do it over, I would certainly hire them again. In any construction job there is push and push back. Hazard was very good at taking the temperature of any situation, and working with our concerns as they arose. Ultimately, the few disagreements we had were worked out quickly and to our satisfaction. He remained calm throughout. We have never hired anyone to do major work for us before, so we weren't really sure what to expect. We were quite nervous that the whole thing would turn into one of those nightmare experiences that you sometimes hear about. It didn't. Hazard and his crew worked hard to get things up and running. In many ways he exceeded our expectations. In the end, it wasn't over until he had worked out every issue we had.

Now, the system itself. It heats the house. I am going to have a very difficult time not showing it off to everyone who walks through my door. I am not sure I can ever take heating systems for granted again. I want to know how everyone heats their house. I want to brag about my house. We can operate it from the web. We can monitor and adjust the system load by the hour from the office or vacation, or anything. It's weird and cool to have a 21st century house. It's New England. It's 29 degrees out. My house is warm. Infrastructure is so freakin' cool. The only tiny downside I've found is this: I was not much of a duster before the system went in, and now the forced hot air is blowing the dust around my house. My allergies have been going crazy, but I'm sure this will settle down. Dusting? Not a major priority in my life.

My house is greener. My carbon footprint is smaller. Sure, the system was expensive (though less than and Escalade), but the cost of oil has gone up 5 weeks in a row this fall. With the impact of China and India, fuel costs are only going to keep going up, and the planet will likely run out of oil in the next few decades. We're hoping to stay in our house for 20 years or more. For us, it made perfect sense to invest heavily in infrastructure. For you? Well, only you know the answer to that question.

The Geothermal Part 6: Up and Running

2011-11-19T16:23:00.000-05:00

The system is up and running. I am ECSTATIC. It was kind of anti-climactic in a way. There was no ribbon cutting ceremony--no champagne. But now we're up and running. We have heat. We have hot water. It's sooooooo cooooool!!

You know, it's a funny thing about me. I try not to get too happy about things. I find that just when I start thinking things are really fantastic, everything starts to implode. Maybe I'm just superstitious. In any case, I'm finding it really hard not to do the happy dance about our heating system every five minutes.

For someone who has lived with forced hot water heat since at least 1996, forced hot air is a really cool switch. I love the way it feels. It seems to heat the house more completely than forced hot water. Hazard adjusted the airflow around the house, so that the places we use the most are getting the most heat. It's all very pleasant and civilized. The thermostats are amazing and high tech. I can log into a site on the internet and control my heating system while on vacation. It all makes me a little giddy (happy dance).

Hazard also installed a spigot on the outside of our house (the garden side), so we no longer have to snake a hose from our washing machine out the window. The spigot drains so that it won't freeze in the winter time (happy dance).

The white noise created by the air running through the ductwork has put us all to sleep like babies (No, not babies. We all know that babies don't sleep. Like cats.). (happy dance).

The only thing remaining to be seen is how our electricity bill turns out. Geothermal is not free energy. It takes electricity to run the pumps and the air handlers. What will this do to our bill? We will find out in about a month. The superstitious side of me is certain that it will turn out to be a kajillion dollars, and we won't actually be saving any money at all with this system. That would be very sad. This week, though, the average cost of fuel oil per gallon was $3.78 and it's gone up steadily for five weeks, so no matter what the electric bill is, I'm sure it will even out eventually. I hope.

(happy dance).

The 2011 Hat Collection

2011-11-13T20:23:00.000-05:00

I spent the afternoon sitting on the floor taking pictures of my hats and things. I have a bunch. The sale is December 3!!! I am SOOOOO ready.

Wanna see more?
Here's the link!

The Geothermal Part 5: The Reality of a Retrofit

2011-11-10T11:21:00.000-05:00

Retrofits are difficult. Installing a system around a house is a lot harder than building a house around a system. I don't think I fully appreciated how hard it would be until I saw the job in progress. The installation took much longer than any of us expected, but had I known then, what I know now, I would have expected it to take even longer, and I would have planned better by trying to start earlier.

In moving from a forced hot water system to a forced hot air system, ducts have to be installed throughout the house. Basically, ducts have to be installed in such a way that heat moves all around the house in a somewhat even way, and they have to be attached to the air handlers in the attic which have to be attached to the heat pumps in the basement. In many cases (insert Maine accent), "You can't get there from here." Structural beams, plumbing, and living spaces get in the way. Creativity is required. I give the guys a lot of credit. Learning how to balance the aesthetics of the homeowner with the reality of the system's needs is an incredible skill.

I like to think that we were more easy-going than the average home owner. We like industrial things, and we never asked them to hide the system completely. We had two big mostly empty attics which were perfect for the air handlers. We were quite troublesome when it came to visible ducts in the living room (we didn't want the vaulted ceiling obstructed). And we were probably obnoxious when it came to idea sharing. Hazard was the expert, but we're creative people, and we can't help throwing ideas into the mix. Hopefully, he found our problem solving skills helpful, and not too annoying.

Getting from the attics to the basement where the heat pumps are was very tricky, and we kept throwing weird things at Hazard. We want heat in the basement. We want the duct in the living room to be in the back and lining up with the line of the railing in the balcony. We want silver ducts not white. We want these lines encased but not these ones. He was really nice about everything, and gently let us know when our wishes were actually impossible, and when they were doable.

What we ended up with was a system built around the house. Impossible to integrate completely, but amazing for what it is, and kind of cool looking (well, for us anyway):

The Den

The dining room

Air handling vent and giant stuffed giraffe

Working with the vaulted ceiling

Ducts in the closet

Summer hats and duct work

The attic Alby installed

The big monster in the attic

Ducts behind Ava's bed

The Thermostat and some artwork.

Yarn Bombing Video

2011-11-04T22:46:00.000-04:00

OMFG. This is beyond my wildest dreams.

Seventeen Evergreen - Polarity Song from Lucky Number Music on Vimeo.

Concept - A Terri Timely and Sarah Applebaum Collaboration
Direction- Terri Timely
Producer- David Lambert
Production manager- Ryan Miller
Production Coordinator- Ayesha Janmohamed
DOP- Donavan Sell
Art Director- Zoe Kim and Jona Tochet

The power of Yes.

2011-10-30T13:01:00.000-04:00

I have just returned from a recruiting trip to my home state of Maine. I haven't recruited in Maine for a long time, so I took the opportunity to give a presentation at my Alma Mater Mount Desert Island High School. What a treat!

On my way north, I spent a night at my friend Bonnie's house. She's a lovely person with a charming family, and their guest bedroom is also Bonnie's studio space where she makes very cool things. The next day I had nice visits at two local high schools, and then headed north for Bar Harbor.

I arrived in town around 3:45. I was hoping to meet up with my high school friend Heidi Turner O'Conner who I haven't seen in about 20 years (though we communicate regularly on Facebook). She is now a licensed massage therapist, and after a long drive with my craptastic back, I booked an appointment with her to work out some of the knots from my trip. OMG. She was AMAZING. She has a great intuition for the trouble spots, and zeroed right in on my worst aches. I didn't even have to tell her what was bothering me. She just knew and went there. She is launching her own business right now, so I'd like to take a moment to shamelessly advertise her.

Seriously. I know she's my friend and all, but she gave me the best massage I have EVER gotten. No joke. I made it through over 700 miles of driving mostly because of her. In addition to being a great masseuse, she's also a very cool person. She has 3 kids. She's a karate brown belt. She's a runner. Yeah--pretty much a superhero. Anyway, if you're in Bar Harbor, you must book an appointment with her. You won't regret it.

I stayed that night at the Bar Harbor Inn, which was funny, because in all the years I lived in Bar Harbor, I have never actually once been inside the Bar Harbor Inn. It was weird to be on the other side of the shorepath. The view was amazing though.

The room was clean and nice, and the wifi signal was excellent.

The next morning, I rolled into MDIHS bright and early for my 8 am appointment. When I signed in at the office, they directed me down to a hall that didn't exist when I went to school there. There was this funny moment of confusion when they said, "You go down the hall and turn right." "You can turn right?" "Yes, there's a new wing." "Oh." I walked into the art room and there was my high school art teacher Dan Stillman. "Daaaa-aaaan!" I yelled, and ran into the room. He had always joked about his name suddenly gaining an extra syllable when he started teaching, so I made sure to add it in. I was SO excited to see him. You see, Dan Stillman single handedly changed the path of my life with the utterance of one single word: "Yes."

When I was a junior in high school, I took two weeks of Chemistry. In that two week period, I failed five quizzes. I could not get my brain wrapped around Chemistry at all. It wasn't my teacher's fault, it was all me. She was award winning--amazing. If she couldn't teach someone Chemistry, they couldn't be taught. Seeing the writing on the wall, I went to my guidance counselor and asked if I could drop Chemistry and take art instead. I had never taken an art class at my high school, but there was a new art teacher who seemed friendlier than the old one, so I wanted to try it out. My guidance counselor grudgingly agreed, but when I went to the art room to get Dan's permission he told me the class was full.

I think our conversation went something like this:

Dan: I'm really sorry, but the class is totally full. It's over full.

Me: Oh please, please, please, please!!!

Dan: It's full.

Me: I promise I'll work really hard, and I won't be any trouble, and you totally won't regret it. Please please please!

Dan: Well, okay. Yes, you can be in the class.

(I did end up working hard, though I won't exactly claim that I was no trouble)

I had been fully on track to be a writer like my Mom until that moment. In that moment the sluice gate of my life path wooshed open and I poured into the world of art--all because Dan said yes.

Truly there were other yeses that added to my future--some of them from Dan and many from my Mom, but this one particular yes was a real corner turner.

So here we are 22 years after I graduated:

An Epic EPIC Hat

2011-10-24T19:33:00.000-04:00

I have created a totally epic hat.

After knitting so quickly in Colorado, I decided I needed to make a hat that would slow me down a bit. I had this idea to do a hat with icords that looked like hair--or dreadlocks. For anyone who doesn't know what an icord is, you make them by knitting across about 4 stitches on a double pointed needle, then bringing the yarn back to the right hand side and knitting across again. The result is a cord of knitted line. Don't ask me why they're called icords. As far as I know, the Apple computer company has nothing to do with them. Anyway, the hat was 16 stitches per side, and each icord would be 4 stitches around, so there would be 64 of them on the top (I know. That's math again). This should take me a while, right?

I made it about halfway through the scalp, and realized I was going to run out of yarn, so I started mixing up my colors--removing cords that I had already done, and replacing them with other colors, and then re-knitting them in another location. Finally the scalp was complete and all the hairs in place. What a mess underneath:

And what an unbelievable lot of ends to weave in.

I realize this hat may not be for everyone. Some may even consider it a monstrosity--something for the annals of regretsy, or ugly knitted stuff. Thank goodness You Knit What? is no longer in action. And maybe it's further evidence of my general lack of taste, but I think this hat is quite possibly the most awesome hat I have ever knitted.

Oh, Malabrigo

2011-10-16T19:32:00.000-04:00

I am in love with a yarn. I know what you're thinking. I am in love with all yarn. This is not entirely true. Not all yarn is created equal. I loath eyelash yarns. More and more, I dislike the squeaky feel of acrylic yarn on the needle. You know I love alpaca yarn.

I have a love/hate relationship with wool. I love the way it feels on the needles. I love it's stiffness and reliability when it comes to three dimensional form. I hate the way most wool feels on my skin. It makes me itch. Most wools are far too itchy for use as hats. I could get into sewing polar fleece liners into the hats, but that's just too fussy for me. I'm a knitter, not a seamstress. I realize that most people don't have the sensitive forehead that I have, but I figure, if I can wear the hat, probably almost anyone can.

I can hardly describe my delight when I first ran my fingers over a hank of Malabrigo Worsted Merino.

Ooh-la-la. Malabrigo.

I discovered it two years ago in Telluride. I bought it because it was soft, relatively inexpensive, and the hank was humungous. Ann wound it up for me on their industrial sized winder, and when I returned home, I made this hat:

I sold the hat at the RISD alumni sale, and then, this spring, I decided I had a hank-ering for more of the yarn, but I couldn't remember what it was. I sent the ladies at Needle Rock a picture of my hat, and sure enough, they either remembered, or they had my prior sale on record. I instructed my sister to pick up three skeins while she was in town.

Two weeks ago, in Colorado, I picked up another two skeins at a Knitted Peace. One hank was hopelessly tangled and impossible to ball from the swift, so I did it by hand on my lap. The cat tried to help.

It is sooooooo buttery soft, yummy nummy, completely joyous. My knitting high school friend, Christine touched it and exclaimed, "That's WOOL?!" The yarn hails from Uruguay, and I'm reasonably convinced at this point that South America is the sole source of all truly fine fiber.

I will not become one of those knitters who decides that one yarn is it forever, but if I was....oh Malabrigo...

A Life in Stitches by Rachael Herron

2011-10-15T21:31:00.000-04:00

I have just finished reading a really fantastic book--A Life in Stitches, by Rachael Herron.

I typically avoid autobiographical books. For the most part, I find them narcissistic searches for inner clarity, or meaning, or some other boring drama. I made it through the first chapter of Eat, Pray, Love, and had to put it down because the author couldn't hear me when I told her to get her head out of her...well, you get the idea. I remember loving the book the Snow Leopard when I was in high school. I re-read it later, as an adult and I was appalled. I couldn't believe this selfish guy had left his wife and children to go "find" himself. Isn't that something you do when you're 18?

So I picked up Herron's book with some trepidation.

From the very first chapter, she had me. She's a story teller, not a narcissist. Her essays revolve around other people and how she feels about them and how they add depth and value to her life. She writes about herself only in the context of the other people she loves. Her stories are engaging, and her writing style is so full of honesty and humor that you will be crying one minute and laughing the next.

I think my favorite chapter was "Basket Weave Stitch" where she writes about her cat Digit, and how she was humbled by a whole community of knitters who came together to help her care for him when he was in crisis. As you read her words, you feel her dismay at the outpouring of love that she feels she's not equal to.

I confess, I'm a total sap. I cry during that truck commercial with the skiing girl. You know the one. My daughter regularly chides me for crying during kids movies--like when Jackie Chan makes friends with the teenage daughter in The Spy Next Door, or when Mufasa's ghost says "Remember who you are!", or when Ron Weasley gets on the Knight.

A Life in Stitches is a sap's worst nightmare, or greatest dream depending on how you look at it, but it's not cloying Hallmark fare--this is real, and this is what makes it so good. Though knitting is the (eh-hem) thread that pulls the whole book together, you really don't have to be a knitter to enjoy her writing.

(I just realized how ridiculous that last sentence was. I am a knitter, and how could I possibly know if a non-knitter could enjoy this book. I think the stories are universal, but what do I know?).

A Trip to Denver

2011-10-09T08:37:00.000-04:00

I am recently home after a recruiting trip to Denver. I have a real soft spot in my heart for Colorado thanks in part to the fine and friendly folks in Telluride, so heading out west was a real treat. Though I was there for work, and met a great group of local students, teachers, and their families, I also had some time to take in the beautiful sights, and smell that Colorado smell. What is that smell? Is it Eucalyptus? Sage brush? It's a smell I have never smelled anywhere else.

As I landed in Denver, a crisis was brewing. I was knitting faster than anticipated, and was almost out of yarn. I know. Me. Almost out of yarn. How is this even possible? Happily, I found out that there was a yarn store only two blocks from one of my school visits on Monday, and I had room in my schedule to drop by.

The shop is called A Knitted Peace, and it's in the heart of Littleton. The store is pretty big, and the selection is incredible. I settled on the yarn I wanted about 5 times, and then the lovely proprietress showed me the sale bin, and announced that another giant vat of Miski was on sale. Oh woe is me. Like a starving person who is suddenly faced with a banquet, I overspent my budget by $45, and ended up buying about 8 skeins of yarn.

The next day I was off to Boulder for some more high school visits. Everywhere I went, people told me about this yarn store in town that I had to visit. I kept sticking my fingers in my ears and saying, "LALALALALALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU". But the message had gone through. Even so, I don't think I would have gone, but fate stepped in.

After my last school visit, I dropped by the studio of Chris Yates. He's the RISD alum who helped with the reviews at portfolio day. Curiosity about how he runs the business of his artwork, what he sells, and how I could better convey the twisted path of the fine artist to parents was all the motivation I needed to stop by. He makes these incredibly intricate, hand sawn, wooden jigsaw puzzles.

His studio is his house, and the place is a sentence of mayhem punctuated by moments of order. His wood shop is brimming with the scraps of cut puzzles and sawdust. He said that he cleans it out once or twice a year, and that the current pile was about 8 months of puzzle making. His yard outside has tables set up where he carefully spray paints the smooth surface of the puzzles (this is an exacting process because the puzzles have to still fit together, and if the paint is too thick, they won't). He has recycling bins overflowing with beer and soda cans. Clearly his business is his first and only love. He travels to conventions frequently, and sells out of his puzzles regularly. They are beautiful. I kind of wish I could afford to buy one (well, I could, if I could only stop buying yarn).

I pulled out of his driveway and headed back to Denver. I was on my way down Table Mesa Road when I saw a big sign that said, simply, "YARNS".

My car drove itself into the parking lot. My feet walked themselves up the stairs. My fingers, as if by some magnetic, kinetic force wrapped themselves around three skeins of alpaca yarn, and then they (seemingly of their own accord) delved into my wallet for my credit card. I emerged from this somnolent state, sat down, and started knitting with another customer who was sighing at a sweater she was knitting.

This amazing store is called Shuttles, Spindles, and Skeins. It's gigantic. It's amazing. The ladies are SOOOOO nice. They were joking about how one customer came in and complained that none of them were under 50. They took this as an incredible compliment, because none of them are under 60. "Who wants to buy their yarn from a teenager?" Said the lady next to me. I knitted there until they closed at 6pm and then headed back to Denver.

When I arrived at my hotel, the lady at the front desk informed me that happy hour was going on and I could get complimentary salad, nachos and beer or wine in the next room, but it was only going on for another 20 minutes. If I wanted a second glass, I should ask them to pour me two and take one back to my room. Seriously? I wasn't going to ask, but then at last call, the waiter actually came over and reiterated what the front desk clerk had said. Okay. If you're really going to twist my arm...I guess.

Back in my room I was faced with a quandary. My bag was really heavy--too heavy to schlep through the airport on my way home. I could have checked my bag. I was flying Southwest, so the cost was not the issue. The issue was that on Thursday, I was hoping to get home in time to take Ava to her horseback riding lesson. The lesson was at 5:30. The airport is about a half hour from the daycare. The daycare is about 10 minutes from the lesson. My plane was scheduled to land at 4:10. I would need about 10 minutes to get my car from the parking place. I couldn't afford the 10 or 20 minutes that it would take to get my bag at baggage claim.

I decided to mail a box home to myself, or at least to consider it. I went to the post office the next day, put my yarn, and most of my dirty laundry in a ready post box, taped it up, and set it on the counter. When the clerk asked me if it was hazardous, perhaps I should have considered the dirty laundry before I said, "no". $16 bucks, and I was 11 pounds lighter. It was just enough to get me home with a modicum of grace.

Ultimately, I did arrive home in time for the riding lesson. In the course of the trip, I finished 4 hats and a pair of fingerless gloves. I head out to Virginia on Tuesday. I will not look up where the yarn stores are, I will not buy yarn, I will bring enough with me. I will not look up where the yarn stores are, I will not buy yarn, I will bring enough with me. I will not look up where the yarn stores are, I will not buy yarn, I will bring enough with me. I will not look up where the yarn stores are, I will not buy yarn, I will bring enough with me....

Airplane Projects

2011-10-02T11:29:00.000-04:00

I usually grossly overestimate the amount of yarn I need to take with me on a trip. I typically carry enough yarn for about 10 projects. In an attempt to carry less weight, this time I brought with me skeins for 3 projects. I think the most I have ever completed on a business trip was three projects, so I was safe.

I must have been in a knitty mood while at TF Green Airport, though, because my first hat knitted up really fast. I was finished by the time the plane landed in Baltimore. It's a simple minaret hat made from some hand painted bargain wool I bought at the Yarn Shop in Uxbridge, MA. Funny thing--while I was knitting in the airport, a fellow traveler commented that she was amazed that they let knitting needles through security. I said, "I guess they know that I'm more dangerous without my knitting."

On my 4 hour flight to Denver, I listened to the Wind in the Willows audiobook, and knitted this hat with the second skein.

I had to cut the pom-poms at the hotel front desk because you aren't allowed to carry appropriate scissors on the plane and my yarn cutter necklace was not sufficient to the challenge.

Last night I started the third project--a commissioned hat for my nephew that I have been putting off.

Happily, tomorrow I have a break between my school visits, and there is a yarn shop right around the corner from one of them. I will refresh my supply (hopefully with something local and yummy), and have projects for the plane ride home.

The Geothermal Project: Part 4 or Authenticity in Materials

2011-09-30T20:37:00.000-04:00

When I was a senior at RISD I took a required course called "Issues in Contemporary Sculpture" taught by Mary Anne Staniszewski. This was part sculpture theory and part senior thesis coaching. I took 18 credits that semester, so I was spread pretty thin. Sometimes, the course of her discourse would go off like this:

Like the international avant-garde, rock-and-roll is the creative product of a rebellious youth culture trying to reach a mass audience. Its artists embrace technological innovation. Their lives and personal styles are often counterculture. Many rock groups have appropriated creative strategies of modern art history: Some stage acts can be seen as Neo-Dada performance, others have lifted ideas from the Surrealists, the Situationists, and other art groups. Although pop music has its individual stars like Elvis and Madonna, most rock musicians, like the international avant-garde, work collaboratively, in bands. But however much a rock-and-roll group may initially appeal to a specific youth subculture, its potential for vast global audiences is different from that of fine art, which remains within the arcane reaches of high culture.

She used words like "modernity", "hegemony", and "diaspora" a lot. I wasn't taking particularly good care of myself, then, so sometimes I would nod off in her class. Alternatively, I would argue with her.

I remember one day she brought up the caves of Lascaux. She described how the caves had been discovered, and people flocked there, and then the humidity caused by all of those visitors started to damage the delicate paintings. So what they did was seal off the original cave and create a perfect copy, a facsimile, where visitors could go. Mary Anne argued that this fake cave was repugnant because the experience wasn't real. I had been reading the Travels in Hyperreality by Umberto Eco at the time, so I argued that if they were having an experience, it was real, whether they were in the real cave or not. We argued back and forth about whether the authentic caves were somehow better than the simulated cave, and whether the experience of walking through the simulated cave could be considered an experience at all.

Since then, I have mulled over much of what she said in the class. Although I still stick to my original argument that any experience is an authentic experience no matter the veracity of the environment, over the years I have come around to a preference for real materials. I like bare wood. I like bare metal. I like rough stone. I hate linoleum that tries to look like tile, or vinyl that tries to look like wood or, heaven forbid, Pergo. I also believe that there is no point in trying to blend something that is absolutely un-blendable. This kind of goes along the lines of wearing things with confidence. If you're going to be dressed in completely ridiculous clothes, hold your head up high and work it. Bring attention to the odd thing, and then everyone will think it's cool.

So what does this have to do with the geothermal project? I came home on Wednesday to find that the crew had installed some of the exposed duct work. To my horror, they had painted it white. I can see how they might have been trying to make it blend in with the ceiling, and I appreciate the effort, but it was all wrong. These ducts hang down from the ceiling and stick out of the walls. To make them blend has all the effect of rendering them some tumor on the edge of the ceiling, as if it was part of the thing, but unnatural.

Both Alby and I lost sleep over this color, and on Thursday morning at 6:30 am, I made my argument to keep them natural. In addition to the ducts being what they were, the metallic sheen would reflect the colors around it, and thus blend better than if it was painted white. I texted Hazard, who took it very well. He was SO nice about it. Honestly, I don't think we ever discussed the color. I didn't even know the ducts could be a color. Fortunately, they had only installed one small piece, so they were able to adjust fairly quickly. The guys walked in at 7:15, and stoically took down the white ducts. I hope they don't hate me now. I know that I would have been totally annoyed if I had been in their shoes, but I couldn't let it go.

When I got home that night, the new shiny metal duct was in place. It's authentic. I totally love it.

The Geothermal Project: Part 3 or the Closet Conundrum

2011-09-19T21:08:00.000-04:00

On Sunday, Hazard paid us a visit and we talked about how the project was going to move through our house (completely) and what areas would be affected (almost all of them). Work will commence around 7 or 7:30 am on Wednesday, and we kind of need to have the closets cleaned out. I kind of smiled and nodded and thought, okay, we can do that, no problem.

After he left, I started with Ava's closet right away. In no time at all it looked like this:

And all her things were piled towards the middle of the room:

Great, I thought, that only took me an hour. I can do my closet on Monday night after piano. When we got home, I lolly-gagged a bit, and then got started. I threw a bunch of things in the trash, and started stacking things in the back of the room by the window. The stack progressed outward, and eventually took over all but the smallest spot in the room (where I sit right now).

Problem. I still have this much stuff left in my closet with nowhere to go.

Shit.

If I had a month to do this, I could do it in an orderly fashion. I have about 4 hours (considering that I work a full time job and Ava has a riding lesson tomorrow).

I should have seen this coming--I did, kind of, but didn't fully get the full scope of the problem. I should have been cleaning out my closets a month ago. I should have maintained some degree of order prior to all of this. I should have been more judicious in my donations, and my purchases. I'm so annoyed with myself for letting my collection get to this state. I'm praying that Hazard and his crew can kind of work around my prior lack of judgement.

But as I stare at the pile, I start to make vows. From this day forward I will adopt a monks asceticism. I will clear out all of my possessions.

I had better hang onto my yarn, though, and my knitting needles, my canvases, my gel medium, my collage materials, my pictures that I will probably never get around to framing, my random plaster gauze, old CD's, old cassettes, old vinyl (no 8 tracks-phew), cell phone parts, silk screens, displays, old sweaters, torn leather jacket, markers that don't work, anti-static computer matt, paintings I did in 1992, half finished paper mache pigs, box of tulle squares, computer boxes, Eddie Bauer window de-fogger, extra yarn ball winder, scanner that doesn't really work, portable tube tv with built in DVD player, and 6 tubs of memorabilia. Oh wait....

Time to start schlepping my crap downstairs.

Art and Math

2011-09-06T20:19:00.000-04:00

In the 4th grade, I went through a period of talking and walking in my sleep. One night, when my parents had company over, I exited my bedroom, formally said good night to everyone, and then went back to bed all while totally asleep. That year we did endless multiplication drills. Every week we had 30 seconds to do 25 problems relating to a particular number. If we made it through the 12's, we would get a candy bar. I made it through my 6 times tables, but then got hung up on the 7's. Weeks went by and I kept taking the test, and failing to make it to the next level. I guess this obstacle must have really stressed me out, because one night, my mom found me sitting on the end of my bed reciting my 7 times tables in my sleep.

When I was in junior high, I was very good at math. I sailed through the 7th and 8th grade math books in half a year, and then my teacher started me on Algebra. In high school, I was pretty good at Algebra 1 and I loved Geometry (no surprise considering my 3D leanings). Then came Algebra 2 and my long slow slide into math aversion. For some reason, I could not get my brain wrapped around balancing equations. I took 2 weeks of Chemistry, failed 5 quizzes, and dropped the class in favor of taking my first ever art class (and we all know how that turned out).

When I got to RISD, I was elated at the prospect of never having to do Math or Science ever again.

Here's the thing, though: There's a ton of math and science in art.

There I said it. I hear bubbles bursting all over the land (or at least in the minds of the 10 people who read this blog).

I used all kinds of math my freshman year at RISD. Measuring is a big deal in art. You have to measure everything--canvases, illustration board, ounces of paint, pounds of clay. Geometry is a big deal--right angles anyone? There's chemistry in textiles and ceramics, physics in sculpture, and the list goes on and on.

As the years went by, my knowledge of practical math increased. I add/subtract/multiply expense reports, budgets, gross/net income. I figure out student demographics. I freakin' love statistics. I know how to knit.

Knitting and math are inexorably linked. I calculate gauge (hugely important if you don't want to end up with a hat that is 50 times too big), I count rows, count stitches, calculate decreases, figure out if I have enough yarn by weighing or measuring it. It's sneaky. I'm not sure I would have ever started knitting if I had known how much math was involved, but now that I've been doing it for a while, I think I've gotten better at math.

Practical math that is. When it comes to formal math (formulas, x's, y's, tangents, cosines, vectors) my brain pretty much shuts down. I like the look of math formulas, even if I have no idea what they mean:

Apparently, this one has something to do with wormhole travel.

But formulas can be incredibly useful to knitters. Here's a great formula used to calculate gauge that I found on annabuddknits:

Fellow artists, I ask you this: Why are we all so prejudiced against math? We do it every day--some of us every hour. And yet, if someone were to ask me about math, my knee jerk response would be, "I'm not good at math." While I certainly make more mistakes than, say, John Nash, and will occasionally make errors of mis-multiplication, mis-addition, and especially mis-division, the majority of my hats are sized to fit human heads. I figure them out using math.

Strange Blog Stats

2011-08-31T09:40:00.000-04:00

Among my other secret sides, I have a secret love of statistics. I love web analytics. I like wondering about the 9 people in Malaysia who have viewed my blog. Today I was cruising my stats and took a peek at the searches that brought people to my blog. Here's a screen shot of the results:

Cat pooping in the back window of a car @ walmart? What? Here's the ensuing skype conversation with hubs:

Years ago, in the RISD Admissions Office, we had a prospective student named Poopy Lickles. He's a real person, who applied to RISD under that name. I was dismayed to find out this morning that his original name was not Poopy Lickles, but the rather James Milliken. Sigh.

Anyway, I went through a period of knitting cats and other animals. I knitted a cat licking himself, and appropriately named him Poopy Lickles:

The real Poopy emailed me a short time later thanking me for naming my cat after him and saying, "It's amazing how my name gets around." I was totally star struck. It was like being contacted by Richard Dean Anderson (well maybe not quite like that, but close).

Back on topic: I just did a search for cat pooping in the back window of a car @ walmart and went ten pages into the search and found nothing that pointed to my blog. This is all a great mystery to me, and probably another great indicator of why I majored in Sculpture in college and not Computer Science.

The Well or Geothermal Part 2

2011-08-30T19:35:00.000-04:00

The well drillers finished drilling today. According to Hazard, they "hit a huge amount of water at 465 feet'. Considering that the worst case scenario for our contract was 800 feet, I feel pretty good about this. Ever the skeptic, my mom said, "Well of course they hit a huge amount of water--two days after Irene".

Ahhhh Irene. Yes. That's right. The huge lightning rod of a drilling rig was on our property for the entirety of Irene. The rig was very sturdy and barely rocked during the whole of it. It was not struck by lightning, and the crew was back to drilling at 8:30 am on Monday morning which was a full half a day before we had power restored.

Irene was not so bad, all things considered. We had quite a bit of wind and a few large limbs came down on our property. Here's a picture Ava snapped of the biggest one:

But none of them hit our house, and hubs cleaned them up with a bow-saw later Sunday afternoon.

The aftermath of the drilling was somewhat more dramatic than the aftermath of the hurricane. It was kind of like our own pyroclastic flow:

But it's nothing that a few good rains won't wash away. Our garden was totally spared (such as it is in these shady conditions). And, the drilling guys dug up and replanted our blueberry bushes which I think was exceptionally nice of them. I think they even watered the bushes.

I would like to take a moment to tout the incredible work of National Grid during and after the hurricane. We had power less than 24 hours after the storm ended. There were 4 or 5 trees down on power lines on the road leading up to our little subdivision, and they had trucks out there early the next morning. They must be working day and night to get things going again. When I last checked there were still 137 ,000 people without power in Rhode Island. Among them, my friend and neighbor who lives a mile away from me. I invited her family over to take showers last night. We're in the minority in our community. And I kind of feel that since we have power, we should spread the wealth as much as possible. Does that make me a socialist? No. I'm lucky. I didn't work for this gift. I lucked out.

The Geothermal Project: Part 1

2011-08-25T19:10:00.000-04:00

Two years ago, the furnace guy came to clean our 30 year old furnace. When he was finished he looked at me sadly and said, "It's time." The aging furnace was on it's last legs. We needed to get a new one. I balked at the idea because it was fairly expensive, and i kind of have this idea that new machines are hardly ever as quality as the things they made decades ago, so I put it off for another winter.

Last summer, our furnace was still limping along. My office went on a tour of the John Brown House in Providence for our summer picnic. The tour was fascinating, but what really caught my attention was the project they were working on outside. They were converting the antique mansion to a geothermal heating/cooling system. A lightbulb went off in my head. The heating solution of my dreams. I grilled the unfortunate tour guide with questions about how it worked, who did the work, what was involved with the construction etc.

You have to understand, I hate oil. I hate being dependent on this fuel that is brought to my house. I hate being at the mercy of whatever price-fixing the oil companies and heating oil companies cook up. I loath plastic, and feel a little depressed when I think about all the things it's necessary for. Within 5 feet of where I'm sitting right now, there are probably 500 things made out of plastic or incorporating plastic in some way. The price of home heating oil has doubled in the past 10 years. Last year we spent $3,000 on heating oil, and we're total heat misers in our house. We set the thermostat to 62 degrees in the winter. The oil companies aren't going to get one penny more than is absolutely necessary from me. I have a car that routinely gets over 30 mpg (not a hybrid--that's a rant for another occasion). I desperately wish the bus schedule would coincide with my work schedule so I could leave the car at home. I completely admire my husband for biking to work at least 3 times a week.

So when geothermal entered my mind, it stuck there like a burr (I suppose the oyster analogy would be just about perfect here, but I can't quite bring myself to be that cliche). With geothermal we could divorce ourselves from the oil company.

I know. I know. It's not a complete divorce--more like a separation. I know that the electricity used to power the geothermal heat pump doesn't come from a totally green source, but here's the breakdown of what power plants in New England use to make electricity:

"Natural gas accounted for 32 percent of the power generation in New England in 2010. Nuclear was the next biggest source, at 29 percent. Coal generated 11 percent of New England’s power. Hydropower generated another 5.5 percent. Renewable sources such as wind, solar, and landfill gases provide 6 percent. " Source PolitiFact Rhode Island

So how does this magical system work? I have a very hard time explaining it. When I asked the contractor how to explain it to my friends, family, and neighbors he (very dryly) said, "Just tell them 'It works just like your refrigerator.' Everybody knows how a refrigerator works, right?" Cue nervous laughter, inside I'm thinking, "I have no idea how a refrigerator works, but I kind of think I'm supposed to know, so I'm just going to play along." Genius. Maybe anyone who asks me will play along too.

However, I know that you sophisticated blog readers will not be satisfied with that answer, so I did a little digging on the web to come up with a simple explanation that I think I can understand and say back:
"In the winter, the fluid passing through the underground (or underwater) loops of piping is warmed by the Earth's heat. The collected heat is extracted and concentrated by the heat pump, and distributed through the building's ductwork.
To cool the building in the summer, this process is reversed — the heat pump moves heat from the indoor air into the underground loops, where it is transferred to the relatively cooler ground. The heat removed from the indoor air during the summer can also be used to produce some of your hot water, or to heat swimming pools, instead of transferring it to the ground." As per GHPR

Satisfied that this was the way to go, I went looking for geothermal companies in my favorite hunting ground: the internet. I found almost nothing. I found one phone number and the contractor and I played phone tag until I got busy and distracted and never followed up.

This spring I started my research over again, and was amazed at how much more organized the whole industry was. There were helpful websites, distributors, listings of certified contractors. I emailed a heat pump distributor and he got back to me right away with the names of several installers in my area. I contacted three of them, and in the space of a month had three bids on our project.

The first company was Newport Geothermal owned by Hazard Stewart. He gave us a very organized and reasonable quote, a cost analysis, and answered about a bazillion questions that I had. The second company was run by a man who had done conventional heating and then switched to geothermal. He gave us an incomplete quote that included a system that we later decided was not appropriate for where we lived. The third company was highly recommended by the distributor, but when he came to see us, I almost got the sense that he really didn't want the job, and his quote was a joke. It was rife with spelling and grammatical errors, and it was $15,000 more than the next lowest bid. I thought, "If he's this lackadaisical about this quote, what is he going to be like on the job?"

So we checked Newport Geo's references which were all excellent, arranged financing, and accepted his bid. I do see the irony of hiring someone named Hazard to do a construction project, but my hope is that this is like warding off the evil eye, or un-jinxing. I am a bit superstitious.

This is a terrifyingly expensive project. Well maybe not relatively speaking. It's significantly cheaper than an Escalade--which is kind of funny, because I think when faced with a choice between an Escalade and a geothermal system, lots of people would go for the Escalade.

Still, if something goes wrong, we will be bankrupt and totally freezing this winter.

Yesterday, I came home to find the little dig safe flags in my yard:

And today at work, Hazard called me to say, "I just wanted to let you know that there's a big rig on your lot right now. I just didn't want you to come home to a big surprise."

Here we go!

When the universe tells you to stay home, listen.

2011-08-21T21:29:00.000-04:00

The universe is telling me that I need to stay home.

On Friday, I drove Ava to Maine to stay for a week at Camp Grandma. I had developed a summer cold prior to leaving, and my back has been awful since we got back from our last trip to Maine. My annoying L2 vertebra does not like long car trips and tends to remind me that I inconsiderately sat for too long after long car trips. I had headaches. Clearly I did not want to take this trip, but with Grandma's car in the shop, and no chance for a closer rendezvous point, I decided to book a hotel in a town that balanced the trip up with the trip back. A good friend of mine graciously offered her guest bedroom on the way home so my trip would be further broken up, and my annoying back might get off my back.

We stayed overnight at a hotel within striking distance of the mail boat dock. I was very excited about the hotel, because we got a great deal on the room. The hotel was nice, too. It was clean, smelled good, and the wifi signal was fantastic. The night before we left, we met up with a parade of little girls and their moms out for a walk in my neighborhood, so we walked with them. I told them about the great deal I had gotten on the hotel, and one of my neighbors said, "Oh yea, just look out for bed bugs." I laughed at the joke. She laughed. We all laughed.

I am a wimpy traveler. Nothing feels as good as my own bed, so I always bring along a bedroll of 3 inch memory foam. Hotel beds are notoriously hard, and the memory foam at least gives me a chance of sleeping--and for that matter, waking up in a non-crippled state. I also bring along my own press pot, coffee, soy milk, and sugar. I like my coffee the way I like it, and if my morning is good, the rest of my day is likely to be good as well. Ava and I arrived at the hotel, and I rolled out my bedroll on the bed, and set up her cot.

That night, I slept poorly, and woke up with a swelling under my left eye. I thought it was from my poor sleeping, but then I looked closer and it kind of looked like an insect bite. A teeny little thought started nibbling at my brain, but I needed my coffee to fully realize the thought. After I drank my press pot, soy milk, yummy coffee, I pulled the covers off the bed so I could roll up my bedroll. As I folded the roll, a bed bug crawled across it.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

And inside, some part of my brain is in denial. But no, there was no denying it. I crushed the bug, then Ava crushed one.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Images of our contaminated luggage coming home and WORSE to Grandma's house washed over me. What the fuck am I going to do so that no bugs get on the island and into her house. She doesn't have a washing machine or dryer. She doesn't have running water. You can't just call an exterminator. Fucking Shit!

I realize at this point that I'm talking out loud because Ava says to me, "Will you stop saying shit?" Then, getting me back on track, she says, "So, how do you kill bed bugs?" "You heat them up." I reply. She mulls this over for a minute and then says, "Well, why don't we just put all our stuff in the dryer?"

GENIUS!!!!

I quickly google how long to leave clothes in the dryer to kill the bugs. All the online sources suggested 20 minutes on high.

So we check out of the hotel, and I tell the front desk lady about the bed bugs. She seemed very concerned, and appropriately horrified. I said, "Under the circumstances, do you think a refund is in order?" She said she would check with the owner when he got in later that morning. I had his email waiting in my inbox when I got home apologizing and refunding my room rate.

We pulled into the nearest laundromat and I threw everything into the dryer except my wallet, cell phone, ipod, and laptop (which are now in ziplock bags). Praying that everything was sufficiently decontaminated, I left Ava with Grandma at the mailboat and drove home.

As soon as I arrived home, I threw the clothes I was wearing into the washing machine and took a shower. I washed everything I brought home, and threw away the rest, though the bedroll is still in my trunk. Once the last cycle was in the dryer, I poured myself the first glass of wine and medicated my frayed nerves with wine and sci-fi.

This morning, my visceral reaction to the experience continued. I attacked things. I attacked my closet and organized it. I attacked the kitchen floor with the mop. And I attacked my power-walk. After the walk I felt much calmer. I had some lunch, took a swim, took a nap, and read one of my favorite books.

Then I went off to the Paradise Farm to learn how to trim alpaca toenails and give them shots. Being in the pen with the animals was such a great learning experience, and really made the whole prospect real to me. Anj spent three hours giving me all kinds of great information, and answering all my crazy questions. As she talked, I realized that I could turn the alpacas into all consuming hobbies, or I could just care for them like any other pet. I don't show my cats (but that would be funny right?), so I probably won't show my alpacas.

The visit to the farm completed the cleansing. I feel back to myself for the most part. I'm looking forward to the fall, to learning more about alpacas, and getting my property ready for them.

Next time the universe tells me to stay homeI fully intend on using my alpacas as an excuse to do just that.

The Alpaca Question

2011-08-17T15:24:00.001-04:00

On Tuesday last week, RISD had their annual staff picnic. I took Ava, because it is always a fun time for kids. There are pony rides, a bounce house, unlimited Del's lemonade, a clown, a face painter, and alpacas.

You heard me right. Alpacas are the featured celebrities at the RISD picnic. The alpacas come from Paradise Farm in West Kingstown, RI. Anj and Tom Shaw own the farm. The alpaca farm is Anj's second job (or first, depending how you look at it). Her other job is at RISD (hence her presence at the RISD picnic). She's an absolutely lovely person who pretty much thinks that almost everyone should have a pair of alpacas.

So, my animal loving daughter was TOTALLY excited about the alpacas, and showed so much enthusiasm, that Anj put one on a lead and allowed Ava to walk her all around the picnic grounds. She was a natural! Anj and Ava had so much fun together that Anj invited us to help out with the alpacas that weekend at the Casey Farm Farmer's Market in Sauderstown, RI that weekend (actually, she invited Ava to help out, but said that I could come too).

On Saturday we arrived at the farmer's market bright and early. Ava busied herself with the job of either leading the alpacas around, advising children not to stand directly behind them, or taking publicity photos.

I knitted a hat out of alpaca yarn that came from an animal that was standing behind me.

While I was knitting, I was listening to Anj tell passers by about how to take care of alpacas. The more she talked, the more I thought that maybe we could own alpacas. They don't require much. Hay, grain, a little fenced in area, some toenail clipping and shots. They don't even require a barn--just an overhang. They don't tend to spit like Llamas, and they're much smaller--about 120 lbs when fully grown. You shear them once a year around memorial day, and you can get 6 POUNDS of fiber from one animal.

And they're so dang cute!

But....Do I want to own livestock? Do I want to shovel poop? Do I want to coordinate the shearing/processing etc? Do I want to add responsibility to our already busy and responsibility filled lives?

At what point does the romantic idea surpass the reality, or the reality surpass the romantic idea? If I do this, I have to own it. There can be no half measures. Am I ready for this? I know with a shifting around here and there I could work these lovely beasts into my life. Ava could join 4H. Our life might become more than what it is. Will the joy outweigh the hard work? Does that even matter?

This is Camelot. I have a crush on him.

Free Yarn = SABLE

2011-08-11T14:42:00.000-04:00

Among knitters, there's an Acronym: SABLE. It stands for Stash Acquisition Beyond Life Expectancy.

As of this moment, I am teetering on the brink. I already have two target wine racks full of yarn. I also have two baskets full of yarn and yarn ends, and several shopping bags. Evenso, I still shop for yarn, and I will never turn down yarn should it come my way.

So you can imagine how I drooled when my neighbor posted a link to a craigslist add on my facebook page. Here's the ensuing conversation:

So the listing was for a full under bed storage drawer of yarn for FREE. I immediately emailed the listing.

An hour or so later the lister (Rachel) got back to me and said that the yarn was mine. YAY! I arranged to pick it up the next morning before work. Rachel met me at the door with a completely stuffed kitchen trash bag and handed it over. She said, "I really like the yarn but I have to be realistic."
Realistic? HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Yarn and realism are mutually exclusive in my mind. A realistic person would have an idea for a project, go out and buy just that yarn, and then throw away the skein ends when finished. A realistic person would knit through the current stash before embarking on more. A realistic person would say to the ad, "thank you, but I have enough yarn." I am clearly yarn delusional, but hey, if she has issues with realism, I'm happy to take the yarn off her hands.

I loaded it into the back of my car and brought it home. Here is the bag before I opened it:

Freakin' HUGE!!!

Here is a picture of the entire collection:

Yes, that's a random white T-Shirt you see in there.

Here's a close-up:

I totally scored!

It's a little strange to be the owner of someone else's color palate and discarded projects, but I'll get used to it.

Knitting for Family

2011-08-09T21:12:00.001-04:00

I have just come back from a week spent on Eagle Island in Maine. My Mom has a house there. Her house has no running water, so she graciously rented us a house with a shower. I arranged our trip to coincide with a visit from my sister. She lives in Hong Kong with her husband and three kids. Her middle child is basically the same age as mine, so whenever I have the opportunity to get them together, I do. I sent Ava up a week early, so she could spend a week with the cousins sans parents. It was like magic for her.

We arrived on Sunday after spending two nights at a very nice cabin in Vermont. The cabin featured a cow view:

On Saturday my husband raced in this 12 hour mountain bike race. I toyed with the idea of going to the race with him to cheer him on, but when faced with the prospect of 12 hours of watching bikers go around a course vs. a day at a lovely resort, you know I opted for the resort (I am such a bad wife). We were kind of laughing about the prospect of him asking me to hand him a water as he biked by and me saying, "I just need to finish my row." Anyway, he placed 4th overall, which is amazing considering the endurance required to complete the race. You can get that story, and more on his blog.

While he was biking his ass off, I walked into town and got a facial and a ham sandwich (not at the same time), and spent the rest of the afternoon between the pool, and an I Shouldn't Be Alive marathon on the Discovery Channel. There was this amazing episode about this guy who was hiking in New Zealand, and fell off a cliff shattering his wrist and ankle and getting a huge gash in his leg and he hiked/crawled down 3000 feet AND swam across a river to survive. As a side note, if any of those things ever happened to me my documentary would be titled "I Totally Ended Up Dead".

On Sunday, we picked our way across Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine, and finally wound up at the boat dock at the lowest possible tide. This meant we had to haul all of our luggage, groceries, and wine down a precipitously steep ramp to the dock below. Did I mention the island has no grocery or liquor stores? Every meal has to be planned in advance.

Because we were the house with the on demand hot water, we became the central location for cooking, and dinner became a major event every evening. I say major, because we had between 8 and 10 people every night. Everyone participated in one way or another. If you didn't cook, you cleaned up. I did a lot of the cooking mostly because I loathe doing the dishes, so after dinner, I settled onto the couch and knitted.

Earlier this year, my sister and I were skyping, and she told me that it was freezing in Hong Kong, and that all the kids were wearing hats and scarves to bed. I was ELATED. Why was I elated that my sister and her family were freezing? Because I could knit for them. They moved to the tropics. I despaired of ever being able to knit for them. When Gwen showed me that they were actually in need, I resolved to knit them all something warm.

Zoe had commissioned me to make her a pirate bunny hat. The hat kind of took on a life of it's own, though, and became a blue and gold puppy hat, which she loved. After that, I knitted my sister a pair of alpaca fingerless gloves-very yummy and buttery soft. And then I knitted another hat which was a pink and green jester-ish hat made from this great Malabrigo wool that my sister picked up at Needle Rock. Zoe immediately claimed it.

During this knitting, Ethan, the 4 year old, decided he loved Zoe's dog hat, so I told him he could pick out yarn of his own, and I would knit him a dog hat too. He carefully selected three colors, and with eyes shining watched me get started. He stared at me so intently and with such enthusiasm that I eventually had to say, "You know, this is going to take me a little while to knit up, but I'll definitely have it done by Tuesday." He monitored my progress acutely (and cutely), and every morning he would wake up and ask my sister what day it was and how long he had to wait for his hat.

I do sort of wonder if this wasn't some massive form of flattery meant to bring me over to his camp. Ethan is a very smart 4 year old. He meditates with grandma, bikes with Uncle Alby, and begs me for knitting. I kind of wonder if he hasn't figured out that the best way to a person's heart is through the things that they hold dear. But could those shining eyes have really been faked? I kind of don't think so, or I like to think not. He was SO excited.

So I finished the hat, and he was thrilled. He wore it all over the house, and the most touching thing? When Gwen was packing up all the bags, he carefully folded it up and handed it to her in an almost ceremonial way so she could carefully tuck it into the luggage.

Honestly, of all the kids, I now think he will be the one who will want to learn how to knit. I pray that no one ever convinces him that boys don't knit. I know better.

As for Jack, the eldest, he's 11 going on 14 and much harder to knit for. We finally settled on a navy blue and grey alpaca cap with a cell phone keypad. I don't have the yarn yet, but I'll knit it up and send it out as soon as I can (excuse to go to a yarn shop...hmmmm). We discussed the matter of the hat while watching episodes of Stargate SG-1. He said, "I can't believe you named your cat Samantha." I said, "I know. I'm such a nerd, right?" He said, "You ARE a nerd!"

So vacation come and gone, and Ava and I both cried after my sister and her children departed today, but in spite of the sadness at seeing them go for another year, I feel utterly warmed by the love they showed us. Ava and I are both counting down the days until our next reunion.

As for Alby, he's already strategizing for his next 12 hour race. Yeah, he's a totally obsessed biking nut, but if you substitute knitting for biking, we're strangely compatible.

****UPDATE******

My sister just emailed me this pic of Ethan wearing every single thing I knit during the week:

Two Yarn Shops, a Family Reunion, and more!

2011-07-25T19:18:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I drove to Portland, Maine to rendezvous with my Mom, and hand over my daughter. Ava is spending a week with her Grandma on a small island off the coast of Deer Isle. Joining her are her cousins and aunt. She only sees them once a year because they live in Hong Kong. Ava and her cousin Zoe are only 3 months apart in age, and they totally love each other, so this week on the island for them is a priceless treat.

I booked a hotel through priceline, and got a great deal on what I hoped was a nice hotel. Imagine my delight when we walked into the marble tiled, chandeliered lobby of the Eastland Park Hotel. It was amazing! The staff was extremely friendly, the room was well appointed and clean, and they even provided a roll away at no extra charge. Ava commented in the lobby, "The people here are way fancier than us." We had dinner at a place around the corner called Nosh. The burgers and fries were soooooo naughty, but sooooooo good. On our way to the restaurant, I noticed a yarn shop.

(I seem to have a knack for booking hotels that are around the corner from yarn shops.)

The next morning we met up with my sister and her 3 children at their hotel for breakfast. As soon as Ava and Zoe were reunited, they latched hands and didn't unlatch for practically the whole rest of the morning. After breakfast, we sorted out who was going in which car, and finally I kissed my daughter good bye, told her to be nice, and watched them go (with a little lump in my throat). Although it was only 9 am, I thought I might walk by the yarn shop and see if it was open. I was doubtful, because it seemed like everything in Portland opened at 10, but the door was open, so I walked on in.

The store is called Central Yarn Shop.

The proprietor, Rona (sp?) is cheerful and chatty. We discussed cotton yarns, wools, dish cloths. Another customer walked in, looking for a simple scarf pattern and yarn, and Rona's suggestion was so brilliant that I bought the yarn. I didn't find the cotton I was craving, but I did get a few yummy skeins of this and that. I also mentioned that I was having a difficult time finding a top down cardigan pattern that I could follow, and she said she had a whole book full of these easy to follow patterns. She showed me an example and talked me through it. She's amazing! If you're in Portland, definitely stop by.

From there, I was off to Kennebunk to have lunch with a high school friend and her son at Federal Jacks. I had some time to kill before our lunch date, so I did a google search of yarn shops in Kennebunk and found two. I tried to find the first one but failed. The directions led me to a residential neighborhood. On further investigation, I discovered that it was an online shop only. So glad I didn't knock on the door! So off to shop number two.

This store is called The Custom Shop.

This is a cute country shop with an airy feel. They have a nice range of yarns from high end to beginner. Seated in chairs by the window, two old ladies were busy frogging their projects that had gone wrong, and I had a very funny conversation with them about when you frog and when you let it go. We all agreed that miscalculating gage is definite grounds for frogging. For those of you who may be new to frogging--this is what we knitters call the act of unraveling a project. The reason it is called frogging is because you Rip-it rip-it rip-it. Custom Shop did have some cotton that I liked, and I walked out with two skeins plus a cotton/corn viscose blend. It said hand wash and air dry, but I'm going to throw caution to the wind (or rather, caution do the dryer), and see what happens.

Now I'm back home to a VERY quiet house....hmmm...what sort of mischief shall I get into this week? Whatever it is, I'm sure it will involve yarn.

My muse

2011-07-17T19:06:00.001-04:00

So, I'm thinking of teaching my cat, Mr. Furley, how to knit. Or I could just submit this picture to Stuff On My Cat.

He's a very tolerant kitty.

Do not mistake composure for ease.

2011-07-13T19:18:00.000-04:00

I am a closet sci-fi geek.

I guess if you know me well, you probably already know this, but if you're a casual acquaintance you probably haven't figured this out. I keep it mostly hidden. I am a total sci-fi geek. You will never find me at a Star Trek convention, or donning elf ears (except maybe on Halloween). I don't like to be defined by my likes, and my prodigious pride won't allow me to fall into any kind of groupie role. Occasionally, my love of the genre creeps into the visual range. I have a decal on my car that is the symbol of earth from Stargate SG-1.

I call my car Jackson, and I named my cat Samantha. I am more than a little ashamed of this. If you open the cupboard in my studio, you will find every episode of Stargate SG-1 on my shelf.

Though I am broadcasting this now, I really don't tell many people these things. I like to be known as an artist, a professional, an educator, and an administrator. I sometimes even like to be known as a knitter, a mom, and a person who knows lots of weird facts about things (I can name all 196 countries of the world). Sci-fi geek doesn't exactly fit into the way I see myself. I'm not a fangirl.

With this introduction in mind, you can imagine my giddy delight when I discovered that Star Trek Voyager has been added to Netflix live streaming. I am not a Star Trek purist. My two favorite series were Deep Space Nine, and Voyager (I know this probably renders me a lesser fan among fans, but I can't help my preferences--you will also be aghast to know that I drink my red wine with ice). So I've been watching Voyager every night for the past 5 nights (I'll tell you about how I dreamed about how to eradicate bedbugs with transporter technology some other time).

Last night, I was watching the episode "State of Flux". During the episode, Tuvok said the most amazing quote:

"Do not mistake composure for ease."

I was completely struck by this comment. Years ago, when I was in college, I had a couple of tough semesters, and really felt like I was coming apart at the seams. Later, I ran into several classmates who would always remark about how confident and happy I was. I'd always think to myself, "What? Really? Were you even there? I was a mess?" I wish I could have said that Tuvok quote to them. It's complete genius. It says it ALL.

So here was my dilemma: Normally, in a situation like this, I would post the quote on facebook. I wanted to. I really did. I know I have a ton of Star Trek fans among my friends who would have totally enjoyed the quote and probably added some of their own. But in the end, I couldn't bear to expose myself for the sci-fi geek I am without any explanation.

So here I am, fully out of the sci-fi geek closet. Next thing you know, I'll be wearing elf ears to some convention and making a Stargate ring to go around my Wal-Mart pool (Have I mentioned that the Wal-Mart pool is arguably the best $200 I have ever spent?). Oh yeah. Livin' the dream.

Do not mistake composure for ease.

Yarn Bombing in Harmony, RI

2011-07-10T19:30:00.000-04:00

This incident of yarn bombing took place less than 3 miles from my house at the Harmony Library in Glocester, RI.

I've said it before. I'll say it again. I live in a great place!

Bindweed

2011-07-02T11:58:00.000-04:00

I have successfully cast on a row of bindweed. This is a ubiquitous and totally invasive weed. I have searched all over my property for another one, so I can do row two. I can't find a single other plant. What gives?

LYS = Love Yarn Shops

2011-06-29T22:16:00.000-04:00

I'm on a business trip to in Portsmouth, NH.

Wonder of wonders! There is a lovely yarn shop right around the corner from my hotel. When I say right around the corner, I mean RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER.

This amazing little shop is called, The Yarn Basket. It is located at 33 Deer Street, Suite 5A. The shop is light an airy. The windows are generous and the smell is new and fresh with just a hint of wool. The proprietress is super nice. She introduced me to a whole new beading technique during the 20 minutes I was in the store. She was an amazing salesperson. I really appreciate that. You know, I've been in stores where you walk in and they couldn't care less whether you were there or not, but she cared. She wanted to sell yarn. She brought my attention to things. She was good.

So what's the damage?

Afterwards, I figured I had better also get something for the kid and hubs. Toy store and Byrne & Carlson Chocolatier followed this extravagance. All awesome.

Portsmouth is pretty cool. I grew up around Bar Harbor, and it is a little Bar Harbor-ish with the harbor cruises, kitzchy t-shirt stores, and typical seaside lobster charms, but it has some wonderful original art galleries that have more than your standard seaside fare, and a yarn shop, a bead shop, and this unbelievable chocolatier. OMG.

Yes, I would come back here. Totally.

My Ostrich-like State

2011-06-21T11:43:00.001-04:00

I have recently developed a swollen and painful knuckle in my thumb. I'm trying to remember a moment when I might have injured it, but I'm not coming up with any specific traumatic incident.

I first began to notice it when I was playing Zuma. I have a confession to make. I am completely addicted to Zuma. So much so that I have even begun inserting the words "Hot Frog" into the song Hot Stuff, by Donna Summer. That said, I am not a "gamer". I have this romantic ideal of myself that I'm someone who spends their free time in creative pursuits or some other worthwhile and edifying activities. Zuma is none of these things. It is a mind sucking time waster. Somehow, though, the building up of mojo, the working towards the next level, the figuring out where the points come from and how is very very very satisfying. But, because of this romantic idea of myself, you can imagine my shock and horror at the very thought that I may have given myself a repetitive stress injury by playing Zuma. Oh the humiliation! Oh the degradation! Oh CRAP!

So I did what any reasonable person in the google age would do. I looked up thumb swelling on the internet. Dr. Google doesn't seem to think I have tendonitis, but rather bursitis or possibly a sprain. Sprain is unlikely, though, because I don't remember a specific moment of injury (and I don't drink so much that I would forget something like this). So, bursitis? WTF!? I'm not an effing 80 year old (yet).

I have been icing it here and there without much help. A reasonable person would probably call their doctor at this point. My doctor is an amazing and incredible human being who has saved me from countless sinus infections, back problems, and rescued me from my seasonal affective disorder. I love her. HOWEVER, I am paralyzed by the fear that she will tell me to do the one thing that will make my thumb all better.

Stop knitting.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Not that! Anything but that.

What if it is a repetitive stress injury and I have to stop playing Zuma and Knitting? What if it requires surgery? What if it's a tumor and (gasp) my thumb needs to be amputated? I can easily tie my shoes without my thumbs, but knitting? Do they make special thumb prosthetics for knitters?

I know. I know what you're going to say. Just go to the effing doctor, you moron. I probably will....next week. Or maybe the week after. For now I will remain in my ostrich-like state. What I don't know, won't hurt me.

*****************July 21 UPDATE************************
I went to the specialist today, and he said I have a bone spur in my thumb that is inconveniently located just beneath the major tendon in my thumb. Whenever the tendon is pressed against it, presto, inflammation. He gave me a steroid shot in the knuckle (ouch), and said that if that didn't help, he could easily grind off the spur. Lovely.

Funny thing though, as I was sitting in the waiting room knitting, a nice lady plopped down beside me and we had a whole knitting conversation. It was so nice to talk to someone who knows what I mean when I say something like "short rows". I just friended her on ravelry, and then added a project so I don't look like a total slug.

Also funny, my doctor's wife is opening a yarn store in Barrington in February. Apparently she has a medical license but prefers to knit and sell yarn. I think her store would be a great place to go and knit. If you sit on a knitting needle, she'll know what to do.

D(io)rama Part 2: or Puppet Master or Good Mommy, you decide...

2011-06-10T19:25:00.000-04:00

So I was sharing the story of the D(io)rama with one of my co-workers today, and she told me this very funny story:

"When I was at RISD I actually had to stop volunteering for to help with crafts at alumni weekend because I was so annoyed with how alumni parents would micromanage their children's art projects. Once I was doing a pumpkin craft project and I witnessed a Dad rip a paintbrush out of his daughters hand saying, 'You can't use orange! It doesn't contrast with the pumpkin!'"

After all of my worry, the D(io)rama project went off with very little drama after all. Here are some pictures:

Ava worked rather painstakingly on making the Tiger. Initially, the neck was too skinny, but after a consultation with the resident art critic (me) she started the head again, and later said that she was glad she redid it.

And here's the finished product:

Close up of the mother and fawn:

Close up of the tiger. I'm especially proud of the way Ava did the stripes:

The proud little girl:

She really did do the actual work almost entirely by herself (I assisted with the hot gluing of the trees and moss). I art directed the project and kept track of what needed to be done when and in what order, but I didn't make her do anything that didn't appeal to her sense of what it should be.

If it had been my diorama, I would have had a lot more trees, and I would have had the tiger coming up out of the water or poised as if to pounce (or possibly chewing the head off the fawn). But the project wasn't mine, and her solution was absolutely perfect.

At the end, she said knowingly, "I know this was hard for you, Mom, because you're an artist."

Cue David Newman emotional triumph music that makes you cry here:

And, funny thing, when I was looking for the above song, I stumbled across this very random and ridiculous video. Watch the whole thing:

Finally, having read this blogpost to Ava (hysterical laughter in response to the the idea of the tiger chewing the head off the fawn) said, "My teacher would be so mad if if I did that!". But now she's thinking of a non-school version of the D(io)rama. I will post pictures later if this actually comes to pass.

The D(io)rama of the Artist-Mom's Daughter: part 1

2011-06-05T14:59:00.000-04:00

You may or may not know that I majored in Sculpture at RISD. Although my emphasis was on performance art and installation, I love making objects. I think in my heart I am an object maker. I love crafting the perfect three dimensional object. I think this is part of why knitting hats appeals to me so much. My three dimensional mind also enjoys assembling furniture, and web design (to me, a very three dimensional art). Compound this background with my job in Admissions (which essentially is to critique the art of young people), and you have someone with very strong opinions about what is well crafted and "good" and what is not.

I will not allow myself to become one of those mothers.

As a parent artist, I have to be very careful to leave my daughter alone to find her own way as an artist. My eye for 3D and my training in color, composition, and critique make me an impossible meddler when it comes to other people's art.

Enter the d(io)rama project.

I will not allow myself to become one of those mothers. I will not allow myself to become one of those mothers.

*sigh*

The first problem with this project was that Ava had to pick an animal that she didn't know a lot about. Nearly impossible. The girl is like the 8 year old equivalent to the Encyclopedia Brittanica when it comes to animals. She regularly educates the staff at the Southwick's Zoo (who are very knowledgeable themselves). Finally I steered her towards the lesser known prey animal of one of her favorite predators. The prey animal? Chital deer. The predator? Tiger.

I will not allow myself to become one of those mothers. I will not allow myself to become one of those mothers. I will not allow myself to become one of those mothers.

So now that we've (she's) settled on an animal, we (she) now has to plan out the d(io)rama. I was in favor of doing preliminary drawings, which she would have nothing to do with. So instead we (she) planned what materials we (she) would use, and went to Michaels.

Part of me is deluding myself into thinking that the reason I'm so involved in this project is because I want it to be a learning experience for her. Truth is, I can't bear to watch her just throw something together. Under this delusion, I ask her all kinds of leading questions: What are you going to make the trees out of? What are you going to make the grass out of? What color should the tiger be? What color should the deer be? What about the spots/stripes? What do you want to make the deer out of? Would a lighter green be better? A mixture of greens? Do you want the tiger to have jewels for eyes? (no.).

This morning after working on the box and the animals for a while, Ava told me a story of how a kid last year brought in a diorama that his mother had made, and his teacher made him throw it away. Was this a warning to me to back off?

I will not allow myself to become one of those mothers. I will not allow myself to become one of those mothers. I will not allow myself to become one of those mothers. I will not allow myself to become one of those mothers.

Treasures from Grandma's closet

2011-06-03T20:42:00.000-04:00

This past weekend, Hubs, Daughter, and I drove to Pennsylvania to celebrate memorial day with my Stepmother. She has a wonderful man-friend whose family has utterly adopted her, and become like our in-laws. I like knowing that she has such a strong community of family around her, because we are so far away.

The weekend was absolutely perfect. We spent two solid days in my sister in law's pool. She had just opened the pool, and was teaching her two lab puppies how to swim. Ava immediately took it upon herself to begin their lessons, and worked tirelessly to teach them. She was quite persuasive, and by the end of the weekend, both dogs were the water dogs they were bred to be.

While all this was going on, SIL brought me into the house (don't worry, other adults were outside watching the little one), to see if I wanted any of her grandmothers old knitting supplies and yarn.

My ears pricked up, and I went right over to the two giant plastic tubs. Now mind you, I don't really need any yarn or needles or any of that, but the allure of free knitting things was just too much to resist.

The yarn was mostly grandma-grade acrylic, so I took a pass, but I found a cotton dish cloth about 10 rows away from being finished and still on the needles. I finished it, and gave it to SIL who was appropriately impressed and delighted.

Digging through the box of needles, though, I found an antique ball winder, many crochet hooks, tapestry needles, stitch markers, and other things that my couch seems to eat.

Last but not least I found a fantastic pair of size 50 knitting needles (pictured left). You heard me right. FIFTY.

You know I have a secret ambition to knit vines. Specifically, poison ivy. I'm incredibly, unbelievably allergic to poison ivy. If the wind is blowing in the right direction I will get poison ivy. The compulsion to knit with poison ivy could easily land me in the hospital. But I can't stop thinking about it. It's kind of like that French phrase, "L’appel du vide" that means the instinctive urge to throw yourself from high places (call of the void).

Anyway, these size 50 needles would be perfect for vine knitting. Grape vines, Lucy, not poison ivy.

The rest of the weekend was great as well. We went to the fireworks/fountain show at Longwood gardens which was fantastic, and we spent some lovely quality time with the family. Also, during the car ride and long hours next to the pool, I knitted up 3 pairs of noro fingerless gloves which I will be felting this weekend. Sa-WEET!

money out, money in, money out...oh, and doomsday predictions

2011-05-21T08:02:00.000-04:00

I suppose it is the life of the artist, designer, or craftsperson to always be weighing the balance of expenses versus income. Balance sheets have never really been my forte, and though I like to think I'm turning a profit on my obsession, I have a suspicion that my habit of "well, just one skein" has me in the red. Still, I must be close to balanced....I think.

Yesterday a bunch of things arrived in the mail (both electronic and physical) that further complicated this balancing act.

First, I received the skeins of yarn that my friends picked up for me at the farmers market--very nice brightly colored textural wool--much potential. To my delight, they managed to squeeze two skeins out of my budget rather than the one I was expecting, so I feel like I got a buy one get one free. Funny that. Still, I guess it counts as an expense. Money out.

Then I received my box of unsold hats from Needlerock which the mail carrier crammed into my mailbox so tightly I had to put down my keys, brace one foot against the post, and pull with all my strength to get out of the box. I looked like a cartoon at the end of my driveway, and hope that none of the neighbors were watching. In the box was a check for a hat which they had sold at the last minute. Money in.

Finally, I received an email from the RISD alumni office saying, "Congratulations! Your application has been accepted for the RISD Alumni Holiday Art Sale being held Saturday, December 3, 2011 at the RI Convention Center." Yay! The sale is on! This is good news, because I'm not sure what I would do with all the hats that I've knitted so far if I wasn't in the sale. Now I need to send them a check. Money out.

Happily, I have already sold enough hats this year to pay for my table, so when I actually get to the sale, it will all be cake. I love that. Money in.

Of course, if the Rapture actually happens today (I guarantee you I will not be one of those who ascends), then the world is going to end in October, in which case all my knitting this year will be for naught. Here's hoping that the doomsday folks are still wrong and will be revising their time line tomorrow just as they have done throughout history. Here's a link to the wikipedia page on doomsday predictions and how they have ended up. I think statistics are in the sinners, favor on this one.

Yarn Scouts

2011-05-15T08:57:00.000-04:00

About a week ago, a friend of mine posted these pictures on my facebook page. For reference, he is the same friend who commissioned a custom hat from me last year. I called it Sir Harmonious.

He was at a farmers market in Maine, and wondered if I'd like him to pick up a skein or two. I was off somewhere at the time (maybe at the zoo), and missed the post, but we messaged back and forth about it.

Now let me explain something. Farmers market yarn is usually expensive, and frequently scratchy. But I still love it. I love the whole idea of meeting the person who owned the sheep, sheared the sheep, cleaned up the wool, dyed it, and spun it. No wonder it's expensive. I normally take a pass on this yarn, because even though I love the idea of it, I don't really like the feel of it, and I'm too much of a profit margin conscious knitter to embrace the price.

Well, Sir Harmonious added a whole other layer to this temptation that I had never thought of before: the idea of friends out there around the country scouting farmers markets for yarn for me. I like the whole idea of friends in unique settings picking out yarn that they think I would like. My parameters were pretty simple: Bright colors, worsted or bulky weight, soft enough to wear against your forehead.

This weekend, they went out and purchased a skein for me. I will send them a check, and they will send me the yarn, and no matter what the yarn is, the hat that I knit from it will be special.

Now don't get all excited. I also did my budget this weekend. I totally can't afford my friends all going out to farmers markets for yarn for me, so I won't be making a habit of this, but once in a while, it is certainly fun.

The best laid plans....

2011-05-08T21:20:00.000-04:00

Last week, I finally gave in. I bought a cell phone with a qwerty keyboard. I text about 5 times a year, and decided that I had finally had enough of the numeric keyboard. I know, all this for 5 times a year. I'm really not a texter. I'm a little embarrassed to say this, because as far as technology goes, I feel pretty much undaunted. I don't know why I haven't embraced it for the efficient form of communication that it is. I think the problem is the phone itself. I hate phones. I find them invasive. The text doesn't change that invasiveness--it makes it worse. Now, instead of just answering the phone and saying hello, I have to immediately type a response. Panic mounts. They have meds for this kind of anxiety. Not being much inclined to a medical solution, I opted for the keyboard.

So, phone purchased (or, new contract purchased--depending on how you look at it), what to do with the old phone?

I have heard of charities that take phones and give them to battered women so they can call for help if they get into trouble. This is a great idea, and I decided to go ahead with it, just as soon as I removed my SIM card.

Problem. I couldn't find the SIM card. In MI-5 they make it look so easy. Pop open the phone, pull the card out, stick it in your handy little thumb drive, copy the contents, pop it back in your phone. That's when I noticed the little screws in the back of the phone. I'll just take it apart and take out the card.

So I took the phone apart. The inside was really, really cool. I took off the first layer. Very cool mechanical parts (that I know nothing about). Shiny things. Mathematical patterns. And then...AND THEN...the keypad magically peeled off. And...AND it had little holes in it that were perfect for a needle and thread.

It doesn't take a genius to know that this was the best possible use for this old phone ever. Yes, I know, battered women are probably more important than my cool hat. I promise--I PROMISE--I will make a donation to the organization if I sell the hat. They probably want my money more than my old phone anyway.

I couldn't let it go.

2011-05-03T06:57:00.000-04:00

I ended up figuring out the ins and outs of yahoo's domain registration, and kingsplanet is now live again. I just couldn't let it go.

After bouncing the idea off a few (I am a myers briggs E after all), I decided that there was real value in having a url that was easy to remember and communicate. I re-upped for 5 more years.

After my last blog post, I feel like I kind of caved, but heck, business is business.

Kingsplanet R.I.P.

2011-04-23T12:30:00.000-04:00

I have allowed my bricks-and-mortar website to lapse.

Back in January, I looked at my credit card, and knew this day would come. Was I trying to cut back on finances? Was I trying to find more current ways of showcasing my work? Am I some internet genius who knows something about the future of technology that nobody else knows?

Sadly, none of the above.

My credit card expired, and I lost my login and password.

I tried to figure it out. I managed to login to yahoo, and that should have given me access to my small business account, and thus to my domain name registry. Unfortunately, the yahoo shopping cart demanded I upgrade to some fancy webhosting thing that would cost $30 a month. Every time I clicked on the simple domain registry button, the order wouldn't go through.

I probably could have been more persistent. I could have fiddled around with it and figured it out--an I may yet do that. But really, why bother?

I have a blog (free). I have a mobile me gallery (included in my subscription). I could have a facebook page for my artwork and knits (free). I could have a flicker or picasa account (free). I can list products on amazon (free until sold).

The only real advantages to having a website is that the domain name is something of your choosing, it's easy to remember, and you can design it any way you want.

I still have the website all stored up on my computer. I could register a new domain name and start over again. I could think more strategically and carefully about the name I choose, and how that reflects my business. Sigh.

Am I just being lazy about this whole domain name loss? Should I fight to take back kingsplanet?

I'm kind of thinking, no.

Farmers, Athletic Gear, and Social Paranoia

2011-04-14T21:09:00.004-04:00

I used to pretend that I didn't care what people thought of me. But let's face it. Anyone who looks like this totally cares what people think.

I spent my teenage years living on an island with 350 full time residents. In this community, everyone knew everything about what everyone was doing. Since I looked like a goth punk rock star, I didn't really mind, but I was always aware of it.

Fast forward to 2011. I'm in the last year of my 30's, and have finally given up on maintaining my girlish figure through starvation. I can't make well reasoned decisions on an empty stomach. So I have started walking. I walk about 4 miles a day whenever possible (maybe 4 times a week).

Fitting this routine into my daily schedule is kind of tricky. I have a one hour lunch break at work, which I can fill with this four mile circuit, but that precludes eating, and also assumes that I can actually get away from my desk. Happily, my daughter has recently decided to independently take care of her evening bath routine, so I can walk in the evening after hubs gets home.

The sun sets at about 7:15 which means the latter part of my walk is in the dimmest part of the afternoon. I know that this is the time of day that is most dangerous to pedestrians so I wanted to wear something bright. Hubs has been product testing some super reflective gear designed by RISD faculty member Meg DeCubellis. I "borrowed" his shiny jacket, and a flashlight. I told Meg that I had stolen his jacket, and she gave me one of my own for "testing". The jacket is screaming yellow and reflective. I also bought some fancy sneakers that my sister recommended in the hopes that my grumpy back and feet won't be too upset with this foreign concept called exercise.

My evening loop takes me past several sheep farms, and I always nod and say hello to the farmers as I go by. I totally think they think I'm something that I'm not. I stand outside myself looking at my fancy gear, my shoes, my ipod, my fitness walk, and know that I must look like one of the housewives of Orange county. I am deeply ashamed of this. This is not who I am, and it irks me that I might be seen this way. I have had only one manicure in my entire life.

I want them to know that I lived on a sheep farm in the sixth grade--that in a way, I'm one of them. This is ridiculous and insulting to them. I'm not one of them, and it's a totally yuppy concept to think that I am. I work a full time administrative job. I am a frivolous artist. I only have one child. And I have a gangrene thumb. I dislike sheep.

But I believe in what they're doing--how they're living. I think small farm farmers are the absolute most important people in the world. They're the people who are going to carry on the human race when the grid collapses. They're the people who truly know how to synthesize the relationship between people and mother earth.

Maybe next week, I'll go back to the mohawk. Will that help my street cred? I doubt it.

The Last Knit

2011-04-04T22:19:00.000-04:00

OMG. This could be me:

Competitive Knitting League?

2011-04-03T20:56:00.001-04:00

As some of you may know, my husband is a competitive Mountain Biker. He bikes with a circuit called the Eastern Fat Tire Association. Late last summer a company called Bike Man picked him up for sponsorship. He doesn't get paid to race, but they do offer him some deep discounts on their products, and he occasionally gets to try cool things to review.

As I was out walking this evening, I got to thinking about how great it would be to be sponsored by a yarn company. Wouldn't it be cool if Berroco, or Plymouth, or Alpaca Direct, or heck, even Lion Brand would sponsor me? Or maybe a yarn shop, like Needle Rock or Knit Picks? I could wear their logos whenever I was knitting, and I could emblazon their decals upon my website and blog. I could blog about their products and offer online workshops.

Hubs and I are both pretty committed to our respective obsessions. I guess the difference is that he's visible, and he competes, and he wins things. I'm competitive, but I don't technically win things.

So what if there was a competitive knitting circuit. We could have our own cool acronym like NECK (New England Competitive Knitting), or APT (The Association of Pickers and Throwers).

We'd have races with exciting live webcasts! Team events! I can just see it now--one team brings in a ringer--one of those peruvian knitters with the yarn thrown over their shoulders who can knit a stuffed animal in a couple of hours. Fights break out. Someone gets stabbed in the eye with a double pointed needle.

There would definitely have to be some ground rules.

Oooh! We could have an event called Queue knitting! You'd have to get in a line at the DMV or the bank or at an amusement park, and see how many rows you could knit before you got to the front. We could do Traffic Jam Knitting! Nursing Knitting (penalties for stabbing your baby with a knitting needle)! Birthday Party Knitting! The possibilities are endless.

Am I the only one here who sees a huge untapped market for this? It would be mere moments before ESPN picked us up--for sure. And from there? Olympic knitting? Special training? A hand exercise regimen? Oh yes!

I should clearly stop walking. All of this thinking--bad.

The occasional anti-parent

2011-03-24T20:46:00.001-04:00

I have never considered myself to be a natural parent. There's a part of me that rails against all the constructs and pressures of modern day parenthood. Don't get me wrong. I don't look down on people who are really into it. I'm secretly jealous of them, and think that someday, when Ava is in community college, while their kids are in Harvard, I might regret my lack of enthusiasm, but for now, I never sterilize anything. I rarely arrange playdates. I don't force my daughter to do ten different activities in a week. I loathe team sports. In winter when the parking lot of the daycare gets snowy, I resist the urge to turn doughnuts in my car. I love my daughter, but I'm not deeply interested in all the modern trends of parenting. I am a reluctant participant in parent homework projects.

Truthfully, parent homework annoys me, and brings out the subversive side in me. I am not able to act on my inclinations, which is too bad, because it would be very funny. About a week ago, we received a letter in the mail from Ava. She had written it in school, and it was all about all the things she loves about second grade. This is kind of funny, because every day when we get in the car, she regales me with stories about all the awful things that happen to her, all the minor offenses of the children on the playground, and the awful food, and terrible projects. She told me that I was now required to write a letter to her and send it to her school.

Feeling a little wicked, here was my first draft:

Dear Ava,
Thank you for writing to me. It was nice to hear that you actually like second grade.
When I was in the second grade I went to a wonderful hippy school and we called our teachers by their first names. At recess we were turned loose on the playground and I don't recall ever seeing a teacher there. They rang a little bell when we were supposed come inside. Whenever we had disputes we worked them out ourselves without any adult involvement. Tattling was taboo. For lunch, we had all manner of delicious food. Our favorite meal was cheese sauce flecked with ham on top of toast squares. We called this delicacy Shit on Shingles, but not in front of the teachers or the lunch lady.
I hope you are having a great day!
Your Mom

Sadly, I can't quite bring myself to be THAT parent. I don't know if Ava would be delighted or embarrassed, but I'm not a bridge burner. Too bad. Life would be so much more interesting. Here's the appropriate letter that I actually wrote:

Dear Ava,
Thank you for writing to me. Although we see each other every day, it was nice to hear about all the things you like in second grade.
When I was in second grade I went to a great school. My teacher's name was Phoebe. You say it, "Fee-Bee". I played the lion in the play, "My Father's Dragon" and my friend Wendy played Elmer Elevator. My favorite lunch was grilled cheese and tomato soup. I liked making things out of clay in art class, and my piano teacher was named Donna.
I dressed up as an alley cat for Halloween, and my friends and I would play "super cat" at recess.
I hope you are having a fun day at school!
Love,
Your mom

A tale of two yarn shops

2011-03-17T20:47:00.000-04:00

I just got this message from my sister in law. I miss Needle Rock. I don't think I will be getting there this summer, but maybe next...

I have recently visited two local yarn shops, and my visits were like night and day.

A few weeks ago, I was working on this absolutely spectacular (if I do say so myself) jester hat, and I started to run out of yarn. I bought the yarn--one skein of Berroco Borialis, at the Abbott Yarn shop in Salem, MA during their going out of business sale. You never want a yarn store to go out of business, but, oh, when it does...So I went on line and looked up the websites of two yarn shops that I knew were fairly close to me. I emailed both shops asking if they had the yarn.

Not hearing back, I decided to stop at the first shop on my way home from work one day. The shop was hard to find, and I drove by it a couple of times before I actually saw it. The building was a dismal blue cinder block construction shared with a barber shop. The sign was tiny. Inside, the space seemed dark. There was no one at the front desk. Off to the side, and slightly hidden from view was a large table with several knitters knitting around it. One of the knitters, a lady about my age with long reddish hair, gave me a kind of "RESCUE ME" look (or at least in retrospect, that's how I interpreted it). An older woman, sitting at the table looked at me when I walked in as much as to say, "What do you want?" The vibe was distinctly chilly. She stiffly got up from the table and came over to me. She smelled like stale cigarettes. Trying to sound cheerful, I said, "I emailed you earlier this week about some Berroco yarn?"

"We don't have it." She curtly replied.

Silence.

I was so taken aback by this lack of sales, that I actually started selling out loud to myself, "Oh, well, darn it. I guess I'll have to find it on the internet, but I kind of really wanted to support the local shops. Well, if I can't find it, maybe I'll come back for a substitute." This would have been a great opportunity for her to swing in and say something like, "Oh, what color and fiber was it--maybe we have something that you can use." Instead, she left me standing there and went back to the table and sat down.

When my daughter and I walked out of the store, I said, "Wow--is her business so good that she can't be bothered to sell me a skein of yarn." I walked out of that store without a single skein! That is just wrong.

The next day, I got an email reply from the other shop saying that they had the yarn I was looking for in stock (replying to my email--this is a good sign). So on Saturday, I went out to this other store--slightly further away, but still close. This is a great little store in Uxbridge, MA simply called The Yarn Shop. Happily, they specialize in Berroco yarns.

I had been there a few years ago, and it kind of felt like the place was falling apart. Yarn was not very well organized, and it was run by a single old lady, Kathleen, and she seemed to have a little help from her son who was hauling boxes around while I was there (he was wearing a hand knit sweater). I kind of thought it was on it's way out, so I hadn't been back.

When I walked in WHAT A CHANGE. The place was brightly lit. Colorful yarn displays delighted the eye in every corner. The shop was positively bustling. At a large table near the door, a knitting class was assembled, and everyone seemed engaged and earnest. Kathleen was still behind the counter, but shadowed by a lady who might have been her daughter. The daughter seemed to be in her 40's or possibly 50's, she had the most charming Kerri Strug/Sandy Duncan kind of voice. The teacher of the class was everywhere at once--helping a newborn knitter figure out how to stick the needle through a stitch, catching up on inventory, advising on cables, and helping me find the yarn I was looking for. It was she who responded to my email. Two skeins of my precious yarn in hand, and a fancy button for my daughter we went to check out.

Kathleen was trying very hard to figure out how to write down my order. She may be suffering from something like Alzheimers. She's still functional, but easily muddled. I know what this is like from watching my Dad in the early stages, and it warmed my heart to see how everyone was really trying to keep her involved and active in the store that she has loved for so many years.

This is now my new favorite local shop. I can't wait to have an excuse to go back. There must be something I need right now. And by the way, the hat is finished:

My Amazon order just came in

2011-03-03T18:32:00.000-05:00

So, do you ever order things that you don't really need from Amazon just so that you can get free super saver shipping? I was ordering new gaskets for my stovetop espresso pots (yes, I have more than one), and for some reason, I couldn't think of anything else I really needed or wanted.

Once my order was placed, I think I thought of at least a dozen other things, but by then it was too late.

Do I really need 15 more sets of DPN's? Well, yes and no. I probably do need another set of 7's, 4's, and 2's, but probably not another set of 13's or 1's.

I tell myself, "I will sell the extra sets." Will I? Probably not. But heck, if you need a set, send me an email. I might be able to spare one or two, and I promise I'll give you a great deal.

Finally! A knitting hero!!!

2011-02-26T09:07:00.000-05:00

Last weekend, my daughter sat down to watch a movie called "Dragon Hunters". Most of the time her movies are kind of like an annoying gnat buzzing in the background of my day with high pitched voices and grating characters. But I happened to perk up during one of the opening scenes. Here's why:

It gets better. I know this is kind of a spoiler, but I found the finale on youtube. You can stream the entire movie on Netflix. You have really GOT to see this. It's fantastic!

3 fish, some hats, and a lot of applications

2011-02-18T23:19:00.000-05:00

It took so long for this page to load, that I kind of forgot what I was going to blog about. It's 10:54 on a Friday night--well past my bed time. Okay here goes.

In the last two weeks of January and the first two weeks of February here's what happened:

I sold 3 baby hats and two grown up hats (clearly not an indication that I can give up my day job, but still cool).
Our 13 year old goldfish died. Yes 13 years. Some people on facebook have called me the fish whisperer.
My boss (of said day job that fulfills my soul and allows me to only sell five hats in a month) gave me his two goldfish to replace the one that died (that's a whole 'nother blogpost).
And RISD received over 2000 freshman applications which I am now helping to file and get to the Admissions Committee for review. I've been able to spend more time with the filing this year which is fun and daunting all at the same time. We had 25 bins of mail on Tuesday and 17 more on Wednesday. I can't wait to get to the reviewing.

I've been knitting up a storm lately too, and I would post some pictures but I don't have a model, and I'm just not photogenic enough. I really need to get one of those photobox thingies that my friend Robin from Steelhead Studio suggested. She's been making a plethora of Jewelry this month that I totally covet.

Finally, the a thunder and lightning storm tonight may have helped to eradicate the ice from our driveway, but they're threatening snow on Monday. I'm so freakin' sick of winter that I almost miss mosquitos.

Baby cuteness!

2011-01-27T15:21:00.000-05:00

I know you can barely notice it because this little girl is so darn cute, but I made the kitty hat she's wearing.

AWWWWWWWWW.

A truly surreal airplane experience

2011-01-22T20:07:00.000-05:00

I ended up switching my flight. Once I had decided what yarn to bring to Florida with me, I could focus on the other details of life, like who would take care of my daughter if they canceled school when I was trying to fly to Florida. Southwest has this convenient option to change your flight at no extra charge when the weather is bad. So I switched it to the next day. This meant I got to have birthday dinner with my two favorite people in the whole world--my husband and daughter (insert AWWWWWW here).

So, I got a little distracted on Friday what with the snow blowing and other things, and forgot to print my boarding pass until about noon, and ended up at the tale end of the B group. I checked my big bag, because I didn't want to be awkwardly looking for an overhead spot, and boarded the plane behind half the passengers. There were dire warnings about how full the flight was and how every seat needed to be filled. As I entered the plane, two ancient ladies who had boarded the plane in wheel chairs said to me, "Hey! Hey you! Why don't you take this seat." They both patted the seat between them and were so cute and chipper that I couldn't say no, and sat down.

Betty, the lady by the window said, "We didn't want to take a chance that someone mean or fat would sit in the middle seat, so we decided to flag down someone who looked nice." I can totally respect that. Their initiative was impressive. How many people try and take the fate of who sits with who into their own hands?

The lady in the aisle seat, Angie, immediately turned to me and said, "I'm 91 years old."
"Wow!" I said politely, "I would have shaved at least 25 years off of that."
She smiled in a slightly sly kind of way, and then said, "The reason I've lived this long is because of the love of my Lord Jesus Christ." She proceeded to hand me a little piece of yellow paper with her story on it and a special prayer on the other side.

Marinara Sauce

"Okay, that's cool." I thought, "You love Jesus and you're 91. Rock on." She then made me write down her recipe for marinara sauce and meatballs.

meatballs

So when we were about to take off, she took my hand and said a prayer. "Now we will have a safe trip to Tampa."

The plane took off, and as soon as we were in the air Betty began to bend my ear. She told me about her 4 children, 12 grandchildren, 24 great grandchildren, and 1 great great grandchild on the way. She told me about their English and Portuguese heritage, and then she told me about it all over again. A little while later, she told me about how she had had a brain tumor, and a knee replacement, and how she had Alzheimer's, (which I guess partially explains the repeating story). She pretty much talked non-stop. She even told me how when her husband was mad at her, he would give her the silent treatment, which for her was the worst thing a person could ever do.

While Betty was talking non-stop, Angie would occasionally interject a story about her missionary work, her love of Jesus Christ, or her longevity.

Eventually, we started descending. Angie started to complain that her ears were popping, and she couldn't hear a thing, and then she started to say something in such a low voice that I couldn't hear what she was saying. I said, "Can you speak up? I'm partially deaf--too much loud music when I was younger."

"Oh you have....(many words I couldn't hear)...I have.....(more words I couldn't hear)." And then, she stuck her long knobby finger in my ear, and started to say a prayer to Jesus Christ.

I'm not exaggerating. This actually happened.

I hooted something like, "Get your finger out of my ear!" and she backed off chuckling in a wicked old lady kind of way.

It was so weird, that I had to tell the guy at the rental car counter about it. He listened politely, and then two minutes later, when the story had kind of washed over him, he said, "Wait, what? She stuck her finger in your ear? That's just crazy."

But they were nice, those ladies, and even if Angie did have a limited understanding about personal boundaries, she was wicked funny. I can only hope that I am as spry as her, or as friendly as Betty when I am their age--if I even get there.

What yarn to bring?

2011-01-19T20:57:00.000-05:00

I'm leaving for Florida on Friday.

Well, that is to say, I hope I'm leaving for Florida on Friday. Friday is my birthday, and I think I have a cursed birthday (when it comes to weather anyway...and sickness). I think my birthday was snowed out at least 5 of my 12 pre-teen birthdays. I remember 6, 10, and 11. My flight is scheduled to leave in late morning. They're predicting between 1 and 12 inches of snow falling between 1 and 7 am (depending on which station you turn to).

Of course they are.

So even if I manage to be able to get to the airport, and even if my flight, by some miracle isn't canceled, they will probably cancel school, and I will need to find someone to babysit my daughter so that I can go and sit on the tarmac for a few hours. I really really want to go to Florida. It's a work thing, but it's also Florida, and I have the opportunity to have birthday dinner with my Aunt Ruth (she's actually my husband's aunt, but who's counting). I love Aunt Ruth, and I can't wait to see her.

You would think that this weather thing would be the thing that is totally stressing me out.

It isn't.

As I stare at my wall of yarn, I am overwhelmed with the possibilities. I am having a very hard time deciding which yarn to bring--what project to work on. It's awful. I'm having heart palpitations. How can I possibly decide what I will be inspired by on Friday--or any of the days I'm away? It's all so beautiful...tempting. How do I pick just the right thing RIGHT NOW? I could make a lovely pair of gloves out of that brown alpaca but tiny needles tend to get broken in transit. I could make a hat with that bulky yarn I've been saving, but bulky hats don't take enough time. Oh crap. How do I make this momentous decision?

I once took one of those personality quizzes online. It was "What's your personality disorder?" Mine was histrionics.

P.S.
I got a check today from Needle Rock in Telluride. They sold one of my hats!

It was bound to happen eventually.

2011-01-18T20:15:00.000-05:00

Apparently, I spilled wine on this ball of yarn. I don't remember the exact incident.

Too much to blog about

2011-01-12T20:44:00.000-05:00

Okay, I'm a total blog loser. And now I have too many things to blog about all at once.

First things first, I saw my very first live Cirque du Soleil while visiting my family in Pennsylvania over the holidays. My amazing stepmother scored tickets in the fourth row. We were eye-level with the stage. It was completely inspiring. The textures, the fabrics, the glitter, the movement--I must figure out a way to incorporate this into my knitting. The morning after the performance I did a bunch of bad drawings to remind myself.

The trip down to PA coincided with the December 26 blizzard. We hunkered down in Paramus, only to wake up the next morning and find that my car battery was dead. Hubs was at home at work, so it was just me and the little one. All tow trucks and service stations were preoccupied with people who had gone off the road, so AAA wouldn't help me. I hired a car, went to Sears, bought a battery and tools, and changed the darn thing myself. Then I had a little nervous breakdown in front of the little one (she took it pretty well), and we made it to PA by 8pm. The whole thing was pretty awful, but heck, we made it to the Cirque on time, so it was all worth it.

I finished knitting a gift for a friend (which took too long). I knitted it out of white yarn, and it is nothing short of a miracle that I managed to knit the whole thing without spilling red wine on it.

And finally, just today, I got an email from a person at RISD who has commissioned me to knit two baby hats in two weeks. No problem. I had to ask her, though, if the parents of said babies were "RISD-ish" or more conventional. It's a subtle thing, but it will make the difference between horns and pom-poms.

I promise not to be so remiss in blogging. Now that we're all caught up, I can go back to the little things.

My Sister, My Theo

2010-12-25T11:44:00.000-05:00

When it comes to my artistic endeavors, my sister is without a doubt, my biggest supporter. She's one of these great people who thinks they have no artistic talent, but who can plan parties that are the talk of the town, wrap presents with personality, or bake a tart that is so beautiful and delicious you can't stand to eat it, but you must. She has incredible taste, a great sense of color, and a commitment to the idea that knowing the person who made the thing makes it much much better.

I have come to know these things about Gwen slowly. She holds her cards pretty close to her chest, and although we are sisters, I don't think we really got to know each other until we were adults. No matter what evolution my artwork has taken, she has encouraged me. She is in many ways my Theo. You know, Van Gogh's brother, who acted as his agent and patron, and who sheltered him. Theo bought Vincent paint and canvas, and encouraged him when he had bouts of depression. Theo put up with Vincent's mercurial nature, and stubbornly kept up their correspondence even when Vincent could not. Gwen perseveres through my highs and lows, and always finds a way to make me feel like I'm the greatest artist that ever lived.

There is no way I know of that I can repay her for her kindness. I can't knit for her. She lives in the tropics. I can't collage for her, because she and her family move too often to allow for thing collecting. I am at a loss. For her, repayment doesn't come in the form of money or things, and I don't know what to do with myself in the face of this. And so this year, when I begged her not to go overboard with Christmas, she buried me under yarn. Really nice yarn.

So, to my sister, I give you fair warning: Someday, you will move to some place cold, and I will bury you under knitting. You are banking cashmere socks. Lots of them.

A crazy day of recruiting

2010-12-21T14:34:00.000-05:00

My last day of recruiting for the season was on December 9. I know I'm a little late in posting this story. I wasn't originally going to tell it here, but then I was relating it to a coworker today, and he encouraged me to tell it. "People need to know the crazy things you do in Admissions to get to their schools."

So here goes. One of the things I do in the Admissions Office at RISD is I travel to high schools and give presentations about RISD. I show the students images from the different departments at RISD, and tell them how to apply. Sometimes I'll review work as well. All of this travel takes place between the last week in September and the second week of December. I normally visit about 25 high schools and do about 4 portfolio days. I like the challenge of finding the high school. I like the challenge of negotiating the variable setups in different schools, and working with art teachers and guidance counselors so that I can meet their expectations and still make it to my next school visit on time.

December 9 was my last day of school visits for the year. I was visiting a public high school fairly near Providence, and then a private boarding school about an hour away in Metro-Boston. While crossing the Washington Bridge in Providence, I realized I had a flat tire. I pulled off a the first exit I came to, and magically, there was a service station right there! I asked them to change my tire, and they said they'd be able to get to it in a few minutes.

While I waited, I was a little nervous, because I knew the timing for making to my 8:30 appointment was getting tighter and tighter. I knew I was only about 10 minutes from the high school, and I was trying to gauge the point at which I should call the school and tell them I was going to be late. 20 minutes, and $10 later, the donut was successfully installed on my car and I was on my way. I called the school and left a message saying that I had gotten a flat and was going to be 5 or 10 minutes late. When I showed up, the room was packed, and the kids were politely concerned. I did my presentation and then went back to my car.

I had a little more time than usual between my first and second visit, so I decided to go over to the Sears place and see if they could fix the tire or replace it in time for my next visit. I bought the road hazard insurance when I purchased the tires, and thank goodness I did, because this was my 3rd flat in the space of 6 months. I arrived at Sears and they didn't have the tire in stock.

I didn't want to drive the donut an hour up the highway, so I drove to the nearest rental car place, parked my car, and rented a car so I could make it to my next appointment without incident. I made it there in enough time to buy lunch, and the kids had no idea what kind of morning I had.

When I returned to the office the next day, and was telling the story to one of the other counselors in the office she said, "Oh yeah, but Lucy, I know you secretly like that kind of challenge." She's totally right. There's nothing I like better than showing up for an appointment and being informed by the art teacher that I only have 15 minutes to give a 40 minute presentation and that I have to do 10 portfolio reviews in the remaining hour. No, I'm not being sarcastic. I actually really DO like a challenge like that. Add into it a flat tire, a donut, and a rental car, and I am having just about the best last day of the season I can think of.

Hats en Route to Needle Rock

2010-12-10T15:17:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week, I sent an email to Ginger and Ann at Needle Rock in Telluride to see if they were still interested in having my hats in stock. I got a lovely email back from Ann who said they would love to have them, so today I re-tagged and boxed up my hats and sent them off. It's kind of weird to think of them being in a store so far away, but I can't think of a place I'd rather have them. I only wish I could have put myself in the box along with them.

The RISD Sale was AMAZING!!

2010-12-05T08:05:00.001-05:00

I'm a worrier by nature. I worry over every detail of things. I worry about unlikely situations that could have a negative effect on whatever it is that I'm doing. This impossible situation anxiety (which we will hitherto refer to as USA) is the major cause of my insomnia. I will worry about things like whether or not I have or will get a stain on my favorite shirt that I am planning on wearing tomorrow, and if so, which shirt I will wear instead. I will worry about what will happen if the semi carrying half of a double wide trailer will tip over on my exit ramp and make me miss my plane (this has actually happened to me).

So, by last Monday, I was in full on USA. I was worried about the weather. I was worried about whether I would open up my boxes of hats at the sale and find that they all had moth holes. I was worried that for the first time in 10 years, no one would attend the sale. I was worried that my booth would be placed next to some other knitter. I was worried that I'd have some awful disease that would make it so I couldn't get out of bed. I was worried that I was forgetting something....

But here's the thing, I was TOTALLY PREPARED. This is an unusual circumstance for me. It is rare that a full week before I have to do anything, I am totally set to go. In my history with the sale, this has NEVER happened. But a week before the sale, I had 83 items knitted. 73 of them were hats. This is half again the amount of inventory I've had in other years. I'm no economics expert, but I do have an understanding that I tend to sell more things when my booth looks full, and the longer I can keep it looking full, the better my day will be.

I was able to tag and catalog my hats well in advance. I know I would have looked so much cooler if I had done this on an ipad, but here's what my system looked like:

I wrote the corresponding letter on the back of the hat tag, and then wrote a little "S" next to it when I sold it. As it turns out, this system was actually much more accurate than other things I've tried. I only missed one hat (and I think it was hat X). This also gave me a record of what types of hats sold, so I can have a better idea of what to focus on for next year (hats with horns).

After I finished setting up my booth, and I was walking around, it occurred to me how ridiculous it was to think that no shoppers would show. The RISD Holiday Sale is a Rhode Island institution. People around here mark it on their calendars and go religiously every year. Of course we would have traffic. I was prepared, I had lots of stock, the weather was perfect for hats (about 31 degrees).

I made up the cost of my table within an hour of the opening, and completely blew any previous record out of the water. What was really great, though, was the number of repeat customers I had. I had at least 10 people who deliberately sought me out. They bought hats for everyone in their family from me, because they so loved the hat they bought last year. I was also able to get some feedback on how the hats were wearing (in all cases very well).

So you know how they say that hard work and experience pays off? I have previously been suspicious of this statement because of my USA, but this year it was totally true.

LATER ON SUNDAY:
I just got the best THE BEST email from one of my repeat customers:

Good Morning,
I had a busy day yesterday and managed to squeeze in attending four Art Show/Open Houses across the state yesterday.
My highlight of the RISD show was buying some exquisite Lucy King knit hats for my loved ones.
I also enjoy picking one out for myself. They are so much fun and always get me a lot of compliments. Now who doesn't enjoy getting complimented on their fashion accessories?
I have attached a picture I took last year of my youngest grand daughter wearing her new Lucy King Design on Christmas morning.
Thank you again for making my visit to the RISD show a major success.
I appreciate the work you do and the joy you bring to the lucky recipient of your beautiful artwork.
Wishing you a joyous holiday season,
I.M

OMG!!!! Too cute for words!

Tomorrow's the Big Day!

2010-12-03T20:04:00.000-05:00

I am READY!

This has been an absolutely insane week, and the insane part really won't be over until Sunday evening.

I'm still debating about how much detail to go into, but suffice to say that my living room is a sale staging area with boxes, and bags, and display items. I'm not bringing cards this year. Just knitted things.

Tomorrow morning we will set out at about 7:30 or 8. Hubs and Daughter will drop me and all my stuff off at the RI convention center. I will madly set up for another hour and a half, take my last bathroom break, and then spend the next 7 hours talking to people. Last year, for the first time ever, I had the genius idea to pack a sandwich.

So it all comes down to this: Traffic. Will there be the usual crowds? Fingers crossed Crossed CROSSED!!! I will post again on Sunday.

Texting Mittens: You know you want them!

2010-11-26T20:37:00.000-05:00

The perfect gift for the text-a-holic on your holiday list. Now you can text while Christmas caroling without freezing your fingers off. Thumbs are open for easy alphabet access.
Mohair cuff (soft and warm)
Wool/Acrylic blend
Hand knitted by yours truly.
$35 (that's less than half a cent per stitch for the pair).
You can pick them up at the RISD Holiday Alumni Sale at the RI Convention Center this Saturday from 10-5 or you can comment here and we'll work something out.

80 knitted things

2010-11-26T11:59:00.000-05:00

I have somehow managed to knit 80 things for the sale.

I tagged them this week, and counted them. I even cataloged them.

I've knitted about 70 hats and a few pairs of mittens/wristwarmers, and a few scarves.

How did I manage this? I have no idea. I must be sleep knitting or something.

Where Sod Comes From

2010-11-10T11:07:00.000-05:00

I'm heading home from a business trip to Florida. I have been spending the past two days visiting 3 amazing high schools on the east and west coasts of Florida. This was a lot of driving. A LOT. The sad thing about driving is that it's really not safe to knit and drive at the same time. I could have flown. The travel time was about the same, but the hassles were way more with flying, so I drove.

My route across Florida was altered somewhat by the fact that I dropped my license at my first school in Lakeland. I ended up driving from Tampa to Lakeland to St. Pete's and back to Lakeland before heading east to West Palm Beach. This left me cruising across the state on a mostly deserted highway 60.

Have you ever wondered where sod comes from? I had never even thought about it until I drove by the H & O Sod farm on Route 60. Sod comes from Florida, and Alabama, and Arkansas and many other places in the south. Who knew!?

Holiday Sale Preview

2010-11-02T14:49:00.000-04:00

I have finally done some much needed updates to my website including a gallery for my 2010 collection of hats. Not included in the site are the baby and kids hats (I still haven't found a suitable glass head for photographing). The hats will range in price from $15 to $55, with most being in the $25-$35 range. I've used a range of yarns from alpaca, to llama, to possum (yes, possum), to acrylic, wool, and cotton. I have had such a great time knitting these up. Every hat is unique.

I'm really looking forward to this year's sale. Here's hoping for health and good chilly weather (but no snow)!

If you want more info about the sale, visit the RISD website.

What I knitted while people ignored me.

2010-10-19T14:13:00.000-04:00

I brought with me four skeins of Miski alpaca yarn that I bought at Needle Rock this summer. I used three of them. I still have a skein of light blue left.

I call this one, "Rock the Casbah", because it kind of reminds me of a minaret.

And this one...

Well, it kind of reminds me of this:

Knitting in Public

2010-10-17T10:02:00.000-04:00

To a certain extent, I'm an exhibitionist knitter. I love showing off. Part of the fun of knitting is trying to explain the crazy thing I'm working on at any given moment. I work primarily on double pointed needles, and people are routinely fascinated by the look of work on a set of dpns.

So you can imagine my anticipation for my flight to Minneapolis this week. I carefully packed my best and brightest alpaca yarn, and my rosewood rainbow colored needles. I pulled out the needles and yarn once safely through security, and began work on a top down helmet hat similar to the one I knit for M, though without the add ons.

As I was sitting on the plane knitting, the people around me ignored me. I sat next to a Swedish fellow on one leg of the flight and he actually had his right hand up on the side of his face like he was trying to block me out! The flight attendants, who can usually be counted on to ask about the knitting, ignored me. I arrived in Minneapolis having had only one conversation about the knitting on the ENTIRE trip!!!

What is going on in the world? Has the Yarn Harlot so thoroughly saturated the market that no one thinks knitting is interesting anymore? Are people so fascinated by their devices that they don't need to talk to anyone to pass the time? Seriously, people, I'm working on a major piece of knitting artwork! PAY ATTENTION TO ME!

Sir Harmonious?

2010-10-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

I mailed the commissioned hat out yesterday. I think I should give it a name--something like Sir Harmonious, or Bass Vader. Here are some pictures modeled by a coworker of mine:

Initially I had wanted to do the face piece as one of those old school needle bass/treble indicators, but as I was looking for inspiration, I came upon this:

The equalizer was SO much better. It was simpler to knit, and it referenced Darth Vader. Considering the look of the speakers on the sides (Princess Leia), it kind of carried the theme full circle.

The mask is removable. I added buttons on the side, because sometimes you just want to breathe.

This is a view from the back.

Skein ends

2010-10-03T12:26:00.001-04:00

I just made a hat that weighs 1.8 oz. I have the rest of a skein of yarn that weights 1.9 oz. I think I'm going to live dangerously and go for a second hat. Given varying tension, this is not a guaranteed win, but it is exciting.

I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who thinks this is an exciting way to spend an afternoon.

AN UPDATE:
I finished with exactly one oz of yarn left. I guess I'm more consistent than I thought :)

Working on Commission

2010-09-30T22:12:00.003-04:00

I LOVE knitting on commission. Knitting when you have an actual person in mind is amazing, and I wish that every hat I knit could be on commission. But commission can also be a little scary. Okay. Here's the story:

Not too long ago, I messaged an old high school friend of mine (We'll call her B), and basically invited my family to spend the night at their house on our way to my Mom's house in Maine. It was kind of funny because I read this book about this Mormon girl in New York, and one of the life lessons she preached was to never be afraid to ask. The worst thing that's going to happen is that people will say no, and the best thing that will happen is that they will say yes. So I asked, and B said yes with a couple of funny caveats about her quirky family and quirky dogs.

I had reconnected with B on facebook, and after 20 years, I simply love where her life has taken her and all the things she does. She is an artist, a counselor, a writer, and the mother of an only. I was dying to meet up in person and have some face time. She lives about halfway between my mom and I, so it seemed like the perfect excuse to ask for a visit. She agreed to let us stay. I was ecstatic.

We arrived at their house, and it was almost like coming to an extremely personalized bed and breakfast. My only and her only immediately hit it off and were outside playing in about 5 minutes. B has a labyrinth and had scattered "jewels" around it for my daughter to find. Dinner was amazing, and it was great to catch up with her and her husband (M). M and I were also classmates, and he is a truly fantastic geek, horticulturist, electronics expert. We had a perfect evening and following morning. It was the most fun I've had in ages, and I can only hope that they had as much fun as we did.

A few weeks later M messaged me asking me if I would be willing to do a commissioned hat for him. He gave me a few (very basic) pictures and instructions:

As I was knitting the hat, the hat started to take over. This is a kind of scary moment for any artist. When you start to diverge from the vision of the client, you walk a slippery slope. What if they don't like it? What if their vision is so clear in their mind that they won't be willing to accept anything else.

But I reached a point where I had to move away from the plan for the sake of the aesthetic. The yarn took over. It likes to be a certain way, and I can't force it to be another way. When Michelangelo talked about freeing the statues from the stone, he was right. The hat exists in the yarn, and I am only the vehicle wherein it frees itself (okay, yes, I am a little crazy). I really really love the way this hat is going, and I can only hope that M will like it as much as I do.

I promise I will post pictures after I send it out, but for now I don't want to ruin the surprise.

15 most influencial artists

2010-09-26T11:50:00.001-04:00

One of those facebook note things has been going around lately: Name 15 artists who have had the greatest influence on your work. I started out with a few obvious ones like Chagall, Van Gogh, and Cezanne, but then I found more and more, that the artists who truly have had the most profound influence on my work were the artist/teachers I have worked with over the years, plus a few others who may not commonly be thought of as "artists" in the strict visual arts sense of the word, but who have profoundly influenced my work and my way of thinking:

From outside the sphere:
e.e.cummings
Laurie Anderson
The Yarn Harlot, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee
Lao Tzu

RISD faculty/artists
David Frazer (work on view now at RISD)
Jay Coogan
Gwen Strahle
Merlin Szosz
John Udvardy
Lee Dejasu
Michael Beresford

Classics:
Arthur Dove
Robert Smithson

Contemporaries:
Do Ho Suh
Erica Loustau

As a whole, though, one of the biggest influences on my work has been the students I meet while recruiting for RISD. I couldn't possibly name them all by name. Every time I review the portfolio of a high school student, I see the world of art through fresh eyes.

How about you?

Abundance

2010-09-23T20:30:00.000-04:00

I live in terror that I'm actually a psychotically manipulative mooch who somehow manages to get otherwise reasonable people to do insanely nice things for me. Crazy people rarely know that they're crazy. If I am actually that crazy person, please don't tell me.

You might remember a few months ago that I posted about an art trade in the works .

I received the necklace today in the mail. I am flabbergasted. It's gorgeous. Perfect. I can't believe Robin created this from my collage, and if you hold the images next to each other, they make PERFECT sense. The shapes, the pieces, the whimsy--all perfect. I feel the abundance of life kind of spilling over. I'm sure Robin would argue that the trade was even, and that it was her idea, and that if anyone manipulated anyone it was her--but she's nice that way.

I have just joined the New Earth Army

2010-08-21T22:48:00.000-04:00

I watched the movie Men Who Stare at Goats today. Mostly a snooze, thought the references to Ewan McGregor not knowing how to be a Jedi were funny. It did have this memorable quote:

"Mother Earth, you're my life support system. As a soldier I must drink your blue water, live inside your red clay and eat your green skin. Help me to balance myself. As you hold in balance, the Earth, the sea, and the space environments. Help me to open my heart, knowing that the Universe will feed me. I pray my boots will always kiss your face, and my footsteps match your heartbeat. Carry my body through space and time. You're my connection to the Universe and all that comes after. I'm yours and you are mine. I salute you."

Mother Earth, I salute you.

Repurpose, Reuse, Recycle

2010-08-17T09:31:00.009-04:00

I spent the weekend turning this beautiful, but not often worn, sweater into.....
This:

Which I then turned into this:

Introducing a line of recycled yarn which I will sell at the RISD holiday alumni sale and (maybe) at local yarn shops:

™

The Chart of my Administrative Dreams....

2010-08-09T16:48:00.004-04:00

Oh the torment of being an Aquarius with Taurus ascendant. It's like having a split personality.

The odd thing that most people don't know about me, is that I have an administrator at the core of my being. I like to organize systems and processes, and figure out ways to make them more efficient and clear. This seems to be at odds with the artist side of me which just wants to make things and throw them in a pile.

Right now I am resisting the urge to make a spreadsheet of all of my hats so I can keep track of my inventory. I'm envisioning a chart with pictures of each hat in the category of Baby, Kid/Small Adult, Adult, and Giant. It could be sorted by color, fiber, pattern... My hats could have numbers that were noted on the chart and I could take my laptop to the sale and check them off as I sold them instead of writing things down in a notebook.

In order to make this visionary chart, I would need to take pictures of each hat as I make it, which would involve making a ready to snap photo box, and I would be required to finish my hats during daylight hours when the light is best (that almost NEVER happens). I would need to make sure that the batteries in my camera were always fully charged.

*Dismay*

My dream chart would take hours and hours to create and maintain. Hours that I could be spending knitting. Alas, this vision of administrative genius will have to remain like much of DaVinci's greatest ideas--in the sketchbook of my mind, and my hats (for now) will remain in a disorganized pile.

December Sale is On

2010-07-24T11:25:00.002-04:00

Forgive me for not posting. I have returned from vacation, and received word that I'm in the December 4 RISD alumni sale. YAY!!!

So I counted up my hats, because I thought I was doing really well, and I only have about 30. How my perception could be so far away from reality, I'm not sure.

-SO-

For the next 16 weeks I'm going to knit until my fingers fall off. My goal of 100 is nowhere in sight. I'll be lucky to get to 60.

Fortunately, I have lots of yarn.

vacation knitting

2010-07-05T20:53:00.007-04:00

I've been on vacation in glorious Telluride, CO. You can probably guess that one of the first things I investigated when planning my trip was the location of the local yarn shop. I found Needle Rock Fiber Arts . This is an amazing little shop right in the heart of Telluride. Co-owned by Ann Kennedy and Ginger Snip, this little house is known as the living room of Telluride. My second full day in town, I went to the store and subjected my sister and nephew to an hour of my heart palpitations. These were caused partially by the altitude, but mostly by the incredible selection of amazing fibers in the store. I somehow managed to only overspend my budget by about $35 (although, I haven't left town yet), and Ann graciously offered to wind up a few of the hanks so I could get started right away.

I bought some beautiful colorful lama wool called Miski, and some locally made alpaca yarn from The Pinon Wood Ranch in Norwood. I immediately knitted up two hats out of the two yarns.

This one was somewhat inspired by the view from my front porch (seen here).
I also went to knitting night at Needle Rock, and joined the circle of about 8 local knitters. It was a great way to get to know the neighborhood. I met Ginger at the circle, and discovered not only does she live right down the street from where I'm staying, but she's a longtime family friend of my sister's in-laws. The ensuing conversation went like this:

Ginger: Wait, is your sister married to Rod?

Me: Yes.

Ginger: Oh my god, I was at their wedding!

Me: OH MY GOD! I WAS THE MAID OF HONOR!

So I was working on the hat above at the knitting circle and had gotten to the top knobby things. The ladies asked me for the pattern. I confessed that I was kind of making it up as I went along, and that I was at a loss when it came to pattern writing. Ginger encouraged me to jot down some notes on how I made it, and that she would help me craft it into a readable pattern. Knitting circle is tomorrow night. Hopefully she'll be able to do something with this:

I'm working on yet another hat right now with what I call "humble" cables. These are cables that are not surrounded by purling so they sit into the rest of the knitting. The alternative is "proud" cables that are surrounded by purl stitches so they kind of pop out. Today at the town pool I was working on the hat and no less than three little girls came up to me asking me what I was doing. One of them said, "Why are you doing that?" I replied, "Because I can."

It's been a pretty productive vacation. Anyone who knows me knows that this kind of productive is about the best most relaxing vacation I could possibly have. Add to that good food, amazing hikes, and my incredible family that I see about once a year, and things are just about as good as they can get.

The shape emerging

2010-06-21T20:12:00.004-04:00

Work continues on this strange ceremonial headdress thing I'm making. It's funny, with hats, they're so conceptually shallow that they don't take any time at all. You grab some yarn, let the yarn speak to you, and go.

This piece is taking much longer. I spend a lot of time mulling over what to do next. Mulling mulling mulling. I'm trying to get the basic form in place so that I can begin adding the textural details. I don't have a clear vision of how it's going to turn out. I suppose I should have planned and sketched and swatched, but there's something about just allowing a sculpture to unfold that is so rich and mysterious and rewarding.

Hopefully it won't turn out to be a piece of crap.

Just in case, I am reminding myself that no experiment is over on the first attempt. I am already looking forward to my next garment. It will have ears. Big ears. I'm trying to conceptualize how to knit anatomically correct ears. I posted on a facebook knitting group I belong to. The response? 20,000 people are in this particular group, and what do I get? Crickets chirping. I can hardly believe that I'm the first person who has ever wanted to knit anatomically correct ears. The world has about 7 billion people. We've lived through some pretty kookie times. Someone must have knitted ears before me. If I manage to figure this out, I will post the pattern here, and then anyone who wants to can knit anatomically correct ears.

The Five Senses

2010-06-05T09:05:00.002-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about my five senses. I just finished a great book called "Remembering Smell" by Bonnie Blodgett. It's about a woman who loses her sense of smell, and also about the science and history behind the sense. The book made me much more conscious of smell and how it really acts as a rudder to keep you oriented as to where you are and what's going on around you. Apparently, smell is hard wired into our fight or flight response, and one of the first things that can set off that reaction is smell. Smell can raise alarms faster than almost any sense.

Did you ever ask yourself the question, "If I had to lose one of my five senses, what would it be?" I had never even considered smell as part of that question. I had never thought about smell--hardly anyone does. But now I think about it all the time. And where before I might have thought of smell as the throw away sense, no longer. So I've been trying to pay more attention to all of my five senses and think about whether there is one that I could truly do without more than the others.

As I listen to the birds in the morning, and my music while I walk, and the sound of my daughter's voice, I think that hearing would be an awful sense to lose. But then I wonder, would I still feel sound if I lost my sense of hearing. I frequently feel like sound enters through my pores, not just my eardrums, and I wonder if I would still have that sense if I lost my eardrums.

Then there's sight. In terms of my orientation in the world, I think I could probably most do without sight, but in terms of being able to function in the world, sight is crucial. I couldn't drive. The nearest bus stop is 3 miles down a road with no sidewalk. It could be very isolating. And although I could probably still knit, the 2 dimensional artwork would probably be done.

Taste? Taste is one of those senses that I'm sure you take for granted until you lose it. I've been told that smell has more to do with taste than taste buds, so maybe that would be the sense to lose. I'm not a chef. I'm not even a very good cook.

Touch. I'm clumsy anyway. If I lost my sense of touch, it would be a microsecond before I chopped one of my fingers off and didn't even know it. And could I knit without touch? Could I keep tension on the yarn properly? Could I tie my shoes, or button my shirts?

I suppose everyone learns to cope when they lose a sense, but I wonder if people have totem senses--senses that define who they are in the same way that we might have totem animals or colors or music. I know my totem sense is hearing, but for sure, the loss of any of them would be devastating.

Art Trade in the Works

2010-05-23T07:02:00.004-04:00

I love buying artwork, and hand made things. I trawl the senior shows at RISD looking for beautiful pieces that I might be able to afford. I know that the artwork and things you have in your house as a child is steeped into your subconscious and works its way into your memory and aesthetic in subtle ways. I would like to fill my house with artwork for myself, my husband, and for my daughter. I want to have a story behind the cups that I use and the jewelry that I wear. I like to know the hands that made the thing, and I want my daughter to know that people make things, and that the making of that thing infuses it with spirit.

Okay, so forgive the earthy crunchy rant. Here's the story:

My friend Robin is a Jeweler, a blogger, and she also runs a martial arts studio with her husband. In other words, she is an artist and a totally interesting person. She responded to one of my posts and one thing led to another and we've worked out an art trade. But not just any art trade.

I told her to have a look through my gallery and find a piece she responded to. She found Intuition (above). When I looked through her work and saw a piece I liked, I suggested it, but then she said, "My thought was to create a necklace for you based on the collage I chose. Then you can wear something inspired by your own art...I love the idea of a series of derivative works." What!? This is just about the coolest thing I have ever heard. People ask me about the jewelry I wear all the time. I can't wait to tell this story!

The truth is, I love the idea of "derivative works" as well. I'm imagining a world where artists trade back and forth as a way of sharing inspiration. I evolve as I incorporate new influences into my aesthetic, and what better way of doing this than to trade with like minded people. Consider this an invitation.

A knitting fraggle rock video

2010-05-07T19:07:00.000-04:00

A knitter friend of mine just sent me this:

A yarn celebrity and fellow nerds

2010-05-04T19:23:00.004-04:00

On Saturday I went to a barbecue at my husband's boss's house. They are really more like colleagues than boss/underling, so it's not awkward to go to their house at all. Said boss hails from Kentucky, and will typically spend the whole day smoking a variety of delicious pork products for these events, so we always love to go.

This time, I brought my knitting (not sure why I haven't before). It generated a lot of enthusiasm from the other wives in attendance. One has a sister who works for Lion Brand Yarn. OMG! This gal's sister is the person who is paid to take home yarn and knit things up with it (she also does other things, I'm sure-but still!). Can you say, DREAM JOB! The funny thing was, the gal at the party crochets, mostly, but is an aficionado of yarn by osmosis, I think. She knew the exact brand of yarn I was working with, even though it didn't have a label.

Of course the other great thing about the barbecue was that I was surrounded by fellow sci-fi nerds. When I made an obscure reference to and obscure film, they ALL knew what I was talking about. It was weird. I've never been in a place where everyone unanimously agreed that Independence Day was one of the greatest movies of all time--without being sarcastic.

Doubt

2010-04-27T18:36:00.004-04:00

I'm starting to wonder if I am completely deluded about the collages. I love them. I think they're multi-layered, graphically interesting, and conceptually deep. Other people have told me they love them. I haven't sold a single one to a person who is not either a close friend or family.

Because I love them, I don't want to believe that the problem is with the work. I start to wonder if people are just afraid of abstraction, or if the gallery isn't doing enough to coax an art-layperson into loving it. Maybe I'm pricing them wrong. Maybe they're too expensive, or too cheap. Maybe I'm not being aggressive enough with creating a buzz about the work.

But I know the truth. I critique artwork for a living. I know that work needs to stand on its own without a person there pushing and explaining it. I know that a viewer needs to feel some connection with the work, and so far, I think the buyers (my friends) have felt a connection with me, not the work.

Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's not the work. Maybe it's me. If I was really committed, wouldn't I be having lunch at the gallery every day so that people could meet me and make that connection. Wouldn't I be posting on facebook, listing on etsy, pitching myself to other galleries?

I write this entry not because I want an outpouring of compliments. I write this because I know that other artists have felt this way. What do you do when your work starts taunting you?

Progress

2010-03-28T20:10:00.002-04:00

I added horns today.

Inspired new work

2010-03-27T12:32:00.004-04:00

This spring I reviewed the work of a high school student who made these amazing knitted totems. They were life sized and full of different colors and patterns and details. She completely inspired me to make a series of ceremonial headdresses based on animals. Here is my progress on the first one:

Other important work

2010-03-12T06:02:00.002-05:00

I guess I'm overdue for a blogpost about the other important work that I do. I'm not one of those artists who is suffering through a day job while I establish myself. Though it may harm my credibility to say so, my day job is one of the most important things that I do, and I don't think I would give it up even if I established myself.

When I was in high school, I applied to Rhode Island School of Design because my art teacher told me to, and because my Mom wanted me to go somewhere "good". I had been headed towards a writing career until I took my first art class my junior year. It was all over after that. I applied being absolutely certain that I would not get in. Shock upon shock when I got the acceptance letter. No scholarships (I wasn't that good). So we cobbled together the tuition and housing with small local scholarships and big sacrifices.

As a work study student, I worked in the admissions office, and then 2 years after graduation, I got a job as an admissions officer there. I have been there ever since. In October, I will have been in the RISD Admissions office for 15 years.

I'm an aberration among my generation. I've had one job for 15 years. The people I work with are like my family. The students are my soul. There's no other way to say it. I LOVE young artists. I love their dreams. I love their rawness, their freshness, their inhibition. Most of all, I love their hope. The work I see inspires and guides my own work. I've seen work that is so good it makes me cry with joy.

Today we are having our first of a few meetings to decide this year's freshman class.

Tonight, I will come home and make art.

Stumbling upon some research

2010-02-24T07:17:00.002-05:00

Recently I was researching "nervous stomach" because I think my daughter has one, and I came across this weird checklist for all kinds of nervous disorders. This one caught my attention: Auditory Defensiveness. It's kind of related to the work that I did for Shelter. Here's the checklist:

__ distracted by sounds not normally noticed by others; i.e., humming of lights or refrigerators, fans, heaters, or clocks ticking

__ fearful of the sound of a flushing toilet (especially in public bathrooms), vacuum, hairdryer, squeaky shoes, or a dog barking

__ started with or distracted by loud or unexpected sounds

__ bothered/distracted by background environmental sounds; i.e., lawn mowing or outside construction

__ frequently asks people to be quiet; i.e., stop making noise, talking, or singing

__ runs away, cries, and/or covers ears with loud or unexpected sounds

__ may refuse to go to movie theaters, parades, skating rinks, musical concerts etc.

__ may decide whether they like certain people by the sound of their voice

You may have noticed that this list has children in mind. I don't run away and cry when I hear unexpected sounds (that would be kind of funny). And I'm not afraid of flushing toilets (thank goodness). But a couple of things on the list caught my attention. I am distracted by sounds that most people don't notice, like refrigerators, lights etc. The overhead lights in my office buzz, and I would generally rather sit in the dark than listen to that noise. I also find it hard to like people with grating voices.

The funny thing is, that I don't hear very well. I'm virtually deaf in an environment where there's lots of different noises--they all kind of blend together in my ears, and I can't make sense of anything. And voices of a certain pitch, I can't hear at all. I work with this one person, and I can't hear a word he says most of the time.

I'm trying to figure out what all of this means, and to pay attention to moments of "Auditory Defensiveness". If it's just a nervous disorder, then it's something that I can overcome... Knowledge is power.

Bad blogger! Bad!

2010-02-18T17:47:00.003-05:00

I have been completely sucked up and enveloped by the Olympics, Noro Yarn, and being cold. I apologize for the lack of blogging.

Right now Ava is spinning around in circles in my office chair (which I can no longer sit in--bad back). Having just stuffed herself with chicken nuggets, I am not sure if this is a good idea....

Among the 10,000 skeins of yarn that my sister in law gave me for Christmas were two skeins of Noro Kureyon wool. OMG . I have died and gone to heaven. I knitted up a pair of fingerless gloves. Felted them in the washing machine. Accidentally threw them in the dryer. The results? Amazingly soft, amazingly warm, and SOOOOOOOOOOO easy to make.

Cast on 32 stitches on a size 7 dpn.
Divide between 8 needles.
Work in the round k2,p2 for 23 or so rows.
at row 23 m1 k1 m1 k1, k2, k2 p2 around.
at row 24 p4, k2 p2 around
@25 m1 k3 m1 k1, k2p2 around
@26 p6, k2p2 around
continue in this manner making 2 sts every other row, and purling every other row
When you have 14 sts, bind them off, and pull them together at the base to form the thumb gusset.
Continue k2, p2 in the round for another 13 rows.
Bind off.

Do the same thing all over again for the second
Wash with your regular laundry (warm) twice.
Throw in the dryer the second time.

I made my pair out of one 50 gr ball with very little left over.

As an aside, I find the race between the end of a skein and the end of a project completely thrilling (I know, I'm a total nerd). I like to cut it VERY close whenever possible.

Oh, one last thing! Peace Love has moved the opening to coincide with their film festival in early April. It just gets better and better!

Featured Artist--ME!

2010-02-02T11:08:00.008-05:00

Here are a few of the pieces that are at Peace Love. They're SO much better in person.

Fluke

Turtle Shell

Harmonic Resonance

August

Baffle

I just got an email from Kate Salvi. She wrote "You will be among the three featured artists." WOW.

So much to catch up on!

2010-01-25T18:02:00.002-05:00

So last Thursday, on my birthday, I took a bunch of collages over to Peace Love Studios. The meeting was GREAT! I met with Kate Salvi and Matthew Kaplan who were really positive about the work, and decided to hang onto six pieces that will be going into an upcoming group show. I'm really excited to have the work in a gallery again, and Kate is a great spokesperson for the gallery and the work. As she led me into the space (which is AMAZING), she told me all about the artists. When she talks about them you automatically know that they are friends and artists that she lovingly stands behind. I was trying to imagine her talking about my work, and it kind of made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She's great (did I mention she's great?). She's an artist herself--primarily a photographer, and sometimes a painter.

Anyway, the show is being set for a February 25 opening. I totally can't wait to share the work again.

I will post pictures of the 6 pieces when I get home. Currently I'm in Florida for a series of work related conferences (I know, bummer).

Fingers Crossed

2010-01-16T21:12:00.002-05:00

The hats have been delivered to River's Edge. Fingers crossed.

Oh, and other plates in the air? I'm meeting with Peace Love Studios next week (on my birthday) to show them my collages. They're dedicated to helping people with mental illness through art, and the theme of my collages, Shelter, seemed to fit with their mission, so I sent them a few jpegs. I confess that I deliberately scheduled the meeting on my birthday, because I'm hoping that some of the positive energy of the day will carry through to their feelings about showing my work.

I actually can't think of a better venue for these pieces, so I really hope it works out. Fingers Crossed.

River's Edge Flowers

2010-01-07T19:50:00.003-05:00

I know, I should have made a new year post on New Year's day. I've been knitting a bit. Sick a bit. You know, the usual post holiday bonanza.

Well, my knitting fire has been fully lit now in part thanks to my generous relatives, but also by a surprise e-mail from Jim and Nikki at River's Edge Flowers in Pawtucket. I met Jim at the alumni sale. He handed me his card and asked me if I'd be interested in consigning my work at his shop. I put the card aside and completely forgot about it, but he e-mailed me two days ago to see if I was still interested. I'm going to drop by for a visit next Saturday and see what's what.

It would be funny to have my hats in an actual store. I say funny, because in some odd way, I feel like they're part of me, and that they need me--my intuition, my funny extroverted manner--in order to find the right owner. Well, maybe someone else's intuition and manner can make that alchemy. Here's hoping.