theknittyvritti

how to love a dog

DSC01803, originally uploaded by theknittyvritti.

The dog was only eleven when she suddenly died. A puppy until her last day, she loved us as madly as we loved her. A snuggler, a clown, an athlete, a whip-smart training failure, she gave more than she got, and she got a lot.

It's easy to love a dog, but how do you mourn one? Unlike humans, dogs come to us with a guarantee that they will leave us, so the almost certain loss is part of the love. Melancholia, or a refusal to let go, troublesome enough when a loss is unexpected or unique in nature, is not something one has total control over. Some of us mourn more angrily, more mournfully, longer and more lustily than others. But a long and painful mourning hasn't been emotionally right here. Rather, I am  just celebrating the fact that this dog had a near perfect life and refusing to deny myself the pleasure of a new dog.

The internet has changed the way we looked for a dog. No more heartbreaking trips to the city shelter, where you can take only one dog home with you. Just plug in your requirements: german shepherd/shepherd mix, female, young, large, zip code and dog after dog needing a home is displayed on your screen. The only thing things the computer didn't know were that pointy ears were a must, and that the dog needed to have as sweet a nature as the dog before her had.

 
Enter the dog. It's only been a week since she came home, and the comparisons are inevitable. The fear that she won't be funny enough, or clever enough, or the same enough, is there. But little by little she has wormed her way into our hearts. OM, not the most spiritual of men, has decided that the last dog has been reincarnated in the new dog, but I think that we are the ones who are keeping the last dog alive and well, and secure in her place in our hearts next to this new dog.

She's a tough act to follow, but someone's got to do it. Glad you are here.

finish line fantasy

This is what it looks like to finish the NYC marathon....in first place. Sunday's marathon had me thinking about this last, painful leg of NaKniSweMoDo which is it's own kind of endurance contest.

If we translate sweaters knit into miles run, I'm on about mile 22, It feels like this challenge will never end, but I am hopeful that I will cross the finish line.

When I do, I think I'm gonna kiss a sheep.

color me happy

Last summer, I took on a project that I called "the summer of gloves", a project that entailed a glove project each week of the summer. I have been missing glove knitting, so I snuck a little into the year of sweaters.

This is the Hand Painted Glove by Karen Neal (ravelry link provided). The pattern has been in my queue for along time, and the yarn, two skeins of Koigu, a semi-solid orange and a variegated blue, have been in my stash for a while as well.

Here's the other side:

 
Just as well thought out as the front. The pattern was easy to follow, and very entertaining. I recommend this designer highly.

And best of all....
Yes, two gloves!!!! If you look at my photos from the summer of gloves (under the topic "gloves" in my category list), you will notice that each picture has only one glove in it. That's because I knit one of each glove. Let's face it, most people can't knit two gloves in one week and still have that much else going on in their life. So I have a pile of glove singletons in a bin, waiting for the day that I stop setting up challenges like a glove a week or a sweater a month and just start knitting like a normal person. Maybe January 1, 2010? Right around then, it might be nice to have a few more pairs. For now, I'm just enjoying these, and fantasizing about the navy blue sweaters I want to make to wear with them.

sheep and wool: and now for the wool

 
It was a beautiful day, no question about it, and the animals are great looking. Still, on the drive home, my thoughts were all about the wool. Last year was my first year at Rhinebeck, and there was so much that was new and interesting that I don't think I maximized my shop. This time, with a whole year to fantasize about what I wanted to see again, things went very well.

Interesting to me, I bought two yarns that I bought last year, again.

First up, some more Brook Farm Duet, a very gently variegated red. Two thousand yards, enough for a really big sweater, or a couple of things. I made a beautiful cabled sweater out of this yarn last year, and the sweater is almost as pettable as the skeins. I know, because I occasionally take it off the shelf and pet it. Weird? I don't think so.

Second is this Creme Brulee from Decadent Fibers. Last year's Creme Brulee became my Vino cardigan, which is one of my favorite of my NaKniSweMoDo projects. The blues are even more beautiful in person, and the possibilities seem as wide open as the sky.

In what was really a complete waste of time, Hightest made me repeat after her, "No more lace, no more lace, no more lace". I complied with her, knowing full well that I'd buy whatever lace I wanted. Who cares that I'm set for the next three years? This is wild tussah silk and merino. Just the names of the yarns give me goosebumps.....wild tussah silk....

 Last year, I visited the Skaska booth, and admired her lace yarns, but didn't buy any. The booth was one of the places I wanted to re-visit, and I'm glad I did. This silk/merino will be perfect for the shetland tea shawl, queued already and waiting for its yarn.

There were some new things, too.

 Mohair and cormo from Buckwheat Bridge. This stuff is so soft and supple that I'm thinking it will make a beautiful lace sweater....a long term project, not a good plan for number 12 in this year's challenge.

And finally, a complete departure for me, but I am very excited about its possibilites.....Dream Weaver by Briar rose, a superbulky mess of gorgeousness that will keep my neck warm this winter.

Am I happy? You betcha. And pretty sated on yarn. Only complaint? My arm hurts just thinking about the winding.
 
 

it's a beautiful day: sheep

After a whole lot of wondering how I would make it through a day of rain or maybe snow at the Dutchess County Fairgrounds yesterday, it turned out that there was really nothing to think about. Crossing the Kingston-Rhinebeck bridge, the sun was shining brightly. Nice surprise.

Yes, we're going in the right direction.

Along with everyone else.

Now there are a lot of memorable things I just didn't photograph. Turning my head slightly to the right while fondling some lace yarn and seeing Ysolda Teague, who looks just like herself in real life...so cute. Red-cheeked knitters eating lamb chops (um, sorry guys....) and pot-pies on park benches. A giant sock. Some really beautiful ( and some really WTF???) projects worn by their creators. And on and on.

As per usual, I did take a few sheep-shots,since this is Sheep and Wool we're talking about.

Inside, the sheep were waiting for us, some of them walking around on leashes, like some breed of dog I'd never seen before.

 They are so beautiful unshorn.

Not so much, shorn......

 
At least it's for a good cause.

This is Hightest's haul. Right now, back in the city, it's raining and dark. Just as soon as it get's light enough to take a decent picture, I'll be back to show you mine.  
 
 
 
 

requiem for a heavyweight

I was more than sad when I heard that Gourmet magazine is closing. It was like hearing of the imminent death of a good friend. My relationship with Gourmet goes back far into the eighties. It's as old as my relationship with these pots, which have been the crucibles for many a recipe from the magazine.

I had been thinking about whether it made sense to keep subscribing to Gourmet, since the recipes are now all found on the incredible site epicurious.com, and since my collection of cookbooks is pretty extensive. I finally decided that I couldn't bear to sever my relationship with the print magazine. I love to read through it, looking for new ideas, or coming across great meals that I've cooked out of it's pages. But alas, some separations are not within our control, and Gourmet is leaving me.

I'm glad that I kept the magazines that I have. There was never going to be an inexhaustible supply of new ones, although I imagined that there would be. Things end, and what you have left is either some memory of them, or if you have been very careful, some tangible evidence that they happened at all.......

careful with that axe, eugene

(in case you don't know what I'm talking about.....go here)

I had a ninth grade art teacher who used to play Ummagumma for us and ask us to draw what we saw. She didn't play Eugene, thankfully, as even the lackadaisical parents of those days might have thought about protesting. I guess I'm thinking about this because next weekend I have an unofficial but very large junior high/high school reunion, and in a strange coincidence, since none of us are in touch any longer, all four of the people whose deskes were adjacent in Mrs. Pittle's art class will be there....and two of us are knitters.........

 
..... it could also be that my loose associations have taken me here via the Windowpane coat, which I have been thinking about in the context of Paul Bunyan. You get it- lumberjack>axe>eugene...... 

As for the sweater, I don't love it. I had the fantasy that maybe I would really want and need a very outdoorsy sweater, and this will be very nice to have upstate for a cool fall day, but it was more work and yarn money than I really want to expend or spend for a look that isn't my favorite.

Still, there are a few really nice details on this one.

A shapely neck enhanced by natural wood buttons from the fabulous M & J Trimmings. The buttons are most fitting for this ecologically correct (all yarn making powered by windmills) all-natural yarn, handspun and dyed with natural dyes.

And my favorite detail, the back vent.

I've not been able to resist working on my next sweater, which is more my style. Feminine, cashmere, and, um, purple. It's working up very quickly, so unless I get lost in lace, or find out that I'm knitting the wrong size, which happened just last month on this very sweater, I may have another for you soon. This is number ten for Nakniswemodo, by the way. I'm starting to think I'm a shoo-in for finishing.  

Love Story

I remember the day we met. A brilliant fall day in Rhinebeck, New York. There were thousands of others, but he caught my eye. I walked on, thinking he was too rich for my blood, but I couldn't get him out of my mind. I couldn't leave the fairgrounds without going back to look at him once more. And then I couldn't leave without him.

Once I got him home, I wrote a love letter and posted it here . As you can see, he was the clear favorite last year at Rhinebeck, the one I really gave my heart. I admit that I fantasized about the consummation for the whole year...turning this yarn into the sweater it was always meant to be....then snuggling myself into its arms.......

It's been almost a year. Our anniversary of first meeting is in just three weeks, and my sweater will be ready before then. Alas, I'm afraid that the consummation may be a disappointment. For all the reasons I've already cataloged and a few I haven't, yet.

I should have known better. This isn't the first time I've fallen in love at first sight. In fact, I've done it enough times to know that I'm usually missing something very important in that initial encounter. Fortunately, the results here are slightly less disastrous than they have been, and no, we're not going to talk about the others. Sorry.   

dangerous liaisons

I am knitting away at sweater number ten, and NaKniSweMoDo is starting to feel like a very old marriage. In fact, so much so that I have named sweater number ten "Paul". In part, because I feel married to it, and since the relationship is so personal, it ought to have a name, but also in honor of Paul Bunyan. As I've said, this cardigan is muscular, and burly, and the perfect thing for a woodsman. While I knit it, I sing "I'm a lumberjack and it's OK", vaguely thinking that this is a Monty Python song. Can anyone help me out here and confirm or deny that?

Ahem, as it happens, I'm brilliant at real-life monogamy, but project monogamy? Not so easy. At least at this point...I've got the ten-project itch. So don't tell anyone, but I've been stepping out.

And not with just one project.

First, I have been unable to resist the siren call of lace. Paul is thick, heavy and woody, and this lace is cobweb thin, complicated and elegant....everything he is not. I fantasize about our meetings even while I'm knitting away on Paul.

And that's not all. I've been unable to live without color. So I've been working on another project which makes me smile ear to ear because of it's beautiful hues. Kind of like dating the funny guy, which I've always loved.

It does feel dangerous to be spread so thin....like an affair that might blow up at any moment. If I lose track of time, and fall too deeply into the trance of lace, or take just one risk in knitting one more row (and one more row...) of bright colorwork, I may lose everything. Nakniswemodo will be a flop, a broken promise, a shame. I'm trying to be good, I really am......but it's harder than I thought it would be.

evolution favors anxious genes

Evolution favors anxious genes is something Dr Knittyvritti often tells her clients as a way of normalizing their anxiety. And, hmmm, maybe she could use a little more anxiety herself?

Earlier this week, I read that mosquitos are attracted (for biting purposes, that is), to people who have relatively little stress hormone secretion in their blood. So now I know why they are so drawn to me. Clearly, I have become too good at relaxing. Here's how I know.

The other morning, I was sitting at the desk, and I heard some chewing noises. I told myself that the dog was chewing paper, which she does sometimes. And just kept on doing whatever it was I was doing, without concern. It's been a long time since she's chewed anything else in earnest. Yes, she does grab a glove or a pencil and give it a few chomps when we leave the house, but she doesn't really, really light into anything anymore. A good thing, since I still mourn certain shoes and handbags......

I guess you really can get too relaxed. This was a good lesson....always pay attention to scary noises. The reason they say that evolution favors anxious genes is that it was the cavemen who listened for the unusual noises who survived the mastodon attacks. Those who assumed that those noises didn't mean anything significant got trampled. Guess which kind of caveman I would be?

Like humans, dogs are apparently capable of regressing to an earlier stage of development when ill. And apparently for her, this means reverting to being the chewing monster she was many years ago. Her chosen target? A perfectly good, perfectly new cone of cashmere. Fortunately, the angels at Colourmart have some replacement yarn. And I suppose fortunately, too, that this return to her youthful self is a sign of her improvement form her tick-born affliction.

Fortunately, because we are unreasonably attached to her, and fortunately, too because Operations Man can finally get some peace of mind. He's been doing the worrying for both of us, while I have just been insisting that she would be fine. I usually enjoy being right for it's own sake, in this case, it's doubly nice to be right. Even if there's some collateral damage.