An evening well spent

Last night, I found myself wondering about many things.  Like why it is that those three big pyramids on the Giza plateau are in an alignment almost identical to the three stars in Orion's belt.  And why it is that I can't seem to find Yoo-Hoo in the Pacific Northwest. 

Some of these things (like the Yoo-Hoo), I wonder why I wonder.  But if there is one thing that daily meditation has taught me it is that my mind goes where it goes, and I really shouldn't worry about it.

As for the pyramids, Orion's accessory and last night, well I wondered these things because I was sitting outside on the front porch.  Mrs. TSMK had a girls' night out.  And I had a guy's night at home.  Just me and the two other members of the TSMK Blog staff - the Labrador and the Corgi.  We sat on the porch, the three of us, and gazed at the stars, sipped excellent bourbon out of a jelly jar and puffed on a pipe.  Well, actually the three of us didn't do those two last things.  Those were just me.  I've found that the Labrador drools a bit too much to let him puff on my pipe.  And bourbon makes the Corgi a smidge gassy.

And while sitting on the porch, I had a moment to use my latest completed object.  This has no rhyme, reason or pattern.  But it was something that needed to be done: a felted pipe cozie/condom.  And, to go with it - a similar cozie/condom for my tamper. 

The yarn is Shetland DK.  The pipe is a Luciano.  The bourbon is gone. 

~TSMK

A matter of National Importance

Gentlereaders,

It isn’t often that I use this forum for something other than pure entertainment purposes.  But today I feel I must.  Indeed, I believe I would be shirking my responsibilities as a quasi-public-pseudo-personality if I did not bring an important issue to your immediate attention.

But I must warn you.  The issue I raise today is of paramount importance.  In fact, it may be the most pressing issue of the day – and yet our political leaders appear ambivalent to the pending crisis.  We stand, as it were, on a precipice.  And it is my great fear that we find ourselves today standing precisely where the Romans stood as Nero fiddled into the night.

We are losing the pastry race. 

I know that those are bitter words to swallow. 

Allow me to explain.  I am in the throes of OFB 2012 (“Operation Fat Bastard” ©TSMK).  Like many non-recurring charges on a corporation’s balance sheet, OFB is a one-time event that seems to occur on a yearly basis.  If memory serves, OFB 2012 is sixth consecutive observance of this once-in-a-lifetime occasion.

To mark this auspicious occasion, participants spend absurd amounts of time running on moving belts while pondering the mysteries of chafed nipples, and attempting to avoid hernia while lifting heavy objects. 

Like all semi-religious observances, there is also a certain amount of fasting involved.  Not your average – don’t eat a single thing – kind of fasting.  Just the kind of fasting where you don’t eat anything that you actually enjoy.  Ten pounds of raw spinach?  Knock yourself out.  A single morsel of chocolate?  Only at the risk of eternal damnation. 

The goal of OFB, like all such observances, is to perform penance for prior sins, and to maintain a certain level of grace in the eyes of a more evolved being.  But, of course, with denial of the flesh comes temptation. 

And it is precisely that temptation that has caused me to become aware of the pastry-debacle facing our nation today.  For essentially every first-world country has a signature pastry.  But as far as I can tell, we have none of any meaningful importance. 

I have the solution.  For I have, in a fit of anaerobic light-headedness, had a mouth-watering vision of splendor. 

We need a chocolate-covered bagel-thing.  In its ideal form, this delectable morsel would have the chewy saltiness of a traditional kosher-salt bagel – but would covered (nay – drenched) with a chocolate ganache.  With a bagel such as this, we could take over the world. 

In other news – tonight I will finish what is (I think) my fifth pair of socks.  And this pair is for me.  The pattern is Java – found on Knitty.  Rather than run the ribbed cables out to the end of the toe (and run what seemed like a decent risk of running out of yarn – I’ve used the pattern’s decreasing structure but some left over Socks that Rock yarn to do a contrasting toe.  I like these quite a lot. 

And in other news, Gigi is now the proud mother of eight young kits.  She would have written the second installment of the Ballad of Buster and Gigi, but she’s been quite busy chasing Buster for child support while nursing the hungry kits.  So she asked me to provide the update – along with a picture of the growing brood.

This brings our herd of angora to 14 - and I'm already quite eager to spin some of the wool from the dark kits in this litter. 

~TSMK

The Land of Port

Malabrigo Rios Scrunchy Scarf

I enjoy the occasional port.  Something well-aged, served after dinner either with or in place of dessert.  Maybe near a crackling fire, with a sleeping dog at my feet.  Good stuff, really.

So I'm pleasantly optimistic about this weekend, when I will travel to Portland, Oregon for business.  Now in fairness I've been to Portland several times before and never managed to get a decent port.  But hope springs eternal.

I'm going to be in meetings all day on Saturday, but if I make it down early enough on Friday I plan to check out a few of the local yarn shops.  If you happen to have a favorite in the area, shoot me a message and let me know. 

Manos del Uruguay Slipped Stitch Scarf

Continuing in the Christmas theme from my last post, let me share a trio of scarves.  I like making scarves for gifts because they typically take just long enough to make to be pleasant - but not so long as to turn to drudgery.  This Christmas, I made five: one for my assistant, one for my sister, one for a good friend, one for my son's kindergarten teacher, and one for the Christmas-gift-listapalooza giveaway.

 

Malabrigo Worsted Bias-Ribbed Scarf

For my son's teacher, one skein of Manos del Uruguay with a slipped stitch pattern.  For my good friend, one skein of Malabrigo Worsted (a personal favorite), knit on the bias with a ribbed pattern.  And for the contestant, one skein of Malabrigo Rios, knit in a scrunchy pattern and then blocked within an inch of it's wooly life. All three were fun to make - and true to history each was done in about a week of commuting time. 

~TSMK

The Ballad of Buster and Gigi

He desired her from the moment they first met.  The dark eyes.  The button nose.  The voluptuous hips.  And that hair.  She was a goddess.  He knew he must have her for his own.

From the instant their eyes locked, she knew he was trouble.  The kind of guy her mother would have warned her about, if she'd bothered to hang around.  The kind of guy who would love her and, almost certainly, leave her.  The kind of guy who would make her a single mother without a second thought.

She vowed to be strong.  She would resist.  She would not submit to his advances.

But still, she could feel his eyes burning into her.  Penetrating her soul from behind the cold grey bars of his cell.

And when the fateful day finally did arrive, the day she was delivered into his clutches, she found herself unable to resist.  Though she knew it was foolish, she found herself falling under his spell until finally, drunk on passion and papaya, she lost herself in his embrace.

When it was over, it was exactly as she feared.  He had his way with her, and never gave her a second glance.  Clearly she meant nothing to him - just another conquest.  A notch in the hutch.  Now he was gone.  And her belly was starting to swell.

[Stay tuned for the next installment of the ballad - hopefully around February 1]

In my last post, I began to describe holiday projects.  Continuing that theme, let me share another - a sweater for my dad.  The pattern is Smokin' - a Jared Flood design.  I've done it in Ironstone, which I like for the drape as well as the variegated color.  I like the shape of the sweater quite a bit, and may need to make another one for myself in something tweedy.

~TSMK

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I love the Christmas season.  In fact, I love almost everything about it – from the gaudy decorations to the frequently insipid music.  I love Christmas so much that I’m able to avoid acts of homicide notwithstanding the every-ten-minutes Lexus commercials trying desperately to convince me that unless I get Mrs. TSMK an overpriced Toyota for Christmas I’ll never truly win her affection.

Christmas is, in my opinion, the most wonderful time of the year.  Even if the song, itself, is crap.

One of the things I like the most about Christmas is that it is an excuse to give to others.  I shouldn’t really need an excuse.  None of us should.  But for some reason, having an excuse makes it a bit easier. 

This year, we did something as a family that made Christmas even that much better – some surprise gifting. 

Here’s how it went down.  The entire TSMK family found itself, the weekend before Christmas, at a big box retailer.  This particular retailer had been making a big deal in advertisements about how it had “brought back” layaway for the holidays.  I’d seen those commercials - but didn’t pay much attention until I read an article online about someone back east walking into a different big box retailer and paying off a bunch of layaway balances for complete strangers.  This had gotten me thinking.

We arrived at the store and made our way to the back.  Layaway, it turns out, was being handled in the same area as in-store pickup of online orders.  My oldest son and I waited in the line while Mrs. TSMK walked around with the other boys to do some shopping.

Soon enough, it was our turn in line. 

We’d like to pay-off some layaway.

Ok – do you have an account number?

No.  We don’t have an account.  We’d just like to pay off a balance or two.  How do we do that?

The clerk smiled.  “You’re the second person I’ve talked to this week who has done this.”

After talking about our intentions, the clerk did some digging and found a few accounts with open balances and a combination of either toys or children’s clothes.  A few keystrokes and a transaction later, and we were done.  By law, we apparently weren’t allowed to pay the whole balance on anyone else’s account; each account was left with a balance due of $0.01.  The clerk got on the phone and began to call the account-holders to let them know they should come in and pick up their items.  A quick high-five with my son, and we went off in search of the rest of the family.

But our work wasn’t done.  We had budgeted a particular amount we wanted to give but hadn’t been able to meet our quota in layaway.  So we started looking around. 

I like watching people.  But it turns out I like watching them even more when I’m plotting a gift.  We stalked the aisles of the toy department.  We loitered near the car seats, strollers and onesies.  And then, with what we hoped was an air of confidence but was actually a feeling of tremendous nervousness – we pounced.  A young woman was picking out infant clothes.  A toddler sat in her cart.  An infant was strapped to her chest.  My son and I – hand in hand – approached her.

Excuse me

Yes?

I wonder if we might give you something.  I extended my hand.  I’d folded up a few bills in what I hoped wasn’t too sweaty a grip.  I placed them in her hand.

Merry Christmas.

Why?

Merry Christmas. 

My son and I walked away. 

Our family re-enacted this scene on two more occasions in the days that would follow.  I’m hopeful that each time we did this it helped to make someone’s holiday just a bit brighter.  I know it did mine.

And with that – let me offer a challenge.  In the year ahead make a point to give something to a complete stranger.  Whether anonymously or in person – I suspect you’ll find it exhilarating – and your kindness will help make the world a better place.

 

Of course, with the holidays you also get knitting.  And I was busy this year.  All told, the breakdown was as follows:

Two sweaters
Five scarves
Two pairs of fingerless gloves
One skirt
One pair of Elf Slippers
One Pakul; and
Six wrestling masks

Rather than describe all in a single mega-post, let me start with the slippers.

As regular readers will know, I put a couple of slots on my Christmas knitting list up for grabs a few months back.  Out of the many responses, I picked two.  Well, actually I picked three but one turned out not to be a Christmas gift but instead a pair of labor & delivery socks - I’m pleased to say that I’ve since heard that the socks were well received and mom & beautiful baby girl are doing well.

But I digress.  One of the entrants was a mother who asked about getting some elf slippers for her infant daughter, Carmen.  This was too good an opportunity to pass up.  I found a pattern, and here they are – made from Lamb’s Pride worsted and then felted.  As recommended by the pattern, I added a bit of nonslip texture on the soles. 

They were a quick knit and I like them very much.  In fact, I think I may need to make Mrs. TSMK a pair.

~TSMK

On the way to the office this morning, I noticed workers putting white lights around the trunks and in the branches of trees lining the street.  This, of course, is a sign.  A sign of the passing of the seasons.  Soon, our resident bike messengers will change from spandex and t-shirts to skinny jeans and flannel; the truly destitute will once again outnumber those Seattle residents for whom panhandling appears to be merely a seasonal pastime; and Mrs. TSMK will once demonstrate a propensity for using Jimmy Buffet as a means to combat seasonal affective disorder.
 
And, of course, this is a sign that Christmas is nearly upon us.  Time to take stock of my projects.
 
This year, I have a outlined a goal of making gifts for seventeen people.  I started early, and have been making good progress.  Nevertheless, the chill in the air seems to be whispering: knit faster… knit faster…
 
To date, I have completed six and three halves.  On the complete list, a couple of sweaters, two wrestling masks, a pair of elf slippers and a pair of fingerless gloves.  On the not-yet-complete list, a second pair of fingerless gloves, another wrestling mask (mask 3 of a planned 6) and a scarf.  Good progress, but the days seem to be turning shorter.  There are essentially 8 weeks remaining.  Will I make it?  Will I need to spend every weekend in residence at my LYS – trying to keep pace?  Will I spend Christmas Eve huddled downstairs by the Amish Fireplace knitting until my fingers cramp? 
 
Probably.
 
~TSMK

Wrestling with Zen

As the Echidna is my witness, I've been that guy.  The one you see coming down the aisle of the airplane, infant in arms, making the other passengers squirm.  Or the guy constantly raising his arm in class, asking the dumb questions.  Or the guy wandering into the express lane at the supermarket without noticing the incongruity between the "15 items or fewer" sign and the mountain of groceries in his cart.

And yet, I still find myself squirming when it isn't me.  When I see that guy approaching.

It happened again this past week.  I saw it happening, but still didn't manage to get out of my own way.  Stubbornly focused on the apparent differences between us than our natural kinship as living beings.

I was sitting on the ferry.  A later boat than usual, but I would be home by 8:00 or so, and that wasn't too bad.  I was knitting.  And, per my habit, my knitting had a soundtrack.  That night, the soundtrack was classical Indian music: sitar and whatever they call those drums that always seem to play in the background.  I was, as they say, in the zone.

And that's when I saw him.  In fairness, he would have been difficult to overlook.  I'm six foot one, and he was at least a half foot taller.  Wearing a black trench coat.  His closely trimmed beard was accentuated by the gold ring that pierced his septum.  He was wearing a porkpie hat.  And, for good measure, an eye patch.  Like it or not, he had my attention.

He headed straight for me.  And, despite all the empty booths in that part of the boat, he sat down directly across from me.

"Knitting"?

"yes," I replied.  Trying to be polite but still inexplicably hoping to avoid a full-blown conversation.

"What is it?"

"A wrestling mask."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm making a bunch of them as Christmas gifts for my sons and a few of their friends."

"That's cool.  What are you going to use for the second color?"

I looked down at the blue yarn coming off my needles.  "I'm thinking red, or maybe white.  Haven't decided yet."

"You've got boys"?

"Yes.  I have three."

"Dude, you're Fred MacMurray!"

I chuckled.

"I always liked to knit," he said. "Never found it emasculating at all."

And then, before I could respond, he continued.  It turns out he liked to sew.  He started sewing when he found a roll of leopard print fabric wrapped around a palm tree after a storm.  It was an omen.  A sign that he should learn how to sew.  And so he made a pair of leopard print cargo shorts.  And then he moved on to fake fur.  Soon he was making furry shorts and tight pants for all his friends.

Now, though, he mainly makes corsets and bustiers for friends.  He explained in some detail how he goes about making a pattern for a skin tight corset - but honestly he lost me after he started to describe wrapping the person in plastic wrap and duct tape.

Then he started telling me about his friend.  The one who works exclusively in leather and makes a lot of masks and harnesses for people with somewhat unusual private lives.  

And then the boat docked, and we started to walk off together.  He was still talking. Now about how useful it is to know how to sew when you live on a boat.  And then, suddenly, without warning: "have a good night, Sir!". And he was gone.

Wow.  He thinks I'm Fred MacMurray.

~TSMK

And The Winner Isn't...

Ann from the Midwest.

Nope. Not Ann. Which isn’t to say that she didn’t put in a great entry. In fact, her entry was quite persuasive. But there was a problem with it. A big problem. A problem that, on principle, I’m not prepared to accommodate. For you see, Ann wanted to use her present early. Three days early to be specific. Anyway, before I tell you more about Ann, let me tell you about the second most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.

It was slightly more than nine years ago (nine years and three days, to be exact) – that our destines began to converge. It was night. I was sleeping. I do that sometimes. But on that particular night my sleep was interrupted. The darkness of my room was shattered and there, backlit by a blinding light, stood Mrs. TSMK.

“I think my water just broke”.

To be sure, there are worse ways to wake up. For example, you could wake up to the unexpected smell of smoke. Or perhaps the unexpected smell of cabbage.

But when you’re a soon-to-be-first-time father, and you hear something like that in the middle of the night… boy it wakes you up in a hurry.

Despite all the childbirth classes and books we’d devoured over the last several months, the level of uncertainty in this announcement was something I hadn’t anticipated.

“What do you mean, you think your water just broke?”

A lengthy discussion followed which you, gentlereader, will be spared for reasons of its graphic content.

With trembling digits, we called the obstetrician to inquire of recommended next steps. Mrs. TSMK did not seem to be in active labor and, it being the small hours of the morning, we were recommended to come in on the first ferry from Bainbridge Island to Seattle – where we planned to deliver. That ferry was set to sail at 4:45 a.m. – roughly four hours away.

Satisfied that we’d made a plan – and that we were likely to have a rather eventful day – I asked Mrs. TSMK if there was anything that I might do to make her more comfortable.

“Juice” she said.

And so, dutiful expectant father drove to the grocery store, bleary-eyed but hypervigilant, to acquire the particular brand of juice which had recently become her favorite.

Roughly 30 minutes later, I arrived back home. I turned my key in the lock, opened the door, and noticed something new. Something I’d not heard before: an oddly vigorous chuffing noise coming from upstairs. As if someone was panting. Loudly.

The ferry wasn’t set to depart for three more hours. But apparently, Mrs. TSMK wasn’t prepared to wait to begin the day’s festivities.

Fast forward three hours. We’ve been doing our best to remember every breathing childbirth technique we learned in the class. We’re actually doing reasonably well with them – but things are getting more intense with every contraction. We’re on the ferry, but sitting in the car is too uncomfortable for Mrs. TSMK – so we’re walking around on the car deck. Ferry workers are peering at us from around corners. They’re wondering whether they’re going to begin the second run of the morning already behind schedule due to a medical emergency. I’m wondering the same.

We drive off the ferry in Seattle, and I manage to hit every pothole over the 15 blocks or so to the hospital. Moments after arrival in the triage area of the obstetrics unit, Mrs. TSMK is wisely beginning to believe that better living may be achievable through modern chemistry. Her prior (and in my opinion, unnatural) insistence on natural childbirth is beginning to wane. And that’s when the nurse made the call.

Moments later, it happened. I met the second most beautiful woman in the world. Her name was Betty and she was a leggy redheaded supermodel disguised as a short Asian woman. She strode into the room with an air of confidence and, without hesitation, drove a needle into Mrs. TSMK’s back. Within moments, the sun rose in the sky. Birds began to sing and little children of every race and creed all over the earth began to hold hands and sing. Mrs. TSMK was no longer in pain. The world was a better place.

She rested and slept. And just a few hours later, I was a dad. It was, without question, the scariest and best day of my life.

So what does that have to do with Ann? Well, since that day nine years and three days ago, I’ve had the chance to have similar days on two occasions. And each time I’ve been struck by the kindness and compassion of the people who have been part of those days. Ann? Well, Ann is getting ready to do this for the 7th time! And Ann has developed a penchant for wearing brightly colored socks into the delivery room. She is due on December 22, and asked if she might receive a Christmas present of some such socks.

But I can’t allow Ann to win – because we have a hard and fast rule in our family that no one – for any reason – is permitted to open a single present before Christmas Eve. Now, if she was prepared to delay her delivery until the 24th, I could probably make an exception. But these things aren’t always possible – there could be no guarantee.

And so, Ann can’t win. But I couldn’t just leave her hanging either. And so, Ann, I’ve made you your socks. Here they are – knitted from Noro Kureyon yarn with an entrelac leg. I hope they’re colorful enough for you. And I hope that they give you some measure of comfort as you welcome your child into the world. Give him or her my best.

As for the winners – well, I’ve picked them out as well. I got a lot of wonderful entries and requests and, like with most of these giveaways, it was hard to pick who would win. But someone has to – and there were two entries in particular that grabbed me.

Carmen – you sent me a photo of Emma, who will celebrate her first birthday a few weeks before Christmas – and asked for a pair of hand-knit slippers. Well seeing as I’m the father of three boys, I don’t often get the chance to make things for little girls. I’m seizing the opportunity. Now to pick out a pattern.

Jessy – you sent me a limerick about how you give away everything you make and don’t have much handknit of your own. It was funny and made me laugh. But then I noticed a small tag at the bottom of your email. I followed the link, and it took me to your team page where you raise money for the March of Dimes. Good deeds should be recognized. Thank you for all your hard work. You didn’t tell me what you wanted for Christmas, but I’d like to make you something anyway. I’ll come up with a few ideas and run them past you to get your approval.


~TSMK

You Bet Your Asp

On this day, 2,041 years ago, Cleopatra VII died near Alexandria, Egypt.

And on this day, some 1,993 years later, Anthony Ray was born in Seattle, Washington.

At first blush, you might think these events are unrelated. But dig a bit deeper and I think you’ll agree that they are inextricably linked. For Cleopatra is popularly believed to have died after being bitten by an asp.

And Anthony Ray, better known by his stage name of Sir-Mix-a-Lot, is best known for his anthem to, well, something that sounds an awful lot like asp.



What does all of this mean? Nothing, really. Except that it means today is a particularly auspicious day. The kind of day that makes a person want to announce something.

So, I’m announcing that I’ve started my Christmas knitting. True, I may have mentioned this before. But one of our current presidential hopefuls has announced her candidacy at least three times now – so really I’m just being presidential. Not redundant. Really.

And, since I’m announcing that I’ve started my Christmas knitting – I’d like to announce that I want to add a couple of new names to my Christmas-gift-list. You heard me right. I already plan to make things for family and numerous friends – but I want also to make something for at least one complete (or nearly complete) stranger. So – this seems like an opportunity for a new giveaway. So – I hereby kick off the 2011 TSMK Christmas-Gift-Listapalooza.

Here’s the scoop: You want something – you ask for it.  Maybe a scarf?  Or how about some socks?  Could be anything.  Tell me what you’d like made, and why you think you should be added to my Christmas list.  Make it (the item) memorable.  If it is something intriguing – I’ll be more likely to want to make it. 

And make the request memorable as well. In past events we’ve had fun with poetry, photos and even an adorable video of an infant. All of that is in play with this one as well. In fact, anything you can email can be used as a submission. However, please do not send me anything you wouldn’t want to see posted in this journal or of which you think The Echidna might disapprove.

All entries should be sent to tsmkblog@yahoo.com. If you need to send something through snail mail – shoot me an email and I’ll reply with an address.

I’ll accept entries through the autumnal equinox. Have fun, and I hope to hear from you.

~TSMK

Good Fortune

Today, I have the good fortune to do something really exciting.

I get to perform the wedding ceremony for a friend. So, I guess I get to help knit two people together, as opposed to pieces of yarn.

Writing the ceremony, I confess I was tempted to say something along the lines of "let no man frog what we have today..." but I resisted the urge. Instead, we're going to talk about the rock, paper, scissors theory of marriage. Should be fun.

On the knitting front, I have begun my Christmas knitting. I recognize that it is a bit early, but I have a lot of things I want to make this year. Stay tuned for updates as things come off the needles in the weeks and months ahead.


~TSMK