The Cat Hates My Knitting

The things you see when you're out walking...

Scrawled on a railway underpass in magic marker, in dear ol' B'ville:

Wicked Clown Love  Whoop   whoop

 

This proves it. I live in the cultural centre of the world.

Coming up for air

Hello there!

It's been a little over a month since I last checked in.

So. What have I been up to? Let's see...

There was a lovely salad I made, glorified by some leftover chicken, some garden flowers and a weed.

 
There was the Dock Jumping competition at Superdog Central.

(That would be the Teenager's godmother. No. Not the one in the pool. That's Storm.)

There was also frisbee chasing at Superdog Central.

There was  'Pioneer Days' at Darlington Provincial Park, where Sue and I were demonstrating with our spinning wheels.

There was progress on the street.

There was the cottage trip, hosted by the Teenager's godparents.

There was a camping trip to The Pinery,

and along with it, an afternoon spent on the Boardwalk, in Grand Bend.

 

And another run-in with the little white criminal.

 

See that shopping bag in the background? It was upright. The two pilfered skeins of yarn were inside it. Good thing they were tied well.

Next up: Fair Season!

 
I'm so excited!

Her Name Might Be Mud

It was seven o'clock on a recent Sunday morning. I was awakened by my usual alarm -- the flying leap of a determined Princess onto my bladder and then away to the window. She can be put off for  only so long, before one must simply comply for the sake of peace. So I climbed out of bed, fed her, stretched and yawned and wandered into the sunroom where I was greeted by a sight guaranteed to make any knitter's blood run cold.

Aaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!    That's the red lace wrap!

 

Wut? Yoo make lacees wif dat stuff.

I maked sum, too. I fails to see da problum.

 

 

Sigh.

Famous last words

The nice folks at Spinning Daily wanted to hear about people's first spinning experiences. I started to post a comment and realized I was writing a book. So, I thought I'd put it here.

I remember my first spinning experience very clearly. The Teenager was 7 years old. There were some lovely women at my local Canada Day celebrations, demonstrating handspinning -- both wheel and spindle. I hadn't been paying much attention, but my daughter? She was transfixed by the spindle. The woman holding it, invited her over to give it a try.

Well. That 7 year old kid suddenly had to have her own spindle. Immediately. It took her two days to earn the $5 needed to procure the starter spindle and some fibre. When we went to her house to get the set, the lady looked at my daughter, looked at me, and pronounced, "You're going to be a spinner!" My response was something like, "Nah, I knit. That's enough for me." She suggested to me that it would be a good idea if there was an adult available, to help the child out of any sticky situations she might find herself in. I thought that was a really smart idea, but it didn't necessarily make me a spinner.

Little did I know...

The lady (her name is Beth) patiently showed me how to apply clockwise spin into a bit of pencil roving. I tried it, myself, and did a pretty good job, but I still wasn't convinced. We took the starter set home, and my kid commenced to spin up every millimetre of the pencil roving we had.

Days later, we were back at Beth's house, looking for more fluff to spin into yarn. That was the day that Beth showed me a natural oatmeal coloured batt and a Turkish spindle. She showed me how to attenuate the batt into something I could spin, and then, showed me how to spin it into yarn. I'm not sure if it was the colour, or the smell, or, even the texture of the fibre between my fingers, but suddenly, I was getting it. I found the slow spin of the bottom whorl spindle somehow hypnotic and relaxing. We took home some more pencil roving for the kid, and two more batts of that lovely oatmeal coloured fluff.

I turned it into beautiful, lumpy, heavy yarn in about 6 hours over the next two days.
The kid and I went back and forth from our house to Beth's several times that first month (no small feat -- she lives in another town), learning a little more every time we visited. Pretty soon the intense interest of the 7 year old waned, but, there I was, wondering what other wonderful bits of fluff Beth had over there. I explored every natural colour of wool that I could get my hands on.

On one of my visits, Beth suggested I enter my first skein into the local fair. I thought she was nuts. She patiently explained that we all have to be beginners some time. It was strictly for fun. So I agreed to put my heavy, lumpy, beginner yarn into the ring with yarns from spinners who had been at it for decades.

I came in Third. (And, yes. There were more than three skeins in that class.)

That was the final motivation for me. I now wanted to try out different breeds of sheep, mohair, alpaca -- anything that I could make hold together on a spindle.

Oh. And those lovely ladies at the Canada Day Celebration?

Yup. Three of my best friends. Debbie, Beth (Mmhmm, that Beth)  and Sue.

And the fun continues

After a spectacular day in Stratford, and a good night's sleep at the Swan Motel, we went back into town to do a little shopping. If I had been on-the-ball enough to bring the camera along, I could have shown you the bar of Decadent soap and the wrap skirt I bought at p'lovers. And I could have shown you the lovely vintage-y sundress I bought at the little antique shop that was hiding just across the alley from the Stratford Chef's School -- along with the 1936 Swans Down Cake and Pastry Flour cookbook. I could have shown you the bright red, chili-garlic peanut brittle that we tried at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. If I had been clever enough to bring the camera along. But I wasn't.

After our shopping trip, we got back into the car and headed back toward home. When we got to Highway 404, we headed up to my Mother in Law's house.

There are two things you need to know about my Mother in Law. One: I adore her. No. Really. I do. I am one of the luckiest people in the world to have a welcoming, gracious Mother in Law. Two: Her birthday is the day before mine. So the Man of my Dreams and I decided to visit her and take her out for dinner on her birthday. We decided on Milestones, in Newmarket.

After much deciding, we chose our dinners. Prime rib for each of them, and Portobello Chicken for me. Yum.

My Mother in Law and I came to an agreement long ago. No ratting out birthdays to the server. If you don't, I won't.

The agreement never seems to apply to the Man of my Dreams, though. So, after we finished sharing a sizeable helping of key lime pie, house-made cookies and ice cream came to the table for each of us, complete with sparklers.

Which, of course burned out, just before the picture was snapped.

After a wonderful, too-big dinner, we headed back home. We were greeted by herself.

You left me alone. I ate all of my food in the first half hour, after you were gone. (burp) I don't like the person you got to check up on me.

What?!

Don't just stand there. Feed me!

 

 

Ain't it great to be appreciated?

I am Golden

While most of Canada spent Friday at the beach or on the deck, enjoying hot dogs and cold drinks and celebrating Canada Day,  my time was spent doing something a little different.

You see, today, I turn 50. Early last week, I was told I needed to make sure I had nice, casual dress clothes ready for Friday. Always open to the opportunity to go shopping, I complied. New blouse? Check. New pants? Check, again. New shoes? Of course. I even threw in a manicure and a pedicure. I will arrive wherever it is that I'm going, dressed to the nines.

Well. Where AM I going, anyway?

The Teenager is at a friend's cottage for the weekend and the cat

didn't much seem to care, as long as there is food in the dish.

Our GPS (whom we affectionately call 'Kate') wasn't telling.

Neither was the Man with the Plan.

He does know that I don't function well without my breakfast, so our first stop was, oh, so appropriate, for breakfast on Canada Day

Yup. That's me eating a breakfast biscuit, at Tim Horton's.

From this point on, I'll leave the scintillating 2-hour drive along the 401 to your imagination. I can tell you that I was told to pack light. This, I'm pretty good at. (That bag is for both of us.)

Things started to get interesting when we exited at Woodstock. I was by this time completely flummoxed, since I know that nothing terribly exciting is happening in Woodstock, around Canada Day, that can't be enjoyed at home. Right?

Well there might be a shepherd or fibre processing plant out here, somewhere.

We spent a very nice hour on the back roads of New Hamburg

and Tavistock.

And I was still totally confused and wondering what we were doing, all dressed up in farm country.

Well, they say patience is a virtue. I wasn't feeling very virtuous, and just as I was about to yank the steering wheel out of the Man's hands and demand, "Tell me, TELL me TELL ME!!", I started recogizing where I was.

So, we did a little shopping, because we had some time before the totality of my birthday surprise was to be revealed. There was a really fun toy store,

and hats to try on, seemingly wherever we looked.

And then...

Is that...?

It IS! This is Stratford, after all, and that's the Festival Theatre!

Oooo! What's playing? Do we really get to go in? Pleasepleasepleasedon'taskmetositstillandbeladylikeanddecorousbecauseI'mabouttoexPLODE!

This is what's playing:

And this, (Oh, be still my beating heart!) this is where we sat:

In case you missed it, that is one of a pair of front row seats. I very nearly cried, I was so excited. An extraordinary performance followed -- including a walk-on performance by a hawk. (Or, would that be fly-on? Hmm.) It was an amazing show, with music, costumes and choreography up to the calibre you'd imagine from a world class stage company, as well.

Umm. I think I might be babbling.

The show ended around 4:30, and dinner reservations weren't until 7:00 (The Man of my Dreams still had a surprise for me, and I had no idea where we were going for dinner), so we went back to the motel where we were to stay for the night.

Wait. Wait, that's not the right setting. Here's a better idea:

That's more like it. The Swan Motel. A neat, spacious, comfortable, quiet room, with coffee and muffins available in the office for breakfast. And did I mention the gardens?

There are beautifully kept lawns and gardens all over the property, and just when you begin to wonder if you should be allowed to pitch a tent in a botanical garden, the driveway opens up and you find yourself  parked at the door to your room. Yes, that's a gazebo, and there's a great swimming pool, too.

Plus lots of places to just sit with a cold drink and chat. And there are lots of people to chat with. We checked out the muffins-and-coffee at breakfast, and discovered some lively conversation with Colleen (the lady of the manor, so to speak) and some of the guests.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself. We spent a little while walking the grounds at the hotel before I was whisked off to dinner. And where was I to dine?

Here:

This is Raja Fine Indian Cuisine. See all those hanging baskets? They are camoflaging a beautiful deck

Even though there was a Canada Day parade going by, less than a block away, this dining area felt secluded and private. And when the last of the pipe and drum corps passed by, it was serene, too. But pretty and quiet do not a fine dinner make. The chef and his staff definitely know their stuff. First came papadums and condiments (I may have eaten most of the pickle):

 followed by a glorious dinner.

We chose Vegetable Samosas for our appetizer. Dinner was Tandoori Chicken, with Peas Pulao, and Mixed Vegetables. I had a glass of Riesling with dinner and The Man had a Kingfisher beer. And I must confess a weakness for Naan. I can live without dinner rolls most of the time, but there is something about that tasty Indian flatbread that just makes me happy to be within breathing distance of it. It's even better when I get to eat some. And I did. It was Garlic Naan. So, so good. Everything was incredibly good, actually. It was a great birthday gift to me, that's for sure. And after I finished the seconds of veggies, and personally inspected the very bottom of the dish of mixed pickle, I realized that I was going to have trouble finding room for dessert. I shouldn't have worried. The dessert menu was filled with house-made sorbets and mango ice cream. I chose lemon. And asked for two spoons. I wish I could remember to take pictures of my food before I start eating...

We topped our dinner off with liqueurs

What an amazing birthday gift. A surprise trip to Stratford, Camelot, Raja Fine Indian Cuisine. I am one lucky person.

This was Day 1. I was treated on Saturday and today, too. But more about that, later.

Now you know why I call him the Man of my Dreams.

Landscaping by Tonka

Remember this? Well, the project has progressed through piles of dirt

and heavy equipment parts strewn up and down the boulevard, like the cast-off sandbox toys of a bored toddler,

and moved on to more impressive toys.

  REALLY impressive toys. Really impressive holes, too.

In fact, this is the prettiest part of the street, right now.

None of this is to say that I'm not happy. We have been waiting for this reconstruction for nearly twenty years, and the fellas on the crew are always cheerful and polite, and accommododate those of us living here, as much as possible.

Yes, it's noisy. Rattle-y, too. The house vibrates on a regular basis. And, occasionally, I have to step around very large holes in the sidewalk. I try to get away from the house as much as possible, through the day. And when I can't get out, I knit.

I knitted this. 198 Yards of Heaven (Ravelry link) designed by Christy Verity.

Ain't it bee-you-tee-full? This was a really entertaining little bit of lace knitting. Quick, too. It took me a little over 2 days to finish.

Scarf down. Hat and mittens to go. I may have matching accessories for this winter, yet.

Beadless in Bowmanville

Four rows.

I am four rows away from finishing Eiki, by Janel Laidman Last night, I looked at my handiwork, and thought to meself, "Self, this shawl needs bling" So off to the bead stash I trotted, with a specific pack of rose coloured beads in mind.

Sadly, 6º seed beads do not fit on doubled sport weight yarn. (SRK On Your Toes Bamboo, thanks for asking) sigh

So, I shall have to forage for some. Tina might have something. Marla might,too.

Meanwhile, I have another project on the needles.

I have been looking at the Dark Mark illusion scarf for a few years, now. I've always thought it would look good on the Man o' My Dreams. But, really, I know better than to launch into a full size project, in order to try out a new technique.

Ravelry to the rescue!

And here I am, rocketing my way through the Maple Leaf shadow knitted dishcloth.

I stressed about this? I feel kinda silly, now.

Also, I may have created something new.
More to come a little later.

Oh, look. I have ferns!

and roses (Explorer series, Samuel de Champlain)

and peonies

The one and only, Miss Sarah Bernhardt!

You're not distracted at all. Are you?

Random Friday

In the last month, the weather has turned, slowly, toward summer. And my already short attention span has been tempted away from the needles for a few other projects

There was the brief flirtation with beading

I made this on a dripping wet Saturday afternoon, at Marla's Beadery, in Whitby. I may have to go back and see what I can find to turn into stitch markers. She has some lovely stuff.

And then there's Heidi's lovely roving,

which I've been slowly, slowly turning into the most beautiful yarn.

And then, there was the rhubarb. Ahh, rhubarb!

A little while ago, my friend Anna asked me if I'd like some rhubarb. My response was immediate: "Yes, please!" And a few days later, a great big bag full of rhubarb magically appeared at my house.

And, so, in an effort to help the Man O' My Dreams continue to lose weight, I did not turn that lovely rhubarb into pie.

I made this,

a great big bowl full of beautiful, refreshing, pink, stewed rhubarb.

Hey, Anna?

THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!

Fall, Winter, Spring, and...

Wednesday morning, I looked out my front door to see this:

Yup. It's construction season. And my street has, after 18 years on the waiting list, finally been deemed to be in bad enough shape to require repair. So, for the next 8 weeks, I am going to live every 5-year-old's dream. There are gonna be Mighty Machines in my front yard, nearly every day.

Yippee.

This was also in my front yard, this morning:

That would be Dark Ginger. A misunderstood and brooding, supervillian, imagined by the Teenager, for Superheroes Day at school.

Last evening was Arts Night, at the Teenager's school. And the Junior Improv Team got to participate. The Teenager got the dramatic role of a lifetime:

That's her in the turquoise, playing the part of the microwave oven. As one of her friends pointed out to me, last evening, it takes a rare talent to play an inanimate object. I kinda  liked the kid who got to play the frozen pizza, too.

There was also a performance by the Senior Improv Team,

and music,

lots of music.

You may be forgiven for thinking that last one looks a little old for High School. That's the inimitable Miss Witherspoon, reliving the glory days of her High School Prom, while dancing to "Careless Whisper", performed by the students.

There were some interesting displays, outside of the theatre, as well:

Those are, indeed gargoyles -- part of the Grade 10 Gothic Art Unit.

The heart and talent demonstrated by all of the participants was, truly, inspiring. Bravo, CCSS. Bravo.

All this talk of construction, and Spring Concerts and Proms got me into a hopeful, summer's-on-its-way kind of mood.

And, this morning, I may have bought something very seasonal:

This is, after all, the official first weekend of Summer.

Happy Victoria Day, everyone. Don't let the black flies getcha.