Leaving on a Jet Plane? Ugh.

One of the big things that happened since the last time I blogged was that the Husband and I visited our parents in northwest Indiana. Now that we live in Vermont, going home means one of two things: a really long car ride or a moderately long plane ride. Actually, traveling home has meant a relatively long car ride for ages now. The closest we've lived was on the other side of the Chicago suburbs, and even that was over an hour through city traffic.

Vermont to Indiana, though, that's a whole different league. The first few times we did it, we wanted to take the dog, so we drove. Friends, that is a 14-hour drive, which is bad enough. But whether you go across Ohio or across Canada, there is no way to make it interesting. A piece of my soul died on the Ohio Turnpike, and I will never get it back. Frankly, if getting it back means returning to the Ohio Turnpike, I'll do without.

Thus it was that this time, we decided to fly. This is not a decision made lightly. Aside from the monetary cost (which was not inconsiderable even after the in-laws graciously got our tickets for us) is the emotional cost. I am not a fan of flying. This is primarily because I am emetophobic, which in my case means I have a fear of seeing people throw up, which I know is weird, but it's true, so there you go. I can only think of one place where people vomit frequently enough that they slip bags into the seats to make it more convenient. Coincidentally, it is also a place you are forced to remain belted in next to random strangers.

So that's a big chunk (ha!) of why I don't like flying. Honestly, though, why does anyone like flying? You're in a tight seat. It smells funny. There isn't enough legroom for me and I'm not quite 5'0" tall. They barely feed you, and when they do it's not good. You go to the bathroom in what is essentially a cramped portapotty with a disturbing vacuum flush. It is not a pleasant experience.

All of which is to say that in a plane I am not my most rational self. I am not a superstitious person, and I am a firm believer in and supporter of science as a concept. That doesn't change the fact that there is a very real, not insignificant part of my brain that really believes that what keeps the plane up is the combined faith of everyone on the plane that it's going to stay up. If too many people get too worried, the whole thing crashes. This is good in that it forces me to think happy soothing thoughts. It is bad in that any errant negative thoughts feel a little bit life-threatening.

It's probably unfair that I am choosing to focus on what is to me the least pleasant part of the trip. It was lovely to see both families. It was lovely to see Lake Michigan. We went to the Art Institute for the first time in years. We went to Russian Tea Time for the first time ever. I saw two of my siblings, and went to the outlet mall with my mother-in-law. It was genuinely a good time. But it is also genuinely good that it will be a little while till I hear a boarding call again.

An Appeal

Are you there, Spring? It’s me, Rachel. I was just sitting around with some time on my hands, and I thought I’d see what you’re up to these days.

 

Oh, who am I kidding, Spring? Let’s just face the facts. I miss you. I miss you, and I was hoping you could come home for a little while to Vermont. Not forever. I know you’re not a forever kind of season. But just for a little while.

 

By the way, did you notice what I did with my first line, there, Spring? I thought maybe an appeal to  pop culture would help you remember how much fun I am to hang out with. I know, I know, you’ve been around for a while. Maybe you never jumped on the Judy Blume bandwagon. It’s just that I'm getting kind of desperate. I’ve tried the whole “Wait around and eventually Spring will come” thing, and it’s just not working. I’m starting to feel like it's high school again, and you're too cool for me. I’m not exactly the cheerleader type, but I’ve got many fine qualities. I’m funny and smart. I will pretend to like your music. In fact, I will play your favorite song on repeat in my car in the hopes that you will park next to me, and we will “just happen” to be playing the same song. Unless you like Kings of Leon. I’m sorry, Spring, but I just can’t listen to Kings of Leon, even for you. Honestly, though, Spring, you seem more like an Enya type. I can definitely fake an interest in Enya for you. "Oh my god, I know! It's such soothing music!" See?

 

Actually, Spring, all of this talk about music is reminding me of how we used to spend our time together. Let's remember the good times, okay? Remember how on the first day it was warm enough to drive with the windows down, I would play The Clash at top volume and think about how happy I was to be driving with you? I really treasure those times. They bring me peace, Spring. I don’t drive as much as I used to, but I really want to go for my Clash drive. Don’t you want me to have peace, Spring? Why don’t you want what’s best for me? Why don’t you care about my needs? Why won't you make it warm again?

 

I’m sorry, Spring. That paragraph started to get away from me a little bit. I’m not trying to pressure you. I don’t need you to give me a perfect driving day. Why don’t you just throw on some sweatpants and an old shirt and just aim for a gloomy day with a high in the upper 40s? Even when you're not trying, you're so beautiful.

 

Wait, is it Winter keeping you away? That jerk Winter has left ice all over the town. I think he likes to watch people fall. Has Winter been hurting you, too? Because if Winter has been hurting you, you need to know that there are people who can help you. You have friends, Spring. Friends who love you and miss the way you used to be. I mean, tomorrow is March 28 and there's a winter weather advisory. It's okay to take a stand against that kind of pushy crap. This is your season, Spring! Take it back.

 

Anyway, I really hope this finds you well. And I really, really hope it finds you en route to the Northeast. I'll keep the Enya on repeat till I see you.

Tying Up Loose Ends

Spoiler: this post is going to start out being about knitting, but never fear, non-crafty types... it's a metaphor! Or a simile? Actually, it's more of an example, but the point is, the post is not just about knitting.

 

About four weeks ago now, I finished a shawl. That is to say, I finished the knitting of the shawl. For most projects, after you finish the knitting, you have to do the finishing: weaving in yarn ends and blocking. This is especially true of anything that includes lace, which my shawl does.

For some reason though, even though I was totally excited to wear the shawl and take pictures of it in finished form, I let it sit as a pile of rumpled up yarn for weeks. This means that not only could I not wear it or photograph it, but it was a thing in the way of other projects on my work table. I want to say that what was holding me up was the actual act of weaving in the yarn ends and soaking the project in water and spreading it on a towel to dry (which is basically all that blocking is). But weaving in yarn ends is basically the same thing as embroidery, and I do that for fun. And soaking and pinning is the magical part where you actually see the thing you made. So it's more than that.


What's so bad about pinning the yarn to the ugly towel?

Besides, I have an aversion to finishing in all areas of life, not just knitting. I did taxes three weeks ago, but I waited a week and a half to submit the federal form and I still haven't filed in Vermont. There is no good reason for this. The Vermont form is complete, and I have no intention of looking it over any more. I've even entered the amount of the check in the checkbook. I just haven't written the check, or put it in the envelope, or addressed the envelope. I just haven't finished.

Part of this is my natural inclination towards procrastination. After years of traditional "ignore the thing that needs to be done" style procrastination, I have reached a point in my life where I can force myself to start a thing. The procrastination doesn't take hold until about halfway through, and in the moment it feels less like I am putting something off and more like my brain gets so bored with the thing I'm doing that I have to go do another thing. I have been known to stop washing dishes with, like, two cups and a knife left to clean, while I go check my email. That, my friends, is ridiculous.

Really, though, I think it's something deeper than simple procrastination, and closer to a fear of finality. Like I said, finishing a shawl isn't actually that bad and I had already done the hard part of the taxes. But once the shawl is blocked, it's done. If I don't like it, there is no saying "Maybe it will be better once I do the next step." Once the taxes are in the mail, there is no remembering one little thing that I should have added. Once I click "Publish" on this post, which I started over a week ago, it's up on the Internet for anyone to judge. And while the consequences for finishing and not liking something are pretty low, why face them today? Tomorrow will probably be fine.

There is one more possibility, of course. It's one that I considered just now, as I looked in my tea cup and realized that it was not as empty as I thought (by which I mean that I had an inch of tea left). I could just be kind of flaky. I do spend a significant portion of my life trying to figure out where my keys are, and at least once I have done so while the keys were in my hand.

Whatever the reasons, I did finally manage to finish the shawl, which is wrapped around my shoulders as I type. (Remind me to take a picture of it being held on with the lovely shawl pin the Husband made.) And in just a second, I am going to take the plunge and click "Publish". The taxes though? I'm not too worried. There are still 22 days until April 15.

Demented and Sad, but Social

Recently, the Husband and I were out with a colleague/friend, and Willa Cather came up. (As she does. At least when you hang out with librarians.) I mentioned that I hadn't read any of her books since high school, when Academic Decathlon kind of ruined My Antonia for me. I started to move on conversationally, when the Husband noticed her confusion.

"I think you've got to explain Academic Decathlon."

At first I tried to compare it to Quiz Bowl, which my high school didn't have, but which my younger brother competed in at a different school after my family moved and which seems to be more common. "It's a little like Quiz Bowl," I said. "But the questions are more in-depth. Or at least I think that's the difference. Or like Science Olympiad, but without science. Well, I don't think there was science. I'm sorry, it's been a while."

Since she was still confused, I went on, but her lack of understanding combined with my fuzzy memory was making me question the details. "You studied things? And then you took a test? But, like, in front of people. As a competition."

I guess I had never had to explain it that far before. I'm pretty sure that up to that point, anyone I had mentioned it around had heard of Academic Decathlon, or Quiz Bowl, or Spell Bowl, or Science Olympiad. You know, competitive academics.

Competitive academics was what I did in high school. I was uncoordinated and slow, so sports were out. I wasn't artistic, or at least I didn't think I was, so art was out. I was shy and awkward, so drama and debate team were out. I was kind of scared of the soup kitchen, so Key Club was out. I needed to get some form of scholarship in order to go away for school, so not doing anything was out. Competitive academics it was!

People who also did Academic Decathlon, feel free to jump in on the comments if I get details wrong. (There have to be some of you out there, right? Maybe you came here looking for brethren. Hello! Come in! I bow to the nerd within you!) Basically, as a team, you got a book that was your subject guide. You studied those subjects, along with supplementary texts. Then you gathered with other schools' teams on a certain prearranged day and took a test. I think part of it was multiple choice and part required writing. There was also a speech portion.

Academic Decathlon was my biggest "sport", but I also did Spell Bowl (basically a written spelling bee) and Science Olympiad. (Focused - duh - on science and engineering, it required moving around and enthusiasm for science, so I didn't stick with it long). I promise you that I am not joking when I say that I lettered in Academics. Like, I could have gotten a letter jacket, and put my Academics Letter on it. That was not a thing I chose to do, but the option was there.

Preparing for these competitions wasn't fun, exactly, but I had friends there. Friends who I genuinely liked, with off-beat senses of humor and decent taste in pop culture. One of my fonder high school memories is meeting up with them after we won regionals and nearly getting kicked out of the theater for mocking Patch Adams. (Nerds can rebel too!)

Mock me all you want. God knows the Husband does. But at least my friends and I maintained a certain ironic distance from the whole thing. We were in a small public school in a city in Indiana's industrial corner, near Lake Michigan. Because of our school's small size and the statewide trend towards large consolidated public school districts, we were competing mostly against private schools, especially once we made it through regionals to the state competition.

And those schools took competitive academics seriously. They had Academic Decathlon classes. They brought (male) friends who painted things on their chests and took off their shirts during the mostly very quiet competitions. They asked my teammates whether we were in gangs. (Our city did have some issues with gangs, but oddly, they didn't seem to do much recruiting at the Academic Decathlon practices.) In short, we were on the fringe of a group that was already on the fringes of high school life.

I have no Academic Decathlon regrets. I don't think about it often, but when I do, I am happy. I was lucky to find people with similar senses of humor who started to help me feel comfortable in my own skin, and to do it before college. Perhaps the only thing I regret is having to explain what the hell competitive academics is. And the fact that I still can't face My Antonia.

For Those About To Weave

WARNING: This post is focused on my rigid heddle loom. If you don't care about rigid heddle looms, you may find this post boring. Maybe you should look at something else. Personally, I'm a fan of Radiolab's tumblr. I promise to talk about something else next time 

I've talked before about my stat counter and how much I love seeing what brings people who don't know me here. Before it was naughty vegetables that brought strangers to my corner of the internet. These days it's the post about my Spears Loom.

I know from experience that weaving info is harder to come by than knitting info, and that details about the nitty-gritty of choosing a rigid heddle are even harder. Since writing the above-mentioned post, I graduated to a 19" Glimakra Emilia. I mostly like it, and I'm going to say why. First, though, a quick word about the Spears loom.

If you find yourself with a Spears loom, or a similar loom that is/was marketed as a toy, I think the trick to getting good results is to remember that it is still a loom. I ran into trouble when I was measuring my warp threads. Rather than setting up a makeshift warping board, I measured the warp threads by hand with a yard stick. This was not only way more of a pain than doing it right would have been, but since wool is stretchy, it meant my warp threads were all slightly different lengths, which is part of why so many of them broke mid-project.

(On a side note, the instruction manual for the Spears loom was what led me astray. It also contained a racial slur, in reference to a brown color in one of the sample projects. Again, it's from the early 60s, but still. Really altogether terrible and unhelpful.)

Anyway, on to the Glimakra. First, quick details. I bought mine online from Paradise Fibers. It was a great experience. When I bought it, I had woven on a floor loom and on the Spears. After much waffling, I finally went with the Glimakra because I liked the look of it. This post features a couple of the projects I've finished on it most recently - the scarf with a single heddle and the towels with two. After three years of use (but with no experience on other rigid heddle looms), here's what I think.

The good:
More wood and metal than plastic. On a lot of rigid heddle looms, the ratchets that let you tighten the warp are plastic. On the Glimakra Emilia, they are metal. In fact, pretty much anything on this loom that is plastic (the heddles, for example) has to be plastic.

Easy to use second heddle. Being able to add a second heddle means that you can use finer yarns and make thinner fabrics. This was important to me.

Can handle long warps. Some looms have beams across the back (for stability, I suppose) that limit how long your warp can be. (A long warp is going to have to wrap around the back end of the loom more times, and thus be thicker.) Glimakra does a beam there, but it is far enough forward that it doesn't seem to affect the possible length of your warp.

Good weaving experience. I have to be honest: I don't have a ton of experience weaving on other rigid heddles. But one thing I was worried about was that the experience of weaving on one wouldn't be as fun as weaving on a floor loom. It's a fact that I still think I'll buy a floor loom one day. There are drafts (weaving patterns) you just can't do on a rigid heddle, even with two heddles. But until that point, any complaints about weaving that I've had have been corrected when I checked the tightness of my warp.

Folds. I'm not going to lie; even when folded, it takes up a pretty good amount of space. But when I had to move out of my studio, it was nice to be able to fold it up (with the project in the picture still on it!) to make it slightly easier to move.

Nice and wide. I love the 19" width. Much wider, and I think I'd have difficulty beating evenly. Much narrower and I would feel constrained.

Now the less good:
The stand. Oh my gosh, is this stand terrible to set up. The loom screws into it (rather than resting on it), and the stand isn't able to stay upright on its own until the loom is screwed in. The instructions for the stand tell you that it is best to put the loom on the stand with a helper, and they aren't lying. This, in my opinion, is a serious flaw.

Taking the loom on and off the stand while a project is on it is a risky business, a fact I learned when I had to move out of my studio before finishing the towels pictured above. When I watched the KnitPicks tutorial on weaving and saw how easily the Kromski Harp comes off and on its stand, I felt a bit weepy. (The Kromski also functions as a warping board, which is neat. But I personally don't like how the heddles sit upright rather than hanging.)

The stand is also not as sturdy as I would like. There was an ordeal with tightening the carriage bolts that attach the loom to the stand (in an effort to make it less wobbly) that I'd rather not relive. (Don't let your spouse/significant other hammer your loom! Even if s/he is very careful, if there is loom damage, it will cause marital strain. The loom and our marriage are fine, but it was touch and go for a few moments.)

Actually, that's really it for out-and-out drawbacks. It's a doozy, though - enough so that I have seriously considered getting a different loom.

What say you, though? If you care enough about rigid heddle looms to have read this far, I'd love to hear what you think. Have you tried out others? Are any of my complaints or compliments just a result of my limited experience? Which ones are you thinking about buying?

Opening Pandora's... Website?

For a variety of reasons, my current job is the first where I've felt free to put in an earbud while at work and listen to the radio all day long. Up to this point, I've only done this when previewing a new Wiggles album for storytime songs, so this is an exciting development. It also means that for the first time ever, I've been listening to Pandora.

I know the rest of the world has been enjoying Pandora for years and years, but I was new to it. What can I say? I'm a bit of a dinosaur. I'm all for new technology and staying current as an institution when I'm, you know, representing an institution, but I'm reluctant to embrace new technology in my personal life.

Pandora, though... that's different. Pandora, you sexy beast, how did I not meet you sooner? I knew I loved Pandora when I noticed the "Why was this song selected?" button, and one of the attributes it thought I liked was a "Prominent accordion part".

First of all, ha! Is that your prominent accordion part, or are you just happy to see me? Get it? The phrasing is funny! And so many of its phrasings are funny. Mild rhythmic syncopation? Either Pandora thinks I have a dirty music mind, or it knows that I love hand claps. Either way, I am totally in. Always and forever, Pandora. With or without extensive vamping.

Second, I am almost positive that I hadn't thumbs-upped any songs with accordions. I hadn't even asked it to add some variety with a Decemberists sea shanty (yet!), so apparently I just seem like a person who would like accordions. Which is true! Pandora can see into the heart of me! Though, really, who doesn't like accordions?

I will grant that it is not all hits in the world of Pandora. Pandora has overestimated my love of Wanda Jackson and only plays She and Him songs from Volume 1. It is convinced that if it just keeps trying, I will want to listen to Jack Johnson. No matter how many times I tell it to play more Talking Heads, it only plays a few select tracks from Stop Making Sense. But that's true of any relationship, right? It's only a matter of time until we get to know each other completely. And it will be a time full of prominent accordion parts.

Creative Output



My loom in my studio!

Last year I posted about my studio. Since then, we’ve moved, and with the move came a new studio. This one is a little nook in our apartment. As much fun as it was to say, "I'm going over to the studio," the actual act of going to the studio was sometimes a work deterrent, so it is lovely to have a whole studio at home.  

Anyway, picture posts are fun, right? Wanna see what I've been doing?

Knitting
I don't really do New Year's resolutions, but I swear to golly that 2014 is the year that I'm going to finish the mitred square blanket that I started in, like, 2007.

For the blanket you knit a bunch (in my case, 80) of little squares, sew them into 2x2 squares, and then sew those into a blanket. This is but a representation of what I've done so far.

3 of the 20 needed 2x2 squares. I've sewn 5.

Oh, it will be so lovely when it is finished. Psychologically, I mean. Hopefully it will also look lovely, but I'm really just trying to free myself here.

I wasn't going to start any new knitting until I had finished knitting the little squares (I'm on #72), but I couldn't resist Ysolda Teague's mystery knit-along (where you get the pattern in dribs and drabs without knowing what the end product will look like). It starts Monday, and I am so so super-psyched that I can't use big girl words about it.

Weaving
Here's a picture of the dish towels I finished in November:

Dish towels! Fresh off the loom, so they're a bit wonky.

 

Here's a close-up picture of a scarf I made last year whose pattern makes me happy:

Waffly scarf! So warm.

I haven’t started a new project. Why not? Because...
 

Stitching

Hey, I know what I need! A new hobby to take up my already limited spare time. How about handstitching? Don't mind if I do!

I started with an embroidery kit from Sublime Stitching, but stitching patterns on towel after towel seemed kind of silly, and it was hard to find other embroidery targets.
 

So, after some soul-searching to make sure I was invested enough to invest in it, I bought an Alabama Chanin kit:
 

Lots and lots of teeny stitches

 

That’s my progress as of a few weeks ago. I'm not too much further along, because I've started sewing the blanket squares, and I also have to go to my job sometimes. But, oh my god, I can’t even explain to you how very much I love this, much less why. It is repetitious and fiddly and I can’t read or watch tv while I do it. But love it I do. I love putting little stitches into my fabric. Teeny little stitches added one by one. It's like mindfulness training, which, when you factor in the fact that I'll end up with a skirt, makes it a very good investment indeed.

And that's what I've got right now. Three hobbies, lots of projects. Now all I need is more time to focus on them. (And a better camera to document them.)