A tale of two sleeves

I bought this Norwegian sweater in 2000. Encouraged by my husband, I had to buy a man's sweater so that it would fit my hips. You can see that the sleeves are beautiful, but I have to roll them up three times when I wear it.

I have to get used to a single flipped cuff on my made-to-me cardigan. It's hard not to think the sleeves are too short.

I've been trying to think of a way to shorten the Norwegian sleeves in a way to preserve the pattern. I don't think it's possible.

After 15 years, should I cut it and knit a new facing or keep rolling them? My arms are just not growing.

The tenth ball

I remember when I bought the yarn for my cardigan, my go-to shop keeper calculated that I would probably need nine balls of yarn. The dye lot had ten balls in the package. I am so glad that I bought the whole package. The anxiety would have been too great finishing up the collar if I had only nine balls.

For the first time, I see that the yarn is from Romania. I have never been there. Maybe someday, I will wear my cardigan back to it's home.

From the button stash

I have decided: La Mode, style 34414, 3/4 ", olive, made in Holland. They are the right size and color. And most importantly, there are eight of them.

I think they were from the collection I bought from Tuesday Morning in Amarillo, circa 2005. I bet you don't think of buying buttons there. Nobody was. They had been sitting around on a lower shelf gathering dust on clearance. I went to the manager and offered to take them all. We agreed on a mutually satisfactory deal.

My kitchen window sill

The herbs that were so promising in the fall have faded away due to drafty window or neglectful watering. They have been joined by a bulb.

Spring will come.

Update: The hyacinth bloomed on a cloudy day. I couldn't get a good picture of it.  I was looking forward to the wonderful scent. I couldn't catch it. Then I decided it was time to empty the kitchen scrap bucket which sits right below this end of the sill.

Now my kitchen smells like spring.

I have a sympathetic twinge

The underarms of my cardigan are joined, woven together by the Kitchener stitch.

As I have progressed on this garment, I have felt it snug on my hips, pulling across my chest, covering my wrists and caressing my neck. Now I giggle as it tickles my underarm.

What is wrong here?

Last Friday morning, I had some time to kill. I had driven my son to school, had some coffee, but the stores I wanted to patronize weren't open yet.

I don't often set foot inside a certain, unmentionable store. But it was open and is big enough to record a walk on my fitness app. It also was a good time to view the clearance items after the holidays.

So I went in. My device went crazy as it announced the miles passing by. 

I should have deleted it, but it was so funny. They should sign me up for the Olympics: 9.9 miles in 4:02 minutes for a pace of 00:53 min/mile.

The technology gods don't like me visiting this certain, unmentionable store.

Winter walk at dusk

My husband had given me skier bibs about 20 years ago. I pulled them out for my walk on the yellow blazed trail in the park.

I used my poles and listened to Elgar's mournful Cello Concerto. 

The snow path was well packed. 

I fell once. 

I rolled, padded with the layers of clothes.

I met two people. 

The first might have been a teacher walking briskly home from school.

The other was the strange old man with long string hair whom I had seen before.

He had a plastic bucket and appeared to be feeding the squirrels.

I joyfully marched home to Haydn's Trumpet Concerto.

Can you see the hint of a setting sun?

I was distracted

Remember yesterday, I said that I was trying hard not to be distracted?

I was binding off the collar. The directions were detailed. The first and last two inches  were to be bound off at medium tension. The middle with easy tension. I used a size bigger needle for that.

 I worked my way to the end. I then stretched the edge to see it flare and flipped it over to find a dropped stitch.

This time, I ripped it out and redid it. There is a lesson in life there. I'm not quite sure what it is.

The last needle change

The last knitting on the cardigan is as I began, the raised rib. One and a half inches of each of three needle sizes. First is a small needle so that the yoke won't gap. Then the next size up to encourage the collar to curl. Now, I'm on the last needle change, the largest of the three, to flare the collar.

I try not to think that it will be done today or tomorrow or even this week. I know that there bits left to do, ends to tie, even after I finish the collar.

I pulled out my button box. I have a few possibilities. But I may not have the right size. I do need eight buttons, all alike.

I think back to sweaters that my grandmothers knit. Often they would crochet yarn around plastic circles to make buttons that matched. Maybe I should see what is in fashion for knitwear buttons?

So many things to think about, as this project winds down. I try not to be distracted.

The view in early morning

I love to take pictures of my plants in the window. Usually I am draw to the light and shadow from strong sunlight. This one is taken early morning with the streetlight on a frosty morning.

Dried Cherries from Michigan

My sweet parents sent us a package of assorted dried cherries and blueberries for Christmas. I love adding them to my oatmeal. I wasn't able to have oatmeal regularly while traveling over the holidays, but I'm back to it now. I am mindful of my goal:

1.  Eat oatmeal three times a week.

I hate it

When they don't make it, I find it hard to give up.
This was a hanging pot of pink geraniums from my neighbor. It was full of blooms in September.

What is going on here?

We bought this house four years ago. But I have to say, I really don't feel like I know it all that well. I wasn't around for the house inspections when we bought it. My husband and son moved in while I was still teaching out west. Then I commuted for two years.

This week it was really cold, but sunny. My kitchen window faces south and so gets lots of sun. I noticed that there seemed to be steam floating by the window. I had seen it before, but decided to investigate it this time.

It wasn't the dryer vent. That goes out on the other side of the house, on the driveway side.   We rarely see the south side of the south in the winter. I put on my boots and bundled up. This is what I saw.

It is a plastic vent pipe. I assume it is from the furnace. Notice the icicles dripping down and that huge stalactite, no, a stalagmite rising from the ground. The dead ground cover and twigs on the nearby bush are all frost covered.

I remember now that a contractor we had in the house at the time we redid the upstairs bath had mentioned that the furnace doesn't use the chimney and that we might consider removing it. I imagine that when the old coal-fired furnace was replaced with a natural gas one, the venting was done in a simpler way.

So now I'm noticing all the neighbors' steam creating their stalamites and frosty bushes on a cold winter day.

Sewing on the bands

I have now knit the bands for the front of the cardigan. Sewing the left one with a serpentine stitch went well. I have acquired a new skill.

If you look closely at the green plastic needle, you will notice that it has a ball rather than a sharp point. It moves around the yarn, rather than pierces it. I picked up a pack of them many years ago for a Girl Scout craft project. Remember sewing cards?

Blogging with new life

I have to admit that I am thankful to have a renewed interest in writing. I was tempted to stop earlier when I was sick or traveling. Now I'm seeing so many things that I want to comment about. I have 12 drafts waiting for final editing and publishing.

It gets me up and going in the morning. But can I really earn money from my blog?

How does your week look?

I asked this question of the woman returning to New Jersey from a weekend in Chicago. She had an interview the next day, but was looking forward to going to Florida at the end of the week. It was pleasant conversation between seat mates on a plane. Then she politely ask me the same question.

I hesitated. I muttered something about being retired, being at home for my son's senior year.

I am not comfortable with my identity label.

I have a busy week of managing the meals, shopping, laundry, shoveling snow and shuttling my guys around for lunch. If I get really ambitious, I'll mop the kitchen floor. No, I probably won't. Maybe I'll sweep it.

It certainly isn't retiring in any sense of the word.

For myself, I hope to get back into a routine of eating right and daily exercise after traveling for the holidays.

My goal for this week is to get my cardigan to the point of working on the collar. Grandma T is telling me to finish it up.

Now, I remember, I'm a blogger on a daily deadline. I'm writing this, looking at my plants and out the window at the snow and sun, thinking about the people I have interacted with this last week. I have to run down the stairs to reheat my coffee in the microwave.

So, how does your week look?

What would I have lost?

My bags were returned to me. It was hard to think when asked by the counter agent. Anything of particular value? All I could think of was "dirty laundry and my toothbrush". The suitcase was of most value. Our family gets very serious about our travel bags.

As I reflected, it's funny how many things were in it. Well, in the one bag, the other bag, passed off by my sister to me, was empty. I wouldn't have checked anything, except I wasn't able to handle that extra, empty bag as a carry-on. It couldn't collapse to put into the other.

There were a few items in the bag mentioned in this blog. There were the top I bought at the Creative Dress Boutique, the boring clippers and 1968 pattern book.

There were the bulletin and CD from my uncle's memorial service.

There were priceless things in my suitcase.

Blue fuzzy sweater

My stepMoM and I had a great time looking through her mother's knitting bag. There was some mystery about the blue fuzzy sweater. J did know that it was intended for Grandma T's sister-in-law who was in a nursing home at the end. As it turned out, Grandma T passed away first, never finishing the sweater. J said that was very unlike her mother. She was one to always finish her projects and would encourage J to do likewise.

The sweater had raglan sleeves which were already set into the body of the sweater and the stitches for the collar were on the needles. The knitting stopped in the midst of a row with just a small amount of yarn left.

Why did she stop when she was so close to being done? Was she frustrated that she didn't have enough yarn to finish or the more logical answer, she got sick and never returned to it.

We looked through the pattern books in the bag and found the pattern. It was from "new dreams" by Brunswick, 1968.

Grandma T didn't add buttonholes. She intended the sweater to be slipped on so that her sister-in-law wouldn't have to fuss with buttoning it. The real mystery was that where the band ended, she knit a row of straight stitches to fold over. She continued the band pattern for another width. Was it a collar? My thought is that she wanted to encase a ribbon to tie at the neck.

Here is the pattern with her notations.

With J's encouragement, I finished the row and bound it off. After four decades, it was finally off the needles.

J hopes to have it blocked and give it to her cousin, the daughter of the intended recipient.

On being flexible when traveling

My family tries to get the most traveling for our dollars. This often means that we use our frequent miler status to re-work our trips to our advantage. It may be that we can re-route so that we get more miles credited or on a flight with a better chance of being upgraded to the premier cabin.

A true joy is when we can meet up with friends or family "on the fly", so to speak. My sister mentioned that she was flying into Chicago on Sunday night to begin her work week. At first I thought of meeting her for a quick meal in the airport. Then I started thinking that maybe I could delay my return trip home and I could spend the night with her. I wouldn't mind sleeping on her home-away-from-home pull-out couch. I've been able to see her three times in the last month, but I can never get enough sister time.

The staff at the service counter were able to get my flights arranged. There were a few hours before my sister's plane would land. I needed to recharge my devices, so I found a place to plug them in, set them in airplane mode so they would charge faster and pulled out my knitting. I got up to stretch after a while. The backless stool was not the most comfortable, so I decided to relocate. Turned on my phone and saw that my sister had texted that her flight was canceled due to weather.

I was disappointed that I wouldn't see my sister, but then it struck me that I didn't have a place to stay, so I checked on my original flight and it was about to board. Luckily it was only a few gates away. Another accommodating agent was able to change ticket again. I had lost my prime aisle seat for an inside seat, but the flight wasn't that long. I pulled out my iPad and knitting and settled in.

When we boarded, there was no thought of snow hitting us. As the plane filled, snow flakes began to accumulate on the windows. I got quite a lot of knitting done as the de-icing crews were called out.

While up in the air, I was able to get on the wifi and open the airline app. It was flashing at me, alerting me that they had rescheduled my connecting flight, for 24 hours later! Yuck. As the flight progressed, I monitored the time and gates. I was encouraged by sweet seat mates. I would be able to make it.

And then as we were approaching Newark, I looked out the window at the lights below. I felt the plane nose up and accelerate. The pilot came on and said the the computer codes for the "spoilers" didn't read what they should and they would have to fly around and go through a "checklist". After a while, he announced we would land. This time, it all seemed to go smoothly. As we slowed at the end of the runway, there was a battalion of flashing emergency vehicles on each side of us. The pilot quickly announced that all was well. The emergency crews weren't needed. He then explained that part of the calculations done was to analyze the length of the runway to make sure we could stop if the spoilers didn't work.

That was good news. Meanwhile my ground crew, my husband and son, on their computers back at home were following my progress and plotting my course. The connecting flight was delayed 20 minutes "awaiting incoming flight crew". I pushed my way to the front of the cabin to be one of the first out.

The terminal was deserted. I wasn't far from the connecting gate, but there was no one there. Scanning the area, I realized that there was a staff person off to the side sitting. She jumped up and opened the door to check if the plane was still there. It was.

I felt like the Queen or a CIA agent, they greeted me by name, ushered me to the the stairs and onto the awaiting plan where a row of seats were cleared.

They were waiting for me.

I was on the right side of the plane so I couldn't see if my bags made it, but I really didn't care. I made it. My ground crew announced that they were signing off and going to bed.

I was disappointed, but not surprised, that my bags weren't on the belt. As I walked back to the desk, I caught the attention of an agent. She said, "You must be the late arrival." She had monitored it all on the computer. "They aren't supposed to do it, but..." The first two flights the next day were already canceled. Bad weather was due. Who knows when I could have gotten out, if they hadn't held the flight for me.

I completed the lost bag report and was leaving the airport parking lot at midnight. I stopped for something to eat at a 24 hour grocery store and got on the highway headed for home.

At 1:30 a.m., snow flurries were starting to fill the air as I drove into town.

P.S. I still don't have my bag.

Knitters

I was touched by four knitters on my trip to visit family this weekend. Two who have passed and two who married men I love. I wish I could have a long knitting bee with each of them.

In a partial answer to a question posed in this blog a while ago, MoM did knit. In discussion with my father, he told me that she had knit a pair of argyle socks for him before they were married. I smiled and nodded in understanding, for I had knitted a cable vest for my husband before we were married. He still wears it. The lifespan of a vest is 30 years, not so with socks. I don't remember ever seeing them. Socks with worn through holes are not something that you keep as a sentimental treasure. 

At the family meal, we gathered at a long table. I sat at one end. K, who married my nephew, was at the other. It was only when we were getting ready to leave that I realized she had pulled out her knitting. She was working on a hat from yarn that a friend had dyed and spun. It was so luscious, I could have eaten it with a spoon. Dear K, I regret not being able to spend time sitting-and-knitting with you.

Last night, J, my stepMoM, brought out two knitting bags. She talked of her desire to continue a project she had started. New members being added to her family required new Christmas stockings.

The last knitter was J's mother who had died in 1972. Her bag had many treasures including the blue fuzzy sweater shown. I held that sweater and gazed upon it, in sisterhood, knowing that each stitch was knitted with purpose and love. 

The story of the sweater will continue. 

Didn't bring it

The next step is putting buttonholes in the right side band. I'm busy keeping track of rows.

I decided not to bring it with me on the trip to be with family. It is too bulky to have on my lap in a plane, particularly wearing a heavy coat.

The quandary

This morning, I looked out on a clear sky and had potential for sunshine. I want to get out and walk. The temperature is 10 degrees Fahrenheit.

Nail clipper

I seem to keep a favorite nail clippers with an enameled lever, purchased in Bangladesh.

When we visited the market in Seoul that had stationary/office supplies, I saw cards of ten packaged together. I just couldn't see buying so many.

The day we were packing up to leave, my husband borrowed my clippers and the pin broke.

Now I wish that I had bought the fancy ones. Instead I have to do with plain old, boring drugstore clippers.

Have you yet?

It's a week into the new year and I just now wrote a date on a document.

Remember when we used to write checks for everything? I often had to correct and initial the date before I got into the habit.

When I pay bills electronically, I save the details in a pdf file with the date in the file name. So "Chase 0115" has the honor.

Of course, I had a typo trying to get it right for this post. I didn't have to initial the correction.

I am keeping it up

I have been recording my activity with MapMyHike. I got a "Congrats on your 200th Workout!" email the other day. I have to say it is impressive.

Please note that I was out of the country in August and December and so I didn't have access to the GPS monitoring.

One observation about riding the subway

In NYC, you have to hang on when standing. In Seoul, it seems a matter of culture that you can't hold on. At the most you can lean against an upright, but no one holds on to the bar or loop overhead.

It may be that the condition of the tracks and automation of the braking lend to a smoother ride. Is there something about Korean culture that makes it uncool to hold on?

It kicked in (x3)

We decided to get to bed early so that we'd be up and going for the train home. All three of us woke after three hours. Our bodies must have thought we were taking an afternoon map in Korea.

We walked down to a diner on Lexington in the rain.

Finally got back to sleep after 2am in the city that never sleeps.

Tenement Museum

Yesterday our family gathered to see the Tenement Museum in New York City. My niece is an educator there.

I'm so proud of the work she's doing, bringing meaning to the lives lived at 97 Orchard Street.

If you can't get to the city, please look at pictures gathered for the website.

Staying powered

I've taken to traveling with an extension cord and now a multitude plug including USB. That way only one plug adaptor is needed.

It's hard to get all our devices recharged and have good access for my C-PAP machine.

Thank you

I am thankful for the joys of the past year and excited for the possibilities of the New Year.

I am very grateful that you took the time to read this blog. Your support means a lot to me, dear friends.