Another story from the bar

While volun-tending bar last night at our private social club, someone came behind the bar and took the garbage away, in an effort to be helpful, I reached into the can and grabbed the new bag, opened it up and tried to spread it out in the can, but my hands got mystery stuff on them from the bottom of the can and I got grossed out. Honey saw my struggle, and while I was washing my hands (!) he told me I needed to tighten the opening of the bag around the top of the can. (Gasp! that meant I had to touch it again.) In front of all my customers I said "I think if I have to touch it again I'm going to suffer Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." The laughter that resulted from my remark was over-the-top! I love to laugh like that.

Honey came behind the counter and finished up the garbage bag adjustments for me, and then he washed some of the glasses that were stacking up on the counter. He's my champion.

Judge-mentality and the Red-hatters

While tending bar at the private social club I often find I'm learning a lesson in life.

Last night there was a private party arranged; Red-hatters were celebrating the 83rd birthday of their friend, Marie. (read about Red-hatters here: http://www.redhatsociety.com) After everyone was served, the party settled into gift opening when Marie was given a bag from Victoria's Secret that seemed bottomless. First she pulls out a tiara, I can see it's kinda cute, it says "Happy Birthday" on top and someone flicks a switch and flickering, colored lights start up. She says "oh, that reminds me..." and flicks the switch on a pin the has on her lapel and that lights up with the same dizzying progression. With the rotating lights and all the bright red and purple clothing I think to myself "Well, that's interesting..."

Aha! There's more! Marie reaches deeper into the bag and pulls out a pair of glasses. They are glittery and on each side there's a Mud Flap girl. She puts them on and says "I'm going to wear these to my next eye exam." Everyone laughs. The she starts talking about her optometrist, Dr. Bacharach and how she told him that she wanted to "jump his bones" at her last exam. Everyone laughs louder, but I'm thinking "Oh my..."

She starts looking for her parrot; a battery operated toy she got as a gift in years past, which she brought with her for laughs. The batteries are nearly dead, and she's shaking it, then it suddenly starts working, flapping it's wings. It's mouth opens and closes while it's saying something like "Where's the F*&^%$g boy?" At this point I thought to myself, "My mother wouldn't approve of this behavior." And I was just about to make the leap to judgement when I gave it more thought; "But Mom is this same age, won't leave her house anymore and has no friends. Better to be like Marie." So I'm intrigued.

Back to the bag of gifts. She pulls out a pair of panties, they say "Super Model" on the backside. Everyone's laughing about how so and so got a pair of crotchless, and another got a thong while Marie is putting her new panties on over her pants! She starts strutting around the room, and out come the cameras.

It was fun to look at her. She was smiling ear-to-ear, flashing lights surround her face, glitter eyeglasses add to the dazzle, as well as all the purple and red clothing. I can see she's a tiny woman, fun loving, and someone whispers that she'd worked as a Peace Officer in San Francisco. Incredible! She left the bar with all her regalia, including the panties-over-pants, with all her friends.

Goodnight Marie!

I've been working on judge-mentality lately. When I was a young girl I was in awe of my mother's opinions, they seemed so wise and yet I wasn't altogether comfortable with them. After awhile, in the usual manner of growing up, I thought everything she said was just silly and tried to ignore her. Then I grew up and came to laugh with her, usually about other people and what they were eating or how they wore their hats. Now I've become deeply concerned; I don't like her judge-mentality, yet I can see that I have this same fault now. I don't like it in her, I don't want it in me. From time to time it comes to mind and I hope as often as it does I will catch myself from sinking into judgement.

Wish me luck please.

Monkey for Harper

This Saturday I'll have been a grandmother for a year. Harper is a wonderful addition to our family. She's the first grandchild on both sides, and the first niece of many.

I had in mind to make her an amigurumi style monkey for her birthday. Why a monkey? Well, being born in the Chinese Astrology Year of the Monkey makes me partial. They're smart, fun, and they love a good party.

I used acrylic yarn and polyfill stuffing so that it could be washed if need be. Tiny bits of acrylic felt are embroidered on for the eyes, so that we don't have to worry about Harper choking on a button. I didn't use any pattern; long ago I learned how crochet lends itself to sculpture and I wanted to play with shaping as part of the design process. It's crocheted in the round, starting at the center of the big, red mouth. Sometimes I had to make short rows for shaping, as would be done on the heel of a sock. The mouth is crooked, the ears are different sizes, the arms and legs tend to twist a little, making the monkey look pigeon-toed, but I adore these flaws and consider them intentional.

Enjoy!

While You Weren't Watching...

I started and finished a little hat, Scandinavian style, stranded colors, in red and grayish blue, in the stars and ladders pattern. Stars and ladders is an old design used quite a bot in old Scandinavian knitwear, its alleged to refer to the necessary effort, like climbing a ladder, in order to reach a lofty goal, like the stars in the heavens. Who knew the Scandinavians were so spiritual?!

I'm working up a pattern for the hat and for a pair of complimentary fingerless mitts.

I'm using Dalegarn yarn, unusual for tis kind of work because it contains a generous amount of mohair. I like my stars and ladders fuzzy. It's a nice feeling yarn, a little short of sportweight. I knit this hat with #3 (american) needles. It is guaranteed to be a warmish hat, the stranding makes it jsut about double-thickness.

Gracie's Desire

My stepdaughter, Evona and her children, Elias and little Gracie were here from San José last weekend. It had been Christmastime when we saw them last, and weren't they a welcome sight!

Elias has turned 12, and is doing that summertime growth spurt, he's handsome too and quite tan this year from hanging around poolside. Gracie's as cute as a bug. It's true! how else can that cuteness be described? She's all smiles, until she's not, then she's like a little dark cloud. This visit though, the clouds were all gone. 

But boy, is she busy! Like a little butterfly, or maybe a hummingbird is more like it, she moves quickly from one thought/activity into another, endlessly. She saw a fancy stemmed glass, she wanted water from that. When she needed to wash her hands I handed her one of my handknit linen quest towels, which up 'till then hadn't been used, she did her business, dried her hands and brought the towel out into the living room whipping it around, wringing it and throwing it into the air. She found my stick, a five foot length of smooth eucalyptus, and wanted to know why I would keep a stick behind the front door, picked it up and started to move around our tiny apartment with it held horizontally, risking bumping into the new HI-DEF, or any number of my paintings. She had to find out what the rug-thing in the living room was made of. When I told her it was a cow hide, she denied it, but then became intrigued by its slippery feel and started to roll in it, taking the sheepskins with it and making herself a cocoon. She found a lost earring and a few buttons under the bed. At the playground she was a pro at climbing and wiggling. Ooftah! she was all over the place and into everything. After they all left, I was very glad to head to bed early. She wore me out!

A classmate from highschool lives here in Petaluma with his family. His daughter is the same age as Gracie. We saw him on the 4th of July, looking for the group who had her with them. I couldn't help but feel empathy for him. It was so much easier to chase down a kid when I was in my twenties and thirties, and here he is in his fifties hunting down his daughter. 

Gracie let me know she'd like mittens and a little hat knit just for her in pink and purple. If she can get only one color, she wants purple. Elias wants a hat and mitts too. With his I have to watch not to include a "gang" color in them, which in our neighborhood means red and blue. So I guess a little pattern writing for childrens' hats and mitts is in order next.

Here's a photo of Gracie and Honey taken over Christmastime; she's pouting because we won't take her to Toys R Us on Christmas Eve. You can see what I mean about the cloud.

Scoliosis in the family tree

Scoliosis was pretty easy to live with when it didn't hurt. Somehow, with all the twisting and bending of my spine, it didn't hurt until I got older and probably more inflexible. 

It hurts today. Between my shoulder blades on the right side of my spine it feels as though someone thrust a knife. Often it's like this, hurting right there, making me consider I might be a victim of betrayal. 

My mom has the same sort of curve, her's leans to the left, whereas mine leans to the right. Both present themselves at T4, and secondary waves roll up the neck and down the lower back. 

My great-grandfather on my mom's side of the family was a character I understand. And it seems like this flaw was handed down through his blood line. I never got to meet the man, but I heard stories about him and even read about him in an obscure Utah history book.

This much I know; He was the Sheriff of Juab County, Utah in the last part of the 19th century and into the 20th century. His name was Daniel Joseph Cronin. His wife, Sarah Ferguson and he had altogether 13 children. My maternal grandmother, Margaret Louise Lucas, was their oldest child. This great-grandfather rode his horse throughout the county for his business as the sheriff. Once he even rode all the way to Idaho, stalking a murderer who'd stabbed someone to death. While it's awe-inspiring to think about riding into another state in order to perform such a function, it's even more astounding to hear he did it all while wearing a metal brace he'd been given for the purpose of holding up his crooked spine. I firmly believe people were different back then, that kind of dedication and perseverance seems elusive in this age. Someone once told me I had an aura of capability and determination about me. Maybe I got this from Dan, but chances are not I think...those kinds of traits coming from personality rather than by blood lines. 

Tentacle Hat update

The "tentacle hat" is finished and it's a cutie. When I tried it on with the tentacles pointing up, it kinda looks like a crown, yet it also looks as though I have dreadlocks. A perfect hat to wear if you want to change your looks quickly. It also looks very elegant when worn around the neck with the tentacles pointing down and hanging around the neck like a fancy Egyptian necklace. 

I wrote out a pattern for it,  named it "Fringe" and have designed the page, though I'm waiting for someone attractive to fall into my path so that they can model it so I can take a shot of it and include the photo on the pattern.

I'm excited today about some of my paintings being shown at Indigo, a cute little shop on Kentucky Street in Petaluma. Michele, the owner is going to hang them above the dressing rooms.