Picking Favorites

And the sorting and packing has begun in earnest.  Things will be traveling over seas by two methods, slow freight and air freight, or they will be put into storage for our return in three years.  This has become a very hard decision on where things go in respect to one main area of my life:  My Stash.

Some yarn will be packed up and sent Air Freight which should take a few weeks.  There is less chance that this yarn will be subject to the elements.  So what should I pack in here?  Yarn that I have queued up to use in the next 2-3 months seems like a good starting place.  I should note that I am being brutally honest with myself about my queue and what will reallistically be used.  Air Freight has a weight limit and I also need to pack the Fed's clothes, shoes, basic baby stuff and household necessities like towells and sheets.  So just yarn that I will use.  And foreign yarn.  My sock yarn stash from Germany and my scarf yarn from Turkey.  And my luxury yarn.   Because really, the more expensive stuff would kill me if it got ruined sitting on a barge for a few months.  And I admit that I have a few skeins of pricier yarn (don't tell the Fed, he thinks that all yarn is $4 a skein).  I have some cashmere, baby alpaca that is butter soft, some premium and unusual fiber, and 4 skeins of Blue Heron Metallic in Old Gold (I think these 4 alone are around $180 and I really should find a new pattern to knit it into).  Really just too pricey to leave to moths, rats, pirates and sea air.

But some yarn is going to have to be shipped by way of the slow boat.  I can only pack about 25 pounds of yarn in air freight.  Does that mean that I love this yarn any less than the shiny silks and soft merinos?  No.  In fact, some of that yarn is my favorite and I have faith that it will survive the journey.  Skeins of minimally processed New Zealand wool that will one day turn into a classic Guernsey with cables and bobbles and diamonds.  This yarn is made to last through hurricanes and years at sea.  So I look at it as pre-seasoning.  Like you do with a new skillet.   All of my roving and my wheel will also be shipped across the ocean.  I am taking all the wool I can, as I have heard that natural fibers can be hard to come by in my new home.  (I guess they haven't heard of knitpicks.com)

The last group is yarn that will be going into storage.  Now, this yarn and fiber should really be destashed.  And if I had more time, I just might give them up.  But I am out of time so into storage they go.  Some of these yarns are perfectly good.  Lamb's Pride which is a great yarn, unless you are me and discovered after buying 20 skeins that I can't stand the mohair in them.  So a destash is in order when returning to the states and I have to unpack the house.  Again.

And while all this seems like a good plan on dividing my stash, it is still really difficult to do.   Look at your stash and see if you could divide it up so easily.

Ich liebe wollegarn

Here I am in Munich, Germany for a much needed mini-break with my future hubby. Unfortunately, his flight was canceled due to severe weather, but my flight was already in the air. So there was no way to let me know. After flying for many hours and a stop in Zurich, I made it to the Munich airport in much anticipation of seeing my sweetie.

Not there. Maybe he was mistaken and his flight came in after mine. I'll wait for the next Paris flight. Nope. I'll page him. No answer. Okay. No freak out. I can handle this. Maybe he was flying in on Air France instead, they have a flight landing at the other terminal in 20 minutes. (run, run, run). Nope. Maybe he slipped past me while I was running to the other terminal, I'll page him again. No answer. Wait! There is another flight from Paris in the first terminal. (run, run, run). Nope. Fine, I'm just not leaving the airport until he gets here. I have my space on the ground between terminals where I will sit and wait. He will have to see me there.

Okay, still can't get the Wifi to work to see if I have an email either. My cell phone is crap. I knew I should have gotten a weekend European pass from Verizon, but I KNEW I would have been teased for it being unnecessary. Just as I was about to call his cell, the US Embassy, Amanda and Katrin, I heard an announcement. Not that I understood anything other than my name. I ran back to the nice people at the information desk who helped me earlier. "Me!! That's me! Where is he? Where is he waiting?" excited that he must have finally landed.

"One moment please." She said looking at me with compassion and pity. DEAR GOD, please let him be safe. She's writing down a number. "He isn't here, is he?" She hands me a piece of paper and says that I need to call that number, her voice full of calm sympathy. I ask where the nearest phones are that take credit cards (which, they didn't).

Right there is where I lost it. That is where I cracked. Managing to ask where the phones were was about all I could get out as the tears came with stark fear that there had been a major problem/terrorist/accident/kidnapping/etc.. Was this the number of the Embassy?

I try 5 times before I can get the call to go through. He answers. Now I want to cry even harder with relief. But I'm trying to hold it together. He tells me about his flight and that I should go to the hotel. Okay. Now I know what is happening I can handle it. My mind and body is now crashing. Coming down from the panic and adrenaline. And I haven't eaten since yesterday? Okay. OK. OK. I need to calm down and then get some food and sleep. I check in to the hotel. There is one thing I know that will make me feel better before I crash.

"Cabbie, Can you please take me to this yarn store? Danke!"

We all have our favorites...

We all have them. Favorites. TV shows, books, recipes, yarn, needles, magazines, fiber, family members... Good, bad or not, we all have favorites. Admit it. We rank things in our minds. I would much rather spend 2 weeks with my sister going shopping than 10 minutes in polite conversation with my uncle. Both choices would come after major dental work. But I love going to haunted houses and little adventures with my sister. Just not shopping. Favorite past times.

I also have favorites else where in my life. My favorite standard wool yarn? Paton's Classic Merino Wool and Plymouth Galloway. I love my Harmony Wood DPNs. My favorite hat pattern is a basic 2x2 rib that fits everybody and is quick as all get-out to knit. And I have my favorite circular "hat" needle.

It was inexpensive. It's plastic. Not even some nice funky plastic. Just plastic. Size 6 and 16 inches. The needles portions have been bent to accommodate my knitting of hats at just the right spot. It's perfect. It works for any hat. Really.

So, here I am in fall, needing to make a bunch of hats, and I can't find my favorite needle. My favorite circ. Now, I have 2 interchangeable sets of circular needles, that I could use. But it isn't the same. Not at all. I could easily use one or the other to make a size 6, 16" circ. But..

After searching and coming up empty (but destroying my house in the mean time) I went to the store where I bought my hat needle originally to get another one. I would just have to break it in. And if I found my needle, I would have 2!! Happy days!! Now, the store has new owners, but much has remained the same. Needle selections, though, have not.

I cried as I left the store. No one would get hats this year. I wouldn't be able to make new warm head wear to match my latest sweater. As I drove home in a sullen funk trying to think of replacement knitting, I had given up hope. I got home and went to the project bags I had created of yarn an pattern. I pulled out one thinking that instead of a hat, I would use the yarn to make a headband or a shawllette.

And there was my needle, in the bag, with the yarn and the pattern of hat. Who the hell organized my crap?

Holy Grails and other missing Artifacts

Some of you may not know that I have a degree, a BA. Others of you may not know what it is in, Anthropology. And most of you are unaware what that entails or what my specialties were/are. While my primary focus was cultures, cultural interactions, societies and structuring of cultural-socio belief systems, and I was also trained in Archaeology. Yup, just call me Indie and I have worked on an official dig and everything. (no bad guys in sight, only a bunch of 5th graders)

Since the move in to the new house, I feel as though I am stepping back into that archaeology mind-set. Why, you ask? Because I can't find a damn thing!

I was careful when I labeled the boxes. Locations and a brief description of what is inside to jog my memory when the time came to unpack. So it's been 18 days WITHOUT a hair dryer. The yarn I bought for specific Christmas projects and gifts went MIA. I know I have more than 6 pairs of undies, but I can't seem to find them. (thank god the washer and dryer work!)

I have been systematically searching boxes based on a nice grid search using key clues to track down the items that are buried in the boxes and disorder. I have been rationally dissecting where I would have packed these items. They were held out until the last moment for use, then pack for the move the night before. With all my logical labeling and rational, this should have been a simple task. Uh-uh.

Last night it came to a head with me completely loosing myself in a frustrated predatory hunt through the house for the missing items. The cat hid under the sofa and cringed back from the gleam of madness in my eyes. The neighbor's dogs bayed in warning and fear at the scent of the wild beast that had entered their territory. The glint of the box cutter flashed as paper was strewn through out the house, pitiful discarded remains of the rage, the battle.

By the end, no box stood whole. The complete and utter chaos that best describes the savage scene, lay waiting in tension. Waiting to see if the beast had finished it's rampage. The air was still. All grails were uncovered but the ever elusive hairdryer. Logic had failed to find it. Shear animal-istic hunting instincts failed to find it. All hope was lost. It was time to admit defeat. I went into the master bath to prepare for bed and wash the remains of battle from my face. While drying my face with a towel, the cat appears, looking at me to check the level of sanity in my eyes and then proceeds to paw open the cabinet under the sink. A favorite past-time of hers. She gets the cabinet door open...

There it is. My pink hair dryer. Put away where it belongs.

The last place I would have looked.

Packing for a move

I am moving into a house. My own house.

While being prequalified, I took a friend to hold my hand and sat down with a mortgage broker. He was asking the normal questions, budgets, what i would feel comfortable with as payments, etc.. He said make a quick guess at your costs for a month. My friend and I stated running it down: food, gas, electric, entertainment, yarn & roving, phone... The mortgage broker laughed and said" that's funny! yarn?!" He didn't understand that we were being completely serious. I mean, I knew I would have to cut back my yarn budget a bit to buy a house, but it is still important to my well-being!

One of the things I looked for while touring various locations, was how yarn and fiber friendly was the house it's self? The winner was the one with the "half" kitchen downstairs by the family/rec room. It had enough room for my yarn stash, and the extra kitchen will be perfect for washing fleece, dying yarns and rovings, drying and various other experiments. The rec room is large enough to hold a full blown spinning and knitting party and since the extra kitchen is down there, we wouldn't have to keep going up and down for more coffee and tea. I really feel that this house suites my woolly needs.

When I began packing this week, I discovered 2 things. One, is I had to carefully select what projects I'll be working on in the next few weeks and pull them aside. I also had to reach for emotional strength that I didn't realize I would need to put the rest of the yarn and roving into boxes and tape them shut. To be untouched for up to 4 weeks. No petting, wistful glances or just a quick snuggle. Nope, it was going to be off limits. Who knew that would be so tough?

Second thing i discovered is that yarn and roving save you on packing materials. delicate knick-knacks and glass? Pack it in roving and yarn! Saves multiple trees. Stuff some yarn in a vase and wrap it in roving. Perfect!

So the packing continues and my yarn wait patiently for it's new home. I'm just not as patient as the yarn seems to be.

Dear Yarn Maker,

I was excited when I saw your yarn. It comes in a ball which works perfectly with my yarn bowl, and I like using it. When I saw the example picture on the tag of how it knits up I was thrilled.

It blends gradually from color to color and back again. Smooth transition with no abrupt lines. Perfect for what I had in mind! I wanted to make socks for a guy. We all know the difficulties here. Must be un-obtrusive in colorway and design. Lets face it. I know very few men who would be willing to wear funky socks (except if the funky was the last pair before the wash that didn't make your eyes water).

So, your gradual blend of white to gray to black seemed perfect! Realistically, only a few inches of socks show when a guy is wearing them with pants. Which ever color shows would be acceptable. I just need to make sure to line up the colors on the two socks. Since I got 2 balls of yarn, this shouldn't have been a problem. Maybe I should have read some of the reviews.

Far enough into the sock, there was a small, loose knot. Now the knot pulled apart quickly and if I hadn't been watching the furry person out of the corner of my eye, I wouldn't have seen it. The cat loves to watch the yarn spin in the bowl in a mesmerized trance, but occasionally she grabs.

For this reason I was keeping an eye on here movements. If I hadn't been, I wouldn't have noticed that the mill had tied two colors together. Not even an attempt at splicing. White, stop, gray. Not even trying to line up colors. Opps! And then I read some reviews.

Apparently, this is something that has happened with out fail to other knitters. Complaining of the same thing. If I was making socks for a small child, this may not have been an issue. But socks for a full grown, large guy on a time line makes it a frustrated f-it issue. Because I'm screwed. It is too late to start a new pair of socks. There is no way to fix it, short of un-winding both balls of yarn in their entirety and hoping that I can splice bits and parts, breaks and shifts into the continuous colorway shift that I thought I was purchasing.

Which I don't have time for. So, for the nice thoughtful going away gift I had in mind, he is going to get some bazaar block and shift pair of socks. And there is no way that they will match. No possible way to line up the colors. I shudder to think of what the second ball will be like.

So curse on you yarn maker for your fraudulent promises of ormbre socks. I know that the only place Secret Agent man will wear these is the couch while he is watching news from around the world to discover where he must fight crime next. But my socks will not go with him when he goes to catch the criminals. They will not protect him or be his lucky socks. Because MenInBlack can't wear socks that look like a Picasso while on duty. My socks will be couch socks.

Really expensive, couch socks. Maybe I should turn your fraudulent promises over to him for prosecution, because as you swindle knitters and crocheters, you are breaking the law and hearts of all those who have bought in to your false promises.

Shame on you!

I am proud to be a "Townie!"

So, I now live in a small town in northern Virginia, not to be confused with "Northern Virginia." I did not always live here. I grew up in a large metropolis in beautiful sunny southern California. Yup, you read that correctly, I moved here willingly. I thought it would be a nice change of pace, that it would let me explore my "granola" side a bit more. I thought I had moved to the country (I also thought I moved to New England), it was explained to me that this wasn't the country.

In fact, we are a fairly large city with a Costco and TWO Super WalMarts! "Okay." I said with a giggle, this is a city?! "No, we are not city folk here. We are not counrty bumpkins, either. We are townies. " My wonderful, patient friend explained. What is a townie? Tonight I got to see first hand and am thankful for the experience.

(After reading this next part, my father is going to promptly call me up, and rightfully so, chew my butt off)

My lovely American-made 4-wheel drive SUV decided that it was time to remind me that I have obligations to my vehicle. Like my cat, I feed it and pet it (wash), but I also need to take it in to get a check up on occassion. You know, things like check the oil and other fluids in the car. You see, this car came with me from the west coast, and hasn't really been adjusted to this climate, like myself.

So today and tonight, it kept shifting on the fly into 4 wheel drive. The light wouldblink at me, saying"you need more traction!" I was sitting in park in a parking lot. The light continued to blink at me, mocking me. I saw my tax refund flying out the window as I tried to figure out how I was going to drive to work in the morning for 45 miles in 4x4. The light blinked more.

My wonderful patient friend was with me discussing a very important move in her life, and I was completely fixated on the blinking light. I couldn't hear a word she said. I couldn't see anything else.

Just the light.

Blink

Blink.

Crap. My friend then offered to follow me home and push my car if it needed it with hers. Give me a lift and the number of Boyce, the best mechanic in the valley. I get a slight thought flittering through my head as drive. I haven't had the oil changed since LAST YEAR! Which was the last time the fluids were checked at best. (go ahead daddy, I deserve it) I pull into the gas station by my house, explain the situation to my friend and pop the hood.

I look for the correct dip stick and discover: 1. I'm out of coolant/antifreeze (not good this time of year) 2. out washer fluid (that would help get the salt off the windsheild) 3. Out of Transmission fluid (I am praying I didn't do major damage) 4. the brake fluid, fortunately was full. I didn't check the oil.

Here is where living in a small town is great. I go inside to get an assortment of fluids, having no idea that there are different types, and before I can blink, have multiple men from 18 to 80 handing me the correct fluids and then, once paid for, putting them in my car. It is 23 degrees F outside right now with a bitter wind and there were 4 men who didn't know each other or me helping me out. And yes, one did make me promise to take the car in tomorrow and get it looked over.

They closed the hood, gave me smiles and waves and were off about their own business. I get in the car and turn it on. I shift through each gear like they told me to do. Waiting at least 3-5 seconds in each one before shifting again. I am holding my breath. The light stays off. It stays in 2 wheel drive.

I don't want to jinx myself, but I will say, it had to help the issue. I will take it in tomorrow like I promised. I should have gotten their names and addresses to send them all thank you notes and mittens. Now I can use my refund for that Malabrigo sock yarn.

I love townies.

Temptation

Okay, this was completely my fault, I'll give her that. How could I expect her to resist? Did I not realize that my projects are close to heaven for her? Did I not know that she would be lonely and bored home alone all day long? Did I not think that she would want to put her paw into getting ready for the holidays with decorating and the gifts?

See? She was really just trying to help. To be a considerate family member with out thumbs.

Really, I should have been more careful.

.