Zimbabwe Griddle and I —

Okay, I can see that that requires some explanation. It is not that the individual whom we know in our house as Zimbabwe Griddle has anything to do with Zimbabwe. Or, as far as we know, with griddles. It is that she has a lovely old-fashioned name one rarely hears any more, and #1 son had trouble remembering it. So he would refer to her by all manner of other names, whatever popped into his head as he searched for her real name, until one day he used “Zimbabwe Griddle,” which somehow stuck. We have called her this ever since. I doubt she reads my blog, so she will never know.

To resume. Zimbabwe Griddle and I are starting a knitting circle at our church to make handknits for the hat-and-mitten tree this year. The Empress asked whether it would be compulsory knitting in the group. I had never considered this. In spite of the Knitting Revolutionary’s repeated exhortations to remember that we knitters are armed with pointy sticks, knitting continues to seem to me to be a very placid occupation. I can’t feature myself prodding folks until they get purling.

But it did seem like a nice thought not only to invite knitters, but also to bring along some extra needles and yarn in hopes of enticing passersby to try their hands. I picked up a couple of skeins at the Lion Brand yarn sale for this purpose. I have never been in a knitting circle, let alone organized one. If any of you have advice, I’d love to hear it.

Crackers1234 (http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=crackers1234 ) has posted pictures of lots of cute mittens and hats. Maybe you will feel inspired to make something for your own local hat and mitten tree. If there is no such a tree in your neighborhood, to provide warm woolies for the needy children of the community, maybe you will be inspired to start one.

Back from the KC Renaissance Faire. I have a sunburned face, a sore neck from 10 hours in a bus, a half-finished Christmas present knitted on said bus, and this nice skein of souvenir yarn:

I can’t imagine what I will make with it, since it is only 1.5 ounces, and such an eccentric texture that it probably won’t combine well with anything else. I may just swatch up a big rectangle and use it for something as it stands — mug rug, pouch, whatever the size suggests.

The Librarian crocheted a variegated cotton cap on the trip, the Tutor bought a skein of yarn made from recycled saris, and we passed around the new Interweave crochet pattern magazine.

Oh, yes, there was also a Renaissance Faire, with 84 adolescents. It was great and I will post pictures of it, and even write about it. But we must have our priorities straight.

You know how in detective novels it sometimes happens that a character will have an evil thought come to him or her, and the thought will grow in the character’s mind, perhaps unacknowledged, for days or weeks or months? This is what happened with me and the Classic Wool.

Even when I first ordered it — six skeins for felted wool Christmas presents, I said — my nefarious plot was evident. Six skeins, enough for a sweater. And half of it in a single color, enough for a background color. And the rest — supposedly chosen randomly from among the discontinued colors in the sale — all coordinated with the background color. How obvious!

Even from the beginning, I was thinking that I could make a sweater… if the felting thing didn’t work out. When I made one skein into a gift, I carefully put away the extra yarn — it would do for a stripe or two in a Fair Isle pattern. And as I planned which gift to work on next, I found myself thinking that another gift might mean I couldn’t make a sweater, but a vest… a scarf… I thumbed through the Celtic Collection considering how those spirals might look in a sea color combination. I thought of alternate presents — just idly.

When I caught myself having these idle thoughts, I would administer a mental dose of reality, of course. I would remind myself that the Classic Wool is worsted weight, entirely unsuitable for traditional Fair Isle. That traditional Fair Isle — and Alice Starmore’s variants on it — require a dozen colors or more, not four. And that I had — ahem — specially bought the Classic Wool for the felted gifts.

But it wasn’t working. The evil thought stayed there in the back of my mind, poking up occasionally. Until yesterday. Yesterday I went to the Lion Brand sale and spent my budgeted amount on enough Wool-ease to make myself a sweater, if I want to make a Fair Isle with just a few colors. If I want to jump in and do some vest, scarf, or such without waiting for the Shetland yarn to get to the LYS, I can. I don’t intend to do so until all the holiday gifts are finished, but if the desire becomes overwhelming, I can. This knowledge has allowed me to let go of the Classic Wool.

I am therefore going to be able to work happily on the next felted project on the bus to Kansas City with the 8th grade Gifted and Talented classes of two local junior high schools. It is mostly plain straight stockinette, in the round, so I am optimistic. I have packed my book in case all the little sweeties go to sleep on the bus. I am hoping that #2 daughter (whose internet is down, so I haven’t been able to communicate with her easily) will meet us there, but if not, it will still be an adventure. We were encouraged to wear period costumes, and my madrigal-singing dress is very comfortable, but I have a sneaking suspicion that #2 son would be mortified if his mother wore a costume. He has one too, having been the acrobat at a couple of madrigal dinners, but I have not even hinted that he might like to wear it. Onward!

We were discussing politics over dinner. The Poster Queen can’t do that at her house — passions run too high — but we do it a lot. The talk turned to the government of my husband’s native country. They had no elections, but when he left for the U.S., they had both a northern and a southern king. The northern king was invincible. The southern king could make himself the size of a fly and pass unnoticed through crowds.

We don’t dispute this kind of claim at our house. My father-in-law was also invincible: bullets would stick to his skin, but not penetrate. All his kids believe this, and tell the story with the same amount of conviction with which I tell you about my grandmother’s knitting. When you have a grandfather like this, you don’t quibble about king stories. It is possible that #1 son’s fascination with mythology has its roots in this sort of story, although he says that Greek mythology seems more serious to him, while Lao history sounds like the people who made it up were drunk at the time. I think all cultures have a point at which history and mythology are indistinguishable. But I digress.

I was thinking what a difference it would make if our leaders had this kind of thing going on. Right now, our politicians are reduced to arguing about whether one of them refused a physical and exactly how badly hurt the other one was when he got his Purple Heart. Just imagine if, instead, the parties could say, “Our guy is invincible. Bullets merely stick to his skin. In the event of a terrorist attack, he would not be flying off to undisclosed locations, you can bet.” “Oh, yeah?” the other side could counter, “Well, our guy can turn himself invisible!” They wouldn’t say he could become tiny; it wouldn’t sound as good, and they are not wedded to truth anyway.

My husband says this can’t happen in the U.S. because we do not believe it. But we don’t believe what they’re saying anyway. We might as well have something exciting to disbelieve. Certainly the debate was dull and predictable enough. It reminded me of one of the pieces of advice I like to give students who will have to do an essay section on a standardized test: polish up a few paragraphs on something fairly abstract, such as our responsibility in the face of technological advances or something, and chances are you will be able to slip it in. Just so, both the candidates had decided (or been told) what their main message was to be, and they mostly just fitted it in as well as they could in every answer.

I had not expected to be able to watch the debate, but I had gone to rehearsal and not been able to find it. I am famous for not being able to find things, but not being able to find the rehearsal was extremely frustrating, the more so since we are gearing up here for an enormous biker festival, so all my driving and searching had to be done not only through construction, but also through phalanxes of Harleys. In the end, I gave up and came home to watch the debate and continue working on the quilt, which is sadly not yet finished. I hope to mail it off today, but I fear that it will not reach its destination before the anniversary.

Natalie (http://knitting.xaviermusketeer.com/ ) has a picture of her handsome DNA scarf, and links to some others. Jan shows her finished example, in a tweedy cream Reynolds Utopia. Having seen hers, I am looking forward to making the second DNA in cream. I am also still enjoying the current one in blue. Here is its picture:

There is a lot more of it, of course. Since it is a scarf, and therefore does nothing but get longer, I am trying to vary its pose enough to give the illusion of significant change as I go along. What you can’t tell from the picture is that it is soft and cozy, as a scarf should be. This one is in Reynolds Signature. I am still afraid that I can’t take it on the bus tomorrow. Once I get the quilt finished and packed (she said optimistically), I will have to sit down and decide what project to pack.