102 Uses for Cable Needles

I am part of the "sangwich" (for those of you who grew up in Italian households) or sandwich generation.  My mother is in her mid-80s.  My mother-in-law is 80.  My kids are in elementary school.  Nuf said.  

Saturday, we moved MIL to an assisted living facility from her apartment.  It was time.  She had to give up driving and needed more help around the house.  So, off to Lancaster to pack up the apartment and move.  

Sign it's not going to be a good day -- sister-in-law calls as we are en route.  Mom has fallen and is on her way to the ER.  (End result, many bumps and bruises, a black eye and two stitches in the lip.)  We head up and start packing.  

Man at assisted living facility says, pull under the portico and park near the handicapped spots.  Portico has no signs for height.  Rental truck needs clearance of 11 feet.  Many seniors on front porch watching as we arrive.  Loud, grinding sound.  Stop truck.  Realize truck is wedged under flashing of end of portico.  By about 1/4 of an inch.  

Dear husband tries to let air out of tires -- turns to me and says, do you have an extra knitting needle?  Now, what kind of question is that. I take out my knitting tackle bag and pull out two cable needles.  The straight-ish ones with the bump in the center.  Hand one to husband.  Hand one to brother in law.  Air successfully released from tires and truck unstuck.  

It was a long, hot day.  MIL got moved in successfully.  We returned home with a 14 foot long truck filled with stuff, some of which is now at the shop.  I'm rearranging bookcases this morning.  What fun.

Go Racine Scouts!

So, I mentioned that a friend from college had started this alumni website.  Well, ran into another choir alumni who now lives in Wisconsin and spends her summers as the manager of the Racine Scouts.   They are the oldest, continually performing drum and bugle corps in the United States.

Did I mention that we were in a touring choir together?  And the university's Marching Band, where the director was famous for yelling "THE BUS WILL NOT WAIT FOR YOU.  SO. HELP ME. GOD."  

Now, I had the pleasure of watching Andrea yell at 80 kids between the ages of 14 and 21 about getting on the bus to go get showers at the Y after a practice performance behind an Episcopal Church in the Philly Suburbs where they were staying on their way to a performance in Wildwood, NJ.  

In some ways, it was like the time never passed.  Andrea was a dear friend in college and I have missed her over the years.  In other ways, age has taken its toll on us.  Anyway -- here's two friends happy to have seen each other.  And happy that the internet can keep us in contact.

Gratitude

Sometimes we forget to be grateful for the small things.  Mom came up to visit.  She stopped at the shop and then drove to the house with the help of her GPS.  It is 6 miles.  It took 2 hours because she wouldn't listen to the GPS lady.  She got there.  

When I got home from the shop on Thursday evening, Mom and the girls were in the dining room playing Junior Trivial Pursuit and having a blast. Then I took a closer look.  The girls had on their play makeup and everyone had painted fingernails.  I am grateful that my mom, despite being directionally challenged, loves to play with her granddaughters and is building memories for them.  

I am grateful for all those who have served our country:  my husband, father, father-in-law, step father-in-law and nephew specifically.  

I am grateful for local stores where they know your name and what you like.

I am grateful for the friends and family I have.

I am aware that I am often not grateful enough.

I am grateful that I finally finished the first repeat on the Ethereal Grace stole for my niece for her wedding.  

Have you taken a minute to be grateful for something or, more importantly, someone, today?

A Birthday Post

With age comes wisdom.  I am one year wiser today.  It has been a hell of a year.  I left behind a career of 20 years to embark on a new venture as the owner of a yarn store. My dad was diagnosed with leukemia and died within a month of the diagnosis.  I learned how wonderful and caring the staff at a major university hospital can be.

I learned much in life from my family.  My daughters have shown me that there is joy in the small and simple.  That logic need not be difficult.  That living in the moment is a beautiful thing.  

My husband has taught me so many things -- including that it takes courage to pursue a dream and supporting someone pursuing a dream is a worthwhile cause.  

I hope I have learned to be more patient.  I hope I have learned to love more freely and be more giving of myself to others.  

I hope there will be many more birthdays, despite looking at the near side of 50.

Why is this a threat to Bud?

The photo, above, is of an Addi Turbo Lace needle.  Addi Turbo Lace needles are a beautiful thing, particularly if you are knitting lace.  The one's I was carrying were size five and connected to a skein of Creamy, a milk based yarn, in the natural colorway.  This is becoming attempt two at my niece's wedding shawl.  (We don't talk about what happened with the first attempt -- it resulted in gnashing of teeth, wailing and much language which is not fit for a family blog!)  

So, last week, I found out that these needles are a threat to the great Busch Entertainment Corporation, which is related in some fashion, to the ever large Clydesdale pulled Anheuser Busch (aka Budweiser, Bud Light, Michelob, etc.) beer wagon.  We went on vacation with the girls to Busch Gardens and Water Country USA.  (Yes, we went to the water park despite Daughter 2's broken arm -- she didn't let the cast stop the fun.)  

Now, these days when one goes to a theme park, you must go through a security checkpoint.  Here we are at the check point on the way in to Water Country when a nice, young security guard says:  "I'm sorry, ma'am.  You can't bring those knitting needles into the park.  We don't allow them."  The look on my face was clearly "What?!"  I responded very calmly, "I can bring them on an airplane, but I can't bring them into a water park?  If you had inflatable pools, I could see your concern, but I don't see how my needles can hurt your concrete pools."  The knitter in me was saying under my breath -- If I have the guts to bring my good yarn and needles to somewhere there is this much chlorine, I should be rewarded for my fortitude."  I did not utter that part aloud.

Darling husband took the ziploc bag of yarn, pattern and needles away from me and walked it back to the car, while I muttered all the while.  

I'm sending a letter to Busch Entertainment asking for an explanation, because my sock in progress had a wonderful time at Busch Gardens Europe.  It rode the skyride across the park a few times, the carousel, kept me sane while waiting for people to ride rollercoasters.  Now, it is possible the sock was never detected because rather than being in a plain, see through ziploc bag, it was in a Go Knit! pouch (blue ripstop nylon -- I love them.)  However, many Busch Gardens employees saw me knitting in the park -- including in the Emerald Beat Irish Dancing show (which was quite good).  

So, what should we do.  As the Yarn Harlot says (and has proven), knitters can be motivated. We are a multitude.  We out number golfers in North America.  Most knitters I know are motivated by beer.  We need to let the folks feeding the Clydesdales know how we feel.  I, personally, will not be drinking another Busch product until such time as knitting is allowed in all Busch theme parks (Sesame Place and Sea World included.) You can let them know how you feel by dialing 1-800-DIAL-BUD. If you expected us to endure endless lines with good humor, the least you can do is let us have our knitting.

BTW -- other than the needle incident, we had a great time. 

When Past Becomes Present

So, yesterday was just another day at the shop.  Had a yarn rep in to finish up fall orders.  Hear one of my employees say -- I'm sorry she's in a meeting.  Then I hear this deep voice say, I'm a very old friend of hers.  Boy, was that an understatement.  With tears in my eyes, I gave a dear old friend from college a hug.

I was a member of a 40 voice touring choir in college -- the Hendricks Chapel Choir at Syracuse University.  We rehearsed every Thursday night followed by beer and pizza at the Varsity.  We dragged ourselves out of bed on Sunday mornings to sing at the non-denominational Protestant service, fueled by Abe's Donuts.  We finished the morning by letting spirituals echo over the quad from the Chapel steps.  

These were some of my closest friends -- particularly when you realize we went on tour (usually 2-3 weeks at a time) together on a bus.  

A few months ago, I was "found" by one of the members who had started an alumni site.  I am now emailing to some old friends about things that I had forgotten which both make me laugh and cry.

Keith stopped by the shop with his family (lovely wife Cheryl and two beautiful daughters) as they were "On the Way to Cape May" for vacation.  It was as if the more than 25 years had not passed (except for the grey hair, rickety bones, gained weight, etc.)  We laughed and talked.   I wished I had more time.  

There is something to be said for surprises.  Especially those that bring back memories that make us smile. 

The Yarn Equivalent of a Sugar High

I'm tired this morning.  I got back last night from TNNA, the big yarn show and I feel like a five-year-old crashing from a sugar high.  I touched yarn. I looked at new patterns.  I learned new techniques.  In the words of my eight-year-old "Mommy met a celebrity!"

I'm pawing the yarn at Southwest Trading Company (the Tofutsies people), when I bump into someone behind me.  I turn to say "Excuse me" and who do I see, but Vicki Howell.  Vicki is the reason my older daughter knits.  She thinks Vicki is a rock star.  It's because of Knitty Gritty that she knits.  I mention this to Vicki who tells me about a book signing later in the day and says I should stop by so she can sign a copy of Knit Aid to my daughter.  I get the book and autograph.  I call home to tell Daughter 1 I met Vicki Howell.  She promptly drops the phone and yells, "Mommy met a celebrity".  

After my somewhat surreal Yarn Harlot experience on Thursday night, I find myself chatting with Cat Bordhi on Sunday afternoon at one of the booths for a product we both like.   Very weird for me.

I got books signed by the Big Girls of More Big Girls Knit.  I took classes with Lucy Neatby and Lilly Chin.  

And even though they are all knitting celebrities, the knit and purl one stitch at a time just like the rest of us.  

How totally cool!