Structure

**Scroll to the end if you want to skip the unsolicited advice and go directly to the knitting content. **
(No. You do NOT get to collect $200 as you pass GO.)

Yesterday I ate an oatmeal cookie and a banana for breakfast...

at 12:30 p.m.

I had some crostini with Alouette light garlic & herb cheese spread and a half pint of raspberries for lunch...

at 4:45 p.m.

I opened the freezer door at 10:00 and had a frozen malt cup...

Yup, you guessed it...

Dinner!

Clearly structure is not my strong suit. This drives my husband crazy. He eats lunch at 12:00 on the dot, wants dinner on the table at 6:00, and goes to bed every night at 11:00, watching the news and Jay Leno's opening monologue before turning out the light.

Me? I'm just as likely to be found downstairs working my way through a thorny design issue, catching up on my blog buddies, or playing a game on my computer.

Structure is an interesting thing. Too little structure and we become jellyfish; too much and we turn into ramrods.

Backbone is good; stiff, not so much.

Flexibility is desired; spinelessness leaves something to be.

A few years back, I had opportunity to be employed part time as a bank teller. The closer I came to accepting the job, the more anxiety I felt. I finally turned down the position, not sure why I felt driven to withdraw my name from contention.

Looking back, I see clearly: I didn't want to give up the control I had over my own schedule. Over the years of raising children, running the Arts Chorale, and attending seminary, I had gotten used to a fairly large amount of autonomy that I wasn't ready to give up.

Yes, I had class times and homework deadlines, and the kids had nap schedules when they were small, and if a grant was due by 5:00 on June 15th, by God, you'd better not be late.

But I determined the order in which things got done; I juggled the tasks, keeping all the balls in the air (or picking them up if and when they dropped, as they inevitably did); I set the goals and decided the amount of structure necessary to see them through.

And the thought of having someone else dictate that gave me hives.

I am lucky enough to work with the man who freed me from my self-imposed structure (and let me tell you, it was rigid. It had me by the throat and its stranglehold on my life sent me right down into the black hole of depression.) Greg taught me how to "ride" my life instead of driving it. He taught me to live in the moment, to listen to my inner voice, to cultivate presence, to "be still and know that I am God."

There has been a lot of chatter this week about Amy's post on what brings joy. Not pleasure, which, in today's world of instant gratification, is often confused with joy. Nor happiness, which can be easily compromised by unpleasant realities and immutable tragedies.

But joy. True, abundant, transformative, ennobling, transcendent, and abiding joy.

Your answer will be different than mine, but mine depends upon a certain level of openness. The kind of openness that manifests itself in what my husband would surely find an unacceptable lack of structure.

As Greg and I write in Soulful Parent Soulful Teen:

"The essentials of life are not transitory things that bring momentary happiness, but rather the enduring elements of divine existence - peace, unity, faith, compassion, selflessness, harmony, gratitude, and love. Here we find peace that passes all understanding, peace that sustains us - whether we’re happy or not. The quest for happiness loses its urgency as we stop straining toward something to satisfy our desire and find rest and repose in the transcendent tranquility of love."

"Relaxing our iron grip, we no longer claw at the future, but release to God what belongs with God. It isn’t easy to let go. But the difficulty of our attempt leads to a greater understanding of our children’s struggle for independence and individuation. We know the territory and can help them find their way to their own understanding of grace.Once we accept this struggle as normal, we can begin to address the true goals of parenting adolescents, which are: assessing the realities of a situation, offering appropriate support, structure, and guidance, and getting out of the way"

There's that word again: structure. What is "appropriate structure?" That can be a tough question for anyone. And not just parents of teenagers. Anyone.

Structure is a key component to design. Too much and the house looks clunky, the dress stands by itself, the painting looks like a photograph. Too little and the roof falls in, the sweater stretches out and loses its shape, the photograph looks like a painting.

(Impressionism is good in painting. Less so in photography. Were it not so, some of my efforts would be masterpieces!)

Lace is all about structure. Without the proper stitches we have a jumbled mess. But it is also about openness, ergo the bloom of a piece once it has been soaked and blocked.

For example, I have been working on a design for a lace coat. The fiber is Malabrigo lace, the color is a lovely shade of green, the gauge is very fine. I want the coat to float delicately. That requires single stranding and a fairly open stitch pattern.

But I also want the coat to maintain its lines, not to sag or bag in crucial areas. I want a rolled shawl collar, not too stiff, but not droopy either. That might dictate double stranding and/or a more compacted stitch.



I tried double stranding an Ivy pattern, but it seemed too large and clunky.






I tried the same pattern single stranded (getting closer, but too many open holes. Not durable enough.


















An offset leaf pattern was too dense.






In desperation, I tried an allover pattern. Nice but too tight.







But knit on larger needles than the yarn warranted and subsequently blocked out, it positively bloomed into just the right stitch. Just enough structure, but not too much.







Now I needed to give it some bones:






This leafy pattern for the edges








And this one for inserts to give the piece a stronger vertical line

Both the leaf patterns will be worked double stranded, while the overall pattern will be single stranded.




Delicate, yet disciplined.

Strong, yet ethereal

Structured, yet flexible.




Now that I have assessed the realities, provided appropriate structure, and gotten out of the way, I think I'll see what's in the fridge...

Even if it is only 2:00 in the afternoon.

With a Little Help From My Friends

"What would you think if I sang out of tune?
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,
And I'll try not to sing out of key.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Oh I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends."
- Beatles

Disclaimer: The only drug being used in this household to "get high" is yarn fumes.

Do you remember back around the middle of October, when I bemoaned the fact that I had lost a subscriber? Do you remember I ran a contest to predict when I would again reach 25? Did you think I had forgotten?

Oh no, my friends! It just took W-A-A-A-Y longer than most of you optimists thought it would. In fact, I lost ANOTHER reader to bottom out at 23. WAAAAAAAH!

(I think I should get a commission for every A in this posting. Don't you? To whom would I apply for such preferential treatment hard earned reward?)

I didn't hit 25 again until Thanksgiving day, when I ran my little check and discovered I had something new to be thankful for.

With Kim's able assistance (through her blog and web store, The Woolen Rabbit) and her gushing over Morocco (including a link) I surged right past 25 to 35. YAAAAAAAAAY!!!

(That's nine more commissions by my count!)

Ah yes, the power of word of mouth!

So the winner is...

Drum roll, please...

Tiennie, with her guess of October 31st (the latest in the bunch with the exception of one pessimist who guessed sometime in December. Oh ye of little faith...)

All of this is by way of making a heinous request. I understand it is considered bad "netiquette" to ask others to link to your blog, or mention you, or otherwise give you free publicity of any kind, but I am trying to make a living eke out enough money to bribe the postman into overnight delivery of all yarn purchases!

In return, I promise to laud you to the skies, brag about your exploits, remember you in my prayers, and name my next cat after you (What? You were expecting my first born son? Sorry, he already has a name. And I'm too old to have any more like him. See entries on perimenopause.)

I would never ask anyone else to do what I wouldn't do, or anything I didn't believe in. But, I assume you guys aren't hanging around all the time because I give away these absurd prizes (like 25 items) periodically. If you didn't like what you read, you wouldn't come visiting.

When I was Executive Director of the Indianapolis Arts Chorale, I coined the term "friendraising." I told my organization we were not looking for donations; we were looking for investment. We were inviting people to join our family, and if they felt like sharing the family story, or hauling out the brag book, so much the better.

So, that's what I'm asking you to do for me today. Not because I'm trying to use you. But because I believe that together we are stronger than we are apart.

All you have to do is look around the blogosphere at all the charity events and fundraisers to know the truth and power of this community.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (or the Indian Bazaar, if you will) things are perking right along. Life is good on the road to Morocco (or is it the Marrakesh Express?) One inch in and NO frogging. No sir!

Latest pics:

































Now, in case you've never paid attention to that little list on my blog, entitled "Blogs I Read," hie thee to a nunnery the right hand side and do your best to support the cult collective.

We are knitters. Hear us roar.

The Thrill of the Hunt

Interesting responses to my last post, in which I pointed out how many trial runs go into a finished design. To a man woman, they offered sympathy for my plight, one even going so far as to quote, "Mama always said there'd be days like this."

But here's the thing:

I LIKE days like this.

Now before you get up from your computers en masse (or en fewe, as the case may be - I have no illusions of grandeur) and rush to your phones to call the funny farm so those nice men in the white coats can lock me up and throw away the key escort me to a restful place with nothing to do all day but knit, hear me out.

There is a place in my head. It doesn't look like much. There are no horses stamping their hooves, raring at the bits. There are no hounds baying, straining at the leash. There are no men and women dressed in fancy red jackets. There is no horn.

There is, however, a prey. And this is where I begin pursuing it.

Sometimes it's a silhouette. Sometimes it's a fiber.Sometimes it's a color. Sometimes it's an idea. Sometimes it's a song. Sometimes it's a place.

But whatever "it" is, it inspires. It conspires. It propels me to a new place where I have never been before. It leads me to the hunt.

I am reminded of EBay's new advertising slogan, "It means more if you win it." How true.

For Morocco, "it" was the color - tupelo honey. Where Anne saw bees (and so beautifully I must add) I saw yellow ochre, curry powder, and saffron. I saw Marco Polo on the Spice Road. So I went hunting for paisley, for minarets, for onion domes and oriental carpet motifs. I toured Persia, and Mesopotamia, and ancient Egypt. I floated on the Nile and contemplated the hanging gardens of Babylonia.

And I let the piece lead me onward in my travels. As I mulled things around in my mind (what's left of it after raising two teenage boys) the shawl began to take shape in my head. Now I just had to commit that shape to the knitted yarn, as I so often commit my ideas to the written word.

The road to Morocco may not be smooth, but I am in no hurry to arrive. I am enjoying the scenery along the way too much.

Because even when it feels like I have been this way before, there is always something new, something different, something once hidden but now revealed, to savor along the way.

As in life, the pleasure lies in the journey, not the destination.

So save your sympathy for someone who needs it.

I'm having too much fun.

Besides, look what showed up in this afternoon's mail...

Failure Is Not an Option

It is said that upon being asked how it felt to fail over one hundred times in his quest to invent the light bulb, Thomas Edison replied, "I did not fail. I discovered over one hundred ways NOT to construct a light bulb."

Now, I cannot tell you whether or not this apocryphal story is true. What I can tell you is...

I can identify.

If you looked at my output for the holiday weekend, it would seem rather paltry.

A few inches of cabled neckline for Dress Grays













A couple of Jolly Green swatches





And a partridge in a pear tree ball of yarn with one thousand beads strung on it (give or take.)

The ball of yarn in particular could be deemed a failure, since it wound up much the same as it began back last Wednesday before the holiday. It might be said that there was little significant progress made on Morocco. It could even be said there was NO progress. And I wouldn't argue with the facts.

I would, however, argue with the interpretation.

Because this unassuming ball of yarn worked hard all weekend long. It was provisionally cast on for the center back part of the shawl design. Five rows of garter ensued, then the moment of truth came - when the first row of the Persian lace pattern was begun. Then it all began to add up...

to more stitches than I needed. I forgot that the edging INCREASES to 12 stitches, but begins with 10.


R-I-I-I-I-P!

Again the cast on, and the garter segment and still was two stitches over. Couldn't figure out where I had gone wrong. Finally counted the stitches on the chart to discover that, due to yarn overs and knit 2 togethers and the like, the edging began with 9 stitches (which took up 10 spaces on the graph.)

RR-I-I-I-I-I-PPP!

Third time's the charm, right?

Wrong. Third time's the one where you finally get the stitch count right, only to discover your provisional cast on is unraveling because your waste yarn didn't keep up with the shawl's expanding girth.

Fourth time, I ditched the provisional cast on because if I had to do the friggin' thing one more time,I was going to take a shotgun and blow holes in the darn thing.

Fourth time, I got through the first pattern repeat, loved how the beading was coming together, and all was well with the universe.

Until I noticed that what I thought was a pattern with no top and bottom to it, had yarn overs along the top edge, but not the bottom. So if I did two repeats as planned for the center of the shawl, both would be facing the same direction rather than outward from the center as planned.

I looked at the damn thing cherished item and wondered if I could perform surgery to unravel the garter rows and use the provisional cast on to knit a second motif in the other direction.

I remembered I didn't use a provisional cast on.

I went to dinner with my husband who wisely refrained from asking, "So, how did your day go, dear?"

On the way home, I realized that the dainty chevron pattern would be upside down if I knit from the center out as previously envisioned. My onion domed shapes would look like fat letter Vs.


SIGH!

Then light dawned! Knit it from the edges in! Then the onion domes would be right side up and I could graft the center portion of the shawl together, thereby providing a true mirror image Persian lace segment and eliminating the annoying provisional cast on. I might even be able to do a three needle bind off and eliminate the grafting all together.

I could hardly wait to get home. I turned on White Christmas on ABC family and settled down to my work. Cast on, worked two rows of beaded fringe edging and realize that 1000 beads only took me about one foot into the width of the shawl.

I headed for the computer and ordered more beads.

I ripped out (AGAIN) and went to bed.

Yesterday, I decided to use a shorter fringe and put two stitches between each instead of only one. That way I'd have enough beads to finish the border and start the main part of the shawl.

Except for the fact that I now didn't have enough beads on the yarn to complete half the shawl.

So I could break the yarn, add the new beads, and weave the ends in. No one would know but me.

And this time I had enough beads...

to make it MOST of the way across the fringed border.

I ordered more beads and wound the offending yarn back into a ball, there to await the postman's delivery of more beads.

But I didn't fail.

Oh no!

I just discovered 100 ways NOT to knit a shawl.

I'm Thankful

For geese who fly on feathered wing
For all the songs I’ve yet to sing
For all the poems I’ve not yet writ
For all the yarns I’ve yet to knit
I’m thankful...

For shortening sun that slants o’er field
Of fallow corn - for generous yield
For harvest and for hungry need
That all may come to you and feed
I’m thankful...

For snowflakes and for college dorm
For hearth and home to keep us warm
For peace to come on winter days
For time to ponder and amaze
I’m thankful...

For family both near and far
For boats and planes and trains and cars
That bring our loved ones closer yet
For telephones if that’s all we get
I’m thankful...

For stuffing and for pumpkin pie
For all the love that meets my eye
As on my daily rounds I go
Sometimes fast and sometimes slow
I’m thankful...

For music, for musicians too
Harpists, horn-ists, friends I knew
Who sing to man, to God above
Who play for joy, for life, for love
I’m thankful...

For friends who call and those who don’t
For foes who wound and those who won’t
Friend or foe I know that they
Rely on you to find their way
I’m thankful...

For inspiration in all its glory
Sometimes serious, sometimes hoary
For freedom to express my view
(For friends who find some value too)
I'm thankful...

For possibilities anew
For college, new books, bloggers too
For wooly dreams and lovely lace
For sun to which I turn my face
I'm thankful...

For all the power of thy word
Power spoken – Power heard
Power given to decide
Which to publish, which to hide
I’m thankful...

For ministry to loved ones dear
Too oft destructive, too seldom near
I trust in you as far he roams
To find his path, to bring him home
I'm thankful...

For all my vice and virtue too
That all may bring me close to you
My sins seem great yet small in space
Compared to thy abundant grace
I’m thankful...

For all the times I felt your care
And all the times you hovered there
Oft unseen but heartfelt – yes!
(Especially when I’ve made a mess)
I’m thankful...

As oft I do - no perfection found
My sins are many, perceptions bound
By earthly fashion, earthly fears
Earthly passion, earthly tears
I’m thankful...

For prayer – whichever way preferred
For shouting silence and quiet word
For Quakers, Methodists, Episcopalians too
For all who hear and all who do
I’m thankful...

For rocks to stand on, steady ground
Haven sought and sanctuary found
For all the many times that we
Are fallen, faithless, redeemed, free
I’m thankful...

And at the last I pray that we
Remembered as pilgrims be
Always bound to distant place
Always bound to know thy grace

I’m thankful...

Morocco, Driftwood, & Dress Grays - OH MY!

Here is the finished swatch for Morocco, All the components are there, but without separating segments of stockinette or beading.




I know she doesn't look like much now, but wait until she's dried off a bit. Then I can place her in the harem on a contrasting background and you'll be better able to detect her exotic loveliness.





Edging with and without beads



Moorish windows (along ends and down center back of shawl)





Center section looks a bit like onion domes (hence the name and the theme of the piece)






What else is going on around here?

You mean besides getting ready to have 22 hungry barbarians at the gate in two short days? 22 beloved family members gather around my table for the feast?

Driftwood, my aran cabled design is purring smoothly along. I LOVE the yarn. It is an Aussie import from Pear Tree. So soft, tweedy, and lovely... None of that stiffness you can get with some tweeds. It is hard not to just move in with this one and kiss the others off a fond farewell...

Sigh!









I mean, look at those cables, baby...







I think I'm in love...






Dress Grays is coming right along. A simple vest, but with some nifty detailing. The iridescent beads are lovely on the charcoal ground and the cabled rib will be repeated at the deep V neck and the armholes. Minimum effort, but great impact, especially for those (like me) who prefer their holiday wear to whisper a sweet come on, rather than shout to the world, "HERE I AM!!!!"

No gold sequins. No chandeliers. No blinking Christmas Tree sweaters. No Rudolph. Suitable for year round wear.

No trash. No flash. Just quiet sophistication. Just my style.






And Sedona? Well, like Ol' Man River, we jes keep rollin' along...





Now you'll have to excuse me. I have to go buy a #^%%^)(*)(#@#@ turkey!

For those who want to know, my loved one who engaged in the risky behavior seems to be seeing a glimmer of light. The verdict will be out on this one for some time to come, I am afraid. At the very least, I am thankful that this person is unharmed and we seem to be weathering the storm as a family. Thank you for your prayers.

On the Road to Morocco

We're off on the road to Morocco
This camel is tough on the spine
Where they're goin', why we're goin', how can we be sure
I'll lay you eight to five that we'll meet Dorothy Lamour


Off on the road to Morocco
Hang on till the end of the line
I hear this country's where they do the dance of the seven veils
We'd tell you more but we would have the censor on our tails

We're off on the road to Morocco
Well look out, well clear the way, 'cause here we come
Stand by for a concussion
The men eat fire, sleep on nails and saw their wives in half
It seems to me there should be easier ways to get a laugh

We certainly do get around
Like Webster's Dictionary we're Morocco bound

-Bing Crosby

First swatches for the Woolen Rabbit shawl, tentatively entitled:

(what else?)

Morocco

Luscious laceweight in yummy Tupelo Honey. Now I'm off to combine the elements in a master swatch.

With lovely lace we will be found...

Come along with me...

We're Morocco bound!

Eye Candy Friday

These beads remind me of the candy necklaces I used to get as a child.









Only better...









Don't you think?





So where are they going?

Here's a hint...

Tag

I got tagged. First time people. I guess it's an indoctrination of sorts into the mysterious cult of blogging. More interesting stuff will wait for tomorrow (assuming there IS more interesting stuff. I didn't realize I was quite so boring until I answered the meme.)

1.Name one person who made you laugh last night? The doctors on Nip/Tuck

2. What were you doing at 0800? Wondering how long I could snuggle in bed and not be considered a sloth

3. What were you doing 30 minutes ago? Charting a new design

4. What happened to you in 2006? I turned 50

5. What was the last thing you said out loud? Pippin? (He's the only one home with me and I try to avoid talking to myself. It disturbs the neighbors.)

6. How many beverages did you have today? One cup of coffee and currently nursing a diet coke. (I know. I'm a camel.)

7. What color is your hairbrush? Grey

8. What was the last thing you paid for? Yarn (what else, silly?)

10. What color is your front door? Episcopal red

11. Where do you keep your change? What change? I have teenagers, remember?

12. What’s the weather like today? Dreary but not too cold

13. What’s the best ice-cream flavor? Starbuck's Java Chip

14. What excites you? New ideas and old friends

15. Do you want to cut your hair? Already did. Chopped it into a bob when it got too hot this summer.

16. Are you over the age of 25? HAH!! That's a good one... Here's a clue. The bag boys at the grocery no longer check out the ass. Now they ask me if I need help MAAM!

17. Do you talk a lot? Yeah, but who's counting?

18. Do you watch the O.C.? Not on anymore. Must update meme...

19. Do you know anyone named Steven? Yes. Rev. Stephen Fales and Steve Cleaver, friend and author of "Saving Erasmus"

20. Do you make up your own words? Abso-not-ly

21. Are you a jealous person? Not generally. Too many blessings...

22. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘A’. Amy Lyles Wilson, fellow writer and editor at Upper Room

23. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘K’. Kat, who tagged me, of course!

24. Who’s the first person on your received call list? Baby boy. He's also the second, third, fourth... I don't get out much.

25. What does the last text message you received say? No texting. Baby boy uses up our monthly allotment and then some.

26. Do you chew on your straw? No, but I shred my napkins. does that count?

27. Do you have curly hair? Curly, wavy, it's a fine line...

28. Where’s the next place you’re going to? Besides the bathroom? The grocery. WOOT! BIG excitement around here!

29. Who’s the rudest person in your life? Baby boy, but he's growing out of it, Thank God (see #21 re: blessings)

30. What was the last thing you ate? Celery sticks

31. Will you get married in the future? I hope not. I would rather stay married to the one I've got!

32. What’s the best movie you’ve seen in the past 2 weeks? Haven't seen one, but I saw Elizabeth, The Golden Age three weeks ago.

33. Is there anyone you like right now? All my readers, friends, family, etc...

34. When was the last time you did the dishes? Last night before bed

35. Are you currently depressed? Nope (see #21 again)

36. Did you cry today? no

37. Why did you answer and post this? Because I'm a sheep. Honestly! Who makes up these things? And who reads them? Actually, I answered because Kat asked me to. And she doesn't ask for much.

38. Tag 5 people who would do this survey. Nope. Not going there. I don't do chain letters either. To quote Truman, "The buck stops here."

Speaking of doing dishes, here's a little poem I wrote a few years back - for those that have stuck it out this far:

Saving the Dishes

I plunge my hands

Deep

Into hot soapy water

Bubbles rise,

O’erflow the sink,

Like trial.

Like grace.

Sponge rounds the rim

Of tectonic plates, shifting priorities,

Innards of translucent glass

(Humble tumblers, coffee mugs)

Practical stemware for simple life,

Serving dishes for the Lord,

Paten and cup.

Peanut butter

Sticks to plate

Like sin to soul.

Rebellious

Intransigent

Insurgent

Stubborn to the last.

I remember other baptisms,

Doing dishes

On a sultry August eve -

Cottage kitchen warm and aromatic

With Joy.

One washes; another dries

And puts away.

Order from chaos,

Light from light,

Sanctification.

Water rids the world

What’s left behind?

Once we are fed?

Once we are filled?

Bringing into newness

Bearing spotless clarity -

Ripe with love,

Touched by human hands.

Fresh and shining,

Plates mound up in tall stacks

Of Unitarian concord.

Plunged to victory

Beneath the cleansing flood.

Which Came First?

"The torpid artist seeks inspiration at any cost, by virtue or by vice, by friend or by fiend, by prayer or by wine."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Inspiration is a funny thing... Sometimes it hides away within the nooks and crannies of your fevered imagination. Sometimes it can be danged hard to find. And sometimes it is everywhere you look.

Every time I think that's it; I'm done; All my ideas are already out there; the well has gone dry like a bone...



Something catches my eye...










Sets my pulse racing...










Leads me to another horizon...










Turns my ideas upside down...










Ignites a new spark...









And fills the wellspring to overflowing.





This weekend I went to Ann Arbor Michigan to catch up with Chris from Briar Rose. I needed to pick up Cherry Country(Chris and I have worked out a joint custody agreement. She gets the shawl every other weekend and for three weeks on summer vacation.)

I also needed to peruse yarn colors for another project I had in mind. A mosaic knit kimono jacket called Northern Lights.

But while I was there, inspiration leapt out of the front hall closet, mowed me down, and accosted me.

It was a creative mugging.




First it was buttons...










Then it was hand dyed ribbon...









And it already WAS beads...








So which comes first: the chicken or the egg?

To quote Rhett Butler, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!"

But...


The buttons or the yarn?

The design or the fiber?

The color or the shape?

Now THOSE are questions worth considering...