The Independent Stitch

New York: Lower East Side

In 2004, I saw a women's film festival called LunaFest that the people who make Luna Bars coordinate every year. The proceeds of the film's tour go to the Breast Cancer Fund and local nonprofit organizations.

One of the featured documentaries was A Good Uplift, about a lingerie shop on the Lower East Side in New York. Although Magda, star of the film, has retired, her family still operates the business and today involved a pilgrimage to see what it was like . . . as well as a tour of the Lower East Side Tenement Museum. Both sites have been on my visiting wish list for a couple of years and I finally got to them.

There's a storefront museum shop and tour starting point. The museum itself consists of walking tours. The tenement at 97 Orchard Street, which I visited as part of one tour, is directly behind the tree in the middle of that photo. The black-background sign is the museum's interpretive identifier for the structure. When it was used residentially, the building contained twenty three-room apartments (about 400 square feet each). It has housed 7,000 people from 20 countries, with up to 14 people in an apartment (although usually less, like between 4 and 6 . . . which is still a lot, by contemporary American standards).

Yes, I participated in the publishing conference as well today. . . .

And also saw a Broadway play:  The Year of Magical Thinking, a one-woman show based on Joan Didion's book of the same name and starring Vanessa Redgrave. The play encompasses a somewhat larger span of time than the book, and appropriately and powerfully so. I would have been in awe that I was seeing Vanessa Redgrave in person except that she became the play so thoroughly that that overcame the knowledge of who was manifesting it for us. The set: simple, stark, and nearly magical.

As I walked back across town to the hotel, I thought again that I love to visit New York, this new-to-me place, but that I wouldn't want to live here, and I also realized in part why. I wouldn't want to become so familiar with it that I would take it for granted, and would get into the pattern of my own routine life and would lose the pleasure I get in discovering new things about it.

Arriving in New York

I'm in New York, having left home in Colorado at 7 this morning. I'm here for PMA University, a conference for independent publishers, which precedes BookExpo America, the mammoth trade show for the entire U.S.-plus publishing industry. The events are always paired and are not always in New York. Last year they were in Washington, D.C., and next year they'll be in L.A.

Travel notes:

I did work out how to get NetLibrary audiobooks to work on my portable audio player, although the book I chose was boring and the earplugs earphones aren't comfortable. I've got a few wrinkles to work out, although I think in the long run this technological odyssey will have been worthwhile.

So I knitted on the alpaca shawl and read Winifred Gallagher's House Thinking: A Room-by-Room Look at How We Live, in the standard print version.

New York City is a relatively new discovery for me, although I was married for a bunch of years to someone who was born and raised in one of the boroughs. Every time we'd come visit his family, they would tell me about wonderful things in New York—like the tapestries at The Cloisters, which we would certainly go see the next time we came to visit.

In 2002, fourteen years after we separated, I traveled to New York for my own reasons. And yes, I visited The Cloisters, and yes, the tapestries—and a lot of other stuff there—were wonderful. I also got to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Frick, the Whitney. . . . I've been back since, and discovered the American Museum of Natural History, the Museum of Modern Art, and the Museum of the Hispanic Society of America and its fine collection of Sorolla paintings. And more.

I've been back a few times since. I have found a hotel that suits me, and have discovered how to eat easily and reasonably, and can keep track of where I am most of the time.

Mostly I eat at corner delis. However, at the independent bookstore back home I had found an unusual guidebook, City Secrets New York City, which contains lots of interesting people's favorite parts of the city. One of its listings recommends the Candle Cafe, described as the "best vegan restaurant in the city, in a neighborhood where you'd never expect to find such a thing." That neighborhood was just over a mile directly north of that hotel I mentioned. I'm a vegetarian, not a vegan, but this sounded wonderful.

Here I am in the very odd situation of having to choose from among all of the items on the menu, not just the two or three vegetarian options. Judy, my traveling buddy for this trip, needed to record this unusual event. I had a tofu club and she had a Jamaican jerk wrap. We split a chocolate decadence cake.

Award for Arctic Lace

While I've been otherwise occupied, Arctic Lace by Donna Druchunas, a book that Nomad Press (that's me and my daughter) published last fall, has advanced in the 2007 Independent Publisher Book Award (IPPY) competition from semifinalist to finalist to bronze award winner in the How-to (Crafts/Hobby) category (#46).

This broad category includes all sorts of crafts and hobbies. The winners' group this year includes scrapbooking, flower design, beading, and sewing, plus two knitting books: Donna's Arctic Lace and Victorian Lace Today by Jane Sowerby (from XRX Books). We're in excellent company.

The category's gold and silver winners come from significantly larger presses (The Apron Book from Andrews McMeel and Bead Style from Creative Homeowner).

Here's the idea guiding the IPPYs and the criteria for entries: "The Independent Publisher Book Awards were conceived as a broad-based, unaffiliated awards program open to all members of the independent publishing industry, and are open to authors and publishers worldwide who produce books written in English and intended for the North American market. We define 'independent' as 1) independently owned and operated; 2) operated by a foundation or university; or 3) longtime independents that became incorporated but operate autonomously and publish fewer than 50 titles a year."

In an economy where most books are published by five international conglomerates, these are awards for those still going it "alone," although "alone" covers the gamut from a one-person operation to a well-established company with a large staff.

Here's an article by one of the IPPY judges from a past year.

If you'd like, you can visit Donna's blog and congratulate her! This is a big deal. There's a party in New York City next Friday night during BookExpo that I'll be able to attend to represent the book, but we'll need to give Donna her cheers through internet channels.

We're carrying on the tradition.

An alpaca rabbit

What can you possibly do when you get a call saying that a good friend whom you have known for approximately two decades is in a medical facility, is expected to live maybe another two weeks, and wants to be at home?

For the first five days, you spend hours working in conjunction with her other friends, researching and phoning and doing everything in your power to get her home. You also figure out how to put critical deadlines on hold, you get plane tickets, and you pack.

You also think about what the heck you can do to set the tone of comfort and communication for both of you, even though talking is now physically difficult for your friend and you're not at all sure what her energy is like or what will be most helpful.

This was me, getting ready to visit my friend Deborah Pulliam, knowing it was very likely this would be the last time we would see each other and still, of course, hoping for a miracle. There was one miracle already in the works—it was physically possible for me to get to Maine at this time—so why not another?

I'm a fiber person.

She's a fiber person.

I could knit something.

What?

It would have to be small and fairly fast to knit, because I didn't have much time, but not brainless, because neither of us is brainless. It would have to suit her present situation, whatever that was.

Years ago, I made my daughter a tiny angora bunny (from handspun dark-lavender angora), which she has often carried in her pocket during stressful times. I thought I might make Deborah a different sort of rabbit with a similar mission. It would need to be small enough to sit on her pillow or be cradled in her hand. It would need to be very soft. It would need to be made entirely of natural fibers. It would need to have personality and grace.

Under severe stress, I don't create well. I needed a pattern. A good pattern. There are a lot of stupid patterns out there. Yarn. Stuffing.

The softest yarn I could locate quickly enough was what I was already knitting: a laceweight alpaca. I tried to find something even softer, and couldn't. I did think Deborah might enjoy the fiberist's pun of an alpaca rabbit. The most appropriate stuffing I could locate was, bizarrely, superfine Merino top. That touch of absurdity seemed to fit the situation.

Thanks to an Etsy search, I found the perfect pattern. Although the design was intended to produce a larger rabbit from aran, DK, or worsted-weight yarn, I figured my shift to laceweight would scale it down the right amount. I packed my project bag with yarn needles (one blunt steel, to use by preference, and one plastic, as backup in case TSA confiscated the steel one), blunt scissors, a crochet hook, short knitting needles, and scraps of black yarn for embroidering the face. No buttons for eyes. SOFT.

In transit from Denver to Maine by way of Atlanta, I had ten hours. While holding my friend in the Light (praying for her according to my practice), I knitted rabbit components. I started with the legs. I'd finish a limb, stuff it with scrambled superfine Merino, stitch it closed, and pop it into my work bag. The pieces were tiny. I hoped I wouldn't lose any of them (and didn't).

My final flight arrived in Maine too late to for me to make it to Deborah's house before dark, and I called to confirm what I'd heard from another of her friends: Don't try to find the town for the first time after the sun goes down. Deborah answered the phone herself and said, "Correct." I told her I'd see her in the morning and found a motel that was inexpensive because it was being renovated (the bed in my room was brand new!), finished assembling the rabbit, and snapped a portrait.

I hadn't had any ideas about the rabbit's name as I was making it, so when I gave it to Deb I told her that it needed a name. She immediately said what I heard as baggadoose, which I thought was odd, but this critter had been aimed at her from its first cast-on and she was extremely positive about her choice. So be it.

While driving back and forth between Deborah's home and the nearest commercial resources to get things that she needed, quite a distance on beautiful two-lane roads, I discovered by watching signs that she had named the bunny after the Bagaduce River. A Mainer would have heard the word right the first time! And might understand the other ramifications of the term, which involve the Revolutionary War and the town where Deborah set down her roots.

On researching the name, I discovered disagreement about its etymology. One source says it's "a corruption of Abadusets, the name of a tribe of Indians from that area, and of Abagadusset, the name of a tributary of Maine's Kennebec River." Another says that its Native American source is Matchebiguatus, which apparently means "at a place where there is no safe harbor." Initially this disturbed me, and then I thought that even when we are in places without safe harbor we can look for small ways to give ourselves moments of safety.

If I'd had an opportunity to ask, Deborah would undoubtedly have been able to give me her opinions on whether the sources I found were reliable or not.

The bunny spent time in the pocket of her shirt. When I left, it was on a mantel keeping watch over her on my behalf.

The last afternoon when I was in Maine, when Deborah was resting, I went out for a walk to see where I was before I left the place. I know Deb walked the area frequently and it was easy to see why. As I walked, a light rain was falling along with dusk.

Down at the waterfront, I came across the schooner Bowdoin at its mooring spot. The ship was the only thing I took a photo of during my time in Castine, which is lovely and would be a nice place to go back to and explore with an eye for aesthetics.

So here's an Arctic-exploring ship at rest:

It's best to have good friends and good vessels nearby. One of the blessings of the past two weeks was seeing Deborah again. Another was the phone and in-person conversations I've had with a number of her other friends, whom I had heard about but not met.

Special thanks to another friend, Dale Pettigrew, for sending along with me the book and CD Graceful Passages, which helped me and also several of the support folks who made it possible for my friend to complete her own passage at home.

This post will not make more sense than it does because life does not make more sense than it does.

That's part of why I like knitting. For brief moments, we can make sense and connection out of string and fluff.

Deborah Pulliam’s articles and reviews in Spin-Off magazine

Although Deborah Pulliam contributed articles to many publications, her writing for Spin-Off  blends many interests and sheds light on her unique and substantial contributions to the world around her.

As I looked through what she had written for this one magazine (of which I was editor from 1988 to 2000), I began to pull out short quotes from her book reviews. I’ve included a number of them in the reviews list at the end of this post.

If you’d like to watch a fine intelligence applied to the crafts of knitting and spinning—and many peripheral ideas—dig out Deborah’s writing, in the many places where it appeared, and enjoy. If I had to choose a personal favorite from the Spin-Off group, it would be “Thoughts from Godspeed’s foredeck” (Summer 1990).

“For almost as many years as I’ve been spinning, I’ve been asking myself, why? . . . Somehow spinning (and its corollary for me, knitting) has remained the one constant and satisfying craft in my life. Not necessarily the one I do best, you understand, but the one that does best for me.”

     —Deborah Pulliam, “Why Do I Spin? Why Do You?” Spin-Off, Spring 1994, pages 52–65.

Articles in Spin-Off magazine

• “A drying rack anyone can make.” Spring 1993, page 97.
• “A handspun knitted pig.” Winter 2001, pages 28–30.
• “Bookbinding with handspun.” Summer 1999, pages 80, 81.
• “Controlled substances for spinners.” Summer 1995, page 103.
• “Double mittens.” Winter 2003, pages 32–34.
• “Early baby stockings: The eighteenth century.” Winter 1997, pages 30–31.
• “Early mitteyns: Two bags.” Spring 1996, pages 16–18.
• “Elements of demonstrating.” Fall 1991, pages 32, 34.
• “Fiber basics: Cotswold.” Winter 1999, pages 44–50.
• “Fiber basics: Hampshire.” Spring 1998, pages 48–53.
• “Hampshire vest.” Summer 1996, pages 58, 59, 61, 66.
• “Holbrook socks.” Fall 1995, pages 59–62.
• “Knitted stockings in old England.” Winter 1992, pages 92–94.
• “Lamb and Flag: History on the streets.” Spring 1998, pages 62–63.
• “Lucid lucetting: How to make a simple looped cord.” Summer 2004, page 45.
• “Moving from hand cards to industrialization.” Fall 1992, pages 75–77.
• “Natural Cotton Colours and Vreseis: What will prevail?” Fall 1997, pages 26–27.
• “Rockin’ on Rock Day.” Winter 1997, pages 28–29.
• “Royal Highland Show.” Spring 2001, pages 80–81.
• “Seventeenth-century-style mitteyns.” Spring 1996, page 19.
• “Sixteenth-century-style cap.” Spring 1991, page 15.
• “Software review.” Summer 1995, pages 28–29.
• “Spin·Off: The first twenty years.” Winter 1996, pages 16–19.
• “Spinning for a lazy kate.” Summer 1991, pages 14–15.
• “Spinning for slip-stitch crochet.” Summer 2004, pages 42–44.
• “Spinning in costume.” Winter 1991, pages 42–45.
• “Spinning the electronic web.” Winter 1997, pages 102–103.
• “Thoughts from Godspeed’s foredeck.” Summer 1990, page 92.
• “When the mountain of wool gets too big.” Fall 1992, pages 70–74.
• “Why do I spin? Why do you?” Spring 1994, pages 52–65.

Reviews in Spin-Off magazine

• Bryan, Nonabah G., and Mary-Russell Ferrell Colton. Navajo and Hopi Dyes. Fall 1996, pages 97, 99.
  “It’s been wonderful in the past few years to see older, valuable books being made available to a whole new audience. . . . Although Bryan doesn’t mention indigo, the Hopi used it in a cold vat. Grown in Central America, it was a valuable trade item. . . .”
• Constantino, Maria. The Knot Handbook. Winter 2002, pages 20–21.
  “While it might seem a long way to woolen yarn, understanding rope construction can enhance your understanding of spinning in general. . . . The chapter on plaits, sennits, and lashings may be of particular interest to spinners, because it provides . . . techniques that can make handsome buttons, handles, and fastenings. . . .”
• Cranley, Maddy. Fulling Around with Felting. Spring 1998, pages 95, 97.
  “Being a fan of heavily fulled (or felted) knitting, I was pleased to discover a book devoted to it. . . . There’s valuable material here, which could be supplemented by a handspinner’s own more intricate knowledge of the behavior of specific fibers.”
• Eaton, Jil. Minnow Knits. Fall 1996, page 99.
  “These are real kids, wearing real clothes! And they look cheerful, comfortable, and rather chic in them.”
• Falick, Melanie. Weekend Knitting: 50 Unique Projects and Ideas. Winter 2004, page 18.
  “[I]t’s wonderful to see so many fresh ideas and new takes on traditional ideas, all in one very attractive book. . . . I spent several years supporting myself by weaving chair seats, so it’s embarrassing to admit that it never occurred to me to knit a seat for a chair, but now I’m going to.”
• Gainford, Veronica. Designs for Knitting Kilt Hose and Knickerbocker Stockings. Winter 1998, page 32.
  “Even if knitters everywhere weren’t already grateful to the mother/daughter combination of Elizabeth Zimmermann and Meg Swansen for many years of excellent teaching and innovative knitting, we should all be thankful that their small Schoolhouse Press . . . has begun republishing . . . . knitting books that otherwise might not be available.”
• Gibson-Roberts, Priscilla. Ethnic Socks and Stockings. Winter 1996, page 9.
  “It may take Priscilla Gibson-Roberts a while to get around to publishing her books (many of us remember the agonizing wait for her Salish Indian sweaters book!), but when she gets them in print, she really produces.”
• Gullers, Barbara D. Antique Sewing Tools and Tales. Winter 1993, page 30.
  “Who would think of sewing tools as art objects? Think again.”
• Keeble, Brian. Art for Whom and for What? Winter 1999, pages 14–15.
  “Some of us spin to create superior yarn for projects. Some spin for the rhythmic, meditative activity. Some just love the feeling of fiber. Most of us spin for a combination of reasons that we could easily name. But profound questions can be asked about our common pursuit. Not everyone wants to consider these questions, and it’s enough to be a spinner, for whatever reason. . . . This book is not for everyone, but it is important for those who enjoy wrestling with big questions.”
• Kolander, Cheryl. Hemp! For Textile Artists. Summer 1997, page 94.
  “Cheryl Kolander . . . has stepped into the breach just as hemp has become a popular new/old fiber for spinners to deal with.”
• Mailand, Harold F., and Dorothy Stites Alig. Preserving Textiles: A Guide for the Nonspecialist. Summer 2000, page 13.
  “Sometimes it’s difficult for us to think that the textiles we make are worth preserving. . . .”
• Messent, Jan. Knitted Historical Figures. Winter 1995, pages 34–35.
  “Some day I want to meet Jan Messent, because in a world filled with creative people, she is light-years ahead of most of us in imagination and execution. She also knows how to research historical clothing and how to recreate it in an unexpected medium.”
• Nickerson, Signe. Australian Locker Hooking. Spring 1997, page 30.
  “While judging a fleece show several years ago, I was constantly interrupted by spinners wanting to know what fleeces were for sale, and shepherds who wanted to know what they’d won. . . . One interruption I welcomed, because a spinner ended up giving me an impromptu demonstration of locker hooking. He said he hadn’t been doing it long, but he seemed quite proficient.”
• Parks, Carol. Terrific Totes and Carryalls. Summer 1999, pages 14, 17.
  “All spinners (and knitters, and weavers, and sewers) need lots of bags and satchels. All you have to do to understand the dimensions of this statement is look around at a guild meeting and see what everyone is lugging around.”
• Pawson, Des. The Handbook of Knots. Winter 1998, page 114.
  “You don’t need to be a sailor or a circus rigger to need knots. Weavers, gardeners, knitters, anyone who needs (or makes) string or rope will find useful information here.”
• Pence, Katherine. . . . And a Time to Knit Stockings. Fall 1997, pages 107, 109.
  “Although I’ve never used anyone else’s pattern to knit socks or stockings, I’m just as drawn as any knitter to the new sock books on the market, looking for inspiration. . . . My favorites [here] . . . come from August: watermelon socks, with green tops and toes, a white line for the inner rind, and bright pink legs with black seeds knitted into the heels.”
• Pufpaff, Suzanne, compiler. Nineteenth Century Hat Maker’s and Felter’s Manuals. Winter 1995, page 34.
  “To quote Dr. Science: do not try this at home!”
• Rug Hooking Presents Celebration VII: The Annual Juried Exhibit of Hand-Hooked Rugs. . . . Fall 1998, page 32.
• Smith, Mary, and Chris Bunyan. A Shetland Knitter’s Notebook. Fall 1992, page 19.
  “Northern knitting has been rediscovered in a big way in recent years, and that’s fine with me, because it leads to books like this. If you’re looking for ready-to-knit patterns and bright colors, look somewhere else. This is truly a notebook of history, styles, folklore, and design components from a knitter’s paradise. . . . A small, modest-looking book, Notebook is one of the best I’ve seen for covering a wide range of information on a long and distinguished tradition of exquisite knitting.”
• Stanfield, Lesley. The New Knitting Stitch Library. Fall 1998, pages 16, 22.
  “If you rely, as I do, on Barbara Walker’s excellent stitch dictionaries, it’s difficult not to compare every other stitch compendium to that standard. I’ll try to take this book on its own merits, which are notable. . . . And just in case you have a library and a tendency to inadvertently duplicate its holdings: this is a reprint of a British book published in 1992. . . .”
• Szabo, Janet. The “I Hate to Finish Sweaters” Guide to Finishing Sweaters. Winter 1998, page 32.
  “Even I found interesting and useful information here, and I haven’t sewn up a sweater in ten years (I’d much rather knit around and around, and cut up, rather than sew up). . . . [I]t is also one of the neatest and cleanest self-publishing jobs I’ve seen. . . .”
• Weavers’ Guild of Boston, The. Seventeenth Century Knitting Patterns. Summer 1992, page 12.
  “For reenactors and reproduction enthusiasts, . . . I offer one warning about authenticity. Most knitting of this and earlier periods was deliberately and heavily fulled. . . . And a suggestion remains from the first edition which I had hoped would vanish in this one: that one spend hours knitting an undershirt from Orlon (for softness, try Merino!). Aside from such academic fine points, this is a nice little project for any knitter who wants something out of the ordinary.”
• Wilson, Diana, ed. Lincoln Longwool: The Versatile Fleece. Winter 1997, page 109.
  “Given the Lincoln’s popularity in this country, it came as a shock to discover they’re actually a rare breed in England. They seem to have made a strong comeback, though, from a reported fifteen flocks in all England in 1971. Like many American breeds, they are more sought out by handspinners than industry. . . .”
• Zilboorg, Anna. Fancy Feet: Traditional Knitting Patterns of Turkey. Summer 1995, page 27.
  “The historic Turkish knitting technique involves tensioning the yarn around your neck and ‘flicking’ the yarn over the needle with your thumb. Some day I’m going to lock myself in a closet and teach myself to knit this way. . . . There are also many intriguing and unanswered questions in the text. . . . such as when knitting came to Turkey, and where it came from.”
• Zimmermann, Elizabeth. Knitting Around series (videos). Spring 1996, page 36.
  “In addition to convincing a lot of knitters that they can think about their craft, Elizabeth Zimmermann and her daughter, Meg Swansen, deserve a lot of credit for showing what can be done with effective video instruction. . . . You can . . . watch two talented designers at work, as they discuss (and sometimes rip out) projects in the making. . . . Delightful pearls of wisdom come from both women, and I kept tossing aside my own knitting to scribble them down.”
• Zimmermann, Elizabeth. Knitting Workshop (video). Winter 1993, pages 30, 33.
  “Just about any knitter, experienced or novice, can benefit from watching the incomparable Elizabeth Zimmermann.”
• Zimmermann, Elizabeth. The Opinionated Knitter: Elizabeth Zimmermann Newsletters 1958-1968 (Meg Swansen, ed.). Fall 2005, pages 21–22.
  “What more could fanatical knitters want than a new book by Elizabeth Zimmermann, who passed in 1999? . . . Zimmermann’s approach to knitting was, and is, perfect for handspinners because it doesn’t rely on printed patterns, editor’s instructions, or specific yarns. . . . With The Opinionated Knitter, everyone can keep applauding and enjoying Elizabeth Zimmermann’s contributions to knitting.”

In honor of my friend, Deborah Pulliam

Later today, I’m going to take a few minutes for a cup of tea and a bit of knitting in honor of my friend, Deborah Pulliam. Knitter and writer Carol Rhoades came up with the idea by e-mail and I decided to join her in spirit, if not in person. If you read this today, or some other day, and feel so inclined, you might like to gather with us in an appreciation of Deborah’s life and work that may stretch across distance and time.

Beginning this post is a card Deb P. sent me from one of her trips to Scotland. I’ll translate the back, because Deb's handwriting was sometimes challenging. It says, “What more could you want? (Except maybe the wheel.) Just talked to a shepherd about black Ryeland fleece—hurray. Friend of a friend also has llamas, Jacobs & Highland cattle! Deb.”

Last week, I was in Maine visiting Deborah because I’d gotten an emergency call. This morning, another sad call came in.

Deborah Pulliam died peacefully at 8:30 a.m. today at her home in Maine. She was resting, and there were good people nearby. I have lost both a long-time friend and a staunch, sometimes fierce, ally in the quest for historically accurate information on a wide variety of topics, including textiles and books. She would have been 55 in early June.

One of the many projects she had been working on was a book that I would have published some day—a historically accurate group of patterns for caps from the folk tradition. She’d chosen the specific caps, outlined the book, and begun some of the chapters.

We do have a great, if scattered, legacy in Deborah’s work that others can build on. Deborah wrote for Spin-Off, Interweave Knits, and PieceWork magazines and was active in the Textile Society of America and the Costume Society of America.

When I edited Spin-Off, I never knew whether she would next approach me with something like information about luceting or a pattern for a charming knitted pig (Spin-Off, Winter 2001). She appreciated Edward Gorey along with Beatrix Potter. She loved rare breed sheep and was a proponent of the much-overlooked down-breed wools, especially for socks and everyday sweaters. We both dreamed of visiting Saint Kilda, off in the Atlantic west of Scotland and home to Soay sheep.

Deborah wrote articles like the “Knitted Artifact” column for the most recent issue of Interweave Knits (Summer 2007, page 9), the “Fiber Basics: North Ronaldsay” article in Spin-Off (Summer 2006), and “Gunnister Man's Knitted Possessions” and “Knit a Wool Miser’s Purse” in Piecework (September/October 2002 and January/February 2007, respectively). She was also involved as a scholar in collecting and recording information that others will depend on for their future quests; a small sample is represented by the bibliography that she prepared of Janet Arnold’s work.

In a second post to follow not long after this one, I will add a list of Deborah Pulliam’s publications in just one of the magazines to which she contributed, Spin-Off, which I edited from 1988 to 2000. The list gives a glimpse into her curiosity and intellectual rigor. As I am compiling it, I find myself compelled to pull out a few quotes from her book reviews. I’m selecting them to give a sense of who my friend has been and the kinds of things we have talked about over many years, quite often late into the night on Saturdays, with phone headsets in place and knitting in our hands, separated by thousands of miles and brought together by many kinds of fiber. Fibers are such small things to create such strong bonds that last so long.

All who would like to do so are invited to join me, then, in a cup of good tea and at least a few moments with our favorite textile explorations—or whatever you are passionate about—in appreciation of the way that Deborah Pulliam has always been rigorous and generous and down-to-earth in her pursuit of knowledge and understanding and connection without compromise.

Deb-in-Maine: I miss you. Deb-in-Colorado

Out of wireless range

A friend of mine is very ill—so ill that I figured out how to take an emergency trip to visit, despite deadlines, financial constraints, and other concerns. It was not an easy trip, but I'm glad I went.

I'd located no less than five wireless and one wired locations that I'd have access to on my travels so I figured I'd get a few blog posts up while in transit. None of them worked. So I have a backlog, with which I won't catch up very quickly, I'm sure.

The good news is that my travel-knitting project (the one I finally decided upon, after research and testing) is working out terrifically well. This is fortunate, because I have two more trips to take in the next five weeks.

Here's the lace shawl's status today:

It's one of Evelyn Clark's designs from FiberTrends, in a laceweight alpaca. I took the photo at my favorite coffee shop, to which I retreat now and again in order to have a few relatively uninterrupted thoughts (it doesn't have a web site, although it does have free wireless, for which I am grateful). I'll need to tape my quick-reference chart together again before I head back to the airport.

More on the alpaca in a future post. I knitted something else from the same yarn while in transit to visit my friend. I'll post a photo after I adjust the image so it doesn't look murky.

Knitting needles: Do I really need more? I have a gazillion, of course. But I am also insatiably curious and I had to try out the new Addi lace needles, even though they aren't available locally yet (I asked all the shops within reach before I mail-ordered some). The answer on these . . . yes, I need more needles, as long as they make this much of a difference in my knitting pleasure. The needle I'm using is lightweight, warm in my hands, and has nice tips for the kind of work I frequently do. Very sweet for the alpaca-and-lace project. I only wish the Addi lace needles came in even smaller sizes because I knit loosely.

Yes, I carry a self-addressed, stamped, bubble-wrap envelope in my carry-on in case I'm asked not to bring my needles aboard the flight, and I have a bamboo needle in the same size available to transfer the work if anyone objects to the metal. I haven't had to use my backup plans yet. I assume this is because I am prepared.

Another thing I have been working on is figuring out what are called in shorthand MP3 players (although I have learned that MP3s are not the only audio files I need to understand and the players are not by any means interchangeable). I thought it would be nice to be able to take music and/or audiobooks with me on all these trips. The plus to audiobooks is that I can knit and listen. I have discovered that portable audio devices that are built for music do not necessarily work well for audiobooks, which require such things as bookmarks (there's also great player information online at www.oclc.org, but the link would go to a PDF, so I'll skip it).

I may have this all worked out by the time I'm home to stay for a while and don't need it so much. I have little patience for learning new software and hardware at this point—I have to deal with too much, too often—but I forced myself to figure out how to load some of my music onto one of the devices. I'm also pretty darn frugal, which makes spending money on anything like this a challenge. Whew. Wears me out. Also does not help me meet deadlines.

So I'd better get back to work. Due to one thing and another, I'm running about eight weeks behind.

A good book, but not an easy one

At two of the three annual conferences of the American Society of Journalists and Authors that I've attended, I've met up with a writer named Janine Latus. At the first one, she was the winner of one of the association's top awards for an article she had written about her sister, who was murdered by a boyfriend. Now Janine has written a book about domestic abuse that draws on her own and her sister's experiences.

When I got home from the conference, I ordered a copy of If I Am Missing or Dead: A Sister's Story of Love, Murder, and Liberation from our local independent bookstore.

I knew I couldn't read this book in my usual fifteen to thirty minutes before bed. That was the wrong time for the subject and the wrong approach for this book.

So yesterday when I had a span of potentially uninterrupted time (a rarity), I sat down on the couch—despite all the other things, like paying the bills, that needed to get done—and began to read.

Four and a half hours later, I closed the book and stood up to go to an event for which I was half an hour late.

I highly recommend this book. It's beautifully written, with the right details and observations in the right places. Despite the topic, it is a wake-up call, not a downer. Janine Latus is a brave person and a fine writer.

Janine has taped a segment for the Oprah Winfrey show that has been rescheduled a couple of times but may be happening this week. The topics have not been posted yet, but I'll be attempting to see the show despite a lack of cable. . . .

And I'm now turning back to Eric Maisel's Ten Zen Seconds, which does fit neatly into my normal reading spaces and teaches a process that could, if put in place early, help people like Amy Lynne Latus, Janine's sister, either avoid or recognize and move out of situations like the one that took her life.

I'll end today's post with the two inscriptions Janine chose to place at the opening of her book:

Thou shalt not be a victim. Thou shalt not be a perpetrator. Above all, thou shalt not be a bystander.
    An inscription at the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C.

Most of us would rather claim to have always been perfect than admit how much we've grown.
    From Blood Done Sign My Name by Tim Tyson

(Soon: A quick post on knitting progress.)

Independent Publisher Awards semifinalist

A quick post . . . it's been a while, because I've been paddling hard to keep my head above water.

Today the Independent Publisher Awards semifinalists were announced. Arctic Lace by Donna Druchunas is a semifinalist in the How-to (Crafts/Hobby) category. Of the semifinalists, only two are knitting books—Arctic Lace and Victorian Lace Today. I'd say we're in good company! Finalists will be announced next week, in advance of BookExpo America.

Sales conference (in Alexandria, Virginia, a week ago) went well. Our presentation took place in a new format: instead of presenting to more than 50 people in a big horseshoe-shaped ring, I gave my talk to a smaller group of 15, each of whom represented a different sales area. The reps always ask great questions about the books (the answers help them when they meet with their accounts to place the books in the stores), but this time we seemed to be able to have actual conversations. Since they're great folks, I liked that.

Now I'm back at the computer and (literally) drawing board, working on the fall title: Ethnic Knitting Discovery, another of Donna's books.