The Independent Stitch

Gordon's Rules of Legislative Conduct

Colorado state senator Ken Gordon doesn't represent my part of the state, but I've subscribed to his newsletter for several years because it's so informative and interesting to read.

Yesterday evening, at the end of his term limits, he sent the following message. It seems timely to share with people of all political persuasions, within and beyond Colorado. I'd link to the text on his page, but it's not posted there yet and he has given permission to publish.

From Ken Gordon:

Dear Friends and Neighbors:

Today is the last day of my last session in the Colorado General Assembly. I actually can't find words to describe the experience except to say that it was [an] honor to be chosen by the people of my district to represent them and an honor to be chosen by other Senators to be the Majority Leader. I don't know what I am going to do next. Below is something I passed out to Senators today. If anyone wants to forward these Rules of Legislative Conduct or publish them you have my permission. I will continue to write as events occur. Thanks for all of your support over the years. I am not retiring. I will still be involved in public affairs. I just don't know the form that will take.

Sincerely,

Ken Gordon

Majority Leader, Colorado State Senate

Gordon's Rules of Legislative Conduct

(Suggestions for future legislators)

1. Think for yourself. If you don't have any internal values that inform your conduct here, find another occupation.
2. Leadership: You can't always be liked and always do the right thing. If you don't have the courage to sometimes do the right thing even though it will anger some person or support group, you should find another occupation. If you don't have courage, you may be an elected official, but you are not a leader.
3. If you are in the majority and you can’t pass a bill that you want to pass without abusing the process, then you shouldn’t pass the bill. If you can’t kill a bill that you want to kill without abusing the process, then you shouldn’t kill the bill.
4. If you abuse the process in order to prevent minority party members from accomplishing anything that reflects the values of their constituents, then you create a deep and bitter resentment. This resentment will come back to haunt you in myriad ways. Abuse of the process does not show strength. It shows weakness.
5. Respect the minority party members. There are a large number of people who voted for them. When you disrespect the minority party members you disrespect many of the people of Colorado. And their ideas are not always wrong.
6. Think of the other members of the Senate as team members—even members of the other party. The goal is not to be in the majority. If that were the goal, then the other party would be the enemy. The goal is to make Colorado the best state in the country, or in any country for that matter. To do this we need everyone’s help. If we don’t do this we will be at a competitive disadvantage with states or countries that learn how to work better together.
7. Some people think there is a distinction between how you act in a campaign and how you act at the legislature. If you lie during a political campaign, that makes you a liar, and you will be treated that way in the legislature as well.
8. Respect the people who put you in office. You might think that you do that, but every time you commit your vote to a lobbyist or even another member before you have heard committee testimony or debate, you have disrespected the people who wish to voice their opinion.
9. Don't let conflict escalate. Be the one who deescalates. Be the bigger person. Be the person who acknowledges error. If you have to, go outside and take a walk.
10. Have pride in what you are doing. You stand on the shoulders of many thousands who have worked or shed blood for our rights and our democracy. Fewer than 2% of the people who have ever lived have lived in a democracy. Don’t take it for granted. By your conduct here, honor those people who fought for this democracy.

Senator Ken Gordon

District 35–Denver

Around the neighborhood: bursting with color, if not yet much spring

While walking our dogs the other day, we saw this:

All of the notes say "yes," in several languages and many different ways. The front of the car looks like this:

There are also stickies on the hubcaps, door handles, and other places.

Sometimes the place where we live seems a little staid and over-engineer-influenced (there are a lot of high-tech companies here). Now and then it pleasantly surprises us. SOMEONE is saying YES! in response to a question that appears to have been (1) anticipated (it took a while to make, let alone apply, all those notes) and (2) welcome.

We chose the neighborhood we live in partly because it does not have covenants that dictate what color you can paint your house. A lot of neighborhoods in this city do have restrictions of that type, and the houses tend to be beige, sand, tan, and maybe light gray, with trim that is white, beige, or sand. It's all very tasteful. The truly risqué might use a light sage green.

When we were looking at houses, there was a house that was painted bright purple a couple of blocks from the one that we bought. While I like my own house's exterior colors a little less strong, every time I drove past that house I was reminded of a trip I took with my grandparents through the Gaspé Peninsula when I was thirteen. I still vividly remember Percé Rock, people selling handmade toy wooden boats by the side of the road (Grampa didn't stop, but I still hold one in my memory), and the brightly colored houses that were probably even more cheerful during the winter.

That house has since been painted a calmer color, but recently this appeared on the other end of our dogleg street:

Even the steel railing attached to the concrete front step is bright blue.

The color seemed a little shocking the first time I caught sight of it, but I'm getting used to it and I am glad the people who live there are free to use the color they like. It's intense. It's also very cheerful. And when I see it, I know exactly where I am: almost home.

Blog tour: Kitty Knits, with a guest appearance by our ancient cat

Donna Druchunas has a new book out from Martingale Press: Kitty Knits: Projects for Cats and Their People. I'm part of the blog tour, and we've been asked to talk about our cats. Ms. Bit will thus be making quite an appearance in a moment, but right now here's what the book looks like, and I have a small story to tell about how part of it came together.

As Nomad Press, I publish some of Donna's books—those that are on traditional and ethnic knitting and that don't (so far) require color printing. (Nomad may be able to do color in the future, but currently doesn't for both environmental and financial reasons. So we're glad to see Donna's work that needs color coming out from other presses.)

Anyway, that lovely pink sweater on the cover was threatened with not being in the manuscript for this book, for several reasons. So I ended up helping Donna tech edit the pattern (she was at one of those "I'm tired of looking at this" stages we all reach) and then, when the project was at risk of being cut because time was running out and there was no model garment, I volunteered to knit the body. Another knitter did the sleeves, and Donna assembled the pieces and added the trim and embroidery. It's not at all my style or color of sweater, which made it fun to knit.

It's nice to see it (1) finished and (2) looking so fine there on the cover.

For the work, Donna swapped me a outdated but still perfectly useful digital camera so I could play with getting this blog started. I've since gotten a different camera that doesn't store its images on 3.5-inch diskettes, but by being able to use that one (which Donna's husband Dom used to take the Alaska photos for Arctic Lace ) I learned that I did like doing the pictures and the blog.

Here's another project from the book, being modeled by Donna's older cat:

And, finally because the Empress of the Universe always gets star billing, here is our 20.75-year-old cat, Little Bit (who was named before we had any way to know she would stay small, which she certainly did):

She's checking out a half-dozen of the felted mice from Kitty Knits. The purple one must have run out of the photo.

Here are all the mice the day before, in unfelted and unstuffed form:

They're made from leftover scraps of Brown Sheep wool, Cascade 220, and Lion Brand Lion Wool. (Are they a quick knit? I didn't have time to make a phone call this week to schedule an essential appointment, but in bits of time that were otherwise semi-occupied, I made these six mice. I threw them in the washer with a load of towels, dumped the whole lot in the dryer, and what came out is what you see, now stuffed and catnipped. They don't have eyes or noses yet, but they will.)

Want one of these mice for your cat? If you're one of the first six people to request one in the comments, I'll send you one. Let me know if you have color preferences, although I can't guarantee first choices (pink, red, white, greenish-heather, bright blue, purple). 3/3/08 All six have been spoken for! If you missed the opportunity, they are really quick to knit from Donna's instructions. The shaping is great. They'd be a super project to teach someone techniques with, too (you or someone else).

Ms. Bit likes the mice, but prefers to harrass the dogs. Due to her advanced age, she gets away with more than she used to. She confuses Tussah:

by coming in right under the dog's nose to eat the Wrong Kind of Chow:

Tussah has been taught not to growl, with reassurances that there is plenty more chow for everyone. Note the gray-sock-clad toe tipping the bowl at the perfect angle in BOTH photos. That isn't me.

The fluff on the carpet and the piles of papers and books are, however, my fault. I'm in the middle of yet another project with impossible deadlines. It got a little messier than usual around here last weekend.

The Empress was not, however, inconvenienced, so all was well.

Naptime.

A gem of a new PieceWork magazine, plus miscellany

I've been trying to get this posted for about two weeks but life has intervened. If you are a knitter and haven't seen the new issue of PieceWork magazine (January/February 2008), you might want to grab a copy. It's a fine gem. (That's the cotton chenille sweater behind it; this post has taken long enough to complete that the body, shown below, is now finished and I'm doing the sleeves for the second time.)

Although slim, this publication is packed with terrific articles by fantastic people.

For one thing, it's got the first published information about the mittens of Rovaniemi. This is the technique that I took a workshop on last fall at the Nordic knitting conference in Seattle. (The whole trip was Stephanie's fault.)

For another, there's an article on poetry mittens by Jane Fournier (one of the best spinners and generally most knowledgeable textile people I've ever had the pleasure of spending time with) and Veronica Patterson (poet and former editor of PieceWork, which is now edited by the wonderful Jeane Hutchins, who has put together this magical issue, along with many others). So . . . poetry mittens by a textile genius + an astonishing poet.

Here's the coolest thing. Veronica wrote about the history of poetry mittens. Jane designed some mittens . . . using a poem of Veronica's!

There's an article about Maxine Tyler, who knits stuff from bear hair.

There's an Estonian lace scarf designed by Nancy Bush.

There's an article on Lithuanian knitting, with a pattern for baby mittens, by Donna Druchunas, who has been following her own heritage and writing about it (more to come in her fall 2008 book, Ethnic Knitting Exploration).

There's an elegant cabled cardigan designed by Ann Budd, combined with a history of the kimono by Vicki Square (Ann's sweater has a kimono-inspired front opening, along with fitted sleeve-and-shoulder sections, a fine integration of ideas from disparate sources).

And Lita Rosing-Schow offers a detailed examination of two pairs of Danish knitted gloves, and a pattern for making a set of reproduction gloves.

Sometimes it seems that prices are going up for all sorts of publications (they are, for all sorts of reasons) and that I can read through a new magazine (even, alas, too many books) in fifteen minutes or less and catch everything that interests me. It's not that I'm uninterested in things. It's just that after a certain number of years, there's less stuff that strikes me as magical . . . although there are always new and wonderful things to learn about knitting, spinning, weaving . . . ! The trick becomes finding those things . . . which is why I continue to publish and write about textiles. I spend my time putting together information that I either want to know about now or that I wish I'd known about in my past fiber-exploration stages.

This issue of PieceWork strikes me as an absolute bargain, and as a library addition to treasure for anyone who has even a slight interest in historical knitting, or in making history with his or her own knitting.

I could cast on for several new projects right now that would be inspired by this issue. I'm exercising some discipline and intending to finish some of what's in progress (the blue socks are almost done, and I've nearly completed the chenille sweater's sleeves, although they are in a knitting bag that I have misplaced somewhere . . . in the house . . . as long as the bag's in the house, I'm okay; it's been a multiple-deadline week, which is how these misplacements happen . . . ). Nonetheless, I am happy any time my cupboard of knitting daydreams has been restocked.

___

Breaking in the new car

Sometimes breaking in a new car means working in the engine for the first 500 to 1000 miles.

For me it means filling it with the types of music it may expect to experience while I'm driving. On a trip to Denver—the first extended trip, and therefore the first real music opportunity—here's what got played:

• Dixie Chicks, Home
• Norumbega Harmony, Sing and Joyful Be
• Anonymous 4, Gloryland--thanks to Knitterguy's recommendation for this and for American Angels,  one of my favorite CDs . . . so much a favorite that I picked up Gloryland at Twist and Shout on this trip and listened to it on the drive back; I also found a used copy of Love's Illusion, but the drive today wasn't long enough so I haven't listened to it yet

I haven't had a CD player in a car I owned before. CDs are easier to manage while driving than tapes are!

And now I've established one of the car's set of vibes.

____

My extremely intrepid, creative, and talented niece made me a wonderful Christmas present, although the process sounds like it was traumatic. She got an exceptionally fine blog post out of her efforts, though. (Here's an account of some of her projects that went more smoothly.)

Chenille sweater progress

I haven't talked much about one of my knitting projects, although I've mentioned it and shown it in the background of several photos where it seemed to fit. It's a sweater for my acupuncturist, who is allergic to animal fibers but needs something warm and soft and has a hard time finding garments that fit. She's quite small.

It took about a year to come up with a yarn that she liked. I have a lot of swatches. We ended up with Crystal Palace Cotton Chenille. She wanted gold or a warm brown, neither of which is a color that would look good on me!

The sweater she has requested is almost too basic for words. But that's what she wants, so that's what I'm making. It's true that it will be an extremely versatile garment that will go with many of her other clothes. She has low vision and I imagine the solid, warm color and lovely, cosy texture of the chenille fabric will be more pleasing to her than any knitting pyrotechnics I might devise.

So it's a simple drop-shoulder structure, with some bound-off stitches at the bottoms of the armholes. This is called "sweater with square armholes" in Priscilla Gibson-Roberts' Knitting in the Old Way. It's sometimes called modified drop-shoulder or peasant sleeve shaping. It's a minor modification of a regular drop-shoulder sweater. The construction is described in the worksheets for projects 11 and 12 of Donna Druchunas' Ethnic Knitting Discovery.

Binding off a few stitches at the base of the armhole not only sets the sleeves into the body a bit but makes the shoulders narrower. For a person of small stature who wears fairly trim clothes, this seemed like a good idea. (I offered any kind of sleeve she wanted, from drop-shoulder to set-in and everything in between, but she chose drop-shoulder. I chose to modify.) There's no shaping in the armholes other than that straight-across bind-off of about an inch (2.5 cm) of stitches at the base. The fabric above is curling in a bit on the front piece at the left in the photo, which actually isn't shaped at the armhole (the front edge is a V-neck and is shaped, of course!). The front piece that's attached to the right is folded back underneath.

Obviously, I'm making a cardigan. I'm working the body back and forth in one piece. This is described in chapter 8 of Priscilla's Knitting in the Old Way and converting a pullover concept to a cardigan will be detailed with step-by-step worksheets in Donna Druchunas' second ethnic knitting book, Ethnic Knitting Exploration (October 2008; one of my other major tasks right now is working on its editing and layout).

Here's the same arrangement as in the photo above, only flopped over to show the other side.

(Correct: those are different needles in the two unjoined shoulder sections. One's wooden and one's plastic resin; I've also used steel and bamboo circulars on this project—whatever was handy and in the right size. Oh, and one of my grandmother's crochet hooks, which happened to be the right size. That hook has good karma.)

Many (maybe most) modified drop-shoulder sweaters don't have shaped shoulder lines. I wanted a bit of a natural slope to the shoulders on this sweater, so I divided each shoulder into almost-equal thirds (the stitch count wasn't divisible by 3, so +/- one stitch in each section) and worked short rows: knit from neck edge to second marker, turn and go back; knit from neck edge to first marker, turn and go back.

As a bonus, I got a slightly lowered back neckline, which I also like.

Sometimes I'm amazed at how simple changes can affect a piece of knitting so profoundly. Here's the basic structure of the sweater body—€”not much to it, is there?

This is a challenging sweater for me because it's almost all stockinette. I have trouble staying awake while working on it, although we've watched a few movies and that helps. I'm also being lazy and inattentive because it's only 4 stitches to the inch (2.5 cm). I had to knit the front pieces above the armholes twice because I dozed off while knitting, and a couple of days ago I ripped the sleeves (which were finished) back to the cuff because when I temporarily attached them to the body I didn't like the way they looked. I'm using a different increase sequence the second time.

The only technically interesting thing in this sweater is that the edges (cuffs, lower edge) are crocheted. The recipient doesn't want ribbing, but obviously the edges need to lie flat or in years to come the knitter will wake up in the middle of the night, jolted into insomnia by dream images of ugly finishing. I've had to work hard not to be a perfectionist, but even after years of practice at eschewing perfectionism (which is, after all, what machines are good for and humans are incapable of, no matter how they try) I know I have limits of imperfection that I can tolerate.

There were lots of solutions to the problem, but I like this one and will use it again. I borrowed the technique from traditional sweaters from Korsnas, a Swedish-speaking part of Finland, although the knit-crochet combination looks really different (almost unrecognizable) when worked in a single color of cotton chenille yarn. . . .

___

I've got to share a gorgeous Fana-inspired cardigan I just noticed on Ruthless Knitting.

Sometimes I wonder why I sit in my basement for long hours almost every day, editing and laying out and checking and producing and publishing books on traditional fiber knowledge (there'll be a post on Thursday 2/7 that talks a bit more about answers to this question). Especially when I know that those books will never be perfect (I aim for "excellent," which is at least possible) and I have to work other jobs to support my publishing habit.

Then I come across a post like the one I've linked to that shows and describes a gorgeous sweater and the knitter's process in making it. When I saw that post, it brought tears to my eyes and I knew exactly why I stay at the computer, moving pixels around, until the information can get out there so inspired and courageous knitters can do something like this.

I love the way she worked herself into and out of corners throughout the project. That's the way I work. Dang, it's fun.

Except when I fall asleep (while still knitting) during the stockinette portions and have to rip.

___

Meanwhile, the car is going to get a test today for one of its selection criteria: managing snow. We'd already shoveled twice by 10 a.m. [Addendum: three times by noon. The photo was taken about 8 a.m.]

P.S. New car likes snow.

On the road again: car success

On December 24, a driver totaled our car while it was parked in front of our house. Thirty-six days later, we obtained its replacement, thanks to family and friends, research, and a bit of luck.

It's pretty obvious that the auto industry would like our decisions about transportation to be guided by television commercials and print ads and fancy brochures.

I don't watch enough television to be familiar with the commercials. I pretty much ignore the print ads because I am almost never in the market for a car (the one that was crunched had about 175,000 miles on it and the other vehicle that's still fine has more than 178,000). During my quest I was given two gorgeously printed promotional booklets and picked up a third myself. These print materials made me wish I had design and printing budgets of similar proportions for the books I publish for Nomad Press, although I didn't see any indications that the publications follow Green Press Initiative guidelines, as Nomad does.

My thought processes were guided more by a number of other items.

I relied heavily on a book from the library on the car-buying process, CarFax and AutoCheck reports (they don't show exactly the same things, and I find both useful), Consumer Reports car-buying guide subscriptions, spec sheets and reviews and pricing guidelines from Cars.com and Edmunds and Kelley Blue Book, and a clipboard for notes (both mine and my daughter's) from test drives.

I have specific and unusual requirements for a vehicle—the ability to easily transport heavy boxes of books and a hand truck, as well as dogs and dog crates, and to handle snow, ice, unplowed streets, and sometimes uneven terrain or flooding. I also like good fuel efficiency and safety features. And I like to drive (something that I most likely inherited from my father), so whatever car I end up with has to handle well: I need to feel like the engine, transmission, steering, suspension, and so on work well together.

I intended to buy a three- to four-year-old car from a private party. I narrowed my search to three makes, with one model each, and two model years that seemed historically reliable and offered the features I wanted (2004 and 2005 for all three cars). I watched local ads, Cars.com listings, Craigslist, the dealers' inventories, and other sources. I checked out cars and vendors, private and dealer, within forty miles.

There weren't many privately offered options. I found three—and almost responded fast enough to test one of them. The other two got away so fast it almost made my head spin. Most of the cars in my target range from the readily available sources were either overpriced or had odd histories (according to CarFax and AutoCheck).

One car that looked good in other ways had been to auction three times in less than two years, bouncing around between two owners in California (it seemed okay until after it left the second owner) and dealers in California, Arizona, Nevada, and California Colorado. It had been sold away from and back to the same dealership twice, with auctions and transport—but not many weeks—in between. There's a story there, but I'm not sure I want to find out what it is by living with the car.

Another that had an odometer reading of 20,000 miles in three years—possible, but how likely for a small SUV with a manual transmission? not exactly an "old folks just went for groceries" car—also had tires with uneven wear. Three of the tires had tread levels just about at "replace me now" and the other two tires (one mounted and the spare) had half that much tread. In other words, not bald, but not far off. The windshield wipers were so bad they were useless. The car drove well enough and was clean inside and out (the engine compartment was so shiny it looked like it had been steamed). I wondered why it was on a used-car lot and in need of new rubber in some obvious places.

Yet another had been moved into this area after it started out in New England, where it had been in a crash.

On a whim, I looked on the web for—and found, only sixty miles away—a twin of the car that we have that didn't get hurt: a 1994 Ford Explorer, green with tan interior, manual transmission, but with only 114,000 miles on it. For a short while, I was seriously tempted to check it out. The pricing on a 1994 car with more than 100,000 miles is certainly appealing. Then again, I've been extremely careful with the maintenance on my car, which I've owned since 100 miles before its original warranty expired. I got it because the previous owner traded up. I wouldn't have a clue how this apparent duplicate was treated for its first 114,000 miles. It might have had one oil change.

I ended up buying a car from a regular dealership, which was not anywhere in my original plan. The people were great to work with, and I got a car that meets my needs for an amount that fell within my limited budget. It even has a warranty for more than 100 miles.

I haven't thrown out all my research paperwork yet, but I plan to do so soon. There's quite a stack of well-scribbled-on sheets, but they've done their job and have turned into clutter.

The car itself is not being featured here yet, because it needs to work for that privilege. It's off to a good start. It took a shipment of books to FedEx on its first full day at our house.

Thanks to Judy for the photos of the car [added note: that's the color, in her abstract-like photo just above], and to all the other family and friends who helped in so many ways (if you're reading this, you know who you are). Although I'm glad the quest is over, it ended up being (mostly) kind of fun.

It's good to get back to work. I actually missed a deadline on January 9, which is not at all typical for me. Fortunately, the recipient of the items I neglected to submit (I sent half on time, and forgot the other half) was able to adapt for me and I didn't have to delay the fall Nomad Press release by two months.

And I'm probably good on transportation for another couple hundred thousand miles or more, with luck and care.

___

Reading notes:

During this time, I also read two books that paired interestingly in examining states of mental balance (or lack thereof) and of intuition as a guide to behavior.

Rewind, Replay, Repeat: A Memoir of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder by Jeff Bell is an excellent first-person narrative about one of the many disabilities that can affect folks who appear to be normal. Bell would not have resolved the difficulties he was having (which were ruining most of his life) if he hadn't trusted his intuition and become his own best advocate. I liked the book a lot. Bell knew he had problems and looked for answers until he found them.

Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith by Jon Krakauer looks at intuition gone wrong within a religious context. A bigger book than it appears to be, it looks at a specific set of experiences to demonstrate some possible roles of religion, faith, and other similar dynamics within social groups and individual lives. The focus is on people who think they have answers and that it's other people who have the problems, and who feel compelled to "fix" those problems violently. It was an excellent book, but (not surprisingly) unsettling.

Winter walking, plus "I made 'em so you don't have to"--acrylic socks

Although yesterday and today are warmer, it's been pretty cold around here lately. On Tuesday, the high was 21 degrees Fahrenheit (-6 C). Compared to other places I've lived (like the Midwest and New England), this is balmy, but I've been here for enough years that I've lost some perspective. (I used to wait for the school bus in -30 degrees F / -34 degrees C, so I do have some experience with moderate cold.)

Then again, I had a fine pair of boots when I lived in places that got colder than it does here, or at least I did after I was living in Iowa. I wore them until they fell apart and still miss them. For one trip to New England before I moved there, my sister loaned me her fake-fur coat, which my mother had made (my mother did tailoring). It was three-quarter length, had a wonderful lining and interlining, and was exquisitely warm, even though it was made of synthetic fiber. Once I lived in the Northeast, I also had a down jacket and other useful items that it doesn't make sense to invest in here and my old ones have also worn out.

For walking the dogs this week, we have been depending on layered wool sweaters and as many jackety things as we can put on simultaneously. On our feet we've added the Yak Trax we got in December. We bought a pair for my mother, and figured we might use them ourselves. Good guess. They're terrific: they fit over other shoes and increase traction dramatically. They don't completely eliminate slippage, but they control almost all of it. They leave little textured diamond-mesh footprints in the snow.

On Tuesday morning, it was obvious that not many other people or critters had been walking before us. Just one line of fresh tracks marked the inch or so of new snow on the sidewalk of the block we live on, and we saw another set crossing a street about an eighth of a mile west of our house. Based on size, type, and neighborhood history, we'd bet it was a fox. Colorado has four types of foxes (red, gray, swift, kit), two of which might be here (red, gray), but this was most likely a red fox.

Fox tracks are nifty. They run in a straight line, with the back paws hitting the same spots as the front paws previously did. Apparently only foxes and cats make this kind of lined-up track. The claw marks weren't apparent on the tracks we saw, but the texture of the snow made for clear pad prints and fuzzy periphery.

I was wearing a serviceable pair of socks that I leave at the bottom of the drawer. I like the wool ones so much better. I made these socks of acrylic.

Not all that long ago, I wanted some easy, portable knitting, a role usually filled by work on a pair of socks. I didn't have the time or money to buy sock yarn—I'd probably been paying printing or freight bills, or getting an old car fixed, or buying groceries, or any of the reasons one might not have money for fresh sock yarn—and I looked around for what I had on hand that might do the job. I came up with scraps of worsted-weight acrylic yarn. Although acrylic doesn't have many of wool's beneficial qualities, it does trap enough air to provide more warmth than some other fibers.

So I made a couple of quick pairs of socks.

Here they are, after having been worn for at least a year but not more than two years:

Both pairs pill pretty significantly. The upper pair looks better than the lower one, but that's partly because the pilling of some of the colors doesn't produce the sort of "frosted" look that you see on the multicolored part of the upper pair's ribbing and all over the lower pair.

Here's a close-up of the ribbing of the lower pair. It's not actually out of focus (or if so, it's not much out of focus). That's a small lace-pattern ribbing, which was more fun to knit than plain ribbing. Under the circumstances it does nothing to make the socks themselves more interesting.

I don't regret having made these socks, which gave me carry-around knitting when I needed it and do fill the gaps between laundry days, and they are indeed instructive.

However, I'd think about ninety-seven times before making acrylic scraps into socks again. There may be better-quality acrylic yarns that would perform more satisfactorily (this was a decent brand), but faced with acrylics and a need to knit I'd choose another project where synthetics are specifically requested—like the baby caps I made for Caps to the Capital.

How much do I like wool? A whole lot!

Sometimes it's good to be reminded.

Koolhaas hat: knitting beats architecture in this case (plus random car thoughts)

I've been spending all waking hours researching replacement cars and doing essential Nomad Press and freelance work.

I'm driving a rental car that adds a charge every day (no longer paid by the insurance company of the person who totaled the car I now need to replace . . . apparently the company covers three days of rental after they OFFER you a settlement, not after you receive it; I don't know how they think a person can find and buy a car in three days, while working, no weekends included, but I don't think they think at all, actually).

The rental is a sedan, which is not at all suited to my needs, other than just getting around town. The thought of heaving boxes of books into or out of either the back seat or the trunk . . . well, that's not a pretty thought. I can't even put the hand truck or the dog crate inside to take them to see if they'll fit in the cars I'm considering, so I take a steel tape measure instead and hope measuring is good enough. I do have another car that I can move cartons of books in if I need to, but my daughter's driving it to and from her several jobs (bookstore, clothing store, teaching fencing for the city).

As sedans go, the one I'm driving is pretty decent. It's been okay in light snow and has been fine for necessary trips to Boulder and Denver, but it's definitely a temporary fix. I'll be glad to have the fundamental car problem solved.

So here's some holiday knitting that succeeds at its many tasks:

On the right are two of Jared Flood's Koolhaas hats. Jared found his design inspiration in the relatively new Seattle Central Library, the principal architect for which was Rem Koolhaas. Here's what the library itself looked like on December 28 when seen from a car window in the rain.

The pattern for the hat was in the Interweave Knits Holiday Gifts Issue, and now that the issue has sold out ($7.99) is available as a standalone pattern from the Interweave online store ($4.50).

It's a terrific pattern. Although the start-of-round marker shifts a couple of times, once I'd made it through the repeat a full time I had the sequence memorized and it was easy to figure out when to shift the marker (necessary repeat won't work without shifting? shift!). I used Cascade 220 leftovers from the Norsk Strikkedesign sweater for my two hats. (The Norsk Strikkedesign sweater is getting a workout in this cold weather. Its sleeve length is perfect: the sleeves aren't so long that they get in the way, but they are long enough to double as built-in fingerless mitts in frigid weather.)

Just after the new Seattle Central Library opened, I walked all the way from the top to the bottom through the spiraling stacks and research areas, checking it out. It was interesting. It's still a nifty looking building, but after several years of use is taking some hits in evaluations of its functionality. Lawrence Cheek's article in the Post-Intelligencer covers those bases pretty thoroughly: "There's something missing from the art in this building, and it's so basic and simple that it can be captured in one word: warmth." Cheek also comments about odd walls installed to keep people from bonking their heads and on uncomfortable seating and noisy areas.

The Koolhaas Hat is, by comparison, extremely well designed, functional, and warm. It's a great pattern, with the decrease sequence neatly worked at the top so it doesn't interrupt the flow.

I did make it in the longer ("men's") size to ensure that there'd be plenty of wool over my ears. I wear it folded up one level (just the ribbing), which puts two layers where they're most needed.

Highly recommended. A delight to knit and to wear.

The socks on the left: these have been my carry-around, no-brain project for a while, and I made progress on them but am beginning to think of them as The Eternal Socks, which is not a good sign. I'd better finish them pretty soon and start another pair. There comes a time when even a carry-around project needs to get OFF THE NEEDLES.

I've been delayed in getting it there by the Cotton Chenille cardigan I'm making for my acupuncturist. It's also no-brainer knitting. I'm heading for the finish line on its body (the sleeves are done). No photos lately.

And now I'd better get back to work. I haven't decided yet whether it's going to be too cold today to do more car research, although it's already 4.5 degrees warmer than the predicted high (currently 16.5 degrees F/ -8.6 C). I'm at the test-driving stage. If I can't do that, though, I'll be able to get more essential desk work done. Either way is fine.

My hats and sweater, on the other hand, are superb no matter what.

What fiber are you? I'm . . .

Okay, there's a silly and amusing new promotional "quizlet" online for Clara Parkes' new book, The Knitter's Book of Yarn. It will not surprise anyone who has known me for long that I end up classified as "wool," even if I calculate for the two equally viable options on one of the questions which are spread as far apart, in points, as they can be: 0 to 4. My overall score still ends up being either 6 or 10.

I note, however, that "wool" is next door to "oddball," and a slight slip in daily attitude could move me in that direction.

"Wool" encompasses an entire universe of possibilities, from the finest Merinos through the sturdy Downs and the luscious Longwools all the way to the odd output of some hair sheep  (yes, I'd include them, perhaps for the making of doormats or scrub brushes). The quiz isn't refined enough to pick up my affinity for kid mohair, and the non-protein fibers are out of its loop altogether, but it's a pleasant, brief way to postpone getting down to work this morning.

Clara's book is excellent, as you might imagine. It's packed with info, and the projects (by both Clara and an array of guest designers) are simple enough to showcase (and let you experience) a yarn's quality without being boring. The pages are well designed: interesting, but not *so* interesting that the design gets in the way of reading.

There are a small handful of minor things I've found that I'd change about the book, and I'm putting them in small type because they're really tiny in the scope of what Clara's accomplished between these covers: (1) I'd add a master list of projects, with title, yarn type, designer's name, and page number. The projects aren't listed in the contents; you can browse the brief index to find them, and the page numbers are listed on the designers' acknowledgments page, but a descriptive list would be yards handier. I might even make this project list myself and put it inside the front cover (but not on the decorative endpapers). It'd take maybe fifteen minutes. (2) I'd re-title the Butterfly Moebius as the Butterfly Twist. It's not a moebius, because there's a full twist in it . . . a mistake I made myself not all that many years ago, so I'm empathetic; once corrected, never forgotten. (3) I'd use the word singles in place of single-ply, because of my stubborn belief that one strand of yarn is not a ply until it's been plied (i.e., combined with another strand). I'm glad Clara's not perfect. She gets awfully close, and I take comfort from knowing she's human, too. If we had to be perfect, we'd never get anything done and the world would be a much more boring place.

The Knitter's Book of Yarn is a terrific resource and I hope Clara's proud of what she's accomplished. She's got a great attitude toward fiber and does a splendid job of sharing her research, discoveries, and thoughts with the rest of us, both in this book and in her stalwart Knitter's Review.

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Car update: The '93 Explorer, also known as the Mouse, was hauled away yesterday. Once it was up on the flatbed tow truck, the extent of the damage to the front end became extremely evident: axle and frame were no longer correctly aligned or even close. Kind of painful to see.

The tow truck operator was a good guy. I arrived home from a meeting just as he was finishing up. He helped me retrieve the plates, which had needed to stay on the car as long as it was parked on the street. He advised me to keep them, even though one was pretty bent up in the crash, so no one would steal them and use them to drive around in something that shouldn't be on the road. (When the person from the salvage yard scheduled the pick-up, she said I could leave the plates in place and they'd be recycled. This feels better, though.)

I gave the loyal Mouse a pat before it headed off to, I hope, provide parts to other long-lived vehicles.

This morning I picked up as many of the fragments of both cars as I could pry from the snow and ice—red, yellow, and white lens splinters; strips of trim; and what looked like part of a bumper from the car that hit ours. There will be more to clean up after we get a good thaw.

The other driver's insurance company came up with a settlement on Tuesday that was based on the "fair market value," not actual or replacement value, and wants its rental car back by the end of the day tomorrow. Between editorial tasks, I'm working on getting another car that runs reliably and meets our needs (in addition to taking a silly fiber quiz). AAA Auto Source is doing the legwork, but I'm doing a lot of research so I can tell the AAA guy what to look for.

By the way, we've figured out that the person who skidded into our car lives a couple blocks away from us. We pass the house at least once a day, sometimes twice, while walking our dogs. A few weeks ago, we put one of the dogs who lives there back in the yard. We found it running loose on the busiest street in the neighborhood. We moved a flowerbox in front of the loose board in the fence that the dog used to escape, so maybe it couldn't get out again so fast, and we wrote them a note to let them know that the dog had found a way out, so maybe they could fix the fence for real.

Small world.

Not long after, someone from that house left us a note of a different sort {wry grin}.

As of this morning, there's a car in that driveway that we haven't seen before. It has temporary plates on it.

How did they get their car replaced so fast?????

The creative spirit: A couple of dancers

Knitter and dancer Ann McCauley forwarded me a link today to a YouTube video. I usually have to delete anything that's forwarded and I rarely have even a minute to go look at something on YouTube, but Ann's taste is impeccable (and not just in knitting). If Ann had a blog she could tell you about this herself, but she doesn't so I will!

What a testament to the creative spirit. This is an exquisite four-plus minutes of award-winning dance by an unusual duo: she has one arm, and he has one leg. There are no compromises in their performance; there's a whole lot of creativity, skill, and exceptional choreography (by Zhao Limin).

The introduction that Ann sent me from the message that she received is below; the page with the video contains additional links to interviews and television presentations by the dancers, Ma Li and Zhai Xiaowei. (Warning: The interviews and television are in Chinese; there's another site in French that has the video but it wasn't as clear on my computer as the YouTube version.)

This has me thinking about Eric Maisel's book about creative people and depression—the fact that people who need to create must create or their mental health can suffer: The Van Gogh Blues is finally coming out in paperback.

What a splendid example these dancers give of saying "Yes," no matter what.

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From the original writer who sent the video to Ann:

"When I was in China last month, I saw a Chinese modern dance competition on TV. One couple won one of the top prizes. The lady has one arm and the guy has one leg. They performed gracefully and beautifully.

"The lady in her 30s was a dancer and was trained as one since she was a little girl. Later she got into some kind of accident and lost her entire left arm. She was depressed for a few years. It seemed that someone asked her to coach a Children's dancing group. From that point on, she realized she could not forget dancing. She still loved to dance. She wanted to dance again. So she started to do some of her old routines. But by her losing an arm, she also lost her balance. It took a while before she could even making simple turns and spins without falling. Eventually she got it.

"Then she heard some guy in his 20s had lost a leg in an accident. This guy also fell into the usual denial, depression and anger type of emotional roller coaster. She looked him up (seemingly he was from a different Province) and persuaded him to dance with her. He had never danced. And to dance with one leg? Are you joking with me? No way. But she didn't give up. He reluctantly agreed. 'I have nothing else to do anyway.' She started to teach him dancing 101. The two broke up a few times because the guy had no concept of using muscles to control his body, and a few other basic things about dancing. When she became frustrated and lost patience with him, he would walk out. Eventually they came back together and started training. They hired a choreographer to design routines for them. She would fly high (held by him) with both arms (a sleeve for an arm) flying in the air. He could bend horizontally supported by one leg and she leaning on him, etc. They danced beautifully and they legitimately beat others in the competition."