Friday, 15 June 2007

Where do you come from?

One of the things I love about blogging, is watching the amazing variety of places that people come from. It is absolutely fascinating to think that every day it is possible to communicate with people in so many different countries. So far I have noted knitters and people seeking information on fleabites (many apologies again!) from Australia, New Zealand, mainland China, Turkey, the USA of course including Hawaii, the UK, France, Denmark, Estonia, Norway, Finland, Canada, somewhere at the top of India ... I love visiting countries around the globe, some more so than others, and each time I look at the list of countries or the map with red dots, it brings back memories and also the desire to travel again to places that I loved, and of places so far unseen. We are going to India and Thailand later this year, but in my heart of hearts I want to live in another country for a time. Maybe after we have moved we'll join a house swap site and have a period of time living overseas, even if only for a few weeks. It is a huge temptation when you live in Australia to cram too much into an overseas trip, because it is so far to go (and SO uncomfortable in cattle class!) and also so expensive. We travel quite a bit, but I want to live in the centre of Paris for a few weeks, in a Japanese city, in Scandinavia, in the UK and the USA, everywhere!! - will I live long enough? I'll give it my best shot!

Please leave a comment and tell me where you come from, then I'll look up that town in the atlas and the internet and leave a post telling you if I've ever visited that country, that state/area/that town or city. If you live in Australia, the name of your city/town/suburb/or area - whatever you feel comfortable with. It's a bit frustrating looking at the pie chart from Sitemeter (above), as it only lists the last 500 hits, and only by country, and quite a few hits are from "unknown". Between it and the Clustermap I can get a better idea. Tell me where you are! Please!! At the end of June, I'll draw a name from a hat, and have a prize for that person - I'm not quite sure yet, what it will be - perhaps a surprise would be best! I look forward to hearing where you are from.

Oh, I'd love to know too, if you are a knitter, or looking for information on flea bites!!

Tuesday, 12 June 2007

Confessions of ... cont'd

Well, the long socks saga (try saying that quickly when you've had a couple of glasses of wine!) is nearly over. All that remains to be done is to pass them on to their new owner. Grandpa Flea very obligingly modelled the socks for the photo - can't you see why I married him? Such a shapely pair of legs! Sorry about the photo quality - not helped by the dark colour of the socks. They are a Patons pattern in a 3x3 rib, knitted in Patonyle. I astonished myself by grafting the toe on the first sock with no trouble once I found a book with clear how-to illustrations. Unfortunately I couldn't manage it when I tried to follow Montse Stanley's directions. But I have a couple of old multi-craft encyclopedia type books and the illustrations and directions in one were very clear. However (my knitting always has a sorry end!), when I came to graft the second toe, I had uneven numbers of stitches on the two needles. Being absolutely sick of the socks, I grafted the first two stitches on one needle to the first stitch on the second, and it made a little bump in the side of the toe. It would be annoying if the socks were worn with shoes, but the recipient lives in slippers, so I think it will be okay.
True to my word, I am confessing to another UFO which I have just come across in my clean-up. I have knitted this pattern a number of times and it always works well. I started this at the beginning of last summer for the Littlest Flea but it somehow got to the bottom of a pile of knitting and I forgot about it. Fortunately I was making a size 5-6 as Little Flea is rather sturdy, but she has had a recent growth spurt and shot up so she is slimmer and I think this will still fit her come summer as she only turns 5 next Saturday. When the knitting is finished, Little Flea and I will make Fimo buttons to match. I did this with Ms 11 when I knitted her the same pattern at about the same age and we had a wonderful time. The buttons looked a bit wonky after little fingers had prised them up off the benchtop and put them on the baking tray, but that only added to the charm.
So this will be a UFO that is finished.

Somehow, confessing them publicly seems to make them get finished. I wonder why?

I had lunch with Janette today - lots of good knitting talk and general gossip. Janette is a beautiful knitter, plus designer plus teacher. I did a workshop with her at Virginia Farm a couple of years ago and her instructions were so clear that I amazed myself - I still haven't mastered Dorset buttons though. She published a knitting book about three years ago (it only seems like yesterday) but has since been waylaid by the arrival of three beautiful grandchildren - two of them twins. Have a look at her website http://www.styk.com.au

Sunday, 10 June 2007

Lesson No. 4: You can't knit socks while you watch SBS ...

SBS is our multicultural TV channel, and it has some great movies and series - most of which are sub-titled. Our current favourites are: a gory Argentinian detective series, shown late on Monday night, called 'If the Dead Could Speak'; and our extra-favourite 'The Eagle: A Crime Odyssey', a Danish crime series set in Copenhagen with little sidetrips to other parts of Europe. We particularly like this show as we spent some time in Scandinavia a couple of years ago, and it's wonderful to look at the action and recognise the places. It brings back a lot of memories.

However shows on SBS have the disadvantage, for us monolingual knitters, of being sub-titled. Grandpa Flea is very well trained now and gives me a running commentary if I'm distracted by the dropped stitch or frogging-in-progress, but I have learnt this week, after many aborted attempts (five in total!) to turn the heel on the second of my first ever pair of socks that I cannot watch SBS and do the sock thing simultaneously. This poor pair of knee length socks has already been dragged all over New Zealand, to and from various other places, been frogged once already from the ankle back up to the basque below the knee (because it is a K3 P2 rib and on my return from three weeks sightseeing in NZ I discovered many purl stitches where I had dropped back into the habit of K2 P2 - damn!) and they are looking quite old and pilled (it's Patonyle). However, I have at last turned the heel and whilst I'm not proud of the quality of the knitting and the turn, I'm ecstatic that I have managed to do it! I think I'm about to develop a sock knitting habit. One more FO to send out into the world. I'll add a photo to this post as soon as I can pin Grandpa Flea down long enough to wrestle his shoes and socks off so he can model them for me!

Lara has started coming to the Cherryhills knitting group, and at a recent meeting she had some hand-dyed Patonyle which looked great. I think I might have to give it a try. Lara used food dyes, and I have just bought a pile of extremely toxic looking food dyes to make cup-cakes a la Yarnstorm for the littlest Flea's 5th birthday next weekend.

Thursday, 7 June 2007

Fleabites apology ....

To all those people who wander onto this site through a google search for information on fleabites - please accept my apologies. I obviously have some experience with fleas - otherwise, how would I know that fleas resemble children? It is very true that if you have a flea plague - or even ONE flea - that it makes life very difficult - just when you are quietly settled down - or even when you're fast asleep in bed - or even when you're actively involved in doing something, your quiet/sleep/activity is bound to be interrupted by that pesky little flea - the same thing that happens when you have children or grandchildren. Unlike children and grandchildren, however, there is no up-side to fleas. They don't give you cuddles and kisses; they don't want to snuggle quietly on your lap; they don't look lovingly into your eyes and say "I love you Grandma Flea" - but then again, they don't examine your face intently and say "Grandma, when are you going to die?" or "Grandma, you need to get new teeth" (a bit difficult when you don't have dentures).

It is possible to exterminate fleas, and we often do, while we only wish that we could put children and grandchildren into suspended animation from the time they turn thirteen until they are twenty or so and all done with the teenage rebellions.

As for fleabites - a mixture of baking soda and vinegar is a handy remedy for itching when you don't have any proprietary stop-itch stuff around. For the other sorts of fleas, when all else fails, a video or a computer game may leave you feeling just a little bit guilty, but will give you some relief from the itching for a little while.

Good luck!

Wednesday, 6 June 2007

Stash ....gulp ..... enhancement ....


You know how it is - one minute you're vowing that you'll reduce the UFO pile, that you WILL NOT start anything new until you have finished more than one UFO - and then, across a crowded yarn shop, your eyes see - someone else, holding THE most beautiful combination of yarns that you have ever seen .... all the good resolutions run out the door. You feel the silver tongued devil sitting on your shoulder whispering in your ear - go on girl - you KNOW you want it - what harm can come from a little bit of wool? - the little Flea will look bee-ute-i-ful in those colours - you know she's been asking you to knit her a pink shawl FOR MONTHS - and you haven't even started one - how can you look into those big brown eyes again and tell her that?? And if you're careful, Grandpa Flea need never know!!

Five minutes later, you're walking out the door, bag heavier, purse lighter - justifying yourself, as the guilt slowly creeps up to meet you - it wasn't very much - less than $50 - only $49.99! - of course I'll need to put some other yarn with it - but little Flea will LOVE it - she'll be so pleased - I hope Grandpa Flea doesn't see the bag ..... he'll say "I thought we were decluttering" - "you've already got more wool than you can ever knit" - "you could knit all day, every day until you die and you'd still have wool left over" ....."where are you going to put it in our new house - it's smaller, REMEMBER" ... "you should be selling it, not buying it". Who needs self generated guilt when Grandpa Flea's around? But he does have a point .... just a small one, but a point, nevertheless.

Once home, a quick flick through the SMALL amount of stash that has not been packed away during the house sale, and the yarn for the prospective shawl has grown to this.
An hour or so later, and a shawl is on the needles. What happened to the UFOs? I hear you ask - ah, well, um .. it's like this - the squares for an indeterminate purpose have been hastily put together for a doll's blankie - and the remaining yarn returned to stash. The long socks - half knitted in New Zealand last year, have made some progress - one is finished and the other is up to the heel. It would have been finished except that two balls of Patonyle were not enough! and I had to join another ball in, half way along the instep, so I decided to frog back and make the join before the ankle. The last sock should be finished very soon and it can then go to the elderly gentleman with cold legs who lives near my daughter (I think I mentioned in an earlier post that I did buy him a pair of long possum fur and wool socks while in NZ as it was clear the socks wouldn't be finished last winter. Possums are a protected animal in Australia, but they are an imported pest in NZ and cause a lot of problems for the NZ wild life - destroying the native habitat with their voracious appetites, and breeding like fruit flies because there are no natural predators to keep the numbers under control).

Speaking of possums, there has been a lot of fighting going on over the last couple of weeks, and the shy possum who nested in the tree house opposite our deck disappeared and there was quite a lot of possum fur around on the ground all over the yard. I'm not sure if the possum was taken by a cat or fox, or vanquished by a superior possum and gone off to sulk somewhere. The possum box is inhabited again, but I think it is a newcomer - it's a bit hard to tell. The other night the inhabitant of the second box, who is REALLY shy, was making its appearance, well after dark and I managed to catch part of it with the camera. It's hard to take photos at night as I can't see anything on the little screen, and just have to point and click and HOPE!

Wednesday, 30 May 2007

Meme correction ...

The Knitting Curmudgeon recently gave some good links explaining the term "meme". Until I read these, I had thought "meme" was a symptom of the current social order - ME! ME! ME! - as they all seem to be about the tagee. The word is not in the third edition of The Macquarie Dictionary (Australia's National Dictionary) though, which makes me think it is a word originating in the internet. Maybe the links I mentioned actually say that, as I have a bad habit of only half reading things. However, to come to the subject of this post (ME!) - No. 6 of my seven random facts is something you could know about me from reading earlier posts - i.e. I have no spatial ability. So here is a replacement:

6. I learnt to knit when I was 18. The first thing I made was a bright red crew neck jumper in bluebell crepe. It had crossed and split stitches all through it but I thought I was so clever. The second thing I made was a large dark green cardigan/coat in a boucle yarn. This was my first contact with the world of intuitive knitters. One of the girls in my year of training had knitted herself this cardi/coat and lined it with a some sort of polyester satin material. I was absolutley amazed that she did this WITHOUT A PATTERN FOR THE LINING! She explained to the rest of us, that she just put the pieces of knitting down on the material and cut around them - and bingo! she had a lined cardigan. Back then, (in the olden days) it used to be VERY cold. I had a two hour journey to and from classes, with long waits for connections on windy train stations and bus stops and I was ALWAYS cold. So I followed the instructions and had a wonderful warm jacket to wear. It didn't have any ease in the lining but I was as skinny as a rake in those days, and it was a big loose fitting garment, so it didn't really matter. I don't think any other piece of knitting I've done has ever given me the same sense of achievement.

Tuesday, 29 May 2007

Possums and things that bite ...

Possum lovers - hop over to Susan's site for a possum story!

Whenever we have overseas visitors, invariably, almost the first thing they tell us, after they get over the jet lag, is that Australia is a VERY dangerous place - poisonous spiders, crocodiles, the most poisonous snakes in all the world, kangaroos that disembowel you, and sharks, lurk around every corner. They know this because they watch the Discovery Channel. We, of course, find this very funny - but the boot was on the other foot a few years ago, when we visited Canada and took a trip up into the Rockies - in Spring - when the BEARS! are starting to come out of hibernation.

Now, I have no trouble admitting that I belong to the order of WIMPS - I'd read all the stuff about BEARS! in the forest, the importance of making noise to let them you are there, backing away, not getting between a mother and her cubs and ...... the list of things went on. I was TERRIFIED of meeting a BEAR! - did you know they can rip your head off? And I don't even have the Discovery Channel! Needless to say, our friends in Vancouver thought this was VERY funny (- but what would they know? They live in a city!) So we set forth, intrepid travellers. Every time we took a walk into the forest, my heart rate would go up to 160, my blood pressure would rise and I felt SO anxious. Every leaf that moved or branch that rustled was a BEAR!. I was almost paralytic with fear. Two weeks later, the BEARS! had still not been sighted. We were beginning to feel very deprived. We started to walk rather more softly, in case we scared them away ...... and then, when we least expected it ..... we saw a BEAR! ..... from the car. It was sitting on the railway track eating grain that had fallen from a freight car. We flew out of the car - a BEAR! - down in the culvert - hah! - we weren't afraid! As Grandpa Flea pointed the camera at it, it turned around and spotted us - it started to change position (so I thought) and my flight response went into overdrive. Before you could say BEAR! I was back in the car with the doors locked (great defence that one!). BEAR! went back to his dinner and Grandpa Flea took a photo.

Some days later we were on the Rocky Mountaineer. They have a poetry competition as a way of passing the time while the train sits for hours, waiting for the freight trains to pass on the way into Vancouver Station. Today, when I was cleaning out one of the MANY cupboards full of bits of paper, I found my entry. Here it is for your enjoyment or ridicule - I am no poet, but I had fun (and I now won't need to keep the bit of paper as a souvenir).

BEAR! Phobia

We come from the land downunder, where skies are blue and sands are white,
And there are lots of things that bite - crocodiles and poisonous snakes,
Not to mention sharks that wait - for tourists on their dinner plates.
And yet it's strange that we survive - even all the children thrive!

But now we've ventured far from home, to Canada where wild things roam
Apon the stony mountain tracks, waiting for a tourist snack.
I fear them here, I fear them there, but most, I fear those big black bears.
I walk with weak and trembling knees, making noise as I pass trees.
And every now and then I shout, to let them know that I'm about.

The days have passed, I'm still alive - I wonder where those bears all hide?
I seek them here, I seek them there, I seek those black bears everwhere!
I hold my breath and make no noise, I walk with ballet dancer's poise -
And still those bears don't give two hoots, about MY need for photo shoots.
You'd think they'd know that it's just not, the way to treat the tourist lot.

But now, at last, I see a bear! He's big and black with lots of hair,
Sitting on the railroad track, munching on a morning snack.
He hears the noise - I make to run - bears are really not much fun!
But all his does is lift his head - looks at me with great disdain
Turns his back and eats again.