Oklahoma is to Dye For

A couple of weeks ago, there was a master spinners course being taught in Sulphur, Oklahoma by instructors from Oldes College in Alberta, Canada. They added on a 100 Colors Dye Workshop which our favorite spinner Judi mentioned and Susan, Doreen and I jumped on it like pigs into mud.

Susan slept over while we waited for Doreen to finish her night shift at the hospital, then took off in the dark of night so to arrive in Sulphur for the beginning of class, a bit the worse for wear, albeit with a yummy healthy breakfast at a McDonalds somewhere near the Texas/Oklahoma border. And the class was not playing around at all. We dove into some serious work, masked and gloved, mixing colors, toting canning pots full of jelly jars around to available burners, boiling, draining, spinning dry, etc. etc.

The principal of the course was that we took three primary colors, then mixed 100 colors from them, as you can see above.
Ellen Munro was our taskmaster/teacher. She was reeling off information at lightning speed. Being rather quiet, we had to follow her with ears cocked and notebooks in hand to catch every pearl of wisdom she offered.
Here's Doreen slaving over a hot stove. She was quite the ace at this since we did our measuring with medical syringes. She has obviously had a lot of practice.
We paired off to do our work. Each pair was responsible for 14 colors. I got the lovely Rina as my partner and enjoyed every minute of working with her. In fact, a nicer group of women you couldn't have found anywhere. They came from all over the country.

After mixing all the colors and dyeing our sample skeins, we were allowed to exhaust the remaining dyes on our own fibers. Here were some interesting rovings and skeins dyed with various techniques.

Here is the skein I painted. I'm quite happy with the colors and learned about a product which really helps keep the color in place. It's so funny, when I buy clothes, I always choose subtle colors. But when I buy or dye yarn, it is usually outrageously colorful.

Our thoroughly exhausted threesome limped out at the end of the day to our shared room at the nearby Indian owned motel, where we immediately crashed and burned. Waking an hour or so later to the smells of curry wafting through the halls (an odd smell for Sulphur, Oklahoma) we left to have dinner way out in the boonies with friends. Following them through beautiful landscapes on narrow wildly winding roads, we eventually tumbled onto this treasure.....Steve's Steak Barn.
Here are Carol, Roiana, Susan and Doreen standing in front of the above mentioned establishment in the middle of bloody nowhere. Starving one and all!

We had elaborate decor.
Exotic water features (note the hound puppy drinking from the outdoor shower/bathtub).

Even more exotic locals arrived on strange machines.

Susan seriously risked taking home an adorable kitty with extremely sharp needle like claws.

Gotta tell you, though we swatted lots of flies off our corn on the cob, Steve's steaks were pretty fabulous, as was Steve. Evidently, he had a huge crowd that night, a couple of staff didn't make it, and Steve solved the problem by inviting his biking buddies for kitchen duty in exchange for beer. Not sure how clever that was, but it was rather hilarious. We found our way back home with a different scenic route, not quite so curvy, and by 9PM, we were all snoring.

The next day's class consisted of cutting all of those color samples into tidy little strips, tying them neatly onto pages, then using everyone's work, assembling books of samples with the formulae that we could refer to in the future.

Wouldn't have missed this for the world.

On Becoming an Orphan

Some things just have to be said. I was trying to avoid posting sad news on the blog, but it seems I can't get back to talking about knitting until I honor "my old guy".

http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/dfw/obituary.aspx?n=david-james-andrews&pid=125828660

My father passed away last week, just after the stroke of midnight on his 90th birthday. During the last year, when he said he might not be around much longer, I always replied that he had to make his 90th because I was throwing a party. Then after the cake, we would discuss 91. Well, he made it. It was quite a shock to me to lose him now, although I suppose at 90, one shouldn't be surprised at anything. But what seemed to be a mild pneumonia turned out to be something much more serious. He was surrounded by those he loved, a good end to a good life.

My father LOVED his family, they were very close. Eight boys and one girl. The two youngest are missing from this photo taken when my father was 4, second from the right.

His mother saw him off to war with the Air Force in 1942.

Here he is in the fifties with his brother Dana and Greer Garson.

The last few years, there were only two of the tribe left, my father and his youngest brother Steve. Now there is only Steve. Although Steve couldn't travel from California to be with his brother that last week, he called every day and the two reminisced with laughter and tears.

There was an honor guard to send off this veteran of two wars.

My father certainly wasn't perfect, but he never told a lie and he never intentionally hurt anyone (although that bit about not telling even a white lie sometimes had that effect). He was an idealist. He remembered every date of everything ever. We shared a love of words and language and history and art and classical music. We had crossword puzzle challenges; even the last few months when he had lost much of that incredible memory, we would do the puzzles together. When I quit piano for ballet, he was so furious that he sat down with my books and taught himself to play, only Chopin for the first 25 years until he retired and finally began lessons. Perhaps three days before he died, my neice and I were sitting with him near midnight. Suddenly he began joking and teasing us and the nurse and it was my father of the old days, sharp and lucid and funny. After half an hour of this amazing gift, he fell asleep and the next day it was gone, but what a lovely memory he gave us.

My friend José Feghali played a Chopin nocturne at his service, so beautiful it brought everyone to tears. I miss him.

Here Comes the Rain

Sheer joy, the rain came and it stayed...for several days. The whole landscape is coming alive here. Now if that rain would just come back once a week, we might escape terrible drought and not turn into desert. When said rain first came well past midnight Wednesday morning, I went out to dance in it, well actually I was hauling the recycling bin out to the street for early morning pick-up, but I surely enjoyed every drop nonetheless.

I'm still slogging away on my Soho scarf, finishing skein 3 (1200 yds) and about to crack open skein 4 (1600yds). The pattern only called for 1,000 yards but I fear that would have been a bit short. Skeins 1, 2 and 3 are each very different colors as you might be able to see in the above photo. I will divide skein 4 to finish the two ends and I'm hoping it will look artfully intentional. In any case, I'm having to flog myself into finishing this project before even thinking about another. My fingers are itching for socks.

Stocking up for Sock Madness III, which starts next Thursday, I garnered some Sanguine Gryphon Eidos. Isn't it luscious? I haven't knit with this yet, but am excited to try. I think three of the designs will call for at least two colors, so as any good boy scout, I'm prepared.

Another gorgeous skein from the Sanguine Gryphon is this Sappho Laceweight in Come to Me From Crete. Be still my beating heart. And Gryphon is a delight to deal with.

Things are really heating up on the Sock Madness Forever board on Ravelry. The teasers we have seen of the mystery designs look devilishly challenging. I'm suspecting my cousin Mountain Mom is responsible for one of them. The cheerleading squad led by Celtic Memory Jo is in full force, getting quite whacky with excitement. The Droll Eclectic, who is at a sort of boot camp/school upgrading her training to protect her country, has figured out a way to have three young guys coach her on her tests while she speed knits socks. Now if those guys were wearing kilts, it would be a pretty picture indeed and probably quite inspiring.

These balls and bits used to be the shawl below. Two skeins of Prism Wild Stuff, which might be too wild for me these days. In any case, a cat somehow caught on the shawl, panicked and ran, hooking the shawl on a piece of antique wicker. Cat escaped harm, shawl did not. Very large hole was pulled in shawl. Shawl is now balls, waiting for an idea.

KnitTx, Doreen and yours truly are plotting and planning for our dye workshop in Oklahoma next week-end with a gaggle of psyched spinners. A drive through the Arbuckles to finish our journey in Sulphur. 100 colors in one day plus another day's work on a detailed notebook. We're doing some creative time management to suit everyone's schedules, but think we can arrange to arrive at dawn in reasonable condition for a day's work. Three camera nuts so we should be able to document the whole experience. Promising you a full report!

Of Blooms and Kittens and an STR Rooster

For those of you in the frozen North, who can't imagine anything but snow and ice, let me show you what flourishes in winter in North Texas.

Monkey-faced pansies are a winter flower here, protected only when the temps drop into the teens, Farenheit that is. By March or so, it is just too warm for them and we bid them fond farewell until the weather crisps up in the fall.

This Japanese Magnolia thinks it's spring in mid-February, foolish tree. It froze again last night, though just barely.Cyclamens bloom in the pots in front, covered only when it drops below freezing. For years I thought they were a delicate hothouse plant. In New Orleans, I would bring them home to live indoors as I was told and watch them croak after a week or so. Little did I know they were truly a rather hardy outdoor plant.

My goodness, the flowers just kept coming on Valentine's Day. The doorbell rang and rang with still another delivery. Aren't they just beautiful? No chocolates, though.

The base of the orchid arrangement was particularly lovely, sprouting into 4 foot bamboo canes.

Have we knit lately Chez Angeluna?

Yes, indeed. Here be the finished Leyburns. My sock knitting Mojo is back with a vengeance after a year's hiatus. There is a Socks That Rock Leyburn KAL on Ravelry. The idea being to knit the Leyburn pattern in as many colors of STR as possible. There are well over 100 pairs done so far, one more beautiful than the next.Mine are in Mid-Weight STR, Chanticleer from my stash, knit on 2.5mms, 66 stitches on the cuff. They fit well and are incredibly cushy. Look at the sole, Chanticleer has speckles, most unusual for STR.

Here is the skein. It knit up in quite unexpected fashion, at least a surprise to me.

And I started the Morning Surf pattern in Micki's gorgeous handspun, 56 stitches, size 6s. The skein had been sitting in plain sight for months, waiting for the right pattern to claim it. Not so spectacular on the needles, but blocked, it will be fantastic. Micki's policy is that if you haven't knitted a skein by your next birthday, you don't get another one. No problem here. This pattern is addictive. Micki used the same pattern in a scarf for herself and it was obviously the perfect pattern, from Spin-Off by the way, designed for handspun yarns.

And I'm working on Soho again. Frustrations with the pattern seem to be resolved. Received another skein of Plain and Fancy from Grayce, which will be needed. Should you be thinking of making that pattern, plan on more yarn than the pattern calls for. I'm using 600 yards more. It's still a bit of a blob in photos, so I'll wait until it's further along to show it off. Soon, soon.

Many of you have asked if my kitten has arrived. Well, the blue tabby/white bicolor is not going to happen. I'm a bit heartbroken as I so anticipated his arrival, but unexpectedly, an important breeder claimed him and it would have been unfair to my friend to have to refuse the deal. She said she would make me another one, or let me have one that she already has.

Like perhaps this little guy out of Grand Champion Regional Winner Black Jack of Jude. He's a Seal Point Himalayan and he never stops purring. He's four months now. I'm not getting attached until another top breeder takes her pick of the litter.

He's one of this litter that we call the "Full House". Three Seal Point boys and two black girls, all show quality. How cute is that?

The Ice Storm Cometh, and Leaveth Soon I Hope

It's been so long since I've blogged, I wonder if any of you are still out there?

Can you believe, it's freezing here? All night long I heard the sound of frozen rain falling. Good coating of ice on the roads making for some spectacular (and spectacularly stupid) wrecks shown on the morning news. Schools are closed. It looks like this outside.

The squirrel baffle on the bird feeder looks like a tasseled lampshade. I did fill it and shortly thereafter I had trees full of birds waiting in line, some I hadn't seen in a while. Two sorts of woodpeckers, chickadees, cardinals, titmice, doves. I couldn't thaw out the birdbaths, though. I poured in warm water, but it was frozen solid in minutes.

It is quite pretty though. The ground is white, but it's an inch of ice, not snow. The squirrels are clawing at it to get to their food. It should melt off this afternoon, but no driving for me until it does. I live on top of a steep hill and there's really no good way down as long as it's slick.

What did I do last week-end you ask? Well, perhaps you didn't but I'll tell you anyway. I went to the CFA cat show in Mesquite. We are down to the one "local" show a year and I hadn't been to one in ages.

My friend Anita was grooming up this gorgeous little girl for the ring, kitten class. She did very well indeed.

She's a rare chocolate tabby out of a regional grand champion, Jude's Rocky Road, FIRST CHOCOLATE CLASSIC TABBY EVER TO GRAND IN CFA. FIRST CHOCOLATE OR LILAC EVER TO BE CFA'S SECOND BEST OF BREED NATIONALLY.

And here is Judy grooming up Jude ROCK THE LINE OF DREAMZ aka Linus. He's a Chocolate Lynx-point Himalayan and just out of kitten class.

Here's Linus ready to go into the ring. Wow! Judy's grooming is peerless.

And here he is with some of his ribbons of the day.

And this little bit is Jude's Wave, a Tortie Lynx Point Himmy also out of Rocky Road. She was the tiniest kitten in the show at 4 months.

Judy has decided I need a kitten to cheer me up and has picked out a precious 8 week old boy, blue tabby and white Bi-Color out of that same famous Rocky Road. I'm rather delighted because all of the Rocky boys have the sweetest temperaments imaginable. It all started with Rocky Raccoon, a champion who sired Rocky Road, a not quite two year old who has sired multiple champions including the adorable Chip off the Old Rock (aka Chippy). These cats are all such lover boys that they kiss the judges and roll over on the show table for tummy rubs. They are quite famous for this. So I shall need a name for the new boy, ideas welcome. There's nothing like a kitten to make you smile. Just waiting another month or so. He needs to be weaned and learn to eat. His sister is doing well at the eating bit, but my little boy just wants his Mommy still. His photo is probably in the kitten section at Jude Persians if you want to take a look. I just checked and indeed he is at the top of the kitten page 2 with his black and white sister.

The caption is "He's not heavy, he's my brother."

OK, let's hear some names. His Father is Rocky Road and his mother is Tallulah. My other boy is Galatoire and another we had was Tujagues, both New Orleans restaurants. Somewhere I made a list of restaurants, but the only one that comes to mind right now is Yuglesitches (sp?) and I just don't think this little boy could wear that.

Knitting? Well yes.

This is the Nancy One Skein Shawl from Schaefer in Julia Child. Quick and a delight to knit, and wonderful to wear because of the curved neckline and the tails. This was my second one.
Here is the first one that I finished at Christmas. The colorway is Dian Fossey.

You can see that the back is not long and pointed, but makes a gentle curve. Just love them both.

And here is a cowl in Schaefer that I did a year ago, but forgot to document or photograph until now. Actually it was lost, but now it's found. It's a made up pattern and is really perfect for this weather.

And here is a sock I started a couple of days ago. It is the Leyburn done in STR Chanticleer Mediumweight on size 2.5mm needles. I reduced the stitch count to 66 and knit cuff down, so I suppose they are Leyburn in stitch pattern only. They are quite thick because of the slipstitch pattern, but so far are fitting quite well. To be honest, they didn't fit at all at first, but I kept knitting and suddenly the Knitting Fairy waved her magic wand and they fit beautifully. I've finished the first heel and am picking up for the gussets, so we shall soon see if they fit over my arches. Sure hoping they will. I got sucked into these as a KAL where people are trying to knit up as many colorways of STR possible in the Leyburn pattern. Worth a look on Ravelry. Pretty amazing colors and interesting to see all the different ways knitters went about making the same pattern.
Another KAL is with my Sisters of the Wool group. Several of us set about knitting SOHO mostly with yarns we bought at Kid n Ewe. Most are from Plain and Fancy in their incredible DK weight that resembles Malabrigo. Susan is using Brooks Farm Solo Silk, Grace is using up some glittery stash and I can't remember what Angele is using. They all look wildly different. And you should hear the cursing about the pattern. It is really quite simple, only the instructions are confusing. My main problem is simple sloppiness. But I think that will soon be a thing of the past as I'm nearly off the mitered center section.

Here it is looking like a grand lump on the circulars, but with one more row, I'll bind off and start knitting the sides, so we'll be able to see what it looks like.

And here is a Thorpe that I made for my niece in freezing Brooklyn. Love Thorpe. Here I've used Noro's Big Kureyon with a Highland Wool edging. Yes, that's crochet. In this photo you can see my edging choices. Were it me, I would have gone with the pumpkin color, but for my niece, I decided the brown heather was the safest choice. The colors are showing too bright in these photos. Here's the finished hat.
And here is Taya modeling the finished version. My niece is quite thin and tall with micro short hair, so it will look quite different, but equally good I hope.

Some sad news, our lovely LYS, Yarns Ewenique, is closing after only two years. They have done so well, but one of the partners has to move to California and the other wants to move to a cabin at the lake. They had a wonderful atmosphere in the shop, a good selection of yarns in good quantity and a wall of knitting tools and needles that was matchless.

More to come, hope you are all warm and toasty.

The Grinch Lives Here

Hearing my friends moaning over their Holiday knitting, I'm so glad I decided years ago only to knit for those who really understood and appreciated it, and would know how to wash fine fibers. Which meant only two projects this year.

Here is one, an Argosy scarf. Since the USPS e-mailed today to say that it had arrived, I can finally post a photo. I still haven't gotten the "hang" of the new camera and colors just aren't making me happy, but voilà.A bit under three skeins of Noro Silk Garden. Having examined the colors in the skein,

I was totally surprised by what came off the needles. You just never know with Noro. Very wabi-sabi, but I decided I quite liked it. Hope the recipient, who lives in a very cold climate, likes it, too.

Really a fun pattern to knit. It came out a bit narrower than I expected, not that I paid any attention to the given specs, mind you. But all in all quite pleased. Glad I broke down and ordered some blocking wires before going to work on this one. And here is a glam shot of the front of my new Very Square sweater. I'm using Brooks Farm Solo Silk procured at Kid n Ewe on size 7s. Measured my favorite cashmere Eskandar, swatched and dove in. A joy to knit this yarn. Here is the Eskandar, so you can see it is the inspiration, not copied. Well, I wouldn't want to knit a big boxy sweater on size 000s, thank you very much. And this lump is a skein of Schaefer Nancy (Dian Fossey) in their One Skein Shawl pattern. It's a lump because that outer edge waiting for a bind-off is 1,000 plus stitches. Of course, I ran out of yarn 1/4 of the way around, as did half the knitters on Ravelry for this project. Lucky me, I called the shop I bought the yarn from, the Tinsmith's Wife in Comfort, Texas, and asked the darling owner Wendy, who had knit one the same color, if she had any left-overs. She did, and she popped them right in the mail. The minute they arrived, I started binding off, and continued the next day, and finished today in time to wear it to dinner. That was a huge bind-off for sure. In fact, I'm quite fond of this shaped triangle shawl. It sits well on the neck and shoulders and should do a good job of keeping my neck warm tomorrow when the temperatures plummet again. Finished photos next post.

Oooooh, and here is a lovely skein of Qiviut, a gift from the above friend of the cold clime and new owner of Argosy. The color is Rust, I've 400 yards, and I'm searching patterns to choose the perfect one, probably one of these. It's a light fingering weight and it is beautiful.

The Harlot's Rat Bastards have moved to Texas, specifically my back yard. See these pots...

and these...

and these???

Well this is what those cute rodents do to them. They uprooted all the cypress vine and basil in these pots. The sticks are improvised squirrel guards. They didn't work too well this year, witness every basil sprout in death throes.

Then they destroyed the begonias in this one. These were photos from late summer, but the situation has only gotten worse. Perhaps only a third of the pansies I've planted in all those pots are still upright. All of the bulbs in all the pots have been surfaced and will not come back this year. The squirrels are hungry, they're going a bit crazy. Normally, my back garden under all those oaks is ankle deep in acorns. They bombard the roof for a solid month as they are falling. This year nada, nothing, zip. The neighbor's overhanging pecan trees, that usually leave my yard a disaster, haven't produced a pecan (please don't plant pecan trees in the city, please, please). Then I saw on CNN that this phenomen is being seen all over the country and beyond. No one knows the cause for now. There was speculation on rainfall and when the rain fell, but it is so widespread that the theory doesn't hold up. In any case, these miserable destructive little monsters are God's creatures and they are hungry and I'm buying bags of food for them as I can't bear to watch them starve. Unbelievable, isn't it? I'm actually feeding pests. They have sent out the word as to where they can chow down and the garden is absolutely teaming with them.

In other furry news, Pandora and Paprikas were both quite sick when I returned from Boerne. Wonderful cat sitter, but she has dogs and evidently some stray fleas had hitchhiked in. There were clumps of clawed out fur all over the place. Trust me, flea infestations and Persians don't mix. Advantage did the trick there, thank heavens. Then one of them, we suspect Poppy, had puked all over the place, I literally slid in it walking in the door. Stomach upsets continued for a month. Pandora had totally quit eating. Finally hauled both of them to the vet. Pandora had lots of blood in her urine but no infection. Poppy didn't show an infection either but had chronic intestinal upset. Lots of tests and $1,200 later (happy Holidays to me) they are getting better. Then the vet called yesterday to add some more meds at another $140 ($90 for eyedrops that have already run out after three treatments). Guess that yarn diet is going to be a tough and long one. Popping pills and syringing food into felines would qualify for one of those "Worst Jobs" programs, trust me. Wish us good health, please. Now I'm freaked out about leaving the house for very long.

I'm the Grinch this year. I've only bought one present for the kids; can't even think about other presents, panic in crowded stores. If I don't shape up, I'll be empty handed and embarrassed on Christmas. Finally hung a wreath on the door two days ago, but that's it. No more decorations. I do have some plans to cook some goodies, but since I've set off the fire alarm twice in two weeks with my cooking (so absent-minded I forget things), this will have to be approached with much caution. People keep telling me the holidays are very difficult the first year after you've lost a loved one. I will be so happy the day after all the hoopla is over.

And just for fun, here is a sweater I'm lusting over. Sugarplum from a Rowan collection book some years old. I would have to find a yarn, this one is of course discontinued, so it must wait until the yarn diet is over.

Bloody %#*%*~$@##, I just spent over an hour putting this post together, linking everything, organizing photos...only to realize I had posted it to my son'sblog, not mine. Guess what, you have to manually reimport all the photos and you lose your links. Sigh, done, all's well that ends well.

Not much Ho, Ho, Ho around here this year, but sincerely wishing all of you very Happy Holidays. Hold your loved ones and cherish the here and the now.

A Jolly Good Time was had by all! Surprise!!!!

Girls Week-end at the Kid n Ewe and Lamas, Too festival in Boerne, Texas (that's "Burney" to the uninitiated). Five Sisters of the Wool set out on Thursday with an unbelievable amount of luggage in two cars on the back roads through the Hill Country to arrive in Comfort by nightfall. The same B&B where Susan and I stayed last year, very funky, hot tub and killer breakfasts, owned and run by the lovely Sandi.

Now you would think that much knitting would be done, that we would loll around in the hot tub with Margaritas? Hah! After a hot tub the first night, we usually collapsed pretty early, very little knitting, Lucy Neatby's videos put us all to sleep (glad to know it's not just me that is lulled into dreamland by Lucy's soft voice), the wine we brought came home unopened. Susan did get her loom set up and warped finally, after a year, with lots of advice from the peanut gallery.

The first night's dinner was in Comfort at your typical German/Cajun (???) cafe, Guenther's. OK, Weiner schnitzel and blood sausages. Stewfish and the Couch Potatoes were playing...loud, very loud, really really loud and totally off key. Although the more they drank, the more notes they hit. We finally fled to a porch room that was a decibal or two quieter. We ate well and went home a bit deafened.

After one of Sandi's fantastic breakfasts, we headed off early to Boerne for the main event, planned to arrive just before they opened the doors.

We saw lots of fiber, the above being the loveliest combed and carded, hand dyed silk bats.

We saw Alpacas!! This cutie is Cuervo, a bit on the shy side. He kept up the sweetest little nervous hum. You just wanted to cuddle him and tell him it was OK. No lamas, though.

This super adorable six month old is Midnight Star. Taya was trying to figure out a way to get him home in the car. Although they won't sell just one, nor even two, but insist on three so you have a herd. That neck fiber is just the softest stuff ever.

We saw Cashmere goats, including this impressive (and rather bad tempered) ram.

We watched some of the judging and were shown the cashmere fiber and taught how to evaluate it.

Taya investigated the Great Wheel.

Doreen was seduced by the glorious Pegasus. She caught serious spinning lust.

Micki, Susan and I caught Market Days in Boerne. It was a bit of a disappointment. Shitloads of beads, but nothing very special. There was one jewelry maker who tempted me with a pair of "rainforest" mineral earrings, but not much else. It was so sunny and hot that we were shortly searching shade.

Stash was accumulated Day One. This is the entire groups goodies, just sayin'. My part was limited to Brooks Farm Solo Silk and some of that lovely Plain and Fancy kettle dyed. As well as a skein of Schaeffer to do a one skein shawl, bought from a charming daughter and mother who've just opened a knit shop in Comfort, The Tinsman's Wife. Wishing them luck. And oh, five skeins of Jo-JoLand to do a Swirl Shawl. Plus I found a lovely hand carved darning egg in cedar from some delightful ladies from Louisiana.
And more stash Day Two. I missed Day Three's haul, but there was still more.

Couldn't resist this sign. Admit it's hilarious. Actually it was the town of Welfare, but a bit more imagination might have made for a more appropriate name.

Phenomenal biscuits were had here at PoPos, as well as chicken fried steaks and huge racks of ribs. A serious winner.

And now for the surprise, possibly the most incredible surprise I think I've ever had. Are you sitting down, gentle readers? On Sunday as we were leaving, actually already in our cars, an automobile pulled up and parked on the far side of mine. Sandi was panicked that she had forgotten a reservation. A lovely bearded gentleman came up to me speaking in French and shooting photos of us the whole time. He knew my name. I was thumbing rapidly through the rolodex in my brain trying to figure this one out. I must have met this Frenchman last year, or somewhere before. I do know a handful of people in the Hill Country, but this just wasn't computing. Finally he said in English, "You haven't a clue, do ya?" with the slightest Irish lilt and it all clicked. Richard!!! Celtic Memory's Richard. Which meant Jo must be close at hand. Look at this!!!!

Look at the faces of the Sisters. Susan was crying. Micki was floored. Taya was levitating and we have a photo of it. Doreen was mystified since she had never met Jo. And I was completely overjoyed. Jo said although the internet was very useful for some things, she thought I needed a hug so she came all the way from Ireland to give me one.
These two were certainly proud of themselves. They found tickets on Friday morning, caught a flight that night and arrived in San Antonio Sunday morning to drive out to Comfort. None of us had any idea whatsoever that they were on their way. I had only given Jo the name of the town where we were staying. This is the kind of crazy I want in my life. Daft, mad, and ever so welcome. Thank goodness the weather was splendid to give them a couple of days break from the miserable weather at home.

A very happy sun-warmed group in front of the Carrington House in Comfort. So, no question of Micki and I heading out early, we all trooped back to the Festival with our friends to show them around.

Now Jo had to try the Pegasus. It is a dream of a wheel.

And she was seduced by our lovely Brooks Farm display. In the meantime Richard was out in the park trying to photograph some butterflies with a camera lens the size of a Gatling gun.

It was sad to say good-bye, but now I must plot how to give them an equal surprise.

Micki and I finally headed out through Fredericksburg with the car stuffed full of luggage so the other three could make it home in the convertible after a day of classes.

Gorgeous skies with strange ploughed cloud formations. It almost made up for the incredible amount of road kill we saw. Deer, deer and more deer. One carcass, minus its rack, in the middle of a street in Fredericksburg. Gross. We had to pay phenomenal attention for errant wildlife while on the roads.

Planted these lovely cyclamen on Thanksgiving. I always thought they were an indoor plant when actually they love the cold (which it doesn't say on that tag) and make it through our winters with just a bit of cover when it drops below freezing.
And here you can see I've completed the front of my Hoxbro Cables sweater. While I'm dithering about how to do the collar and sleeves and if I'm going to like it as designed or want to change it, I swatched for another sweater and fell in love.

This is Brooks Farm Solo Silk and it is gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. Patterned after my favorite cashmere Eskandar. I've almost finished the front already. I'm so bad at startitis, but I do see myself wearing this for the holidays. The color is more of a persimmon red. I had to get a new camera and it's still in learning curve mode.And this arrived on my doorstep last week. I was most confused as I hadn't ordered anything from Blue Moon and that's where this big box was from. There was a card inside and a friend, who would like to remain anonymous, said perhaps what I needed was some exciting new knitting in Raven colorways. OMG. There is a Sock Monkey Kit and two skeins each for three pairs of socks and a humongous skein of laceweight, all in Ravens except for the fabulous Brick. I don't know what to knit first. Although I think the Sock Monkey may be calling my name and demanding precedence. What a thoughtful friend! I cried.

Survived Thanksgiving, thanks to friends. Last Thanksgiving was the day I realized Steven was very ill, although I didn't have a clue how seriously. But it was a normal day with Steven preparing the dinner. Now here we are a year later and he's gone and it's surreal. Thanks to everyone who has called and written to make sure I got through this time.

La Toussaints...All Saints Day

Today is La Toussaints. The origin of All Saints followed by All Souls Day is quite interesting. The pagan Celts celebrated Samhain on November 1, the beginning of the dark cycle, a day of the year when they believed the veil between the living and the dead was thinnest and communication was possible. The incoming Christians had finally been made aware that their heavyhanded tactics didn't work so well at eradicating the old beliefs, so they took this sacred festival time of the Celts and declared it All Saints Day, a time to honor all the Saints that didn't already have days of their own. In this way, they intended to obscure the original beliefs and dissolve them into their own more circumspect calendric celebration. Eventually, but only in the middle of the last century, the event became an occasion for children in princess and batman costumes to knock on doors and solicit candy on the Eve. The Mexican celebrations for the Day of the Dead perpetuate the rituals of communicating with those who have passed over. Legend has it that this was a ritual the indigenous people had been practicing at least 3,000 years. A ritual the Spaniards would try unsuccessfully to eradicate. Families move into the cemetaries for two or three days, groom the graves with fresh soil and elaborate flowers (cockscomb and marigolds), build an altar with the favorite things of the deceased, food, alcohol and cigarettes, light candles, and camp out with small children and infants sleeping propped against headstones. Sugar sculls with the names of the living and the dead are set out, a way of mocking the powers of the grim reaper.

Breaking the silence, I am beginning to force myself to live in this world again. Before we found that Steven's leukemia was coming back, I had signed up for a 2 day workshop with Sally Melville, along with Susan and Doreen. Thank goodness for that as it was not only good therapy, but an excellent and information filled week-end. Sally is charming and quite the taskmaster. Linda at Jennings Street Yarn organized the event most graciously.

We had homework:
That turned into bigger swatches (being supervised by Paprikas in lower right corner for scale): We learned clever edges and picking up formulas and lovely buttonholes and some colorwork. Along with how to recognize and rescue disasters. By the end of the second day, all of our heads were so stuffed that we couldn't absorb any more information.

For a few weeks there, it was impossible for me to knit...or blog. All of my current projects had hospital memories attached. So I dove in and started a very different new project, the Cables Sweater by Vivian Hoxbro.
The yarn is a DK weight Harrisville Tweed and it knits on sock needles. It might just be sufficiently lightweight to wear in our climate. If so, it is my new favorite yarn. The construction is so fascinating that I've been completely sucked into the project. You knit vertically, then horizontally, then vertically, etc. etc. Each section attaches the previous section and it's exciting to watch the sweater build. The righthand side in the photo is the center front panel and it's awaiting the neckline shaping.
Right after the Sally Melville week-end, several Sisters of the Wool made an excursion down to the Ranch to see Lorelei and Sue at Heritage Arts. We packed into my small car, which was the largest we had, and set off for adventure. That backseat looked like a sardine can and they were all knitting! A test drive for Kid n Ewe next week-end.
Taya, Micki, Susan and I were glad to return and to introduce Doreen to something new.

Doreen and Taya were looking at wheels and giving them a test whorl with Lorelei's input, although Taya isn't in this photo.
The Beaumont Ranch had taken down many of their famous and very non PC life sized pumpkin characters for a children's party the day before, but they were putting them back out before we left. You saw the pumpkin characters last year so I will spare you, but they did have the coffins in place.
All in all, a delightful day with friends. And I always love seeing Lorelei. Celtic Memory, she asked after you. Says you should come to see her in Boerne.

While furniture shopping for my father the other day, I bought a small cabinet/bookshelf for myself. It was desperately needed to get some of the books up off the floor. It is Indian. I love it.
Trust me, that photo was only day one. It is now quite full and organized. A close up here will show you some of the tea bowls I made way back in the Dark Ages when I was throwing pots.

So many of you have asked how I am getting along. There has been inertia for the most part, although I'm trying to kick myself in the pants and get going. During a time of grieving, when you sit quietly, your thoughts go back to the beautiful newborn they placed in your arms, the smiling infant, the happy little boy who loved anything mechanical, the bookworm adolescent who secretly took his pet mouse Arthur to school in his pocket, who wanted to ride horses despite his asthma, who loved animals (that loved him right back), who worked in the trade library in the summers as a kid to earn pocket money, who loved walking the streets of the French Quarter where he lived, who married his childhood sweetheart and much later had the children he had always wanted so much, whose childhood passion for computers never waned, who took care of everyone who needed him. Any mother knows that you worry about your children. You worry about their health and their school and their friends and their future. At a certain point, you take a deep breath and say to yourself they've made it, they're good, they've passed all the imaginable hurdles and they are going to be OK. You've raised a strong man with a good family that he loves, a good profession, good health, strong heart, low cholesterol and blood pressure, nothing to worry about, right? You've done your job and now, barring some random accident, you can watch him raise his family and live out his life. What a cruel joke! Or perhaps just downright silly arrogance. We have no crystal ball to predict something so unimaginable as leukemia in such a healthy man, before which we are utterly powerless despite all the wonders of modern science.

Thought I would share a portrait with Steven done when he was about ten. He's the kid with the aviator glasses. His brother wouldn't hold still so the artist, Jana Napoli, threatened and finally painted his bird in front of his nose. David protested and said he would hold still now. The response was, "Too late!"

This close-up is from the much larger painting. I'll show you. It was painted for New Orleans and European ceiling heights and is 115" tall. Larger than life-sized. Too tall to hang in any room of my current dwelling except sideways.

Many, many thank yous to all of you who wrote with kind and comforting words. Darn the luck, many of your e-mails came with no way to respond thanks to Blogger. Please know that each and every one meant so much. That total strangers the globe over would have compassion for a family going through such an ordeal ultimately says good things about the world we live in.

On a Beautiful Day in September

Friday was a beautiful crisp day of Indian Summer. Steven lost his courageous battle with leukemia.

My heart is breaking. My dear, sweet, loving Steven of the ready smile, my firstborn, is gone. I just want to lock myself in, pull the drapes and talk to no one for a few months/years. Maybe not bathe. We fought so hard. Steven was so incredibly brave and uncomplaining. He suffered everything for the hope of being a father to his children. He asked who would walk his daughter down the aisle? Who would teach his son to change the oil in the car? To be a man? I thought if I hung on tight enough I could pull him through this. The Fates laughed.

When Steven was first diagnosed and was sent to the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit at Baylor Medical Center in Dallas, it occured to me he was born there many years ago. A chill went through me. Though we have lived all over the world, it would be in that same place that he completed the circle of his given days.

The day last November when he was diagnosed, I set myself to know everything I could about the disease. When they told me which chromosone showed damage, I knew that it was one of the worst. I knew the statistics. I kept them to myself, not daring to whisper them out loud to anyone for fear of jinxing our meager chances. For two months after the transplant, things looked like maybe, could be, possibly we had a miracle. Finally I dared to breathe a little easier, to begin to hope. Then one week later, disaster struck. My worst nightmare. I had planned to bring him home with hospice care on this same Friday, to take good care of him, to find a way to continue transfusions and buy him a few more days, weeks, dare I say months? I negotiated with Hospice. I pulled some strings. You see, I would take such very good care of him. His brother is a doctor, he would help. I would get him to eat and drink. I would at least delay the inevitable. The rapidity of this ruthless disease's return robbed us of even that.

As hard as the last ten months have been, I had so much time with Steven and there are a lot of wonderful memories. That will be a comfort to me when I run out of tears, if ever I do. I just really enjoyed being with him. He was smart and quick and funny. We managed to laugh about the most dreadful things. The many, many, many nights alone at the various hospitals, just the two of us. The few weeks out of hospital he stayed here with me. The countless trips to the clinic in Dallas. No matter what indignity he was going through, we mocked it and laughed. He never complained about any of the horrors he was undergoing. That last trip to the hospital for still another chemo and hopefully a second transplant, knowing full well what was in store, the only complaint Steven had was that he just didn't know how he could take hospital food again.

I love that three of his friends came last Monday night to watch the Cowboys game with him at the hospital. They made quite a ruckus and a neighboring family member came to fuss at them and ask "Didn't they know, people are dying on this floor?" Steven found that totally hilarious. He was so exhilarated when I arrived for the night, just happy, giving me a blow by blow on the final winning touchdown. That was a scant four days ago.

My Hungarian step-daughters Lydia and Alexa flew in over the last couple of days and they were wonderful. The step-sisters were so good for Steven. Lydia took over and ran the show. Alexa was hit very hard, but we will try to comfort her. My other son David is being a rock for me, but he told his step-sister it feels as if someone amputated his right arm. As you know, there is no comfort really. Just the slow march of time to dull the edges.

One really funny scene today, if things can be funny with your beloved son growing cold on the bed next to you. A young man arrived and Lydia sort of "challenged" him at the door of Steven's hospital room. He said he was Steven's brother. Lydia was gobsmacked. She said she was Steven's sister and she'd never heard of him. Evidently he'd never heard of her either. It was Steven's half brother through his father. Alexa laughed at one point and said she had a totally step family. When she married and acquired a step-daughter, she called to apologize to me for how she had behaved many years before.

As you can see, it is my habit to handle grief and pain and troubles with wry humor. And scrubbing, lots of scrubbing. Somehow today, in addition to the painful time at the hospital, I've cleaned windows and pitched papers, sorted through Steven's belongings from the hospital and thrown out almost anything that reminded me of those terrible times, gone through mail that has piled up for months, cleaned litter pans, washed sheets and towels, mopped the kitchen floor and various other tasks. I'll keep this up for a while (poor cats, poor house). I may be begging my friends to let me scrub their houses, too.

No knitting content today. Knitting has been replaced with the above mentioned scrubbing. But I will add a photo of Steven and his proud mother the day he graduated from university...


And with his brother the Best Man on his wedding day...
Life was so full of promise then.

A Truly Horrible, Awful Day

You haven't heard from me in a while. I've been trying to keep up two blogs and Steven's was the more urgent. I've done some knitting.

Argosy Wrap is finished but not blocked. Noro Silk Garden, approximately 7 skeins on size 8 needles. Very happy with it, now waiting for a very cold day.

Kay, my writer friend of 39 years (OMG), has been sending me books and books and books to help me through the interminable waits at the clinic and late nights at the hospital. I started knitting a pair of socks for her before Christmas. But my mind and inability to count straight right now won't let me finish the complex pattern, or strangely any socks for the moment. First it was chemo hats, then shawls and scarves. Since I don't see those socks being finished any time soon, I started an Argosy for her since I'm "in the groove". Although the Argosy pattern is different from the shawl, I actually find it easier and more repetitive. Silk Garden again. Aren't Mr. Noro's color choices fascinating? You never know how they will knit up once you start.

The color sequence totally surprised me as I knit the first few repeats. Where is the rusty red, the browny green, the purple, the warm turquoise? But now that I'm twice as far, I'm actually quite fond of it. There is a Japanese expression for this sort of "let the surprise happen" (as in Raku) that escapes me right now (it's on the tip of my tongue), but I'm embracing it. Aha, it came to me...wabi-sabi (represents a comprehensive Japanese world view or aesthetic centered on the acceptance of transience).

So what is awful and horrible about this day? Steven's doctor called and asked me to arrange a meeting with the family. As some of you know, the leukemia came back three weeks ago and Steven has been fighting it with chemo and hopes of another bone marrow transplant. He is actually coming through the first chemo round surprisingly well considering, but a bone marrow test yesterday showed that it hadn't touched the leukemia, which is now 90% of his bone marrow. So no transplant, no more chemo, no options. Lots of tears. A lot of hard decisions must be made.

Here is a photo of my firstborn three or four years ago in healthy times. Kind, smart and funny.

Only fellow knitters will understand. All through the meeting with the doctor, I knitted ferociously, if not correctly, on Argosy. When I came home, I sterilized and refilled the hummingbird feeder at midnight, did some laundry, cleaned cat boxes, replenished the bird feeder, stared blankly at repetitive news of Hurricane Ike on CNN and I actually might run the vacuum before falling into bed, hopefully so exhausted that sleep will find me. It is very strange the things we do to cope. I should have continued knitting chemo hats. As long as I knit chemo hats, I kept Steven safe. He finally told me to stop. How many chemo hats did he need? I should have kept knitting those hats.