Crazy

Am I crazy that I think these would be fun to knit? Yeah, I thought so.

BTW, update on the pop resolution: Monday was day 1 for purchasing only one bottle o' caffeine a week. It was tough, but I made it. I expect day 2 will prove much more difficult.

New Year, New Resolution

Previously, I outlined my knitting resolutions. Today, I’m going all-out with the boredom factor to detail my one and only personal resolution (aside from getting a new job).

Resolution: Stop drinking so much soda*.
Odds of succeeding: nil.

Merriam Webster defines resolution as:

1. The act or process of resolving.
2. The subsidence of a pathological state.
3. Something that is resolved.

No wonder most resolutions fail. Goodness, what is a resolution but crossing your arms, stomping your foot and saying, ‘There. I fixed it.’ There. I stopped drinking soda. Except no, I haven’t.

Resolution is such a vague term that this year I’m going to use the much more apt terminology of goal setting.

Now setting a goal can also spell trouble. However, I am flush with incite into goals. In scientific teaching, we say that a goal is something with a measurable outcome. Revisiting my Resolution, I need to add some component that I can quantify. For example:

Goal: I will drink soda only when at a restaurant.
Measurable component: I can count the number of times I buy soda in the grocery store or a vending machine on campus.

That’s very nice, you might say. Let’s call it a day. Unfortunately, I don’t know how or when I’ll get to that goal. At the dojo, we say that a goal is a resolution with a written plan and deadline. Once again, let’s revisit that Resolution, now a Goal.

Goal: I will drink soda only when at a restaurant.
Step 1: I will not buy soda at the grocery store. This means no cans or bottles AND it means no 99 cent cups at the checkout counter. Deadline: January 1, 2010.
Step 2: I will buy no more than one soda from a vending machine in any given week. This means I will need to bring something from home – likely water or iced tea. Deadline: March 1, 2010.
Step 3: I will buy no soda from vending machines. Deadline: May 1, 2010.

The astute reader will notice that one deadline has passed. I am holding steady after 1 shopping trip and successfully resisted purchasing either a case of soda or a cup of soda at the checkout. I feel okay about this knowing I can still buy a bottle of soda at work, if I need to. I’ve got some time to survey my beverage options (are Margaritas okay at work? No? Are you sure?), make sure I’ve got proper vessels for transport and get past those withdrawal headaches.

There you have it. My over-analyzed, three-step program for kicking the soda habit.

*You should know that I am ashamed to admit that when I first typed this, I used pop instead of soda.

The Rage

Lest you think I’d forgotten the complete title of this blog – Knitting Rage – let me assure you I have not. In New Jersey, rage was easy and superficial. Yell about the bad drivers, crazy maneuvers on the Garden State and call it a day. Although Michigan hosts an unusually large number of Sunday drivers, it’s nothing to get worked up about. I could whine about the lack of culture, our inability to find decent pizza, bagels or Indian food. But that’s whining, not rage.

Today’s rageful thought of the day is about choices and the inward rage that sometimes accompanies those choices. Every evening, after the girls are in bed and have had their 93rd drink of water, I put the kettle on for tea and curl up in my big brown chair. Most nights I cruise blogs for 20 minutes and then turn to knitting. Occasionally, I get off my duff and hit the sewing machine. But every night, I struggle with guilt. My work chirps at me: read a paper, analyze that data, write up those results, think of something brilliant! As a postdoc in science (albeit it biology education), there is a common stereotype that we (a) have no life, no hobbies, no interests outside of the lab and the corollary (b) all we do is work, work, work – 80+ hours a week. Even within my field, there is the perception that hobbies and family are unfortunate and only detract from one’s research.

So that is my rage – at the stereotypes, at the departmental perceptions, at my own inability to clearly define myself, my life, my research. There is rage at society and the trend to work more, harder, longer. There is rage at the growing perception that our work defines us.

This semester, I’m sitting in on a graduate seminar that’s all about the Mommy track – how to balance family and a career. As a mother, I am hoping to gain incite into balancing work and family and guilt. As a scientist, I’m interested in whether the what, why and how we teach can prepare our students to better maneuver this evolving landscape. I expect to pick up this thread several more times this spring. The role of gender in science and education is becoming increasingly interesting.

Are you pondering what I'm pondering?

I have 2 rows left on the Helleborus scarf (I know - 2 rows. Couldn't have sucked it up and finished it last night or even this morning? And sadly, no, no I couldn't). Which means... I'm overdue in the ponder department. What to work on next? Under consideration:

1. Toddler Monkeys. I daresay I have enough yarn from the original Monkeys to make a wee pair.
2. Arm/wrist mitts. But which pattern? Currently considering Cabled Wristers, Toast, and Endpaper Mitts. Leaning towards the Cabled Wristers as I think they'd be a quick knit - and portable for upcoming holiday travels.
3. Get back to work on the Simple Cardigan of excessive grayness. I have the cuff of one sleeve done - that's 1.9 sleeves left to knit!!
4. Various other UFO - including tea lights and Na Craga.
5. Avoid this decision altogether and sew new pajamas for myself as my last pair just hit the trash (4 years old and going strong until a large hole emerged in the shorts). I do have some fantastic sock monkey flannel fabric.
   

Decisions, decisions. And, with the end of Glee until, what April? I've got to reconfigure my tv watching - what will fill the void in the intervening months? Finally, in the immortal words of Pinky:
"Well, I think so, Brain, but if Jimmy cracks corn, and no one cares, why does he keep doing it?"

Christmas Stockings

These stockings represent 3 independent knitters. In 2006 and 2009, I knit the plain felted stockings - one for each girl.


In 1980, my paternal grandmother made my stocking which has an uncanny resemblance to Eric's stocking, knit around 1976 by his maternal grandmother and later embellished by Eric.


Quite a motley crew, eh? Now some would say aw, tradition or neat-o that your stockings match. But I'm starting to wonder if perhaps it's time to create a new tradition - new stockings for the entire family. Stockings that match, that are modern, that are distinctly ours. What do you think? And should the stockings be sewn/quilted or knit?!

Ten things

If you want knitting content, visit Tuesday's post and add a few inches to the scarf. What can I say? The days leading into Thanksgiving are always busy for me - mostly because work picks up in anticipation of year-end deadlines. (Also, I pulled or tore a muscle in my abdomen, so I'm not quite working at full capacity.) So today I offer up the following diversion, inspired by Claudia via Carole.

Ten things I wish I knew how to do – and the likelihood of actually learning/doing

1. Sew a complete garment for one of my girls that looks professional in every way. Pretty high probability- I love to sew and smaller people mean faster projects (in general).
2. Code an awesome website. Probable. I'll need a good website professionally at some point - don't want to look like a fool to the funding agencies, eh?
3. Knit a pair of Anemoi mittens (aside: in my head, I call these anemone mittens). This requires learning stranded colorwork. Probably. As soon as I finish the rest of my queue, that is!
4. Raise confident, intelligent, compassionate daughters. This is not a cop-out! Every day, I try to better myself as a parent – how can I modify my behaviors to improve the environment in which they grow. Unknown, but I do hope this is highly likely. Only time will tell.
5. Write a novel (or novella) that I am not embarrassed to show friends (requires having an idea worthy of a novel). Rather unlikely, but you never know when inspiration will strike.
6. Have a house (or at least the downstairs) that does not look like the decorator was three-years old. Very unlikely.
7. Visit Alaska. Definitely - headed there this summer.
8. Walk part (all?) of the Kerry Way. Possible.
9. Draw. Incredibly unlikely. It is why I never finished my art minor - couldn't handle the drawing requirement!
10. Write an advice column. Incredibly unlikely. But I do read a bunch - from Auntie BubboPants on Ravelry to the traditional Dear Abby to the new traditional Dear Prudence to Savage Love. Working in a world where egos are larger than the suburbans the people drive, it's my little indulgence.
    

Na Craga angst

Given my spotty posting track record, you are undoubtedly unconcerned about the fate of Eric’s Na Craga. In fact, you’d be quite forgiven for even forgetting the existence of Eric’s Na Craga. Let me bring you up to speed.

First, an inventory:
1. Sleeves. Completed summer of 2006. At the time I had two fears: (1) all those cables and (2) sleeve island. Figuring the sleeves had fewer cables than the front and back, I tackled them first. Baby steps, right?
2. Front. Completed fall 2006. Buoyed by the success of the sleeves, I jumped head first into the body and quickly clicked my way to the boxy neck.
3. Back. .

What happened? You may recall that in November 2006, I thought it prudent to invert my entire life by having a baby. It took about 6 months for me to reach a new equilibrium (what can I say? I’m resistant to change) at which time I thought it prudent to line up a postdoc and defend my dissertation. Six more months to gain my sea legs and bam, I decide to have another baby. Invert life once again (which oddly enough does not return it to the 2006 pre-baby state at all) and pretty much all knitting takes a backseat to treading water in the land known as parenthood.

At that point, Na Craga was buried on a shelf, dead to me, Eric and the world. And then one day, one of my many LYS (Threadbear Fiber Arts) held a Customer’s Garage Sale. So I sorted through my books, fiber and yarn, culling the heard to make some dough when what did I stumble upon, but poor, neglected Na Craga. I gave it a sad smile, plumped the fronts, smoothed the arms and vowed to work on it… soon.

These days, Na Craga stares at me from a basket on the shelf, batting puppy-dog eyes and whimpering ever so softly. Maybe this winter, Na Craga. Maybe this winter.

Ode to scarf weather

I love this time of year. The dropping temperatures and crisp mornings nip at my neck. I happily reach for a scarf – maybe a lacy number, a cashmere cutie or a color-shifting wrap. Each scarf is a heaping helping of comfort food, warming my thoughts as I trudge through driving rain (and snow) to the bus stop, office and beyond.

Imaginary Rhinebeck

My previous post made no mention of my angst at missing yet another fun, fiber-filled weekend known colloquially as Rhinebeck and technically as the NY State Sheep and Wool Festival. My denial was so deep that I’d buried my resentment to the furthest, dustiest corners of my brain.

But trolling the blogs on Monday reminded me of what I’d missed. The yarn, the food, the cute animals. I must admit to a mild twinge of homesickness – I graduated from Arlington High School, just down the road. I’ve been to many state fairs, craft fairs and yes, Sheep & Wool festivals on those very fair grounds. And let’s not forget that it’s apple season and NY has, by far, the best apples in the nation (and I know for a fact that a lovely farmer and his family sets up a stand just down the road from the festival. They have some good Honeycrisps.).

I missed going to Rhinebeck this year by a hair. Well, by a work-related hair. The upset and anger I felt at missing Rhinebeck was perplexing. I have enough yarn. My knitting time is limited. I spin very little (though I yearn to spin more). Few projects entice me and fewer still captivate me long enough to complete. And yet here I was, pouting in the middle of Michigan because I couldn’t go to the party.

It’s classic, isn’t it? Like the toddler who wants the candy she can’t have or the teenager who wants their own car. We often want what we can’t have. I admire the folks who went for the people – friends and bloggers alike. But in all of their reports and photos there lingers the ubiquitous purchase. The skein of sock yarn, a bar of soap, a lone button or clasp.

And I wanted to be a part of that – I wanted to stroll an entire fairground devoted to fiber and pick up one or two things I didn’t need. I wanted to ogle yarns, ponder projects and make one or two hasty and rash purchases. I wanted a little retail therapy.

I know I live in a town with not 1 or 2 but 4 local yarn stores. I have ready access to fiber-related retail therapy. But it is not the same as trekking to Rhinebeck and joining the throngs of people – fiber novices to experts to revered masters. There is a camaraderie in that sort of retail therapy, as if a thousand other individuals collectively smile and say yeah, that skein of variegated cashmere sock yarn your currently ogling? It will make the perfect socks for your toddler girls.

Crumpets and Crones

I harbor deep fantasies, well, delusions of owning my own business one day. Most of the time, I revel in owning a yarn store. I have no idea what the particulars would entail. No doubt I would be horrific at choosing yarn (how do you settle on which to stock?), too tight with the money and miserable with advertising. But you can be sure I'd come up with a snappy company name. To wit:

The Naked Sheep (yes, this store already exists, but I didn't know that when the name occurred to me). I see quite a few Wooly Sheep stores, which makes no sense since the sheep must get naked in order to stock the store.

Twist and Shout. A combination knitting store and karaoke bar.

Crones and Scones. Not a knitting store, this would be a bakery (another fantasy) that I'd open later in life.

What would you name your shop?