ProseKnitic – of Words und Wolle

circa 2003

Emptying out my suitcase this morning, I found my uniform and beret. No t-shirts, thought I had them on a shelf here in Germany. Not true as it turns out; they all migrated to the UK over the last year. Except for one old and tattered hiding behind all my SciFi Convention t-shirts.

Now for boots. I own three pairs of desert type boots, all getting kind of old and worn down. Two pairs date from my time (2003-2004) in the desert and I do have some attachment to them. The third pair are Norwegian Army boots that I was given in 1998. More than 10 years ago, I only started wearing them in the last couple of years. Dating of course from the US Army changing to the ACU (Army Combat Uniform), transitioning to desert boots from the black combat boot.

It hasn’t been bad, polishing boots was never my thing. There are draw backs; the desert boots were designed for the desert. Seems obvious, right|? Now think about Germany and the UK. It can rain. A lot. Suede does not do well with water. If you spray you boots to seal them, they don’t let your feet breathe in hot environs. Not well insulated, your feet can get quite cold in the winter even ignoring the issues with snow. I do have options. I could spend the money on new boots.

Did I mention that the Army and Air Force don’ t have the same boots? That means a run through the clothing sales store while I am back here in Germany. Lots of money that I would rather spend on, oh lets say …..yarn, audio books, downloads from iTunes, books.

But they do look a bit worn, sad, ready to be retired.

There was no plan. Not even an inkling of one. As much as everyone gave lip-service to the concept, no one in West Germany ever imagined a reunified country.

But the wall did come down, and West Germany had to cope.

My second daughter learned to walk over Thanksgiving Weekend 1990 while we were visiting friends in Berlin. Standing on the balcony overlooking one of the gates, we watched people coming through, climbing over and otherwise making an epic crossing to the west. First opportunity for most since the 1950s to cross without risk of guns, dogs, or criminal proceedings. Oranges were everywhere.

West Berlin was packed, travel that several weeks before had taken just minutes now took hours as buses were packed full.  Not on that visit, but later in the year, Cherie and I made a trip to one section of the wall, bringing home baskets of pieces. I have yet a few.

So little remains today, in most areas it is hard to distinguish where the Wall stood.  My pictures of Berlin are all hard copy stored in a box, the cupboard located in our Heidelberg home.

Remaining today are museums, and the monuments.  I can offer you the Luftbrücken-Denkmal as part of thinking about today, Reunification Day. After WWII, from 1948 to 1949,Tempelhof was used for the “Berlin Airlift” to supply Berlin during the Soviet blockade. The Airlift Monument at Platz der Luftbrücke on the one end (Coordinates: 52°29’2″N 13°23’14″E

Tempelhof Luftbrückendenmal

and the other end at Rhein-Main Airbase

Rhein-Main Airlift Memorial

in Frankfurt here (50.03786200, 8.59548200).

Knitting

Supposedly, I am finishing up things. That might explain why I took that ball of Noro Silk Garden, cast 75 stitches onto a size 5.00 mm needles and proceeded to knit garter stitch. I had looked at one of the Noro Patterns, but it called for a lot more stitches at the same gauge. Heads might be big at times in my family, but as a routine they don’t measure large.

Start of Garter Stitch Hat

Ms Copper’s Bag

In case you were wondering about the background in the last pix -

Bag Materials.

Ms Copper decided that she would like a new shoulder bag features her latest monster.

The Monster Sketch

Since I had come come a bit early, there was time to run over to The Thread Emporium for both Purple Monster Fabric and a button for the closure.

Listening

The Silk Code - Paul Levinson, downloaded from Podiobooks.  He also has some well thought out and interesting commentaries on how communications tech is changing us all.

Yes, I know that the calendar reads August. There may be summer weather and sunshine elsewhere. But here in Camberley it is cool (16C), raining and school is back in session.

It is that last fact most of all that makes it fall for me. School starting has always signaled the end of vacation, the end of time off, the end of summer.

Gazing out my window, the first tinges of red are visible on one tree while another shows glints of orange and gold. Green grass still predominates with the ever present dandelions getting in yet another crop of yellow heads to insure their survival.

The first day of school for the youngest two teens, sending them off by train early this morning gave me that final click. The old year is ending, the new is beginning. Never mind that it is a month till Rosh Hashannah, my internal calender has declared this fall.

Books

My reading binge continues. Probably the best explanation for why I am not providing you with nice pictures of knitting, progress on sweater, vests, and shawls.

I am rotating between novels, genre quick reads and professional “stuff.” Since I have finished the nine books I picked up at the library last week (exactly what do you think started me off anyway?)

The final book on the pile was Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill. Suggested by a reading group, I was rather disappointed. I don’t mind anyone using connections to get their manuscripts read. But this trend of off-spring riding on parents’ coat tails with less than great writing…… It is a quick read, horror if anything genre. Plot moves along properly, secondary characters are pretty flat and some fact checking would have been nice.

If you are looking for knitting, I have been distracted.

By a deer in the back garden before six in the morning that could move rather rapidly. Much more so than my ability to get outside with the camera.

Under the tree

taking off

By setting up SQL & Apache Servers on my laptop.  By noting a new (to me) WordPress Theme – Anvil which I found from Interconnect IT’s blog.  ( Dave has a nice example of it in use. )

And by dealing with the TV Licensing Authority which is having problems getting their minds (?) around the concept of a householder without a TV. They have escalated the tone and quality of their letters. Since I have the same phone number as the previous tenant the telephone harassment will likely begin any day.

BT got it when they called the other week to market their new package:

“We would like to tell you about…., who is your current cable provider?”

“I don’t have one. I don’t have a TV.”

“Oh, well then. Thank you very much for your time.”

And she rang off.

Tying the  concepts together: what I do with my time,  not having a TV, and all those comments we all receive about “I don’t have enough time for that.”

Clay Shirky has an interesting take in his Article Gin, Television, and Social Surplus in which he traces waves of social change and society’s investment of excess time. He does it with a look at critical technologies – gin during the industrial revolution, sitcoms in the later half of the 20th Century (we know where all that excess time went….) and the new social cooperative ventures of the Internet.

And what’s astonished people who were committed to the structure of the previous society, prior to trying to take this surplus and do something interesting, is that they’re discovering that when you offer people the opportunity to produce and to share, they’ll take you up on that offer.

All of us are engaging each other. In the fiber community, besides the thousands and thousand of blogs and websites there is Ravelery. Social networking and cooperation, perhaps at its finest: yarn is being mailed around the world to help someone finish a project; forums cover everything from particular garments, locations and yarns through technology and audiobooks;working relationships are being made that span the globe.

Me? I test and use open source software, listen to podcasts from around the world, cruise blogs, and knit.

Why would I need a TV?

In one of those Internet phenomenas, I found my thoughts converging between what I have written in the last couple of days, what Fabienne wrote on Monday and some concepts in the Podibook Beautiful Red by M Dursha Wehm.

I don’t find that real life is all that different between those I physically meet and those with whom I maintain an email/blog/phone link. But there are some major changes in how this community is defined for me. That difference I think relates to my age.

In my professional life, I have long been connected by phone with colleagues who I never met face to face. In 1986 when my organization added email capability, this extended to electronic communications. It was only with the advent of USENET and the early Fidob BBSs that this connection passed from the professional domain into the private where I could connect with essentially total strangers with whom I had common interests.

It takes a longer time to grow true friendships in the electronic environment than in a physical world in my opinion. Words can be deceiving and the lack of body language makes checking the veracity of our correspondent a bit trickier. For as many stories of finding soul mates and boon companions, there are balancing horror stories of fraud and deceit.

Sociologically, we haven’t kept up with labels, names or words that describe our new relationships, instead focusing more on what is real and virtual.. To say that we don’t need them begs the question. Definitions lead to common understanding and communications. In the knitting world – there is an understanding when someone says lace weight, fingering or bulky yarn for a project. A podcast is not the same as a YouTube Video.

What do you think? Should we work out words that fill those social gaps between “friend” and “acquaintance” in line with the old penpal which was a clear description of both relationship and method? English to start? Or perhaps to co-opt words from French, German, Hebrew or whatever to fill in those gaps? The fiber community has not been shy about creating and adopting new language (frog, tink, WIP, SIP, UFO). The tech community does it on a daily basis.

SKP2008

Round three was released last night. Since the release time was 1200 in the US, already there are a number of people with theirs completed. I cast on this evening, just completing the cuff of the first sock this evening out of Fortissima Colori.

My printer is out of black ink. I haven’t been able to print the pattern. Will do so in the morning along with my boarding pass and knit on the way to Zurich en route to Majorca.

the last room

The last mess to clean up.

-Holly

Memes have been around long before blogging. Being started, evolving and occasionally dying out, The advent blogging software rapidly spread the Meme phenomena to epidemic proportions. There is even The Daily Meme which provides a variety of entertainment from definitions to ideas.

Most of us participate occasionally, a few frequently. It is a shared social action that ties us together across countries and time zones. Since Ravelry seems to be more about discourse and databasing, I haven’t seen an impact on either the common posting or tag forms of memes and it just may have spread the quiz form that much faster.

You are all familiar with the Quizzes.  Several sites have a wide variety of choices that you take and then are provided HTML code to post to your own site. Most include a cute graphic describing you as a jelly donut or a cheesecake, or perhaps you checked to see if you were cotton, linen or wool.  The blogging effect is to increase traffic primarily to the quiz source and providing you content on a boring day.

The next group are the common or theme postings: Photo Friday, 365 Days, and the Alphabet are examples of this sort of meme. They draw a group together if it is a time limited meme and increase post reading among the participating members. The Webrings, brought over from static pages day are the only ones likely to increase outside readership.

Finally, there is the rampant meme that spreads with Tag.  The rules are simple – post the rules, leave messages on victim’s blogs to notify them of their tagged status, post your own answers, and link to whomever tagged you. The effect of these memes is to spread themselves to as many blogs as possible while increasing links between blogs, and [one hopes] increased readership as measured by hits or comments. The side effect of several of these is to spread personal information about one’s self. This information has as much potential to decrease readership as it does increase it.

It is obvious if you think about this in epidemiological terms most people actually don’t play. You are all familiar with the grain of rice and the chess board? Or the chain letter? The average meme asks you to tag five other bloggers. That is an R of 5. An infectious disease that has a replication value of 2 can easily become epidemic wrecking disaster on a population. The current models for pandemic influenza are actually in that range.

Now look at memes. What would happen if you actually tagged five people and they all did the meme? How long would it take to get around the world? Be on everyone’s board? How many cycles would it take?  I am sure that someone has done the modeling, maybe Fabienne who knit me the most wonderful socks in Sockapalooza4?

Why am I muttering around about this? I play only rarely.

Why? I find few which fit, are thought provoking or just so silly that I can’t resist. I have been posting architectural bits – Arches/Doors – for Photo Friday since I started blogging.  The following is not silly which means that it might fall into the thought provoking. Maybe. But mostly it might tell you more about me than you already know, a really scary concept.  Tagged by the Yarnarian – I lifted much of Carolyn’s intro to make my life easier:

“The rules of the game get posted at the beginning. Each player answers the questions about themselves. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog. Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve posted your answer.”

1. What was I doing 10 years ago? Commanding Task Force Med Eagle in Bosnia. Co-located at the Blue Factory with NorMedCoy, we provided the medical support for MND(N) including evac by ground and air, Prev Med, Vet, Dental and Mental Health teams and the Role 3 hospital. Foremost on everyone’s mind was the upcoming 4th of July celebration. Hot topics included such important items as
1) Hanta (the band) and what were they going to play
2) weather
3) food
4) what were the chances of being allowed civilian clothes for the day given the theater dress code allowed for BDUs or PT Uniforms only.

2. What are 5 things on my to-do list for today? Sick Parade, update my CV, finish writing up my notes from last week’s meetings, file all the strewn about papers in my office, and work on one of the UFOs.

3. Snacks I enjoy: Carrots, peanut butter, trail mix, diet sodas and herb teas.

4. Things I would do if I were a billionaire: After I got done paying my taxes and the balance on the mortgage, I would grab one of the people in my DHs financial group for advice on avoiding any more tax; set up trusts (family, shul, and some educational institutions), a charitable foundation (hire the Eldest to run it – she has amazing organizational skills) and …….go back to work. I might buy a few toys that I don’t have but my life otherwise for the next three years wouldn’t change a lot.

5. Places I have lived: Minnesota (MPLS, Hopkins, Minnetoka, Chaska, St. Paul); Heidelberg, Stuttgart, Wuerzburg, Kaiserslautern, and Munich Germany; Camp Doha, Kuwait; Camberely UK (the high points including only those places where I was longer than 12 months).

6. Jobs I have had: Datapunch clerk. Night lab tech, strawberry picker, physician (couple of specialities) and 19 duty positions + duty positions with the Army (same employer for the last 27 years. Now how did that happen?)

7. Bloggers: 5 people who I hope are good sports:

Debbie

Kathy

Veronika

Ebony

Cathy-Cate

I realized as I looked at their URLs, that there are two blogspots, two WordPress and a TypePad person. All of them do an amazing amount of knitting but all have different tastes. I covered a couple of continents and several states. (For those of you who are breathing a sigh of relief, I try to spread the joy around!)

Knitting

The pattern is out for SKP2008. It is going to be my knitting this weekend as I head first to Switzerland then on to Majorca. Socks, cameras and the DHs office paying a good portion of the bill. What more could I want?

I decided to knock off the baby jacket first. Since I had to hang out at Croughton this morning, it just was the thing for a waiting room.

(imagine the picture – I will insert it as soon as I free up a USB port for uploading. This laptop only has two, one is tied up with the mouse and the other with the printer.)

Books &

Good Blood by Aaron Elkins &
Shaman’s Crossing by Robin Hobb – both from the library.
on the MP3 is South Coast by Nathan Lowell. Get it from him or Podiobooks

30 June 2008, Monday – Process, perfection or procrastination?
Camberley, UK

Perfection or Completion? Perhaps it is more critical an issue for those who make their living off writing or their blogs; I think it might be worth the rest of us thinking about it. I have seen discussions about whether someone is a process knitter or a product knitter and there are those who definitely fall to one extreme or other of the spectrum. In reality, it is probably another Bell Curve with most of us falling within those 2 standard deviations.

But perfection or completion is a bit different. Besides a variety of knitting, spinning and weaving blogs I dally at some tech, sci-fi and writing locations. Jason got me thinking. Does the need for perfection in writing a post mean that you take so much time that it doesn’t happen? Does the desire for perfection slow me down and insert delays? Is that why I hit procrastinating streaks on the publish button push? Is fear of failure/being ignored compounding the problem? Is a post with no comments a failure?

Blogging has gone from being a simple journal to a social discourse. In normal day to day events we get feedback from those around us and look askance at those who wander around talking to themselves. If you write something and no one comments, is that the same as talking to yourself? That post still might be read and have an impact. One of the commentors on Jason’s board mentioned Heilein’s rules of writing: write, finish what you write and sell it. If you don’t write a post every once in a while, then no one can read it.

On the old BBSs, USENET or mailing lists, lurking was the common accepted practice. Most posted only when they had something to say on content boards. A few seemed to have to say something on every topic; the delete key was useful in eliminating all those me too comments.

The importance was social community and shared interests. This carried over into early webpage development where people set up pages relating to one thing or another, most communications being email and out of sight of the rest of that website’s readers. Keeping content fresh and current was the key to hits.

With blogging, most enable comments to facilitate feedback or discussion. For any subject, there are some well known SMEs (subject matter experts) who draw a high readership and extensive comments. There are some subjects that lend themselves well to comments and sharing and others where you just find the particular fact and scoot off. Leaving a comment on a post several years old is just not always in the forefront of your brain, especially if you don’t know how their software platform handles comments to old posts.

There are those gems of posts I find on Tikkunknitter, Treppenwitz, or Widowswalk but I am as guilty as everyone else about reading without contributing.

I realized early on that blogging is one of my hobbies. It is not my life or career. I can then write what I like, track projects and life, and just try to keep page design under control. There is no way that I really want hundreds of responses to every post. I appreciate those who do take the time to write the occasional word. Those are precious gifts.

But if I put things off, because it is not completely what I wanted to say then the post doesn’t get written. If too many days go buy it would seem natural to have readership fall away.

I don’t think I have to worry about perfection, not with my posts frequently sounding like I was asleep or thinking in Gerglish while writing.

-Holly

Please remember that inspite of living the last 15 years as an ex-pat I am still at heart an American. Besides being the Boy Scout oath of trustworthy, loyal etc. I have been known to be less than flexible and have some fairly high standards about performance. I am caught in a bit of truth in advertising; I tend to believe what stores have on their advertisements, especially when it comes to pricing or opening hours.

After all, it doesn’t make any sense to me to piss off (American here, as in get angry – not drunk) your customer base by lying about the basics.

And then there is Tesco’s Extra. Big signs all over the grounds

On the buildings

The Fuel Point (aka gas station) with petrol pumps for diesel as well as the normal grades of premium and extra (what happened to regular? Did they think that it was uncool to drive somethign that took normal, ordinary octane fuel? But I digress). Was open with people at the pumps. It is also what all of us have begun to expect as a quick type stop to include various food stuffs, muchies, auto supplies, reading materials and a wall cooler full of beverages.

But what I really wanted you to see is this!

can’t see it? How about this?

What you don’t see is the store open. Those are big steel doors rolled down. Walking around – an employee headed to his job told me “10 on Sunday.”

Not Open 24 Hours in my book.

Wool

Washed some fleece yesterday and took it back outside to dry again this morning.

Shawl

Hyacinth took up much of the rest of my relaxing day.

After completing all of the repeats, I motored on through the 22(?) rows of the edging bemoaning that it was starting to feel too long for the needle.

Then I decided to add beads a few rows back from the edging. Floss threaders are great, but it still takes forever when adding a bead every five stitches across the rim while desperately hoping you have not dropped any of the yarn overs.

I like the way it looks and the pattern that developed

Now I just have to fix one small place (something about not noticing one of those mentioned yarn overs which crawled back down a few rows) before blocking.

Now – which of the UFOs should I start?

Books etc

Precious Dragon: an Inspector Chen Mystery by Liz Williams in hardback while I finished up Playing for Keeps by Mur Lafferty and am now on the fourth episode in South Coast. By Nathan Lowell, this book is also set in his Solar Clipper Universe.

This is the time of year many of us have reunions, celebrate the graduations of various off spring and friends and otherwise reflect on where we came from and where we are going. What started me thinking about this was the Knitigator’s post on her college reunion. She mentions friends doing well and seeing members of the Class of 48.

I am not a fan of reunions. I have been to exactly two in my life – a high school reunion five years after I graduated and a 25 year medical school on. The first was a total disaster and the second was attended by hardly anyone that I knew.

Let me explain. I graduated high school in a rural small town with a consolidated school district. Five years later, out of 118 in the graduating class there were only five of us still involved in obtaining an education one of whom had just returned to school after serving in Viet Nam. My average classmate was divorced with two small children. Various class members were working on the family farm, in the family store, packing pickles for Gedney or shoveling sugar beets. College, much less graduate or professional school was not the norm. Five years out, a single nerdy woman, I had even less in common with anyone than I had while attending the school.

I left early and promised myself that I would not do that particular number again.

It was a promise I managed to keep for 27 years. Then 2000 rolled around and I was lulled into thinking about seeing how the University of Minnesota had changed. There were a number of good things about the trip. I spent time with old friends not related to school. I got to gape at Mall of America and I even found some clothes that fit. None of my close classmates bothered to come. Many of them are local to the area and probably saw no need to attend.

The only tolerable part wound up being my table companions for the dinner. I managed by some fortune to sit with mostly prior military scholarship folks. As a result, we actually had something in common. Since I was pretty anti-military going through school, I really knew almost none of them (in case you are wondering – there were over 230 who graduated with me. Since the group consisted of both 3 and 4 year program students, there was little to no chance that everyone knew everyone else).

Since I went to a large state university that didn’t particularly foster school spirit or camaraderie outside of sports or the fraternity/sorority scene, attending a reunion is just outside my realm. I have no idea what has happened to the hundreds who graduated with me.

In 1948 my parents graduated from University of MN and got married. My father after having served in WWII, my mother having spent most of her growing up years in a small town. Reunions? Not likely there either.

I am fascinated by the lives and experiences of others, but I am too old to want a do-over and regrets can waste a lot of energy.

Shawls

Perhaps the Internet is not such a good thing. I was able to cruise around and buy a couple of shawl patterns from Sivia Harding and Evelyn Clark. After one false start with Misti Alpaca – I tried the Diamond Fantasy Shawl
The first few rows looked fine.

and the pattern clearly shows in a closeup

The yarn is STR medium weight; a skein of Bella-Coola that I got in the 2007 STR Club. I like the fact that the edging is part of the shawl. You should know me by now, lots of making up is just not my thing.

AudioBooks

Did a small bit of damage today at AudioBookStand. They had a number of kids CDs on sale. I have a tendency to buy and then donate to my local military library. They have plenty of cases, but no money to enlarge their collection. Plus free shipping and a couple of free audiobooks just made my day.

Podcasts

I don’t listen to fiber related podcasts. Rather, I spend that time on other subjects that interest me. Currently, I am listening to Spider on the Web. After hearing the first eight tracks of Variable Star I decided to download and catch up with his older podcasts. He has a nice combination of talk, music and personal opinion. I really wish he did a decent job of broadcast notes. Trying to write down URLs while knitting is fraught with errors.

-Holly

I didn’t touch my knitting needles at all today.

If you want a beautiful sweater – look at Sylvia’s Shawnee Parkway Cardigan

Me? I read, listened to some audio tracks and thought about names. Place Names, people’s names.

It really seems that those names you hear regularly as a child seem totally normal to you no matter how they sound to others. As an adult, the unfamiliar can be strange. I would say it is not a function so much of language, but that might not be completely true.

I grew up speaking a variant of American English know as Mid-West. Not all that many contractions, few abbreviations and a clear but occasionally flat diction. No extra dropped or added syllables, not an extra “r” in site. This has carried on to the present, unless I spend too much time around other regional accents. Give me a few days and my speak slides toward their norm.

But it doesn’t mean that I understand the localities naming conventions like I understand and think that Anglicized Native American names are normal. I can better deal with some German place names, since I never translate them than I can with Martin’s Heron, Canadian Water, or Middle Wallop.

I think I should start a meme about interesting or nonsensical place names. Even worse, I could add the issue of those poor children whose parent’s name them after a place. (Would you really want to grow up with a first name of Arizona, Dallas, Montana, or Kentuck if you were not a country and western singer?)

Books

Since I have obviously not been knitting, these are some of the books in the pile from the last week or so.

Beyond Reach – Karin Slaughter. Absolutely hated it. Too ugly, too violent and a really nasty ending. She is an excellent writer, but her grittiness, realism and lack of my type of ending means this is the last book of hers that I will read. I want to enjoy to a book, not to be horrified. And I want an ending that has the good team winning.

I think I have already mentioned some of the following:

Iron Kissed – Patricia Briggs. A quick and good read.
Predatory Game – Christine Feehan. Like a couple of her other series, the story is the same retold with new characters. Getting repititious..

Grimspace – Ann Aguirre. Great new SciFi voice with an origirnal character and plot twist.

Shadowing Ivy - Janelle Taylor. Female Police Officers simply aren’t this helpless and stupid. The plot and development are fine. Too much effort is put in to make this a romance and not enough research into police procedures.

And then there is

A Curious Affair – Melaine Jackson. Actually understanding cat speak? Unquestionably a mixed blessing.

Heart of Stone – CE Murphy. A new series featuring a kick-ass attorney and a gargoyle. Not bad at all. For some reason, probably being asleep while ordering, I have two copies. Anyone want the extra?

em>House of Cards – CE Murphy. Second in the series mentioned above. The action keeps moving and the character development is both believable and clever.

Cast in Secert – Michelle Sagara. I like the series for fun escape reading. Perhaps the middle book is better. In any case, this book really can’t be read as a stand-alone. But I would recommend the series, especially when they are finally released in paperback. No clue as to when that would be. I would not recommend any of these in electronic format. The publisher just doesn’t get the concept of lower prices for electronic distro.

You have to wonder at people. There they are,sitting on the train, totally public and carrying on conversations that would be best kept private.

Last week when I was on the train between Birmingham and Reading, Coach A was designated as the quiet car, with all cell phone usage prohibited. The car was packed, needless to say, so I know that I am not the only one who prefers not to know what business the man next to me is conducting. Or would rather waive the opportunity to hear the opinions of the woman six rows back. Whinging loudly at her boyfriend for clubbing this upcoming weekend, she followed with calls to three of her girlfriends to report on the previous conversation.

Inanities that I would have preferred not to hear. Frankly, I can see the boyfriends point. Who would want to spend time with this chick?

That is not to say that there are not times when a phone call is not needed or useful. I have no problems with the quick calls that let family or friends know arrival times. But to take the train car and turn it into an office? Please, get a driver or a private compartment.

Oh, these are British trains without private compartments? How about that computer plug next to your seat? Why don’t you just plug in and be quiet?

I like the idea of a bubble helmet over a person’s head, containing both them and their words. Colour me old fashion, but manners might just be important, and we all pay for our seats.

And now there is talk of allowing the usage of cell phones on airplanes, the last travel refuge.

Have you ever noticed the relationship between the weight of your bag and the length of time it has been over your shoulder?

Especially in the case of a back pack carelessly slung over one shoulder; the epitome of cool.

Is it arithmatic? Exponential? Or logarithmic, that increase of weight over time.

I can make a case for any of the above.

At the beginning of the day, fresh and full of energy with all those essentials packed carefully, your set off on your journey. The beverages are drunk, the snacks eaten as the day progresses. Perhaps a round or 40 are knit on that sock and a few photos are taken. The bag weighs heavier as the hours pass. Nothing has been added, no shopping, purchases or souvenirs accumulate for the return journey.

So why does that pack drag you down so much at the end of the day, heavier it seems by far as you trudge from the train station through town back to base?

Out the Windows

At work

And at home. Before you ask – all the mowers on my street seem to be non-operational. If it rains much more, the swath that the Mole accomplished when he was here is going to disappear.

Sock Wars III Continues

For the affectionadoes – Fran even developed a spreadsheet. I trust that none of you will use it for Spam.

There aren’t any Obits today. There are 700 (as of 2330) fallen knitters, they are just not posting. Waah.

I have had a lovely evening – listening to old Podcasts and knitting these socks. Took out the first toe just in case and I am now doing them both at the same time to make sure that I have enough yarn. STR is not generous with Silkie yardage. A progress picture – and I will post the completed pix before they go in the mail.

The Viking Ship Sweater

On hold for just the day – but this is the catch-up photo, you can see one half of the body completed. The second side is lacking four rows. Since I am doing these back and forth to accomplish the neck shaping, they are a bit slower (two handed purling anyone?).

Berlin Muster – SKP2008

Back to these tomorrow -

It has been a lovely 17 degrees and sunny in Finland.

As we were coming into Frankfurt, it was mid 20s, and not bad at all.

And then there is London. London City airport. It is 15 degrees. And raining, let us not forget the rain. We walk down the ramp out into the rain. There is plane side pick up of luggage for those who plane side checked bags. I see my suitcase being unloaded; releaved that it made it.

Nasty day, and a bank holiday to boot. So National Rails is doing their thing, offering bus service here and there along the journey.

Rain is good on Memorial Day. At least as a member of the military forces, it is a day for reflection and thought, not for sales and picnics. So rain is fine. I much prefer funerals in the rain.

Let the heavens weep as we hear day after day of further “losses” in Iraq and Afghanistan. Why do we play with euphemisms? No one is lost, we know exactly where to find their bodies. They are dead, killed for the ambitions of others by a government that seems to think that sunk costs justify more sacrifice.

Lost to their families and friends, lost to the future. Contributions that will never be made, homecomings that will not be made.

Attend a ceremony, go to a cemetery to honor those who gave up their lives for their country.

The way to make a sacrifice not be in vain is to take courage and honor in hand. To not let events stampede us toward a future more brutal than the realities of the present. If we truly believe in democracy and the right of self determination, then we need to let other countries have that same right.

Even when they don’t chose as we would wish.

-Holly

At least there is a reason why I don’t have a clue, one of the Finns explained to me today. A professor of Human Geography, he warned that you can’t figure out much without a knowledge of the basic grammar.

Unlike most other languages which developed some sense several thousand years ago (and then there is Estonian and Finnish), there are no articles in Finnish. Rather, all those designations, to include prepositions, some actions and modifiers are provided by one or more of the 32 potential suffixes. That is right my friends, not only do you have to know the root word, you have to hear the rest of the word to figure things out. Even more fun than Russian with six cases. So it is not just an excess of l, j, k, m, n, v along with common t, r, and s. Or the almost never seen d, z, c, q, x, b, c. It explains all those in, en le la. Vowels, I will reassure you, are plentiful and may be used in combination. But there are really an amazing number of ls and ns out there. The grammatical process that causes those incredibly long word is agglutinative morphology.

I think it might be easier to settle for just being an erect (most days) bipedal, plantigrade being with flat nails. I will disagree with the presumption that we are the only species that passes down knowledge along with genetics. (Marine biology anyone?)

I also found yarn. Two stores, Sypressi and the Finnish equivalent of Husfliden. And then there is www.pirtinkenhraamo.fi .

The kids had the camera today. Or not, as it turned out.

can be marked by such a simple thing. Today I saw this fancy bus pull into the Heidelberg Shopping Center and realized from the sign on the front that it was the Route A bus.

In 1995, it was a Blue Bird that ran the routes. It was another of the same ilk that we rode, full battle pushing us forward on the seats, sliding off at potholes and around corners from Slav Brod to the Blue Factory in 1998.

Blue Birds were the school buses that I remember from childhood, and seeing them reincarnated out on military deployments was a shock. Many times they had a cheap paint job over the yellow and the stop sign arm had been unscrewed; rusted holes marking the side of the bus. Suspensions are best described as non-existent.

It became a right of passage and you always knew it was the right bus, that shuttle bus, because no other organization with any kind of compassion would have such hulking, uncomfortable transportation. Soldiers just endure, happy that the ride is free.

This bus was silver. Not yellow, white, blue or various rust speckled paint jobs I have seen over the years. It probably meets current safety specs including the presence of seat belts. Adults no longer jamming themselves into seats that best serve elementary school children and make sardines with the feeling of knees around your ears for anyone of late teens and up.

I took a picture, but then realized it is only a bus. One without history or charm to its comfort.

-Holly

There are worse things than no comments, and that is one pointing out errors in spelling and grammar.

‘Tis a fine line to walk, providing information without being insulting. Expressing an opinion that disagrees while avoiding accusations of malfeasance. Content comments can accomplish that, corrections do not.

Did I tell you that I have been known to use the almost random comma?

A long time ago, more than 40 years as a matter of fact, I was in high school English. Besides studying grammar and diagramming sentences we wrote essays. I used to be good at both of those. In those years, 1960s, there was little call for creative writing in school. In fact creative writing was what we all did on those various exam essays in an effort to fill both time and page when the knowledge of details was a bit lacking.

Now there seems to be in certain groups a conspiracy of complicity. If you don’t agree, you say nothing. Unlike real life, only nice things may be said.

Nice, read it helpful, is in the eye of the writer, not reader.

If you have not read by Lynn Truss may I suggest it to you as hilarious reading which making some excellent points about today’s society. That which she sees existing in London at any case.

We will not talk about her Eats, Shoots, and Leaves since I have already acknowledged my lack of comma properness.

I was going somewhere with this? Ah, yes.

How to provide constructive comments without starting a flame war. For those of you who are not old enough to have been on alt.rec.(insert your various groups here or various Listservs, when participant exchanges heated up past the level of discourse and dissolved into nastiness and name-calling, those exchanges were called flame wars.

The basic principle of “disagree with the idea, do not be personal” was forgotten. It is one thing to say “that is a stupid idea” and another to say “you are an idiot for saying that.” The second maybe implied from the first, but it is not explicitly so stated. Political debates in the US have degenerated into name calling and it is not pleasant, seeing it in writing preserved for eternity is not an improvement.

Providing facts and fact checking is more important in these days of unrestrained word flow. I hesitate to call it information flow. Website and blog follow each other. Blatantly incorrect information is passed along like treasure from the Victoria & Albert Museum. Woe to a person who challenges it.

On other sites, corrections and changes are welcomed as the goal is to have the most accurate information possible. As a contributor on Wikipedia, most of the exchanges are polite and simply a request for source material so that verification of corrections and updates can be accomplished. An answer that contains “program guide from the closure ceremony – would you like me to scan it and send it?” suffices.

With our knitting bloggers, email might be a better way to communicate. Most blogging software allows the blog author to delete comments. Facts and figures, along with references are not likely to survive, no matter how nicely put. (Hey, I talk to generals and survive, I can be polite and tactful when it is necessary).

I appreciate knowing when I have made an error or said something quite stupid. Personally I don’t want to be a source of misinformation. And we have all said something we think is fact without double checking our references. So please help me out when I am wrong.

And no, I have not been participating in either side of arguments or wars. But I have stopped reading several blogs because the writers have gone from interesting to personal attacks. Admittedly, several hundred yes comments on any post can be extremely boring, but I find nothing worth reading in paragraphs of personal diatribe.

Unless, of course, I can hand the writer a fistfull of commas and some capital letters.

On a foggy morning I was looking out the window and thinking.

When I was young and could not spell, no one put a fancy name on it. I just swapped letters around and made consistent mistakes; rewarded with having carry over words for next week.

At some point, probably university level, I learned to spell dyslexia and was able to put a name on my number swapping and reading misadventures. By then it didn’t matter, I had learned to compensate by keeping a dictionary handy. Looking up words became a matter of habit even when a word just didn’t look quite right.

Along come word processors followed by word processing programs. Built in spell-checkers were incorporated and I lost track of my dictionary.

There is a difficulty with depending on your word processing software. It has to have your word in its data-banks. All the words are simply not included, there are too many of them. Technical words and specialized jargon are the least likely to be included. But other words which to me seem quite ordinary might just be missing. Judiciary was one such word several years ago, as was bureaucratic.

What choices did I make, did most people make when complicated words or grammatical forms were not compatible with the program? Make is simpler, make it easier so that there are no red underlined words.

Dumb it down. Use fewer words. Contract rather than expand word usage. Otherwise, it is work, you see to find that dictionary and look up a word or go on-line to one of the extensive dictionaries to figure out what it was that you really wanted.

Haven’t you noticed that we are using a smaller number of words, quoting others and repeating ourselves?

My excuse is that I can’t spell ….

Knitting

Hodge Podge has come out of hiding. I have been working a few rows on the sleeve piece here and there. It is time to switch from straight to in the round and just buzz down the sleeves. Once I figure out where the right sized dps are, that is.

Spinning

Two more ounces of Rufus BFL went from roving into singles while I enjoyed the back garden this evening. Since the weather was holding, I went ahead and plyed up the four ounces of singles that were taking up bobbins on the Paulitz.  Even in bright light, the colour variations are fairly subtle. As a contrast yarn in stranded colourwork, I am hoping by spinning in this particular manner I will have the effect of multiple yarn colors while saving the effort of changes with all those ends to weave in.

Books & Audio

Too many books, too many locations.
Black Ice in the car and Blood Work in the living room. Both by Michael Connelly
Latte Trouble by Cleo Coyle just finished in paperback.
Spirits that Walk in Shadow by Nina Kiriki Hoffman just started in hardback.

-Holly

The sounds are summer; birds commenting or quarreling nosily in the trees, Lawn mowers munching through the grass with a midrange burr while traffic swells and recedes in the background. My spinning wheel mummers quietly along, the spokes swishing gently, the footman silent and the flyer’s chatter soothing as the bobbin fills. Colour follows colour pst the hooks winding onto the core, layer upon layer of muted silver and copper, creams and rusts of fall.

Without music or audio-book, I am tuned into the wildlife around me. Squirrels do battle with determined black and white birds for seed and treats. Not on purpose am I perched on the bench without electronics. The MP3 player needs to be recharged, there are no near outlets and we won’t talk of batteries.

Once again, the sunshine is warm and soft breezings are clearing the cold from the house through open windows bringing freshness to rooms grown sick of winter’s damp chill.

Bank holdiays are also apparently taken by yarn stores. I know know where both Park Lane in Basingstoke and Fibrecraft in Guildford are located. There are lots of lovely small roads along with back country rude drivers. My money is safe in my pocket.

Reality time

Pat sent this link to me from the New Yorker. In a very clear way, Jared Diamond makes his point about governments, tribal societies and personal/governmental roles. I have always found him to be excellent in his writings in Anthropology, using the material to make a good assessment of the current political scene.

For those of you who are having trouble understanding why the US policies are not working in the Middle East, I would strongly recommend his books and articles

Treasures

In the regular mail came this from Australia.

Hint – a beanie apparently refers to headgear in general, and not just those with propellers on top.

The Alice Springs Festival is coming up.  Kathryn sent me the program book to remind me that there are otherthings besides yarmulkas to knit. Even so, one has to wonder at the number of geographically different that have independantly developed essentially the identical headgear.The non-art versions that is.

And then there is this from Jen -

Lovely, brown and 110 meters just looking to become a soft and gentle project. Lace scarf I am thinking to make it go the farthest. Or perhaps a cowl? Needs just the right pattern….

Books

Read Died in the Wool by Mary Kruger (aka Mary Kingsley). A bit light in the character development and with some gaping holes in plotting, I still found this cozy a fun and quick read. The wrap up was fine, leaving you wanting the next story in the series.

On the last CD of High Country by Nevada Barr. I appreciate a protagonist who is not in her 20s… Call me shallow, but my book tastes have been changing as I, too, have gotten older.

-Holly

How we have learned our craft has changed over the years. It used to be that you learned from someone, usually a mother or a grandmother.  To learn new things, you found someone to teach you. It is really only recently (a few decades) that there have been books as well as an increase in magazines that feature both methodologies as well as pattern collections with a wide range of interests.

The Knittyvritti made comment on grandmothers as she used what she calls her Virtual Grandmother to help her.

Thinking back on my two grandmothers: one did an extensive amount of handwork during the 30s. It was the depression and they had little money. To her it was a necessity, not pleasure or joy. Once she could afford store bought, Esther never looked back.

My mother felt much the same way, viewing handmade clothing and sweaters as a sign of poverty. It was only when she was extremely stressed that she turned to knitting, sewing or needlework. Her background did not let her see that handmade=loved from the point of view of her two daughters.

My other grandmother did exquisite needlework which she used to decorate fancy outfits and sweaters. That grandfather had a good job and they sailed through the depression without worries. Ann had the luxury of time to enjoy her abilities along with a social circle that appreciated her creativity.

Neither of them, nor my mother were particularly teaching minded. I started with sewing in high school, it was a mandatory part of Home Economics in those days. All girls took Home Ec, all guys took shop. (the 1960s for those of you who can’t relate.)

I wound up finding that I learned best from reading. The pattern guide, a book, a pamphlet. I have taken a few courses over the years, but find them frustrating as I like to learn at my own pace, and not that of the class. I like to figure things out on my own, look them up in a book. Occasionally I will search things out on the web, but have never watched an instructional video, YouTube clip, or a DvD. Give me a drawn illustration, a few words, a graph and I am good to go. It is my hands that will translate those directions into something.

Now, I won’t claim that something is always correct or exactly what I intended. Serendipity and errors creep in all the time.

Knitting

Tubey
This may be the reason that I am knitting Tubey from the bottom up, rather than from the sleeves back out. The directions are rather clear, and having constructed garments before by knitting a piece in work together with a finished piece, it doesn’t seem all that hard (Vejborg – Lavold; several Noro garments; after though soles).

I just have to decide if this

or this is long enough for the body

and what colour is up next.

The British Slipover is to here

and the final 7 Kippot are blocking. Since I used Sox Pixies pattern only a couple of times before modifying it – I suppose I should write up the variations.

-Holly

with apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson (to read the original poem ). In case you need the reference – the charge of the British Light Infantry occurred in 25 Oct 1854, Balaclava, Ukraine in the Crimean War. Other references include this one, this one and this one.

Charge of the Sock Brigade

Half a sock

, half a sock

Half a sock onward

Into the Valley of Panic

knit the one hundred.

‘Knit, 52pr Plungers!
Go for the line!’
Into the valley of Panic
Knit the one hundred.

‘Forward, on 52 Plungers!’
Was there a knitter dismayed?

Over committed they knew
They had blundered:
Theirs not to make whine,
With hands full of pain,
Theirs but to try, and cry,
Into the valley of Panic
Knit the one hundred.

Yarn to the right of them,
Needles to the left of them
Patterns in front of them,
Cables and Laced.
Overwhelmed with choices and blogs
Boldly they knit well
Into the Jaws of April
Into the mouth of Hell,
Knit the one hundred.

Back to my final sock….

-Holly

(and since I didn’t do anything neat for my blogversry 11 March – help finish the poem. Best contribution for each of the remaining verses will get sock yarn).

Remember when you were a kid and people took 35 mm slides?

You might be over at someone’s house for an evening, usually a friend of your parents and they would drag out the slide projector to show pictures of their last trip? Your good time changed to agonizing pain as the minutes crawled by. Set after set of slides: places you had never been, people you didn’t know lined up in front of statues, buildings and trees, stiff and unsmiling. All of it blending together, you promise yourself that you will never, ever in your whole life ever do that to any company at your house when you grow up.

Fast forward more decades that you wish had past. You have an acquaintance over for dinner. There is a double reason for the invitation. The first is that you want to be nice and thank her for helping you right after your arrival. The second is that you have absolutely no clue as to how to work the flipping cooker and she just might have an idea. She is English right? This is an English cooker right?

About two nights ago I finally used the stove portion. Having had a gas range in university I was familiar with the concept of turn on the gas and light the match.

Ok, warm food from something other than the rice cooker or the microwave.

But the oven was beyond me with the gas entry way in the back.

Well, guess what? There is this little electric striker thing that you press and it lights things all by itself! That is if the gas is turned on. The broiler works. The oven does not, no gas flow.

I nuked the vegetable pie.

The last thing I would think of as a thank you for helping with the cooking problem would be to force a guest to look at family and travel pictures. She said she really wanted to see them. I thought about re-evaluating my assesment of her sanity.

Look at pictures voluntarily? OoooooK.

Being a modern sort of person, most of my pictures of the kids are on my hard-drive. And she actually enjoyed looking at them, commenting on architectural details of some of the travel pix. We spent almost two hours just going over pictures of China, the kids, the cruise.

Totally stunned here, I could never imagine that. What do I do if I get a return invitation?

Bring knitting, I guess.

Yarn

I don’t have any socks on the needles. I have one pair to go on the 52 pair plunge. Something bright I think – Fire from Fly*dyed (Monarch sock yarn – Angora Valley Fibers).

Now to find a pattern that won’t be completely overwhelmed. It is going to need to be something toe up, since I don’t normally knit those and need the practice.

Knitting

Progress again on the Shawl-Collared Vest. I am a bit happier with the colours this time around. It could be better but the top matches the bottom and next up the yarn moves into the lighter blues.

Books &

McNally’s Alibi on the car CD.
Keepers of the Flame by Robin Owens and All the Right Angles by Stef Ann Holm just finished in paper back.
Charmed (season one) on the DvD. Not sure if I like it or not.
-Holly

It has not been a short while, no, it has been since I first moved into this house. The windows and doors are always quiet in the room where I am sitting and the doors still. Somewhere else, usually on another floor there a bumps and thumps.

If there is a stormy wind outside, I can easily imagine the panes rattling in their tracks. The blustery air catching the edge of the door. After all, this is an old house and there are air leaks everywhere.

But on the nights where there is no breeze, I still hear noises in the house. Items don’t seem to be where I left them. It couldn’t possibly be that I forgot where I placed something. Like those two pairs of jeans that seemed to be lost for a week, appearing like magic in the airing cupboard when I was giving a friend the house tour. Me? Why would I have carefully set out two pairs of jeans to dry….

Oh, right.

Never mind. Can anyone tell me why the ghost is not finishing up my knitting? Doing some vacuuming or washing up the dishes?

Leaving out milk and cookies for Brownies didn’t work – so I was hopeful that the ghost might be of use.

No luck there either. I must have watched too many TV Serials while knitting.

Socks

The finished Rose Socks -

With the left and right

and then there is the first Tencil Sock. I really dont’ like the way the top turned out, so it is on to a different pattern for the top of the second sock.

Vest

I mentioned that it was done? And that it might look a little bit better on me than on the chair. Usual disclaimers about photos taken in dark rooms with mirrors.

The pattern detail looks like this – and the front bands are a broken rib that is knit as part of the garment.

Since I actually have some nice slatted shelves in the airing cupboard – aka the boiler room – I am going to see how it fast blocked garments will dry.

-Holly

I had an American upbringing coupled with a rather strange sense of humour. Place names in the US make perfect sense to me: named after people, place of origin or adapted from Native American Names. After all, I was born in Minneapolis (Minnesota) and actually learned out to spell both names in the first grade. It was just how things were.

Living as an ex-Pat since 1993 (not counting the other five years spent out of the US in the 80s) I just accepted whatever town or village names were on the sign post. Really, who am I to criticize what another country uses for names. Not my language, not my right to question.

And then I moved to the England portion of the UK just last month (Jan 08). Not only am I coming into contact with names familiar to me from reading Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers, but there are those towns whose names which I have just learned from Jasper Fforde. Places like Swindon and Reading, located just out the motorway from me.

Perhaps Woking gets the same reaction from children as does Temptation or Perdition.

But Middle Wallop? It is the home to the British Army’s Museum of Flying and otherwise doesn’t really exist. A local name to the area between Over Wallop and Nether Wallop, it is not a parrish or a real town. But you can address mail to Middle Wallop and it has a postal code, so I guess it does exist.

I found out about this and other interesting facts when I dropped in to the Army Air Field to meet one of the other US exchange officers today. Home to helicopter pilot training for the British Army, it is out in the middle of nowhere on the Salisbury Plain. Probably the most interesting event all year happens in July when there is an Acrobatic Air Show, set to music. It is on my list of things to do this summer. (Especially if Ray can provide me a place to park!).

Socks

There is this Art Yarn (trekking XXL) which looked like this in the ball

and like this after my socks were started -

Now if I could just explain why I started a new pair of socks rather than start the second of the cotton? Besides the fact that my hands just did not want to knit cotton this evening?

I am otherwise back to watching Medium and trying to choose the next audio book.

-Holly

Looking at this fine wooden board leaning against the wall in my office, I appear to be the 28th person to hold this particular position.

Twenty-ninth according to the Army Surgeon General’s history section if you want to include the forward observer here in 1917.

Primarily there have been physicians assigned here with the exception of two Medical Service Corps Officers. The first woman was assigned in 1944, and I am the second.

Technically, there were no women in the Army Medical Corps in 1944, it wasn’t legal. Having said that, the first 5-6 women were commissioned in 1943. It is hard to tell, since there really are no records. On purpose there were no records. Apparently MAJ Bowditch was one of the first groups commissioned then posted immediately to Great Britain where she also served as Deputy Defense Attaché. A 1935 graduate of Johns Hopkins, she went on to work at the Army Surgeon General’s Office after the war.

And that is just about all I can find. A couple of mentions in our internal historical reports (Buchenwald within days of entry to provide public health guidance). She died in 1966 reported in a British Medical Journal Obit.

Research is much more challenging when looking at the prior to the Internet era. I still have stones to turn, records to request. She obviously was not into self promotion, just a professional who did her job well and quietly.

What will we leave of our personal and professional selves for the next generation? An understanding of what it was like to be us? How we interacted with the world around us? Where we fit with both professional and personal lives?

Perhaps it is not those pioneers who make sure that you know they were there first, those who are writing all their accomplishments for press and publication. Rather it may be those who quietly and professionally went to do their jobs, leaving the world a better place for their contributions.

-Holly

There is a long standing tradition, at least in the U.S. for having chinese food in a restaurant on 25 Dec. After all, what else is there to do? And for the 50s and 60s, when I was growing up, those were the only restaurants that were open.

It might have derived from the East Coast (NYC) or perhaps the west. But that was what the average (non-kashrut observing) family did. Or go to the movies – if you were in a town/city that was large enough to have its own theater that showed something.

Being as I worked my way through University and Medical school, I was usually around over the winter holidays, looking for other like minded students.

In the years since then, it was automatic.

This year, my kids asked —-why not Indian?

I stood there like an idiot. Of course we can eat Indian this year, call and make a reservation (this is said at 1300 in the afternoon with no hope of anyone answering the phone).

About an hour later, it was confirmed – Taj Mahal at 1800. And smoking is now completely banded in our German State. How lovely!

We have choices, while maintaining the eating out tradition. The kids were not even offered a movie, after all, there are rooms to clean and email just waiting.

Dinner was great, nan to soup to main courses. Much cheaper here on the continent than in the U.K., while still maintaining the advantage of no pork at all on the menu.

So my friends, if you are still in the rut of eating Chinese on the 25th why not expand your horizons next year. Think about Indian, or Thai, or Vietnamese, even Japanese. There are choices beyond the tradition on your way to the movies.

-Holly

I am back to work.

I really don’t feel like being here. Which should surprise absolutely no one.

The wonderful guys of IMD had raised the limit in my email box to something short of the sky to avoid the bouncing bytes.

All 636 pieces of it, not counting the attachments.

When I first wrote the above, I was simply going to say mailbox, giving me suddenly the reminder of exactly how far our culture has come. When all of us with grey hair were growing up, the mailbox was on a post at the end of the driveway, or fastened to the side of the house. If you lived in a real neighborhood with a postman, your mail was deposited through a slit through the door.

Packages were not part of the deal.

Certainly the post office handled them, but I don’t remember any ever arriving at our house.

Mail Order meant the Sears & Robucks Catalog or Penny’s (if you had more money).

People wrote letters and cards routinely. Calls outside the local area were quite expensive, not to even mention the thought of talking about anything personal while the other parties on the line tried to listen in without being caught.

Now, mailbox is email. Mail is snail mail and I have to talk about regular post in order to communicate with my youngest offspring.

Given all of that – it certainly is easier and more environmentally friendly to delete over 100 spam than it is to haul out 100 pieces of junk mail.

I am just trying to find the positive since I am so tired and not really thrilled to be back, facing all the work that arrived in y absence.

-Holly

It came together today. A confluence of ideas derived from several sources that left me thinking. Perhaps it is normal for this time of life. Anita Diamant, in Pitching my Tent, makes mention of the increasing life span as a major driver for individuals and society requiring a new look at middle age. Leaving aside that fact that she is completely incorrect about the increased life span (detour here, follow along for a bit of science –

Technically, in 1900, the average life span was 47 in the US. However, 50% of deaths occurred in individuals under the age of 15. Infectious diseases took their toll along with accidents. If you survived through your 15th year, your life expectancy was in the 60s. The extra years of life loss were on the front end, not the back. Between ages 15-50 women primarily died of conditions relating to childbirth. Men died of accidents and wars. It explains why you read and here of so many elderly spinsters in those days. Eliminate the risks of childbirth and the chances were excellent you would survive well into your 70s, 80s, 90s. Today’s medical science and preventive medicine have eliminated almost all deaths from childhood diseases, most from infectious disease, and drastically reduced the risks associated with childbearing. This leaves us free now to die from chronic disease, cancers that increase with age and cardio-vascular disease resulting from our “improved” life style. )

requiring a new look at being in those middle years that is different if poverty is not at the door.

Sometime between 40 & 60, most of us asses our lives: what we have accomplished and what we had set out to do in our early twenties with idealism leading our hearts and stars in our eyes. There are those who have done something that it widely known or well recognized. We all have met one or more: the person who seems to have done something important or accomplished everything.

Or you can be like Joe – the main character in Margaret Truman’s Murder at the Washington Post – and be facing retirement wondering what you have accomplished. Trying to decide if that is enough. And you can make stupid choices, good choices, or extremely bad and damaging choices.

But most of us just have lived our lives doing the best we could on a day to day basis. Face it, there are not all that many Nobel Laureates around. Nor Deans of Universities or CEOs of Fortune 500 firms.

Perhaps we have the luxury now of making choices, changing careers, learning new things. Certainly we need to keep our minds active, trying new things and getting out of old ruts.

What has come to me over the last year is a willingness to look ahead. I am not the only one who is facing transitions (never mind the teens still in the house). I will have a life after I leave the military. Perhaps it is time to gather together some courage and figure out what I want to do next. Certainly I have enough wool and fiber to keep me busy for a few years. Balancing that with my tendency to like to start things but getting bored once it is underway and routine, something tells me I need to look for something that will be a challenge and not the same every day.

But I will need to take a leap.

-Holly

who will get back to her regularly scheduled fiber programming as soon as she charges the battery in the camera. I found homes for only two of the lonely fiber batches. Perhaps I should put it all on one page, then send an email to Chris to get it a home?

From the time I had the means, my door was open. To feed the stranger, to house others, to share what I had. I don’t think that I ever consciously thought about it, it was just the way things were. What you did to give back to others, to take care.

This weeks Parsha (Torah portion) is Vayerah. It starts with Abraham’s hospitality to the stranger. Even in personal pain and recovery, doing for others came first. A basic tenant of Judaism that I view as sometimes being lost. I am not sure when I connected what I assumed was normal behavior with this particular passage. And in finding it, I feel like I have justification for what I already was doing. Perhaps being better able to marshal arguements when explaining why “of course this is what you do.”

Last night at our monthly potluck, we talked about hospitality in conjunction with this section and how the principle is/is not applied today.

It certainly is a nicer thought than dealing with becoming a pillar of salt. Glauber’s salts I can do – they are useful for some kinds of dying. Epson salts for soaking people. But a pillar because you looked back?

I think it all connects with the differences in how men and women look at the world. I will admit it might just be my generation. Men seem to go forward, on to new challenges, new battles. Things are over, done, forgotten. Women, well, we look back. And we say good bye.

Audio Book,

Murder at the Washington Times by Margaret Truman.

Except for the ending (which could have been wrapped up better) this was a nice murder mystery with interesting characters. The reader was excellent.

Good distraction from teenagers in the car needing things.

-Holly

Growing up in Minnesota, you would think I would be more than used to cold weather. Even in October when fronst ws literally on the pumpkins, it was a place of stoic people and acceptance of nature.

Lake Wobegon may be fictitious, but the people and the attitude they portray are more than real.

Yep.

That was just the way things were. Your personal ethnic background didn’t matter. The basic attitude and ability to deal with the cold cut across all line.

For sure.

I am not a teen any longer and I get cold. I have no joy in finding frost inside my windows and ice on my nose in the morning. I no longer care to compete in the “layers to bed” sweepstakes.

The allegedly warm water I I can hear trickling in the register seems effective for only one-two hands wide of a five foot white iron beast that is just fixed there, refusing to cooperate.

Key? Bleed the thing in case I should be so lucky that the issue is only air bubbles?

Right. And I am the one with bloody hands since whoever cranked the valves last year certainly was not interested in allowing leaks.

We shall not talk of menopause either, nor the cold that seems to have settled int my bones leaving me feeling comfortable only in sand ovens of the desert.

It is time to put another layer on the bed, wrap my hands in knitting wool and listed to an audio book, pretending that 4°C is just what I want for weather.

-Holly

Have you ever looked at all the joggers pounding along the pavement in your neighborhood? Not just brushed your gaze by in notice that someone was there, but really looked at the person laboring so industriously up the hill. The runner joyfully prancing sideways down the street hands on his hips, head thrown back like a cheerleader ready to leap? The cheerful chatting pair moving steadily along the path on their outing or the herd from the high school cross country cross country team with their moans but steady pace as they chase each other up yet another set of stairs on the mountain side?

I see them all, for my street curves along the mountain side. Stretching from the old Heidelberg Cemetery all the way to Rohrbach, it parallels the main road down the hill two blocks but has little traffic. The ascents and descents seem to stretch on forever when you are toiling up or pain your knees when you ricochet down and around the curve, pounding that lost energy back into your body. Some seem so joyful, pleased to be out while others either are in pain or in hate with the whole concept of exercise by the looks on their faces.

Along time ago – let us say about 25 years ago (oh, is that scary) I did a lot of jogging. Miles and miles, some during the week and mostly with friends on weekends when we would jog 10, 20, 42 km Volksmarches, sometimes several on a weekend. It was fun. We laughed, joked and had a great time. It wasn’t work or pain. We did it to go places and jog in small towns around our area of Germany. The longest ones took ~ 4 hours if we were slow, toodleling along, dodging walkers, strollers and pups.

Anymore, I don’t run. Jog occasionally when I have to get somewhere in a hurry, but mostly walk fast. Watching all those who do not seem to be having a good time and wondering why they are doing it to themselves. There are other ways to stay fit, and what is the joy in pain?

Renovations

I like the decorative vertical tiles. The toilet tank has been boxed and tiled and the shower footing enclosed. I am seeing progress.

Socks

I want to start the firebird – Soltice Slip from STR. But first I have to finish Florenz and the Drops. Three things on the needles is enough. Right?

Kauni

-Holly