L'Homage a L'Harlot, L'Histoire & L'Homecoming

I love the Yarn Harlot. (Go read her blog if you haven't before. She's a goddess. I have all her books. She, as my sister would say, makes me happy in my heart. Go read. I'll be here when you get back.)

Friday night, the month-of-traveling-goofily came to an end, and, tidily enough, the socks that I cast on as travel knitting as the airplane took off for trip #1 (Vegas, June 28), were in my bag, finished, grafted, waiting for blocking. These socks were knit in six different cities (Las Vegas, Winnipeg, Boston, Toronto, Ottawa & Stratford). Most of the stitches were knit on airplanes, and - oddly - were only commented on once, by six rowdy civil servants on their way home from Churchill in a lame attempt to chat me up. (This flummoxed me so much that I screwed up the last few rows of the foot chart and had to rip back...but made me doubly grateful to the genius who invented the iPod, so we'll call it a draw. A hint, guys? If you're loudly discussing the relative "hotness" of the various flight attendants, and comparing your various "clever" methods of picking up the various locals in the various places you've been on this trip, it's pretty obvious you're not actually interested in my knitting, which is why I put in my headphones at the earliest opportunity. Just sayin', sound travels.)

The sock was my traveling companion through all of these trips, and functioned at various times as representative of excitement, passer of time, weirdness-magnet/slimeball repellant (see above), safe harbour from omnipresent newness-related anxiety, and, inspired by the Yarn Harlot, star of my touristy photos (I hope she doesn't mind the homage).

The sock visited Meech Lake, and enjoyed the beach, the sun, the history and the people watching.
It thought the Rideau Canal was pretty cool...
And, while it couldn't have its picture taken inside, still enjoyed the National Gallery quite a bit, even if the spider kind of gave it the willies. (At least it wasn't a moth.)
The sock surprised itself by how unbelievably patriotic it felt at Parliament... ...and wondered how a place so dignified could be the workplace of people who regularly exhibit behaviour that is decidedly not.

The sock supervised my sister and I as we had lunch at a pretty spectacular vegetarian restaurant...
...then boarded a train for Stratford, the Festival and my brother.

It saw the bluest water it's ever seen at Lake Huron:
...before having its toe grafted as a fish freshly caught from this very lake was on the barbecue.

The trips were wonderful. Seeing my siblings was food for my soul, learning what I did in Boston was a double espresso for my brain, and Las Vegas was a much-deserved, sequined, neon technicolor birthday cake of a celebration for the Love of my Life. The memories of the six weeks - airport lounges, slot machines, 112 degrees Farenheit, lobster, health care debates, more airport lounges, three books, patriotism, art, Shakespeare, Canadian history and family - are knit into this pair and, while I told myself all along that I was getting an early jump on Christmas knitting, I think they're going to stay here with me. Because these socks and I had many adventures together. And we are very, very glad to be home.

For the Road

I have an inordinate amount of travel coming up. July 29-August 1 I'm going to Boston for a day-job-related conference, then August 7th I fly to Ottawa for three days visiting my sister, take the train from there to Stratford, ON to visit my brother, then fly home out of Toronto on the 14th. I am really, really looking forward to all of these trips for the destination portion of them, but, as I'm sure you may have guessed, I have some preparations to do beyond the normal human amount of packing for the traveling bits. For I am a knitter.

By my (admittedly notoriously unreliable) math, I will, in the next 2.5 weeks, be spending a total of 19 hours and 12 minutes in airplanes, trains, airports and train stations. If you add in the 1-2 hours I have to be at the airport before these flights (two international, two domestic), it comes out to a total of around 26 hours. That's a lot of knitting. Even for me.

I have a set of travel-knitting guidelines that I tend to pack by.

1. I keep the projects small, like gloves or socks, so that I minimize any seatmate-related elbowing risks. (These people, usually non-knitters, are usually disturbed enough cognitively by my knitting I like to mitigate it as best I can by at least not bothering them physically.)

2. I knit said project(s) on bamboo dpns, so that I minimize the risk of an over-________ (zealous? enthusiastic? paranoid? acrylic-clad?) security guard thinking I'm a risk to an airplane or a country or anything except my own sanity.

3. I choose a pattern that is easily memorized or has an itty-bitty chart (see #1).

4. If travel time exceeds single-project limits (and this set of jaunts certainly meets that criteria), I bring a couple of back up projects in my checked luggage... usually one for evenings/early mornings in the hotel so I'm occupied, one for an alternative to the carry-on project in case I get tired of the primary project. Alternative project must meet all criteria above.

5. Um, also, I like to have another back-up in case I end up stuck in an airport because of some freak mid-July snowstorm or sudden airline strike or other delaying calamity. I know that this just might border on paranoia, but lets just say that previous travel misadventures* have left me a bit... well, over-__________ (see above). My options are pretty good, I think: I have these:

Kevin's Kilt Hose, Wooly West Happy Trails, Anne Gilmour's amazing pattern "He' Mo Leanan"

And these: Pomatomus, Socks that Rock Rockin' Sock Club's May Shipment (Pepe la Plume)

And these: Sam, Tanis Fiber Arts, sock the second that has been sadly languishing

But there's also all of this: WIPs that I can't bring myself to describe, lest I perish under the crushing weight of the guilt that only comes of a perfectionist leaning and a Catholic upbringing.

AND the ever-present pile of SHINY!!!!!.... A pox on the houses of KnitPicks and their sales, Limenviolet and their enabling, and the Rockin' Sock Club for leading a weak, weak knitter like me into temptation...

And of course the lure of POTENTIAL SHINY.... Newbury Yarns, a mere 0.34 miles from my hotel according to MapQuest. (eternal gratitude to the Yarn Harlot for making the rule that vacation yarn doesn't count at stash).

Suggestions? Words of encouragement? "Get-a-hold-of-yourself, woman!"-type face slaps? Oh, right, and the clothes and toothbrush and stuff. I'll figure it out. Hopefully before the plane leaves.

*(Someday I'll tell you about my 30-hour journey home from New York the day before a gig and you will understand why I'm a tad cautious).

Sock-a-Doodle-Doo!

It might be the fact that it was a long winter and spring finally seems to be here on the Canadian prairie. It might be my recently acquired KnitPicks Harmony Needle sets (interchangeable circs and 4" dpns). It might be my membership in the Rockin' Sock Club (my first such adventure), or the new Cookie A. book, or just a wee phase, or the evil evil influence of Lime & Violet, back episodes of which I have been consuming ravenously for the past month as I commute back and forth to the Day Job. But holy moly, am I addicted to socks these days. On my needles right now are Bex and Rick (both from Sock Innovation). 
  I also have this skein of lovely from Tanis Fiber Arts, which is destined for a Cookie pattern, probably Sam since it's variegated) And I finished these two pairs recently (like, really recently), one for mom (March Rockin' Sock Club, Rogue Roses in Blue Moon Fiber Arts Medium Weight), one for my sister (my own pattern, stash). New Rockin' Sock Club here within weeks. And all I want to do is, well, knit more socks.

I'm sorry Catriona, we'll be together again. I love your cables, I love your colour, I love that you come in a size that's going to fit me, I love that you're almost done. It's just that, well, you don't go on feet, and these days, I'm just not that into you. It's not you, it's me, and I just need a little time. Please be patient with me.