Day Out

After spending entirely too much time indoors reading the copy edits of my book, Son and I decided to spend Friday exploring downtown Silver Spring. We hopped on the bus and headed the hilly mile to this revitalized area. Although the neighborhood is now dotted with the same chains you see everywhere else, there is also a strong showing from independent businesses. It is also frequented by a much more diverse crowd than you find in many areas that look like Silver Spring is beginning to look.

First stop: Borders bookstore. We loaded up our arms with books to read in the cafe then headed in for some milk (organic!) for my son and coffee for me. In a big display at the front, the cafe is advertising that they are giving away used coffee grounds for customers to use in their gardens. While I knew you could request used grounds from any cafe and be likely to go home with some, I'm thrilled to see this effort at increasing the level of composting going on in the area.

Next: lunch at one of our favorite places to get Pho. After loading my soup with lime, bean sprouts, chili paste, and that green herb (not the basil but the other one?), I happily indulged my serious craving for spicy food.

As he usually does, Son commented on the number of young amputees in the area. Walter Reed is right near by and many wounded soldiers--those with brain injuries and those with amputations, etc.-- recovering there come to downtown Silver Spring for entertainment as well as therapy. The costs of this war always seem so high and so immediate when watching these young men and women try to adjust to their new bodies and minds. I wonder if the rest of the country were to have such an intense view of the suffering how we could do anything but riot in the streets until this has stopped. But then I realize that I am one of those incredibly privileged people who lives divorced from reality to some extent in my little ivory tower. I have not had a child or a parent or a spouse go to Iraq. I have not even had a neighbor or friend go....

After lunch, we walked over to our local library and loaded up our bags with books of all sorts. Lots of reviews coming soon.

* * *

In the evening, we convinced David to go with us to Franklin's for dinner. The relatively new knitting store A Tangled Skein is right across the street. I was thinking the store was not going to be on our destination list for the evening. Although it is open until 7pm on Friday evenings, it was about 6:45 when we arrived in the area--and we were all starving.

After our meal, we played around in Franklin's general store until Son glanced through the window and noted that the lights were still on at the yarn store, and that people were moving around in there. "Maybe doing an inventory?" I thought--but realized after a second that tax day has nothing to do with doing inventory.

So we popped over--and they were hosting a Friday the 13th knit-in! Tables were spread with wine, cheese and crackers, and desserts. Chairs were full of knitters from the area, many of whom were old friends (with and without blogs) but also some new funny talented acquaintances.

Luckily, all three of us had brought knitting for the restaurant--but since we were't expecting the knit-in, we barely had enough for a couple of hours of knitting. I had Seraphim (scroll down for the picture) with me--and ended the evening with less than a row's worth of yarn left.

But running out of yarn in a yarn shop is not the worst thing in the world--especially when there is a 20% discount in effect for the evening. I came away with a gorgeous skein of Claudia's Hand Painted laceweight silk in the very subtle and full of depth colorway "Ink." My cowriter had asked me the day before what I was going to wear when we were crowned co-queens for writing our book. I stalled: what WOULD I wear? (Notice that I did not question the fact that we would be queens.) Well, an Ink-colored lace shawl sounds just perfect--maybe another Diamond Fantasy or perhaps a Hanging Garden stole. Can you tell I am a bit enamored with Sivia Harding at the moment?

Mouse wrote in the comments that she is often not crazy about color-variegated lace--and I very much agree. Diamond Fantasy seems to be one of those patterns that really takes well to the color differences. Any other shawl ideas for a lightly variegated yarn?

Toe Weaving

I am not the only crazy fiber-addicted craftsperson around here.

Using potholder loops, Son first warped the loom:



Then he was off from there...

















...making a uterus with fallopian tubes?...



...or earrings?...



which are also perfect for beginning juggling practice.

Diamonds are a girl's best friend

I'm just finished the seventh repeat of the Diamond Fantasy Shawl, knit on size 3s with Helen's Lace. I don't think I've ever enjoyed knitting something more than I have this project. Even when I daydream about a next project, it is simply this same shawl in this same yarn but another colorway.



I love how you knit the lace border as you go along:



I am loving the shawl so much that I convinced one of my knitting buddies, Jennifer, to start it too! Her yarn choice, Claudia's hand painted silk, might be just as addictive as Helen's Lace....

The diamond lace pattern is too complex to knit during knitting group, and for that I have the lovely but almost boringly simple Seraphim Shawl. For this shawl, I am using the luxurious Jade Sapphire Cashmere yarn. I was showing off the softness of the yarn to David's 97-year-old great aunt--and the stitches pulled off the needles right after the first set of eyelets. I got the stitches right eventually, but one hole continued to seem huge. After spending entirely too much time trying to fix it, I ripped out a few rows and tried again.

Seraphim also caught the idea of another one of my knitting pals, Martha. She's using a totally different yarn and it looks fantastic so far.

What fun it will be to model our different shawls together!

Reading Material

Two books arrived in the mail at the same time. I keep flipping back and forth between them:



Stephanie's new book--and the copy edits for mine!

But I can't seem to get away from the themes of Unspeakable. Even the Yarn Harlot talks about justice.

Florida Knitting

New knitting converts!

David showed his brother Eliot and E's partner Dave how to knit:



Eliot trys, using needles that his grandmother used to use...



...and he finished his first project, a coaster!




* * *

After many months' delay, I was able to take David's mother her Hanukkah present--the silk Swallowtail Shawl. It looks just perfect on her!

Renewal, with Snow

Tapuz--The Orange

Matzoh, the cracker-like substance that replaces leavened bread, is a famous food eaten during the 8-day celebration of Passover. During that time, observant Jews do not eat wheat, spelt, barley, rye, or oats. Many of us do not eat corn, rice, or legumes like peanuts or soy or other beans or peas, either. Even things like sunflower seeds and sesame seeds are often avoided. Given that additives of various sorts made from corn and soy are in almost every processed food on the shelf, this proscription can be fairly challenging unless you buy specifically kosher-for-Passover brands--or eat a whole foods diet.

There are other foods associated with Passover. A traditional seder plate holds bitter herbs (usually horseradish), charoset (a paste of sweet fruit and nuts), a roasted egg, a shankbone (or roasted beet for vegetarians), etc. In a traditional haggadah, we point to the foods and say things like, "Why do we eat matzah tonight?" or "Why is there charoset on the seder plate?"--then have a discussion of many different understandings, many different possibilities and ideas. The horseradish reminds us of the bitterness of slavery. The charoset is a way of expressing the sweetness of liberation.

Our seder plate, and the plates of many other progressive Jews, also holds an orange.

Why is there an orange on the seder plate?



The explanation we've read for a dozen years is that after hearing about women becoming rabbis, a man roared, "A woman has no more place leading prayer than an orange has a place on the Seder plate!" So we place an orange on the Seder plate, for it belongs there as a symbol that women belong wherever Jews carry on a sacred life.

Recently I discovered that this story is not the full story.

An early feminist haggadah placed a crust of bread on the seder plate as a sign of solidarity with Jewish lesbians, showing that traditional Judaism offers as little acceptance of lesbians as it does of bread during Passover. One rabbi, Susannah Heschel, believed that this symbol suggested that gays and lesbians were truly out of place in Judaism and violated the meaning of the religion. She wanted to use a different symbol, one that showed that the inclusion of gays and lesbians made Judaism all the more fruitful. The need to spit out a few seeds just reminds us that we need to constantly remove traces of prejudice from ourselves.

Round you are and bright as a newly risen moon.
You are sweet and acid, dessert and medicine.
You carry within your curves the future
of your kind, those pale seeds winking
from the sections, each an embryo tree.

Come into your own and shine,
where the only roundness was the almost
hidden plate bearing up the ritual items.
Be subject as well as object. Sing
in your orangeness of female strength.

Clash if you need to. Roll if you must.
Center the plate about your glow.
We are, we will be, we become: rabbis,
yes, cantors, shapers, prophets, creating
a new Judaism that is yours and ours.

-- Marge Piercy

Freedom

Passover has an inherently political edge. Here is a time to talk about slavery and about liberation. It is a time to think about the changes we must make, to consider the revolts and rebellions that may be necessary to create a world rooted in justice. It is a time to devote ourselves to tikkun olam, the repair of our damaged world.

* * *

On Monday morning, we woke up in Florida at David's parents house and planned our day. After breakfast, we slipped on our bathing suits and headed for the beach. When we first arrived, the clouds were out and there was a strong enough breeze to keep many of the tourists inside. We collected shells, dipped our toes in the water, and enjoyed the peacefulness.

Soon the sun was out and the crowds descended. David and I spread a towel out and sat down for a while. Son waded in for a little wave jumping. I almost cried while watching our 7yo's absolutely uninhibited JOY. How long will he have this unselfconscious ability to live fully? He is about to turn eight--and many of his friends have already lost it. We've chosen to shelter our child from the contemptuous boredom seen in much of today's pop culture. We try not to control or close down his expressions of emotion, be they this kind of happiness or anger or sadness. We make an effort to restrict how much he is quizzed and drilled or forced to compete at this young age, and perhaps this has given our son some extra room to be a child. We've worked hard so he will not feel that he cannot measure up to someone else's expectations--a feeling I think many successful people in our generation struggle against. Whatever allows it, the greatest joy in my life is seeing my child being so open and exuberant and free.

* * *

We returned to D's parent's house where a cleaning service was using strongly-scented products to clean the bathrooms and floors. I'm a bit oversensitive to smells and quickly escaped to the porch with my knitting along with Son, D's brother, and his partner. David went to make copies of our haggadah (explained below) and to pick up some last minute things to prepare for dinner.

I went in to go to the bathroom at some point--and although I felt fine before, found myself vomiting intensely and then lying on the bathroom floor. I thought I must have food poisoning from the place at the beach where we had eaten lunch. Finally I dragged myself into the room where we sleep, turned on the fan, and sort of passed out on the floor. I tried to figure out how to call someone to tell someone, but everybody was some distance away and I couldn't really get sound out.

David walked in about 90 minutes later. He realized that rather than having food poisoning, I might be sick from the chemicals (probably bleach which often makes me ill). After getting me out to their front yard and giving me a glass of water, it was less than ten minutes before I felt like a human being again. I drank an enormous amount of water and a few crackers, sat outside for a while, and was back to myself--albeit a slightly shaky version of myself.

* * *

Soon, additional family members arrived and we walked back in to a house that had been airing out for a while. I had a dull headache but was doing fine. We all sat down around the table. Before the meal on Passover, Jews traditionally spend time celebrating the story of the Exodus from Egypt. David and I put together a haggadah (sort of a prayerbook) about fifteen years ago--full of not only traditional texts but also modern ideas that we wrote or found. Each year we read texts from the Bible and the Torah, but we also read feminist texts and other leftist political/ activists texts that have acquired a deep patina of meaning for us.

Unfortunately, one of the guests was troubled by a few of our additions. I certainly would not inflict this haggadah on an Orthodox family--or a Republican for that matter. But I thought this gentleman had used our haggadah before at D's parents' seders and that he would be comfortable with it. Unfortunately, he was not. He expressed his frustration--almost anger--and I felt terrible both that we were forcing something on him that was not appropriate for his needs AND because his unhappiness took away from my deep enjoyment of this annual repetition of texts about justice and freedom that David and I wrote and assembled when we were a new couple.

* * *

Following a discussion about idol-worship from the traditional haggadah, we read this, the offending paragraph:

The anger and fear awakened by feminist attempts to alter the way in which we speak about God bespeaks a profound attachment to an image of God as male. When a metaphor such as "He" is assumed and defended, it has ceased to be an image and becomes an idol. The metaphor in no longer simply a way of pointing to God but is identified with God "himself." The claim that only male language may be used for God leads to the worship of maleness. While Jews are used to thinking of idols as pillars and stones, verbal idols can be every bit as powerful as sculpted ones--indeed, more powerful for being less visible.

* * *

After we completed the first part of the haggadah, we began the feast. The meal was full of wonderful foods and full of memories: David's grandmother's pot roast, tzimmes (sweet potatoes, carrots, and prunes), mandelbrot (Jewish biscotti kosher for Passover). THIS felt like what Passover was all about. Isn't it amazing how food can link us to the past, to the future, to the justice of sustaining the world? As Marge Piercy says in her new Pesach for the Rest of Us: Making the Passover Seder Your Own, "Food sometimes feels like emotion made edible."

* * *

Traditional haggadah text:

A Jewish legend teaches that when the armies of Egypt were dying in the sea, the Heavenly Hosts broke out in jubilation. And God asked, "The works of my hands are drowning, and you sing praises?" And the heavens were silent.

* * *

Tomorrow: our seder plate

Homecoming

We've been in Florida for the last few days, spending the beginning of Passover with David's family. More details about our trip soon (complete with pictures of the conversion of a new knitter!), but for now:


Spinning silk roving in the "Turkish Carpet" colorway:





I also plied the silk cap from last week with itself, then skeined it up:



(I have a new incentive to exfoliate and moisturize my hands. Silk fibers catch and snag on every one of my rough spots....)

Wish List

Ever since my brother at the age of 3 asked Santa for blue cheese, wish lists have been an endless source of amusement for me.

A few years later, my brother asked for a real space ship that could really fly, but since he couldn't read yet, he wanted pictures for controls.

* * *

Son has asked for the following for his upcoming birthday:

*won or too Pesis of stirfom [one or two pieces of styrofoam]
*new bathroob
*new tape player [the audio kind that records]
*white paper
*kilt, plaid [a girl's school uniform from the thrift store]
*bicycle
*And I all so want your love from Mama and Papa
*brown slip-on shoes from Land's End
*jester shoes, I dont no war

After reading his list, I was very pleased to see that in addition to the usual material things (and the unusual material things), he wanted parental love and an end to war.

When I read over the list with him, he corrected me: "Not 'no war,' Mama!. 'I DON'T KNOW WHERE!' I don't know where to find jester shoes. Land's End doesn't have them."

Anybody have any ideas on where to buy them or how to make them quickly? (I think I might be able to make up a felted slipper pattern?)

Getting jester shoes might be easier than trying to end war by the end of the month....

* * *

UPDATE:

My friend from Scotland had breakfast with me yesterday morning--and asked if when she's next here she could bring Son a "wee bagpipe"--which will excite him to no end. For the last two years, he's been using a homemade bagpipe that he invented: he blows up a balloon, slips it over the end of his recorder, and plays notes as he expels the air through the recorder.

He gets a bagpipe, and I get a nice ear plug...

Spinning Silk Hankies

My spinning wheel, Annabel Lee, lives on our unheated closed-in back porch. She has been lonely for most of the winter--but this week's gorgeously warm afternoons have me dreaming of unspun fibers.

Today I pulled out a beautifully-dyed silk hankie that Son helped pick out at Rhinebeck.



Then I quickly looked up the very helpful directions I remembered reading on Knitty about how to spin silk hankies.

First, peel off just one thin layer of the hankie. This is one cocoon which has been stretched out to dry on a frame.





Put your fingers through the center, pulling outward to a hold is formed in the middle and the surrounding fibers begin to draft. You can draft so the roving is thick or really quite thin.



Break it apart in one spot and roll the remaining fibers very loosely to store until you spin it up.




My hankie was made up of roughly 10 layers.

Although the Knitty article suggests that this fiber is perfect for spindles, I used my wheel and got just a bit of yarn on the bobbin.



Shall I purchase another few hankies at MD Sheep and Wool to ply this with? Or knit a bit of trim onto something? Or ply with Cormo or BFL or something? I'd love some ideas!

P.S. Some of these photos were taken with sunlight and some with flash. Neither is at all color-accurate. Imagine something in between.

Sailing

7yo Son and his 5yo friend pull out the globe, set it on the coffee table, and plot their journey around the world.

They start in Florida, then visit Cuba to pick up extra supplies to help them get across the Atlantic.

7yo: "Then we'll go up and hit Spain and France. We'll stop and enjoy things, then pick up some ship's biscuits. And wine. Fine wine."

5you: "Then we'll sail across the Mediterranean and down to Africa! We'll visit all the animals. Especially the lions. And observe the desert."

7yo: "Yes. Then we'll travel around India, sail through the islands of Java and Singapore and the Philippines, and then to China. There we will pick up spices. And silk."

5yo: "And egg rolls!"

7yo: "Yes. Egg rolls. Of course."

Knotty Problems

After my month-long craving for the simple knit stitch (and the resulting not-quite-finished Zimmermann garter sweaters, socks, etc.), I am finally OVER it.

I needed excitement, distraction, complication!



Sivia Harding's gorgeous Diamond Fantasy Shawl fit the bill to perfection.

As did she, I gilded the lily with a variegated yarn. My choice was Helen's Lace in the Buck's Bar colorway.

Somehow I managed to snarl the yarn into what I thought was a slip knot:



I pulled and tugged, untangled with my short fingernails, tried to unknot with a pair of sewing needles, etc. No doing.

Finally, in frustration, I threw it down and picked up Miriam Felton's Seraphim Shawl.



The yarn--what a treat to knit with!--is Mongolian Cashmere in the Deep Denim Colorway.

After about a row and a half, I came to this:



Another knot that wasn't in the yarn when I had it on the ball-winder. Good grief....

On the Menu: Weekend Brunch

1. Mimosas, made with the same kind of champagne we served at our wedding.



2. Wild Rice Pancakes, made from a mix we bought at Eco-Green Living in downtown DC.

For a while we've been thinking about ordering some wild rice from the same people who make this mix: White Earth Land Recovery Project and Native Harvest. Winona LaDuke, former Green Party VP candidate, is the organization's founding director. As their website says, "The mission of the White Earth Land Recovery Project is to facilitate recovery of the original land base of the White Earth Indian Reservation, while preserving and restoring traditional practices of sound land stewardship, language fluency, community development, and strengthening our spiritual and cultural heritage."

The pancakes were delicious! We added the last of our frozen blueberries to some of them. Yummy.





3. Homemade butter. Son and I made it from cream we bought from Farmer Dan, our dairy supplier.

Small amounts of butter are fun to "churn" by putting fresh cream and a marble in a glass jar, then shaking until you can't hear the marble hitting the glass. Shake a few more times, drain off the buttermilk, and press any extra liquid out of the butter. You can add salt at this point, or honey. Or, if you are using raw cream, try culturing it overnight before making the butter. Cultured butter has no salt but lends a savory flavor that I love.

But now, as the week starts anew, we leave behind our leisurely breakfasts for a few days. Perhaps next weekend we can have brunch outside!

Shopping for a New Car while Knitting

David, Son and I each packed our knitting bags and headed out for a day of shopping. We love our little red Honda Koigu--but after ten years and 110,000 miles, it is beginning to look worn.

We spent the afternoon looking at our options:

We quickly realized that the BMW Cashmere and the Lexus Malabrigo were out of our price range. We needed something affordable--although we were thinking we would splurge a bit more than the Suzuki Acrylic.

The Nissan Merino is really cute but it was a bit too bulky for us. The Mini-Gansey, on the other hand, seemed too small for our family of three.

We considered two American-made cars: the Ford Cascade 220 and the Chevy Alpaca.

After a long day shopping, we're leaning towards Toyota's new hybrid, the Kidsilk. It comes in some lovely colors and, as Greenies, we really like its yardage....

Anybody have any advice about other cars?

Back When I Could Fly

I used to be invisible, a shape changing magic kid.
I could move at the speed of thought and frequently I did,
But my greatest accomplishment was a slow and looping glide.
I saw the tops of everything, back when I could fly.

I'd take my daily nap on the highest leafy branch,
And follow shooting stars on a comet's fiery lance.
I was quite the prodigy, when I owned the sky.
I never thought I'd have to walk, back when I could fly.

Keep your eye on the ball, your feet on solid ground.
Always sit up straight and tall and never make a sound.
In just a few short years, I learned not to be a child,
And I forgot the things I had when I was wild.

Now, my child, you'll learn arithmetic, coloring and sports.
You'll have a flair for nouns and verbs, and be late with book reports.
But in spite of all the rules that bind your wings so tight,
I hope you won't forget about the days when you could fly.

I'd take my daily nap on the highest leafy branch,
And follow shooting stars on a comet's fiery lance.
I was quite the prodigy, when I owned the sky.
I never thought I'd have to walk,
I never had to try,
Back when I could fly.

Lyrics by Keith & Beth Grimwood/Idlet
Song recorded by Trout Fishing in America

(You can listen to about thirty seconds of the song at the link. While you're there, check out the hilarious "The Window"!)

Crochet?

Pairs Pears, #4

Poached pears are an excellent and very flexible dessert:

Peel a pear for each diner. Use any kind of pear, but keep in mind that a firm pear works especially well. Keep the stem intact if you can. If you are choosing in advance and are really picky, try to pick out pears that stand upright well.

Heat a liquid (red wine? cranberry juice? white wine? water? ginger ale?) to a good simmer. (If you use a deep red wine, you'll get an absolutely gorgeous ruby-colored pear.)

Add some sugar (or honey? or molasses? or maple syrup?) if you are using a tart or flavorless or non-sweet liquid. Or don't.

Add some seasonings if it pleases you (ginger? cinnamon? lemon peel? orange peel? vanilla extract?).

When the liquid is good and just bubbling, add peeled pears and let simmer for about 15 minutes. Take the pears out at that point and turn up the heat. Allow the liquid to boil down to a syrup.

Serve the pears and syrup at any temperature--possibly with cream, buttermilk, yogurt, kefir, creme fraiche, whipped cream, or ice cream. Whatever you have. It is also glorious by itself.

Pairs, #3

Knitting and cuddling on the couch:



My sock-in-progress (and foot) on the left, with David's sock-in-progress (and foot) on the right.

Pairs, #2

Two little Tomtems...

one in red, being knit by me with Lamb's Pride for a young friend whose brother and sister love Astrid Lindgren's The Tomten and the Fox:




and one in gray Paton's Classic Merino, being knit by David for another little friend:



Elizabeth Zimmermann and family knitting projects seem to go hand in hand.