My remarkable week

The week is remarkable only because I am making remarks upon it. It is Sunday, the last day or the first, depending on point of view. As irritating as I find that hashtag, POV, it was relevant there. So far today I've had breakfast (a poached egg on an English muffin). learned both the Guardians and the Cavs won yesterday and started my laundry.

Yesterday, Saturday, was interesting. As the morning progressed, I grew colder and colder. Eventually I checked the thermostat and found it blank. I opened the little door and saw two triple A batteries. Bonanza, I knew I had some (of indeterminate age). 

I fiddled with the two batteries in the thermostat and managed to light up the screen once to find it had defaulted to "Off". The room temp read 64, and when I pushed the temp button, it began at 52. I got it up to "my" setting, 72. On the way up, the heater came on.

My replacement batteries did not work, of course. I called the front desk, and began explaining the problem to Cathy, a lovely woman but not the best in analytics. I explained why I needed two new batteries. "I'll bring them right up and put it on your statement." I explained why I preferred not to pay. 

"Ooooohhhhhh................." Long intermission while she explained to a bystander why there was no work order for Monday, and she was taking up "stock", not "maintenance." Fast forwarding to the conclusion, within an hour or ninety minutes, I had reliable heat again.

I've been weaving. My first "maze" attempt was laughable, so I pulled it out and began threading up a new pattern. The threads feeding into the heddles now are a tangled mess, but the warp is dwindling down, so I'll go back and comb them occasionally.

So, I threaded this maze, and wove essentially one complete diamond. This pattern is fascinating. not what I was expecting In this drawdown I see all the escape paths. On the fabric I see expanding pools, like a stone in a pond. I think I need a heavier weft to approximate the drawdown, but I don't have it, so pools it is.

And finally, I took Rose for a haircut. So much excitement at the old folks home! We were an hour early, because I was trapped by digital time. Laura should have been here to laugh at me. The appointment was 1:45, but in spite of Rose's best effort, I could not get my "quarter of's" straight. 

Since I was the ride and Rose wanted her hair cut, she played along., right up to not laughing or saying "I told you!" when we pulled in and I suddenly grasped the error. When Rose made her next appointment, I insisted it be a whole number. Next haircut for Rose is May 31st, at 1:00 pm.

My week in review

In reverse, yesterday I had a visit from Ann. She came for lunch yesterday and left just before supper. In four or five hours we discussed all the problems of the world, as well as our own. We solved none. We have not seen each other except for an on the fly visit immediately pre-pandemic. Yesterday was a wonderful time.

Toward the end of the week I visited the quilt show at Lake Farmpark. I took Jane, a quilting friend who lives a few doors down, and we met Ruth, who needs no introduction. Or, as I explained to Jane, "We are the world's most fortunate mothers-in-law."

Ruth and I have visited this annual show many times in the past, but the last time was also just before the Covid lock down. In fact, there may have been no show this past two or three years. Ruth arrived a few minutes before Jane and I, and met us at the door. "Joanne, we have never seen anything like this." Indeed, we hadn't.

The next is a vintage, hand appliqued and hand quilted entry. I can visualize it gracing a child's bed for many years. It certainly could have been on my childhood bed. Following it is a picture of the description given it by the person who entered it.

Ruth and I always have a little competition. We compare notes at the end of seeing the show and see which one we would pick "to take home." This year I picked the following, a small wall hanging. I could be very happy looking at these little birds all day.

There were close to two hundred quilts entered. I've missed one or two of the photos I took. I like clean looking quilts, and see I generally took pictures of very busy quilts. My sister quilted several quilts I took notice of, and one of the ones she quilted was so dark I wondered how she could see the work to quilt it. Can't find that picture.

And finally, because it probably was the last in my lifetime, The Eclipse!

We had an absolutely stunning day to view a total eclipse! It was warm, the breeze was light, and the chairs comfy. 

True Confessions

Where have I been? Under a rock! What have I done? Laid on my back, stretched out my arms. Wiggled my toes and ankles. I actually had a dream about doing that; lying in something warm and encompassing, wiggling all of myself, settling in. Then I guess I woke up. 

In the midst of housekeeping last Tuesday, I rashly asked Diana to fold up the top quilt, put it in the basket and stow it on the shelf. And now spring has fled. It even snowed yesterday. Temps are in the forties, day and night. Blah. Plus chilly, but I can't reach the shelf, and spreading out the quilt is too much. 

The parking lot trees are blushing. This redbud hasn't long to go. I showed the picture to Rose, and her first comment was "No cars!" Right she is. That is busy state highway 43 out there, and I watched cars going left and right for some time before I tapped the shutter. There are cars out of frame, left and right.

Weaving has occurred possibly half an hour some days. I'm tired of Whig Rose, and ready to rethread for a maze type pattern. I have several in mind, but I think I'll select one that has an escape route. But there are so many others. And here is one other, not a maze, but enticing. I'll put it in the que.

It needs to visually sparkle, but how to make it do so. That is my conundrum. And in the meantime, I shuffle along.

Beth and Ruth came for my birthday last week, carrying a very heavy shopping bag. After some brief preliminaries, Ruth flung open my freezer door and began inserting pints of ice cream. Seven, to be exact. I've thrown away two empties, so far.

Last Wednesday, in the middle of yoga class, my phone rang. I grabbed my shoes and hurried out to talk to Ruth. She wanted me to know, with apologies, I would find one of the cartons half gone.

While we were at it, we arranged for next Thursday to go to Lake Farm Park for the quilt show. We've gone often in the last many years. In the beginning I walked, then a cane, then two. Now I use a walker, unabashedly. People often hold open a door for me. If they cut me off, well, their mother did a poor job of raising them!

What beauty

How can such small steps take so long? Friday I had the entire day to myself. No appointments to keep. Yet it took me the entire day to wind on four bouts. Part of that was the error I made thinking I could salvage the thread I tediously chained off from the back of the loom. I think, had I been my mother or grandmother, it could have happened.

The tangles and tedium did not frustrate me. I patiently combed out the mess, a turn at a time. Then I came to two broken threads with no matching ends. That did it. I admitted there was no using the old thread. It went in the trash; I set up the spool rack and turned on three of the four bouts by dinner. After dinner I turned on the forth and last, cleaned up the area and fell into bed.

Saturday I threaded heddles and sleyed the reed. I could have worked faster, but to what end. I ached all over. I left the weaving to today, after the laundry. And look what I have!

The pattern is named Whig Rose, and it is a lot of shuttle throwing. Here is the completed block:

I wondered if I'd put an extra petal in the first rose, and when I came out at the other end, I see I did. Oh well. It's not a mistake in the draft, it's a case of overenthusiastic weaving. I won't do it again, but it's quite harmless here.

The pattern is a two hundred plus year old coverlet weaving pattern. The Whig Rose is linked to the American Whig party of Andrew Johnson, which was a precursor to Abraham Lincoln's Republican party. However, the pattern did not acquire the name Whig Rose until the twentieth century depression. We won't go into the name of the party of Lincoln.

The pattern originally was called the Democratic Rose, and goes back to the seventeenth century British Whigs opposing the power of the monarch and attempting to increase the power of Parliament. King Charles II lost his head in the short lived attempt.

This scarf will be a couple inches narrower than my blooming leaf scarf. I'm looking forward to that; I want a narrow scarf. I also believe I've found candidates to model this version. Stay tuned.

The new Instagram

I decided to get with the times and be back on Instagram. The last time I used it, three or four years ago, it was clumsy and inappropriate for me. It didn't go with my flow. As I remember, I had to post a picture from my phone and go back with my computer to leave any text. That is because I am not a phone typer. In fact, any type lettering on my phone occurs via my spoken voice.

First I asked the internet how to be rid of some of those old photos. That was a piece of cake. I did it via my PC no less. And all the new photos went up the same way. Somehow people are notified, or else just find new stuff they follow, the same as scrolling through Facebook every day, or whenever.

The biggest change I saw is that the whole platform now resembles Facebook. There is a menu down the side to select a way to look at Instagram. Not so great, in my opinion, are all the ads in the "Home" section. That's like FB, and worse. I'll have to read how to get rid of them. Well, for better or worse, I'm back on Instagram, for my weaving. 

And that is to the end of the line. I'm amusing myself, seeing how many inches I can get from one thread. You remember the mess I left myself to work with.

On the left are a couple of "full" bouts, taped down so they don't fly away. To the right are some of the central bouts I was weaving from. They are close to gone. Down to bare wood are the tail end of a bout I'm both chaining off and weaving from, and a bout that I cut away, except the one thread I am using. There seem to be four turns left, but a lot of that length is "loom waste"; the distance from the tie on cord, over the back beam, through the heddles, etc. I have an eighty inch long scarf woven so far, and I think there will be about ten more inches.

And just so you know I have a real life, here is Rose, as the two geriatric ladies embark on another outing.

Next time I'll have her take the picture, so you know we both went.

Snow, Snow

Welcome to March and Daylight Savings. After two lovely weeks of spring, we are back to winter and snow. The snow actually began early this morning and has been accumulating the last hour or two.

This was on my way to breakfast; not too bad. It's really snowing now.

I understand those arbor vitae used to be kept trimmed. They have grown to an impenetrable wall ahead of three exit doors for suites down there. They are a sparrow condominium now and sparrows are always flitting. I can see one because I know it is there.

On the way to supper last night, I saw a hawk on the concrete barrier, looking down on all the activity. I've seen him (or a close relative) keeping watch from one of the chair backs. I startled last night's hawk by reaching for my phone, and he left. Maybe next time.

I very cleverly got involved last night in beating my game of Mahjongg, and didn't get to the clocks and bed until eleven. I am still one wall clock behind. It will be awhile until it is changed.

Here is another thing I intended to mention at the time. My new model, Helyn. There have been several Helyn's over the years. The first was a wicker head, woven by my sister, for the purpose of displaying the caps she sewed from our handwoven fabric. The model was from the armpits up, and so resembled our sister-in-law Helyn that the name just fastened itself.

Then I had a real dressmakers model, and of course we named her Helyn. I left her at RiverLight when I began weaving towels rather than clothes. I wasn't about to invest in a new model, for no other reason than space, or lack of. I relieved the cafeteria of a plate and fastened it at 5'4" on my spool rack, exactly as tall as I used to be. Some day I'll ask Jan to give her a face. 

This week was not stellar for weaving. I am almost finished with a leaf green scarf, probably the length of the rose scarf pictured. Probably one more leaf green scarf of undetermined length and the warp will be finished. I'll thread up for Whig Rose.

Kitty fell asleep with her rainbow snake in her claws:

And I'm listening to a great book, "A Stone is Most Precious Where it Belongs", Gulchera Hoja. I linked her to the GoodReads review, last year. Ms. Hoja is a Uyghur, in what is currently East Turkestan. It is not a fun read, but compelling. I am crying and listening and weaving. I don't want to add writing to the list, so I'll just recommend it to you.

Happy, happy good news

I asked Betty to bring her new hearing aids to breakfast and let me help her get them situated. That was a week ago, Thursday or Friday.  She presented the box with a tangled mass of cord and charger. Such a mess that my hope was low.

First I extracted the instruction book and gave it a read. Very like my own pair, except scaled back. Turn them on, put them on and you will hear more, better. Take them off at night, turn them off and park in the charger. Except I found no instructions to turn them off. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, so I forged on.

I pressed the on/off button. The miniscule button! It turns green to indicate "ON", but is completely covered by the thumb. I used my fingernail to see if the device was turned on. I wound up placing it on her ear, she pushed it into her ear. We used the same method for the other ear.

Someone suggested doing it again, for practice. I vetoed that at once, and Betty agreed completely. There was tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow at breakfast for that. I was more interested in watching Betty adjust to a new world.

Even a week later I cannot write about the event with dry eyes. It was a new Betty and I told her over and over how happy I was. She could hear and participate, and what an articulate, animated woman we had with us. She wanted to know what I found so different about her. I said I didn't have to face her to talk to her, I didn't have to raise my voice and repeat myself.

"And I thought I had you all fooled," she said.

And on to my project for the weekend and next week: scarves on the website.

There are two new scarves on the sewing table waiting for hems. That will come next, after this bit of writing.  Yesterday I tackled the web page. It came so easily, and after three or four hours I was mostly satisfied with the first page and ready to move on to the second.

Except, I could not find the second page! I tried all that I could "intuitively" bring to the project, including deleting some things I tried and had to get rid of. So, last resort, I will wait until Tuesday, when Blake is coming to help me.

I have so much else to do, the page can wait. I must photograph and describe the scarves I have finished. Then there is a little inventory problem I'm wrestling with. My towels were identified by color; past that they were identical. Each scarf is individual.

Personally I am offended by including an obvious inventory number with each scarf, but I have not come up yet with an alternative method. So for now they will be identified as The First Scarf, The Second Scarf, and so on.

One of my followers, Margaret Butterworth, in Australia, wonders if I could find a model, so people can see scarves modeled on someone. That is a great idea that has never worked so well for me. Back when I used a professional photographer, he used a professional model. I attempted the same with a friend, but it was less successful. Neither of us knew exactly what to do. So I'm still pondering this bit.

Missing in action, again

 I haven't been around much lately. I've been much in the real world of chores and meals and dratted exercise classes, but also in some nether world of imagining up my new web site and the fun world of sitting at the loom, weaving.

Much of the business of photographing my new work is thought out.  We don't always consider how new things require new methods. I can put several photos up for each new scarf I weave, but the method must be thought through.

Over the weekend Beth helped me put up a rod for hanging a scarf. There is always the top view I used for towels. And today I saw a photo that I can adapt, with a little cooperation from Kitty. I saw a scarf rumpled up atop a drop leaf table, and its pattern end hanging against the vertical drop. Very effective. Kitty's window seat will be perfect.

Then there is all the verbiage to explain what is going on. Those are a lot of words, of which I am quite capable. They simply need time to percolate, to be written and rewritten. It's all coming together.

Here's a conundrum. Betty, one of our table mates, was in a severe decline a week ago. Close questioning by concerned friends revealed she was, in our collective opinion, giving up, tossing in the towel. The weekend she appeared, too confused to function and feet and legs painfully swollen, we asked management to notify her several children (seven of them, plus grands and great grands) and tell them Betty needed an intervention.

It happened. I understand four children were here. Betty is back on her water pills and other meds. She's eating more. And, one son appeared with hearing aids for her purchased on Amazon. However, she does not know how to use them.

I offered to help her, and told her to bring them to breakfast tomorrow. Tonight I also looked at Amazon hearing aids. Betty says he bought the highest rated. I did not find the brand I wear, Phonak. I did purchase them from an audiologist office, for several grand apiece.

On Amazon I found every auxiliary bit sold for Phonak, but no actual Phonak aids. There are many kinds of hearing aids similar to mine, but no Phonak. The most expensive pair I found were $899. Hmmmmm..... I'll look at hers and see what I can figure out. If they have to be BluToothed to her phone and programmed, I'm lost. However, her phone is an old flip phone in her drawer. We'll see.

Bits and pieces

I just published a post that disappeared! I have no idea what happened. I've done this going on fifteen years and two thousand posts and never lost a blog. Or a paragraph or a word.

I'll try it over again. I've slacked off this week. The scarf has been off the loom for a week. Fulled and finished last Sunday. I did have to put the row of single crochet down each edge to disguise the uneven selvedges.

I am a master of decent selvedges, as you can see by the rest of the scarf. The second half of this pattern is more consistent than the first. I wonder if Hosta leaves are perfect. Pattern weaving errors notwithstanding, it's not an unpleasant look.

The scarf is nine inches wide and eighty odd inches long. I'd hoped for a little more draw in when I fulled the scarf, but this will do until I thread a new pattern. In future I will put the hem even with the pattern end. The sewing machine stitch holding it is near to invisible. This scarf also is more dense than I want, so I'll weave fewer pics per inch next time.

I started a new scarf yesterday, with a blue leaf. The floating selvedges are working well for the even pattern selvedges. I wove a couple of inches for the hem and then wove exactly five rows of pattern. Three times I sent the shuttle straight through the warp, thread around parts of the loom, shuttle landing somewhere under the loom. I quit for the day.

I took this on the way to breakfast this morning. Coming back an hour later the falling snow had filled the waffle holes, caving in the edges. My only doctor appointment next week is Thursday, and the temps will be back into the fifties, with rain, by then. Well, this weather is good for maple syrup!

For breakfast today I had an egg Benedict. This has been on my mind for awhile; I love them. Yesterday I saw Matt for a bit and asked him about the possibility. "Not without more people to help," he replied. "And, we don't have Canadian bacon!"

I realized he was talking a poached egg extravaganza; him making and serving poached eggs out in the Bistro and other people filling short orders in the kitchen. I told him I'd have "real" bacon and would be at the counter toasting my English muffin while he did the rest in the kitchen.

Then I thought of the Hollandaise and was defeated. "Oh, I have that all the time"! So this morning I had one egg, poached, a slice of bacon and Hollandaise on the side. Matt brought it to the counter just as my English muffin popped up. I put it all together and had the best breakfast in about five years. It's still on my taste buds, and it's lunch time.

Well, time to wrestle some of the monster bag of cat food into the canister, then on to another weaving attempt. But first, this post better not disappear.

Back at it

Well, a week of sulking and I'm back, mostly, to my self. A long week of paying little attention to the world and relishing my own misery. It has been interesting. Yesterday I took Rose to have her hair cut, at her old salon! She was so pleased, and it's a very nice haircut. 

At supper she reported it had caused quite a kerfuffle. "Damn!" I thought. Her daughter found out. After we had gone off to the local CVS for Covid and RSV vaccinations, her daughter was appalled at Rose's description of using a stool to get into my van. "Never again!" from her daughter.

While we were out this time, a friend of Rose stopped to visit. Rose didn't answer her door, so the friend returned to the desk and instituted a fairly full fledged search for Rose. Housekeeping and food service searched. Even the bookkeeper was involved. She looked under the bed. Rose's daughter was notified. 

Our return went unnoticed because some rude person parked in my assigned place. So, my car went to some other place in the lot. But at least, when Rose saw her daughter, she could report she can get into my car by herself, and stow and retrieve her walker. Lovely spring days produce wonders.

As for the ambitious warp on my loom, here it is now! I cut and taped the sections I'm not using. That apparent mess to the left is the section that did not work out mathematically. A couple of its threads are in the last warp on its right, and impeding forward motion. So I am chaining off the bout. The great plan is to be able to run it through my tension box in future and reuse it. That may be a hair brained scheme.

The edges of the flower pattern are a little ragged; I'll single crochet along just those edges when the scarf is off the loom. For the next scarf, I'll use a floating selvedge to eliminate the problem. Old tricks of the trade can take time to remember!

When the scarf is off the loom, I'll weigh it to see how much thread I used. Then I'll know how much to charge for it. The weft this time is much finer; 10/2 in the dialect. I think the scarf will be fairly airy and floaty. If not, I'll change the pick's.

So that's it for this week of weaving. Now I need to get back into blog reading. No more sulking. 

Adjustment, mid course

Of course I eventually got the mistakes sorted and the warp tied on. By Friday evening I was set to go, after a good night's sleep and all that. I did wind all the bobbins, in readiness for the next day. Saturday morning, after breakfast and emails, I started out.

Can I still throw a shuttle thirty inches, catch and turn it for a return throw? Yes. Is it easy? No! My shoulders ache, my hands hurt and my brain spins from attempting to keep my place in the pattern.

When supper came, I was half way down the first column. Each number represents the treadle to use, and there is also a shot of plain weave between every row.

I got up this morning, full of resolve! Went to breakfast, came back, put in a load of laundry and sat down to the loom. Tonight I am at the end of the second column. My shoulders and hands are shot.

It will be lovely, but not for me to do. Back to texture. It's what everyone loves, so let's do it. I'll mix that rose with a fine cotton slub I asked Ann to send back. She kept it, years ago, hoping to weave cuddly baby blankets. That was twenty years and a dog kennel ago. And she may still; I think she had a case of it.

Speaking of good news, I noticed the other day that the ladder to the roof has been removed from the construction site. Ladder:

There has been construction six and sometimes seven days a week. Young men went up and down that ladder as often a going through the door. But now, no ladder:

Siding is going up. Some ladder will have to come back for the second story and for the roof and the missing balconies. Lots of work left, but they may make a spring opening after all.

Where I stand

First, what a weekend, outside. We had snow for two days. Actually, it began snowing Friday afternoon and did not stop until Sunday evening. No possibility I would go out in it to take a picture, but from my second floor vantage into the atrium, a picture for you.

A bit confusing from overhead. Blink a couple of times and you can see the several inches on the chair seat, and then on the table.

Meantime, snug in my room, I am making progress on the loom. All thirty six inches of warp are on the back of the loom and through all the heddles.

On the whole the threads are simply hanging down toward the floor on the other side of the loom. They next must go through the reed, which spaces the threads evenly apart. Finally, the threads must be tied to the front beam. That part is a bit in the future. What I'm doing now is called sleying the reed.

Sleying the reed is not a fun job. I don't realize the muscle strain when I'm leaning forward, isolating the threads and drawing them through the reed. But when I go to bed, my chest aches, my arms ache. Probably my back, too, but it always aches. But by the end of the week, I should be able to weave.

Back at it

The thread arrived yesterday and I tucked right in, setting up the spool tree, getting thread on and through the tension box. This all took too much time, actually. It has been one year since I last did this. How I remember the great warping adventure with Caroline, on her birthday no less, which I totally forgot. I just sent her a Happy Birthday text!

Last year I also had a timid cat, who hid in my bedroom until all guests were gone. This year I have a cat who is In Charge. She knows Every Thing that happens in this house, Anticipates It and then Supervises It.

Dressing a loom is quite new to her. She doesn't know what is going on. Being in trouble, being yelled at means close to nothing in this circumstance. There were a substantial amount of close to depleted tubes of warping thread. I left them scattered on the other end of "her" sofa. This morning I found them scattered on the floor.

There has been no attempt at the trick I fear most, reaching up for one of the lines of thread. So, counting my blessings, fingers crossed, I soldier on. My hope is to get across the beam today, but that really is a small possibility.

I have removed the small tubes of thread to the chair, and barricaded them, after a fashion. They survived the night, and that is good.

However, another foible cropped up yesterday. Kitty is addicted to paper. It's not a good trait, for either of us. She gets sick, probably from printer ink, and I lose my information. This began some time ago, and I learned to avoid the problem. Until yesterday.

Weeks ago someone gave me a copy and it was left on this chair, When I came in after supper, the chair and the floor were covered with confetti. I dutifully cleaned it up, telling her for the half hour what a pain in the ass she provided. And life went on.

Then one day I printed the heel instructions I would need for Shelly's sock, and thoughtlessly tossed it on the chair, where I would watch Netflix and work on the sock. Back from supper and a total spread of confetti. It's smaller than "real" confetti; those little teeth make little shreds! Lesson painfully learned; I would never put a piece of paper on the chair.

Yesterday I consulted the clipboard with all my notes, to "remember" when to add the extra thread. Tossed the board aside and began winding on a bout of thread. Together with the swish of thread I could hear crunching. I suddenly realized--PAPER!

I turned and yelled at her. Kitty engaged her selective deafness. I approached, yelling. (My approach is an extremely slow shuffle!) She watched me, and continued shredding. At the last instant before a boom descended Kitty abandoned her project and sailed away. I stowed the clipboard on a high shelf and finished the bout I was winding.

    

That one bout turned out to be it for yesterday. I told myself it was a fairly successful day, setting up the thread, loading it, rescuing it. Today I simply would not invite Kitty to the party. As if.

     

                      

Dratted batteries

You can imagine I am at very loose ends of late. Brassard et Fils won't even open for business for another three days, and even then my order is at their mercy. Small as it is, it probably goes to the end of the line. And what kind of a company comes back from vacation on Wednesday, I ask you. As my friend Ann, who went to school in a Swiss boarding school would say, "Only the Frenchies!"

Ah, well, in due time my new thread will arrive from Quebec, polar jet streams and panhandle hooks notwithstanding. Yes, the bad weather has settled in. All that stuff we did not get last winter has assembled for a new year blast. It has snowed the better part of the day and the temps are sliding to the teens by the end of the week.

All the heddles on my loom have been threaded. I've checked the threading heddle by heddle and found the missing thread. I decided to make a replacement heddle, rather than rethread the first hundred and fifty or so heddles. There are "replacement" heddles available, but I no longer own one. So, I made one.

Do you see it there? A safety pin in the middle, tied with cord to the appropriate heddle bars. I considered tying an old fashioned string heddle, but that would involve a search of YouTube on the off chance of finding such an esoteric tutorial.

Anyway, I'm ready to get on with it, and nothing left to do. After an idle morning of petty little tasks, I finally hit on the sock project. One day many months ago, Shelly brought me her knitting bag with two sock cuffs, on needles. It was an old project of hers, a UFO she no longer remembered how to finish. Why search for hours on YouTube for the mathematics of socks when you have a mother.

So, her knitting bag has hung on the corner of my sofa for the last year. In fact, I see it is visible through the harnesses, immediately left of my improvised string heddle. I would settle myself in for a lovely day of Netflix while I turned her heels. I retrieved the remote from the crevice in the chair, aimed and clicked. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

It's probably been at least a year since I watched the damn thing. I searched the battery basket. No triple A's. So, I ordered them, and threw in a couple of shirts and a pair of shoes for good measure. Since I am without batteries until Tuesday, I rounded up my MP3 player. At least it has a plethora of new books on it; no need to wander CleveNet for an hour.

I can report, the shorter cuff has the same number of rows as the longer cuff and has several rows of heel flap knitted. I am astounded at Shelly's gauge. I can't believe I taught her to knit, maybe thirty years ago. Her knitting is so tight!. I gave up copying it when the cuffs were an equal length. Her heel gussets will be what they will be! And between you and me, she is a much better knitter than I am.

Slow start to the new year

My biggest wish for this new year is to be weaving the new project on a new warp. I suppose it's half accomplished; the project is settled on. It will be fabric lengths in a lovely overshot pattern. However, I need more thread for the entire warp, and Brassard is on vacation and will not ship before they open on January tenth. Even then, I will be in line after all the earlier orders.

I decided to get a head start on next year and use the loom waste from the towel warp to get all the heddles threaded. There are 522 heddles involved this time, not that many more than the towel warp. However, threading heddles is my weakest suit.

The pattern is taped to the take up beam. There are six repeats of the pattern and I am part way through the fourth. I work until the harnesses get muddled in my brain. Shelly stopped to see me last week and helped me. We worked half way across. 

When I checked it later, there was a mistake in the first pattern. Out everything came. Janice came to help me yesterday, and we re-threaded up to part way through the third repeat. Now I am half way through the fourth, and checking each as I go.

Last year, around Thanksgiving, I resolved to go down to the Bistro for breakfast, instead of having bread, butter and jam sent from Heinen's, and often some impulse pastry. It's fifty dollars a month I don't need to spend, since breakfast is provided, if I get up early enough each day.

If I just got up and dressed and went, it would be simple. But Kitty is accustomed to having her breakfast and her kitty abode cleaned before I have breakfast. I set up that schedule to assure she was fed and her box cleaned regularly every day. Doing it before I eat means I don't forget. But it also means getting up half an hour earlier to be downstairs before breakfast is over. Sigh.

Nothing has changed with Kitty. If anything, she is more settled into her routine of pressing me to remember her treats. They are served only twice a day. However, she pressures me into breakfast, a treat when I get up and one after I eat supper. The remainder of the time she sleeps or plays. Or both.