Becca's Blog

Tina's a trouper.

Tina came through her surgery OK yesterday, with only a minor complication to follow up on. She's gradually shaking off the effects of being under general anesthesia, and she is being so good about all the medicines she has to get. (I am terrible at administering eyedrops, though. I'm never sure if I've gotten any in her eye at all.)

I think by the end of the weekend she should be back to jumping over the little dogs when they're in her way and pokin' them when they annoy her too much.

Today's going to be a little scary for us.

Our oldest dog is going in for eye surgery in a couple of hours, so if you could hold a good thought for her and us today, I'd really like that.

She's having an ulcer on her cornea repaired to prevent further deterioration of or damage to her eye. I hope the surgery goes fine and she recovers well, and quickly. I don't really want to think about the other possible outcomes.

 

 

Sweater spotted in the wild...

well, sorta. Spotted in the Knitting Today office...

 

I think I got it a little backwards.

One of the little rules I have for myself is to try to finish two WIPs before I cast on another project—although I ignore the rule often, always for reasons that seem perfectly justified, like the St. Anthony Foundation call for handknit scarves this Christmas.

Now that I've finished my second design assignment for Knitting Today, which will be in the May/June issue, I took a short break and then returned to my personal knitting. My top priority has been to finish the vest for Jane's dad that has been in the works for about 15 months. The last thing I had left to do was finish the back, which felt like miles of plain stockinette (Jane's dad is tall). I finished all the pieces, and it's blocking now. So it's close, but not really finished—there are still button bands and armhole ribbing to knit, as well as seaming the sides.

The next thing I want to finish is my Tuscany shawl, which just had its third birthday... It's kind of frustrating now, because the rows are really long, but it doesn't seem deep enough. Finishing a row takes a lot of time but there's not much to show for it. I would like to wear it to Stitches West next month, though. And it would be fun to finish it before Jane and I head to the real Tuscany—the one in Italy—in mid-March. So really, I'm not even close to finishing this WIP.

But I decided I'd like to have another sweater for myself well under way by the time we get on the plane. Preferably a top-down cardigan that I could finish and wear on the trip. And I went a little nuts.  I've been swatching for the Featherweight cardigan, and I just purchased a pretty pattern called Cherry Vanilla (Thea Colman's design skills and productivity kind of make me sick with envy) and I've been swatching for that with some Elann Peruvian Quechua from the stash. And I have a tailored top-down t-shirt started in Aran-weight cotton. Oh, and I've been dinking around with some covers for Ethel's harness, because the nylon straps seem to be giving her bald spots. And that prompted me to pull out Coffee's sweater in progress also.... And I really ought to keep sketching and swatching new designs, so as not to lose momentum.

So instead of following my finish two, start one rule, I have just lost my mind and allowed yarn to explode all over the house. I should be able to settle down in a week or two, I think.

 

Wanna buy 5 copies for my mother!

Actually, it's not my smiling face, and it's not the Rolling Stone:

But it is my design on the cover. (And my smiling face actually is inside the magazine...)

I have to confess that I have been haunting my local JoAnn store for most of the week, waiting for the hard copies to arrive, and today I grabbed a handful. And today I've been feeling like this guy:

 

I just finished a submission for the next issue, and I'm ready to start sketching some more designs.

 

 

One of those aha moments.

I was just catching up on podcasts, and listening to an old Science Friday episode about hominid fossils. I've always been somewhat interested in anthropology, and someday I'd like to have a decent grasp of the scope of human evolution (that is, how long have we actually been here?). It seems like it's a straightforward fact that I should be able to just learn, but it's slippery, and I can't conceptualize it.

This podcast actually helped me a bit to put into context all the "x million" and "x-ty thousand years ago" numbers that get attached to Lucy and Artie, and all the other fossil remnants of our ancestors. The guest expert mentioned (casually, as if it were an obvious point) that there have been many hominid species: Neanderthals, homo erectus, australopithecus, and plenty more. First little zing of an aperçu: Oh. Homo sapiens is a species like golden eagles and redtails are species. I love reminders that we people are just animals. And I like that we (homo sapiens, that is) aren't solitary or unique; we're part of a big family, and we used to have a lot of relatives.

As the interview continues, the expert describes how homo sapiens moved into territories and extirpated the other hominid species wherever they migrated to. Then the full realization dawns on me: Homo sapiens is an invasive species, like cowbirds and mitten crabs and thistles. We aren't the chosen species—we just won, a long time ago.

It's kind of obvious once yout think about it. I just appreciate that we are no better, or necessarily worse, than any other species. We do have unequaled power to wreak havoc, which is very unfortunate. It's good that we also have the power to control our environment-destroying tendencies, if we will.

And nature lovers tend to get all judgey and hostile about invasive species like house sparrows and starlings, but we're no better. I really like that idea.

Kingbird in the 'burbs.

On today's morning walk with the dogs my ears pricked up when I heard an unfamiliar call. My first assumption was that a neighborhood starling had learned a new call--this wasn't their typical wolf whistle, but it was on their turf. I looked around, and the bird was conveniently in full view at the top of an oak, in full sun.

The bird was nearly robin-size, pearly gray, with yellow coming up the sides from its belly; it has a dark eye and pale under its eye, and a shortish, dark bill. (Mind you, I didn't have binoculars and the bird was 25 feet up.) I started thinking about olive-sided flycatcher or something in the same family.

After I finished the dog walk I went back with binoculars, but the bird was gone. Based on the field marks, though, it was a Western kingbird--the first one I've seen in my neighborhood. I'm more used to seeing them in open fields in the Central Valley, or in the cow pastures at Point Reyes.

Doggy disinfection desired.

I'm tempted to slip a little hydrogen peroxide into the dogs' water bowl because of something Ethel did on our walk this morning. She disappeared into some bushes completely when my back was turned and didn't respond to calls or whistles. Really, I was standing right in front of these bushes looking, and I couldn't see her. When I was good and panicked about spending the day searching for a lost dog she emerged from the bushes--with poop, probably human, on her lips. So she just lost all off-leash privileges, and I dislike homeless people just a little bit more.

Upcycling for the pups.

This is the first sweater I ever knit (in Pingouin no. 55—from 1985?—and yes, I still have the pattern book. There are classics in there, I tell you).

I'm guessing that the family photo below, in which I am modeling the sweater and my prized Wayfarers, is from 1987 or 1988. I wore the sweater to pieces—long past the time it should have been retired, but I'm sentimentally attached. Recently I wondered whether I could recycle it into a cardigan by felting it and cutting up the front. So I painstakingly darned the moth holes and resewed some weak seams and then felted it (with scraps of the original, 25-year-old yarn).

But goshdarnit, the fundamentally boxy shape and massive batwing sleeves hadn't changed. It wasn't magically transformed into a better-looking garment by a fuzzier texture and some shrinkage. So it got tossed on my pile of WIPs, to be dealt with later.

This summer has been unreasonably cold, and little chihuahua bodies lose heat quickly in the cold. We have three chihuahuas but had just one dog sweater, and I can't knit that fast. Last weekend I had a brainstorm and realized how I could repurpose my pullover.

 

 

 

I cut off a sleeve, cut holes for legs and leash, and finished the raw edges. It's not elegant, but it's keeping Lucy warm on walks until I can knit her a sweater of her very own. Ethel will get the other sleeve. Maybe Tina can have a pillow made out of the body.

Classic Elite's designers have my number.

I just glanced at the ad on the back cover of the Fall 2010 Knitscene, and my gut reaction was, "I have to go get that pattern today." And sure enough, it was a Classic Elite pattern. I wasn't surprised, because I've had that reaction many times before. There's just something about their aesthetic that appeals to me.

The pattern booklet (First Light) isn't listed on CEY's website or in Ravelry yet, so I might have to cool my jets. I think it still merits a trip to K2Tog to check, though. 

Knitscene has stepped up its game, too, it seems. Maybe it's partly that it's a fall issue, but the designs are sophisticated, cute, and intriguing.

Midsummer'sdayfeast

I just scored 2 pretzel croissants & some Jewish rye at Octoberfeast Bavarian Bakery on mid-University. This place is open very limited hours, so I lucked out.

Although I'm saving the croissants to take home and share, I snuck a little nibble of a corner. Nice salty, crunchy brown crust, with a soft, bready interior. I will get the rye bread all to myself: Jane's not a fan. 

I also poked my head into the recently opened New Amsterdam Coffee Shop, but didn't settle in because the tables all seemed to be occupied, it was unpleasantly warm, and the pastry selection looked rather thin. Maybe some other time it will be more inviting.

Sometime this weekend Jane and I need to get to Café Zoe, just opened by our friend. I'm looking forward to seeing what he's done and having some excellent coffee drinks.

Doggy graduation time.

Coffee finished his last obedience class this past Thursday, and Ethel has a couple more Saturday sessions to go, so she'll be done by the end of the month. They have learned all the same things—sit, wait, stay, down (well, Ethel doesn't do "down," actually)—but the instructors have slight variations in how they teach and recommend that these behaviors be reinforced. So it's a lot of details to remember (or forget, mostly), and it means that on walks, when I've got at least a couple of dogs on leash, I usually feel that I should be doing something better/diffferent with them. Even so, I'm pretty pleased at how they are both doing. I can usually get them to drop what they're doing/smelling and give me their attention, which is key to managing their behavior.

Coffee's class was through Bravo Pup!, and we adore his instructor, Paul. I think I want Paul to be my life coach, because I'm convinced he could get me to do anything with positive reinforcement and bits of hot dog. He's one of the nicest people I've met in a long time, and he's incredibly generous with his time and attention. We're glad that he's offered us the opportunity to keep working with him on Coffee's, uh, issues. (In common chihuahua fashion, Coffee can go ballistic—just barking, but that's bad enough—at people or other dogs with very little apparent provocation.)

Last summer, shortly after Coffee came to live with us, we had a couple of private sessions with Sandi, the owner of Bravo Pup!, which gave us the basic tools for managing his fear/aggression/assholeness/whatever. We found out at the time that the little dude gets really excited and happy when he's asked to work, and he's good at it. We were surprised, to be sure. His reputation at the shelter was that of a frail old sad sack who just needed a quiet home to spend his last days in. He actually has a big, kinda dominant personality, and he thrives on attention. We learned early on that someone taught him the "shake" command, but this year by chance we found out that he also knows "high five!" We're quite amused by this trick. Probably no one else would be. 

So the formal obedience class with Coffee is mainly about sharpening up his and our skills. Coffee has everyone in class convinced that he's a timid little shrinking violet; he's only let loose with the full-on barking a couple of times. Since the class is full of bigger dogs, I can't blame him much.

Ethel also has everyone in her class convinced that she's shy, which is not the case at all. She's a gregarious rowdy girl who does get out of line on occasion. Once she jumped up on the couch and stole a bite of cheese roll right out of my hand. It was a delicious cheese bun from Acme Bakery, and I really didn't feel like sharing. And of course dogs are not supposed to get on the couch or steal food. Ethel and Lucy came to us with no obedience training at all, it seems. They are housebroken (Lucy not perfectly, I'm afraid), but they didn't know any basic commands.

Dogs usually pick up "sit" very quickly, but it's taken us weeks to get Lucy to sit reliably on command, maybe because she's so low to the ground. She's good at other commands, though, like "touch (my hand)" and "watch me." It's pretty surprising how much intelligence dogs can demonstrate when you ask it of them.