Yarn Reigns Supreme in NYC tonight

Why am I always the last to know? I can't go to this, but wish I could. I would definitely find a sweater to unravel.

Knit Night - Museum of Arts & Design

Bringo

How incredible is this... it's a service that gets through the "phone trees" you encounter when you call customer service. ("I'm sorry. I didn't quite understand you. Please say that again.")

Bringo... no more wishing evil things would happen to the people who designed phone trees

Hope

I suppose posting two-month-old handwritten journal entries doesn't fully capture the spirit of blogging, but I wanted to post this here nonetheless. It was meaningful to me, and I hope it might be to others. I wrote this while on a bus crossing through rural, poor areas of the Dominican Republic while on vacation in March of this year.

I wonder what it says about the condition of this country that the UNICEF-like ads of a foundation, and the signs identifying towns throughout the campo, bear the name of a rum company. Our guide today said that the campesinos are happy with their lives—that they choose to live this way, the state has given them their land. And while it’s true what he said—that the people aren’t skinny, don’t look malnourished, even in this place where the children run naked and the dogs sleep in the streets—there is something empty, vacant in their eyes. I wonder if it’s the space where hope should dwell… those aspirations of "What I want to be when I grow up" and "oh, the places you will go."



Empty Presidente beer bottles line the now-deserted stand of bananas and coconuts as the sun drops slowly behind the Cordillera Occidental. What are the lingering effects of the Trujillismo [the 30-year dictator’s regime—a dictator put into place by the U.S.], the conquests, the coups... the rum? The last thing this country, or any, needs is the judgmental gaze of an American who doesn’t understand its complexities, and I’m well aware that the sings I see here can’t fully be seen through my eyes--"los ojos de una extranjera."

But my spirit feels something that I can’t help but notice and don’t know what to do with. As an American, it’s impossible not to feel complicit, selfish, "part of the problem" when traveling abroad. I guess it is possible, though not for me, and millions of Americans do it every day, which is why I end up feeling like such a jerk.

So, what to do? Tip well, contribute to the economy through the purchase of my watered down piña coladas, and pray? It doesn’t feel enough, and it’s not, but I’m not sure what else to do—besides listen, see, try to understand. And I believe those three are significant. How would it change the world if judgment was replaced with understanding, a desire to help (if not actually the action that does so?) ...

Sweater

I actually have been crocheting during my blogging hiatus, a bit at least. Thanks to the 40 inches of snow that fell on Denver this Christmas, I managed to start and finish a sweater out of Debbie Stoller's Happy Hooker book. It's done in Knit Picks' Andean Silk.

I had to restart at some point, as I was working the fitted part too tightly—and still managed to wear it on the flight home. Long holiday. Lots of airport time.

Charity is...

My own hidden island

If anyone read my blog, they would be asking, "Where has she been all this time?" Ironically, I've been busy with work, where I have been spending a great deal of time researching technology and creating new blogs. Go figure.

In order to keep my tech skills savvy, my writing active, and in wild hopes that I'll accomplish something crochet- (i.e. "relaxation-") related, I decided to just go ahead and post lovely random little things up here more often. Even if I'm just using clever Web 2.0 tools to borrow things that are already online.

Here's one. Come 2010, I'll be looking for a new favorite TV show.

Trujillo

This is a post I started just after I returned from the D.R. in March. I never quite finished it, and my Trujillo interest has waned as other interests have reared their ugly heads, but I still find him fascinating and horrible, enough so that I want to include the slightly outdated post here.


My new obsession? Forget crochet, Alias, or even New York.

I'm currently devoting my spare time and intellectual energy to learning about Rafael Leónidas Trujillo, the man who reigned as dictator of the Dominican Republic from 1930-1961. This was a post-vacation intellectual pursuit. I am very fascinated by the fact that the U.S. government both put this person into power and had him assassinated. What a horrible legacy our country has left in this beautiful nation.

I cannot and will not do justice to telling the full story here, I suggest Vargas Llosa's The Feast of the Goat. A truly extraordinary novel, the inspiration for the bulk of my obsession. There is a film, also, but I have not had success finding it in the States.

To me, the most interesting part of the Trujillo legacy is that there seem to be Dominicans who miss his reign, which was marked by terror, rampant killings, and complete oppression. It was also characterized by a great time of order and prosperity. The decades that have followed Trujillo's CIA-supported execution have been politically unstable to say the least. I won't claim to fully understand the political situation surrounding these events, but mightn't the U.S. have done more? Might we not have worked harder to abolish poverty in this nation, rather than just sending tourists? Might we do more yet today?

The value of culture shock

I just returned from a five-day vacation to the Dominican Republic. Though my time there was largely focused around sitting on a beach, I tried to experience as much of the culture as I could from my walled compound under the constraints of a woman traveling alone.

Now, back in New York, I'm so grateful for the opportunity to have been "abroad," even if that foreign country was somewhere as near as a tropical island a four-hour flight from my hometown. For the last week, I was a stranger in a strange land, which in me, elicits an openness, a trust of people, and a desire to understand (probably in order to be understood). It's a disposition very different from that of the typical New Yorker; we're taught here to move quickly and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist.

As I re-entered the fray today, I felt myself a little more willing to trust my fellow riders on the subway—to imagine the stories of their lives and families, rather wonder, suspiciously, if they might harm me. It's a good feeling, one I fear will fade quickly as I work my way back into the city, but something I hope sticks around.

Speaking of rest...

My guilty obsession of the past two weeks has been watching old episodes of Felicity on DVD. It's all new to me—though I was most certainly in the target demographic when this show was on the air, I lived deep in the heart of the Midwest, a place that had yet to get that phenomenon called the WB (may it rest in peace).

It's so good. Like, good. I think my appreciation for it has more than a little bit to do with the fact that I feel like I'm reliving college by watching it (which, 10 years since I was in Felcity's little freshman shoes, is blissfully nostalgic), but all-around, another J.J. Abrams creation has found its way into my heart (and Netflix queue).

Vacation-related inspiration

I'd totally forgotten that I even have a blog until a couple weeks ago when a friend stumbled across it and said something to me. The end of blogging coincided with the beginning of my new lease, which came equipped with a longer commute and two roommates. I'm housesitting, in Manhattan, this weekend for friends who are on vacation. With a few days to myself, I'm remembering what it was like to have time to write. So, I thought I'd go ahead and give it a try. I've done plenty of writing in the last few months, but it's time to devote some energy to the stuff for which I'm not getting paid.

I leave a week from today for my own little vacation, to the Dominican Republic. It just struck me tonight. I'm going on vacation. I need to do things like buy novels to read and make sure I can locate my swimsuits. The last few months have been so busy that it's hard to get my brain to even think about slowing down.

But it feels good. Really good. Surprisingly good. If the anticipation is this enjoyable, I have high hopes for the trip itself. I'm grateful... for this little revelation, for a weekend on My Island, and for the rest to come.

Independence

I took this photo a year ago, but it's where I spent my morning today, down on the Hudson, spiritually taking a deep breath on this holiday that's shaping up to be instead a busy-day. Living in New York for five years has helped me learn how to find a quiet solace even as dozens of people pass by my park bench. Personal space is redefined when you share a 12-mile long island with 4 million others.

In other news, I've been taking the crochet on the road a lot this week. To the movies, on the subway (where this great, tough-guy guy told me how he wanted to learn how!), and I'll take it on my trip this weekend. I'm telling you, those squares are addictive.

Granny

With apologies to Kim, I confess that this weekend I have fallen in love with the granny square.

I've been crocheting for 15 months, and these are my first squares. I bought the yarn to make a poncho for Mom, but lots of unsuccessful swatching convinced me it was too scratchy for her.



At some stage, I got the inspiration to make a blanket, inspried by the "Modern Afghan" pattern in Erika Knight's Simple Crochet book to think that granny squares can be modern, sophisticated, retro-in-a-good-way, and chic.



I'm not sure if I've achieved any of those things, but I still love these squares. I love the colors, I love how quick they are to finish, I love the soft look of them. But I also feel like I need to apologize for them. I told a friend today, "I don't usually go in for the more traditional crochet, but I think these colors are beautiful together and it's a modern take on the classic pattern." Maybe it is. And maybe it's just an aspect of the craft that has been passed down through generations and it is what it is. It's beautiful because of it's tradition.

My grandmother tried to teach me to crochet when I was nine. I'd learned to knit around that time (it didn't stick), but crochet was difficult for my brain to grasp, especially after my fingers had just memorized the motions required to knit. Now, years after my grandmother's passing, as I've picked up crochet, I feel a connection with her in it. I don't remember if my grandmother made granny squares, but I think of her when I do. I think of the unborn baby girl who will likely receive the blanket they'll make.

I'm reminded of the beautiful women around my life as I crochet the traditional granny squares for this classic afghan as I travel around New York City. Perhaps being on the cutting edge is overrated. I'd much rather just create something beautiful.

A diving expedition

Feeling a bit whiny about the paper I have to finish for tomorrow, I took a break to delve into my yarn stash and dream a bit. I was pleasantly surprised. I thought that everything in there was cheap-o acrylics, but I found some nice surprises, the nicest of which is the CashSoft above, a gift from my sister, from which I'd like to make myself a hat.

But, here, dear readers, I need your help. I have a lot of this:



left from a shawl I just completed. It's a roughly worsted weight wool/sparkly blend, a lovely hand-dye from Cherry Tree Hill. Any ideas? I bought 1440 yards, and would estimate that I have about 600 yards left.

Another use for stash yarn

I love New York. I just placed this ad on Craigslist:

Free, but slightly crappy, futon
Date: 2006-06-24, 11:51AM EDT
I'm about to drag this 4-year-old Ikea futon to the curb, but wanted to give any starving artists/students/etc. in need of seating a chance first. If you're broke and slightly handy, this may be the couch for you. The cushions sit on little frames, one of which is broken (hence the sinking cushion on the right). No major stains on the cushions, but the covers could use a good wash. E-mail via the Craigslist address if you're interested.

for this has-seen-better-days futon:



And already have someone coming to pick it up. I wanted to bundle the cushions to make his pickup easy, but thought, "Oh, I don't have any string." Then I noticed the massive bag of yarn sitting on my shelf. Aha. :)

TGI...S

Yes, indeed. Thank God it's Saturday. Fridays never quite seem to bring the rest they promise, but today has given me a chance to sleep in, linger over a coffee, joyfully browse through the new issue of CrochetMe, and it's just now 9:30. Next on the agenda is to rejoin my cup of coffee for an hour or so of reading, praying, and writing... the kind of stillness my soul needs after a very busy week.

So, I'm moving. Not out of my beloved New York, but off my precious "My Island." (That's what I started calling Manhattan the day I thought I was going to have to swim across the East River to get back here from Brooklyn. MTA + weekends = trouble.) My Island is an amazing place, by all of My City is pretty fascinating, diverse, and fantastic, and I'm going to go live in a part of it that requires half the monthly investment.

So, to Sunnyside I go, and with roommates I'll live. When I assessed my financial situation, thinking I'd have to move, I was initially very sad to leave My Island. But I'm actually excited, now. I love seeing how God is able to use an event I perceive as tragedy to bring outstanding blessing. Here's to (a) my last five fabulous weeks in Manhattan (for a while), and (b) an incredible new beginnning.

P.S. Apologies and thanks to the photographer from whom I "borrowed" this image. His work is really quite beautiful; go check it out and buy something.

I might like knitting better

I was such a faithful crochet girl, and still am... but how flipping cute is this? It's the "Cleo's Colors" cardigan from The Yarn Girls' Guide to Kid Knits, in Lion Brand Microspun. I think it's my new favorite baby yarn. Cheap, colorful and machine washable!

2:43am

OK, progress is good.


Shawl blocked. Just have to let it dry and wrap it. I just used steam and a mister bottle (read: emptied out my hair product bottle and filled it with water). It was quick, but I do miss the magic of a full wet block. But I wonder if that might have stretched too much.



Onesie components crocheted. Assembly remains, which is not my strong suit, but the morning will be good for that.

11:15pm

In the last 15 minutes, I've:

• Realized that the baby shower starts 2 hours earlier than I realized.
  
• Panicked about the head opening on the onesie.
  
• Learned about the head circumference of young baby boys.
  
• Slipped the onesie over my thigh (oh, yes, I'm serious) to make sure it was big enough to match the head circumference.
  
• Rented Just Like Heaven on Pay-Per-View.
  
• Lost my F hook.
  

Things are going... OK.

10:32pm

I have to redo my first sleeve, and, as I'm sewing the shoulders together, I'm afraid the head will be too small to slip over baby's 6-9 month old head. Why don't I just do blankets and booties?

I'm going to make some tea.

8:32pm

Tonight I need to finish a onesie, block a shawl, and (hopefully) crochet a hat for a friend's baby shower tomorrow. Here's the status check in. More to come. (It has to!)