Prayers for Japan

I have several hits a week on my blog from readers in Japan. To my readers in Japan I offer my prayers and best wishes. May you and those you love be held in safety!

True Love

This is a tale of two kitties (plus one). I met the man of my dreams and I am here to tell you two of the reasons why he is the man of my dreams. At the time we blended households, he had two cats and I had three. We have since lost his girl and mine and now we have three boy kitties. Boots owned the man before I and Boots is a fabulous cat who loves the hand-knits. What more could you want from a cat? Meeting a man who lived with cats was selling point number one. Boots is a very normal kitty cat. He likes high spaces, plays in a normal cat manner, bathes himself normally, talks to birds and other assorted outside critters who happen into view in windows. He enjoys the petting, but is not clingy. Now my two boys on the other hand...

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Toivo loves the loving. Toivo is a big boy kitty and a big boy baby! Toivo has never liked men until we met the man. At bedtime, he has taken to leaning into the man and demanding loving. Sometimes so demanding that he licks the armpit of the man. Ewww. The man tolerates this. Not only tolerates it, but situates himself just so. Every. Single. Night. He talks to Toivo and fusses on him and loves on him until Toivo, until the cat gets too warm and wanders to the end of the bed. Toivo gets just as much loving as he wants. From the man. Every. Single. Night. Heimo is a whole 'nuther story. He has two interests in life. His mama and his toys. He has a million jingly ball toys. He plays with them and part of the game is to put them under the couch and then talk to everyone (in his little insistent hum), whilst looking under the couch. If a human gets up and heads for the broom closet, Heimo falls right into step and then leads them back to the couch, waiting for the ball to come back out from its hiding place. Then, he expects the human to chuck the ball down the stairs, bouncing it off of the wall so that it skips and jumps in proper chasing fashion. If you happen to chuck the ball wrong and it doesn't, in fact, skip and jump in proper chasing fashion, he will watch the ball tumble down the stairs, watch it land and then look up at you and yell. Despite the fact that there are a million of these jingle balls in the house in only four different colors, he will have a favorite ball for the day and that is the only one he will chase. You can try to fool with him by picking up a same colored jingly ball. He will not be fooled. He knows which ball is which. He will pester and hum until you find that ball. You will immediately know you've found the ball, as he will perk up and run for the stairs in anticipation. (yes, people, I am describing a cat!).

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Why is this a reason I love this man of mine? He will talk to Heimo, get the broom, get down on all fours, retrieve the ball, chuck it down the stairs, and do that over and over as Heimo returns up the stairs with the ball. I've watched him, this man I love so dearly, set his laptop down, pick up Heimo's ball, chuck it down the stairs in proper ball chasing fashion and return to the couch to his laptop with narry a cross word for a goofy, obssessed cat!

I am one lucky woman!

Change of Ownership

We had babysitting duties this weekend. Grandpa tried his hat on baby boy.

So Grandma had to one up him! This one definitely works better!

The shower hat now has a completely different head to warm, but it's lovely on him! No matter, I'll knit another before the shower.

Baby boy has a birthday coming up and grandma has begun this:

It's Little Owls Version Two from KnitSimple 2010 Holiday Issue. His first birthday is at the end of the month, so I'll do the wings, eyes, beak and feet later. Must knit another baby hat for this week's shower! Shalom will have to wait until another day to grace my needles.

Et Voila!

Chausettes! Pour! Moi! Socks! For! Me!

He was actually licking them! And today's project... Hat for a baby shower from Itty Bitty Hats.

Simple baby cap with three toppings.

Plan to cast on Shalom tomorrow with Malabrigo Chunky.

Wanderlust and Dwindling Numbers

Yesterday we attended the funeral for my Mummu. Heartbreaking.

On the drive home, instead of knitting, I regalled my man with tales of my family, immediate and extended. She had a beautiful obituary, but there was a detail in there that really stood out with me. Mummu had six children and 16 grandchildren. I am the youngest (I do believe) of the grandchildren. I am in my mid-40s. The next statistic was that there are 8 great-grandchildren. (and one beautiful little great-great grandchild) I do believe that generally speaking, the generations grow over time. Six to sixteen to eight? I examined that and realized that relatively few of the grandchildren had children themselves. That seems odd to me. Only three of the original siblings have grandchildren. My father is not one of them. The man and I examined that. He pointed out to me that he had had a conversation with my dad and asked him when he left home, to which dad replied "the day after I graduated from high school I climbed on a train". I know that I, too, headed off for adventure shortly after my college graduation, choosing adventure, experience and opportunity over settling down with a family. Many of us cousins have apparently gone that route in our lives. I stated that I felt these statistics were oddly high for one family. It was my man who pointed out that I originate from adventurers. My grandfather left Finland to seek adventure, experience and opportunity. My Mummu's family left Finland to seek adventure, experience and opportunity. I come from a long line of this. It all makes sense when viewed through that looking glass. Nothing wrong with that (though the thought that the family line is diminishing).

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There has been knitting. On Valentine's Day I finished the man's slippers, which he loves. He could barely wait for the felt to dry, checking them daily. They are now on his feet. Unfortunately, they are not a perfect pair to this knitter's eyes. At the conclusion of Bev Galeskas pattern, there is the option, when joining, to knit a bumper or not. Apparently, I knit the bumper on one and not on the other. Followed two different sets of directions. Both involve a three needle join and bind-off, so I didn't immediately realize the difference in my knitting. But, no matter, the man does not care about the difference, stating that it is simply aesthetic and not functional, this bumper, and since it does not affect the fit of the clog, nor the walkability of them, he could care less.

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I'm turning the heel of the second in my pour moi pair of socks. Had initially anticipated finishing them by the end of February. The long drive to and fro the U.P. did not involve quality knitting time, as generally would be my passenger habit. That is ok. I spent time conversing with my man and sharing stories of my clan. (These socks will be off the needles this week!) I had two days of driving and giving dedicated attention to the love of my life. Quality time I am thankful for and there are no regrets that I spent that time in the manner I did. I am lucky indeed to have him in my life; I am lucky indeed I am from the clan I am; I am lucky indeed that I have time, talent, inclination and funds to support my knitting habit.

All need attention from me.

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I met family for the first time. What a joy to be connected to these people. And all because of our matriarch, who leaves us with each other.

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(The Frederik VIII is the vessel Mummu sailed to arrive in the US at age 4)

Safely Home

My Mummu, who turned 102 years old in November, passed away peacefully in her sleep yesterday. She announced that she was tired and "going to sleep now". She is now safely home in the arms of her Lord, which she has been waiting for for quite some time now. We all knew it would come. She was 102, after all. After 100, quite frankly, we have known. Quite possibly before that. But this little optimist in me, that believer, that holder-on to family, actually looked forward to announcing "my grandmother turned 103 today!". We will head for the funeral here in a day. So much business to take care of when someone you love goes home to God. But tonight, the business is sweet remembrances. So many of them. I have written before of her socks. The Socks, as I call them. This past Christmas I gifted the men in my family socks from my own hands, but they are no match for The Socks. Not that The Socks are the greatest knit items ever. (Though they are fabulously constructed!) They quite simply are The Socks. Made by Mummu. Loved and cherished and coveted for years. Nothing more to say. Every Christmas there were knitted or crocheted items to be opened. There is not much to say tonight. My heart is tired. But these pictures of Christmases past tell much of a Mummu's love.

I loved and adored this little braided leg girl.

She is dirty from the years, but with a styrofoam ball head,

I'm not sure how to wash her.

What a lovely little couple! My farm husband/wife duo.

These two came with pre-made heads.

This little penguin was loved so much his eye popped off! That is all for tonight.

Pour Moi!

Pour mes lecteurs de francais, ces chausettes sont pour moi! Pouvoir je dis, je parle le francais, je n'ecris pas le francais! (disclaimer in the event I did not write that corrently)

(For my French readers, these socks are for me! May I say, I speak French, I don't write it)

I am loving knitting socks for myself. I admit that with some shame, as I have blatantly decried sock knitting in the past. There is a little fear that the knitting gods will stand with hands on hips, brow lifted and judge me as a hypocrit, given my outspoken nature in the past regarding sock knitting. Here is the truth: I heretofore had never knit socks using two circular needles. I fumbled and fidgeted and fudged with double pointed needles. Skinny, skinny double pointed needles. Those skinny dpns and thin, thin yarn would like to have driven me over a cliff. Someone far wiser in all things knitterly than I made the statement (and published it) "Socks Soar on Two Circulars". (Cat Bordhi). Though I never read her book, I did view a tutorial on youtube and gave it a try when faced with the Christmas sock knitting trials. It took.

The yarn is Paton's Kroy Socks in Paint Box. I love this colorway. It is not self-striping, rather a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues. Delightful! I am following Easy Lace Socks pattern from The Big Book of Socks by Kathleen Taylor. I made the men's socks for Christmas from her book as well. I will set these down tonight to work on man's slippers, but will keep you posted on Pour Moi! sock progress.

I Tawt I Taw a Puddy Tat...

I did taw a puddy tat! I Did! I Did!

Here is the "Puddy Tat" (Boots, of course) checking out Mr. Tweedy(bird)

Greenjeans as it blocks:

Mr Greenjeans was officially put into wearing rotation today:

Funky Button, purchased at my LYS. Love! The! Button!

And now I continue work on the felted clogs for man's feet. First slipper completed. The pattern is a big tricky in that you have to follow along closely each row. Because of this, it was necessary to cast-on an item that would be portable. Of course, I cast on during the boy's basketball game this weekend, which was not really tricky, but did require full attention. Note to self: casting on socks while a basketball game is in progress is not recommended knitting activity if you want the boy to think you're watching his game at all!

The sock I began will be documented soon. Stayed tuned. By the way, have I mentioned that these socks will be For Me? Why do we knitters feel guilty when we knit for ourselves? It is our talent, our money, and our time going into our craft. But, to ease the guilt, believe it or not, there will be another hat produced soon. I'm a sucker for a 6 year old boy's big eyes requesting a hat like his big brother's!