Oh yeah? said the yarn. I am too.

I finished up the shawl in Lisa Souza’s El Dorado heftyish kid mohair/silk, a mix of the Julia and Constance patterns that I’d been hoping I could get ready for Lisa to hang in her booth at Stitches West this weekend. Done. I had two projects in mind to try to get done quickly after that, both of them with the best of intentions.

I have had a hank of Silkie balled up, waiting its turn, now was its turn, I knew exactly where I kept it, and why on earth couldn’t I find it? I spent a fair amount of time yesterday searching for the silly thing. I knew just who I wanted to knit it for and I wanted it done!

While I was searching my stash, this single, rather short ball of mohair that I’d bought from Karen at Royale Hare at Stitches a year ago leaped out at me. I tried to ignore it. But it assaulted my needles, beat my inner schedule up, and dragged me into knitting my Zinnia scarf pattern out of it. The color pattern is awfully busy for that zinnia, but it absolutely refused to be anything else. Flower power rules!

Yeah, my yarn bosses me around like that. What, doesn’t yours?

I just wrote this, thought, but it’s GOT to be in there!, walked in the other room, opened that bag again and searched for that Silkie where I’d searched over and over yesterday, and there it sat beaming innocently up at me. The scamp. Hide and go seek. Ollie ollie in come free!

My friend Jasmin was putting in a bulk order for hand dyed roving to Crown Mountain Farms and asked if I wanted to go in on it. My mouth caved in to what my eyes and fingers wanted to play with, no matter what my brain had to say about it, and I told her yes.

She started in on her roving right away when it came. I went ooh, aah, watching her spinning it at Purlescence, and I could only wish; when I spin, which isn’t often anymore, my yarn is never as fine as the stuff I most like to knit up these days. The finer I want it to turn out, the further down my fingertips I hold the fiber at my wheel; with almost no sense of touch left at the tips, spinning like that is a strictly visual task. And one can only stare at a small spot for so long. I could make perfectly lovely yarn out of it, but there was no way this soft merino was going to turn into the lace shawl knitting I so much wished for.

Jasmin had an answer to that. She asked me to bring a half pound of it back to her. I was stunned. I kept asking her, “Are you sure!? Are you serious!” I knew how much work that was! But twist my arm, heck yeah, and I handed over those eight ounces.

That was a week ago. Yesterday (that was a lot of work done fast!) she handed it back to me: in the form of three skeins, three-plied, (three plied! That’s way more work than two-plied!) fingering weight, 794 yards’ worth of that merino, enough for one of my shawls. In absolutely the most gorgeous colorway (well, um, yeah, I picked it out. “Oh Pretty Woman.”) Oh. My. Goodness. Thank you, Jasmin!

I have to add: my friend Nancy came over yesterday, before we saw Jasmin, and I told her, “You have to see this.” She walked into my living room, saw the amaryllises, and gasped out loud over Lene’s: “That one just towers over the others!”

Yeah, my friends tower over me all the time. It’s so cool.

When Purlescence got a shipment of Blue Moon’s Silkie merino/silk in last month, I went through their basket and dithered between the turquoise and the purple colorways. Turquoise or purple. I love purple. But, for reasons I couldn’t put my knitting fingers on, the turquoise is what came home with me.

When it was just an unkempt blob of stitches on my blog, Lene commented how much that turquoise reminded her of her beloved ocean that I knew was so much a part of her growing up in Denmark. What she didn’t know, was, I had spent over a year wishing she would let slip somehow what colors she liked best.

She’d sent me that amaryllis and I had her return address. Heh.

After posting about Bigfoot’s name the other day, I grabbed some Lisa Souza’s baby alpaca/silk in the Berry Poppins colorway and cast on. It has been flying off the needles. I don’t know why, I don’t know who it’s supposed to be for, but there’s this great sense of anticipation that feels like I’m about to find out, and that I have to have it ready for when I do.

Curious. And I would show it to you, too, (it’s about 14″ long so far), except my computer is dissing my camera card. So here’s a close-up of an Appleblossom amaryllis that I shot yesterday.

And let me know she did. With great delight on her part, and mine as well. The Blue Sky Alpacas scarf is blocked, bagged, mailed, and on its way to where it rightfully belongs.

And I got to see this

And this

And missed the shot of the pelican flapping its great wings and the snowy egret near it in the marsh, but I can at least give you the context of where I see them on my way to the post office.

I got passed by a late-model black Maserati utterly impatient with the speed limit, flooring it around me when he got to the dotted line in the road. I looked at his rapidly receding car and thought, you take your riches, hon. I’ve got mine. I win.

But gimme my birds back.

Eh. Next time. I’ll be back.

Technical stuff first: in “Wrapped in Comfort,” I give the stitch counts in the stitch patterns so that you can downsize and make a scarf out of any of the shawls; cast on so many repeats and go. This is one repeat of Nina’s Ann Arbor Shawl pattern with an extra stitch at each side, so, cast on 23 and knit till you’re done. This isn’t blocked yet, and even when I do, it will stay fluid and drapey in this yarn. This is one skein of Blue Sky Alpacas’ AlpacaSilk yarn, some of the very best baby alpaca out there: silky, shimmery, gorgeous, and durable enough that I couldn’t break the strand with my hands when I was done, I had to go get a pair of scissors.

I named Nina’s shawl for where she went to school at the University of Michigan, as I wrote in the book. But the look of it also reminds me of the climbing bougainvillea that was blooming freely here when we moved to California, in vivid, cheerful colors that were startling compared to the gray/white aging-winter snowscape we were leaving behind.

The first time I remember seeing bougainvillea blooming was on the trip to New Orleans when I was a teenager. We ate at the Commodore Inn, a beautiful old place that Katrina later wiped out (I don’t know if it’s been brought back; my attempts at googling it would suggest it has not, but I’d love to hear differently.) The bougainvillea climbed to the second-story balcony like Romeo impatient to see Juliet, deep green leaves and bright fuschia flowers spilling freely over the balustrade, a grand bouquet tossed at the eyes of the diners below. Gorgeous.

(Update: I thought I’d add in a photo of the current state of my amaryllis crop.  The really tall one waiting to open up?  That’s Lene’s.)

I’ve heard a few people say they were afraid my shawls wouldn’t work for plus-size types. My friend Diana’s reaction to that was to play model for me at Purlescence’s knit night tonight.

First,

she wanted to show off her blue Bigfoot shawl. Well done! I knitted Bigfoot a few months ago in Alpaca With A Twist’s “Fino,” which is a baby alpaca/silk laceweight, much lighter than the weight she used here; she tried that one on then, she loved it, and she started in on this one.  Beautiful.

When she saw the shawl I just finished, she tried it on for me, too. (I snagged a stitch badly and wrecked the blocking on one side today while fixing it. A rounded hem works fine too.) Note that this is the version of the Julia shawl with the smaller stitch count.

Thank you, Diana!

The Julia shawl blocking, the faster version with fewer stitches on larger needles because I only had the one skein of Wagtail kid mohair to try to stretch as far as it would go. Length 23″ lying flat, width somewhat scrunched up right now for the blocking process–it’ll be more of a circle than it looks here.

The closer I got, the more I wanted to finish this tonight, after having gone through the stash Monday night looking for this yarn to wind up and get started with. The ends can get woven in tomorrow, I’m turning in after I finish icing my hands. (Got a pack on right now; it does make for awkward typing.)

The thrilled gratitude on that nurse’s face gave me my knitting enthusiasm back by reminding me how much I love doing this. That it’s not all about the work aspect of it. It’s about seeing someone else becoming happy. I owe him.

(It’s not quite that late, the clock on this blog is an hour ahead of me.  Pardon me while I go adjust those wires and sharpen those points.)

No dishes. No vacuuming. No laundry. No taxes. Nothing to do, after Nancy kidnapped me and took me to Creative Hands in Belmont, but sit there, enjoy the company of other knitters, and knit. The phone rang: major accident on 101? Traffic stopped? We’ll just have to knit here a bit longer.

Having learned, via the Orenberg skein a few weeks ago that ran 250 yards short, that I can still knit a well-fitting shawlette project with the Julia pattern out of a smaller amount of yarn, I started this with a single 410 yard/100g skein of Wagtail Yarn’s kid mohair. I can’t wait to show it off at this year’s Stitches convention to the fellow who raises the animals it came from.

(The former post title didn’t quite do it, I decided to change it.)

I did stop by Urgent Care, and I told the receptionist there what I was up to. I was a little hesitant to just leave the things when I didn’t know the name of the nurse I’d knitted for and I wasn’t entirely sure I’d gotten the X-ray technician’s name right. I’m sure the other people that work there are perfectly wonderful, but I wanted them to go to the people I’d made them for. So I explained. About Dr. Rachel Remen’s writing that another doctor had told her that if they make a difference to the patients, “The patients never tell you,” so I had decided, well, I’m going to! Bring out the knitting needles!

The receptionist was totally thrilled for them. It was fun to watch her. She checked the records to see whom it had been three weeks ago, told me that that nurse was there on duty right then, and called for him in quite a bit of excitement.

Meantime, a very elderly and very tiny woman came up, alone, while I was standing there waiting, and started talking to her. She didn’t want to be a bother or be out of turn… And the receptionist asked her, “You’re having chest pains? I’ll get you a nurse right away.”

I thought, oh good, he’s probably already about on his way out. But I watched her face cloud over for just a moment at the question of chest pains, and I instantly understood where she was coming from: how wonderful it felt to be around happy people, seeing that big smile that had already been on the receptionist’s face. But how much she needed to be taken care of NOW, while not wanting to complain. I looked at her, knowing in my bones, You need a wheelchair!

I offered her my arm to help her to a seat. She gladly took it. (I thought emphatically at myself, bod, don’t stumble on me now. It behaved.) She was trying to go to the main waiting area, which was pretty full with no seats open nearby; I steered her gently to the little alcove next to it that had a chair right there. As I helped her settle down into it, I smiled and told her, “They’ll take good care of you here. I’ve been a cardiac patient here. They do a good job here.”

She smiled warmly and thanked me gratefully. She reminded me so much of my grandmother when she was in her 90’s.

And I was glad to know which nurse was on duty this afternoon.

I did get a chance to give him his scarf in person. He was surprised and thrilled and finally asked me, “Now, what was your name again?…” Three weeks ago, he did such a good job of being there for me. It felt wonderful to be able to be there for him, too.

And the unexpected gift, for me, of being able to bring a moment of comfort to that elderly woman so that she wouldn’t be alone either. We’re all in this life thing together.

(for the nurse)

And a two

(for the X-ray technician)

And a three

(for the doctor)

reasons to go back to Urgent Care when there’s no medical need to. The men’s are Misti Baby Alpaca Royale, the doctor’s Handmaiden’s Camelspin 70/30 silk/baby camel, handdyed.

Close-up on the nurse’s needle–being baby alpaca rather than wool, which would have had much more spring to it, the motif relaxed out a lot when I rinsed it and laid it out to dry, so it’s less obvious what it is.  Which is fine with me.  That nurse’s needle was essential to my current well-being, and I wanted to design him something that conveyed his work in his scarf.

I separated the X’s for the technician’s by four rows of garter to give each X separate prominence, but it nevertheless all flowed together in a cohesive whole. I quite like that. It fits.

The doctor’s was the leftover yarn, done in as open a pattern as possible to try to stretch those 26 g as far as they would go, from the project I made my son’s fiancee for Christmas. Camelspin is really nice yarn, and when I saw that small leftover ball, it was one of those moments of, yes! That’s the right yarn! Purlescence didn’t have more in stock of that colorway just then, so I had to make do.

Off for a routine appointment today; I’m going to stop by Urgent Care on my way out and try not to get in their way. Wish me luck.

I almost didn’t go to my once-a-month knit night at Commuknity last night; it’s a big group, there’s always an exposure risk, and it’s a bit soon since my big bug. But I needed to see my friends–I had no idea what was coming–and I’m so glad I went!

There was someone new there, Becky, sitting behind me, who’d brought my book and was working from it. When it was her turn to show off, she said she was doing a shawl from “Wrapped in Comfort.” One guess as to who everybody pointed at. Oh! She said she’d looked at me, she’d looked at the picture in the back of the book, she’d looked at me… It WAS me!

They had decided to hold a “show your Alison” night: Diana, Lisa, Susan, Jocelyn, Julie, Lyn, Vera, Nancy, Margaret, Candace, Cris, Fae, and Chris had all made or were making shawls from my book. Catie wasn’t able to show up, but sent word that she was working on one, too. At the point a few years ago when I didn’t even have a publisher yet, Catie tried on my Kathy shawl and told me emphatically to hurry up and get it out there because she wanted my patterns! She gave me her thoroughly quotable reason for vastly preferring the circular shaping on my shawls vs. the more typical triangle ones: “I don’t need an arrow pointing at my butt.” Her much-needed vote of confidence helped keep me going re trying to get published, and I loved that it looked great on her: it showed me how well those shawls could fit a variety of body shapes.

Susan had been one of my test knitters. She signed a page of the Kathy’s Clover Shawl, which she’d knitted. Susan is about to move away, and my heart about broke with love and aching when I read what she’d written. You can’t tell a friend Please Don’t Go, you can only wish them the best on their journey. (Hey. Susan. Please Don’t Go.)

Chris surprised me with socks she’d made using Cat Bordhi’s new book. Which happened to match what I was wearing and fit perfectly–actually, even though I avoid knitting socks, I have some handdyed sock yarn that has stubbornly refused to be knit into anything else, which means it’s just been sitting there. I wanted socks in those colors. It’s really close to Chris’s yarn choice. She’d nailed it.

You know, I could get a little too spoiled. Thank you, everybody!

My friend Pam gifted me with a surprise: a pair of fingerless gloves with my Rabbit Tracks pattern knitted into the backs of the hands. In a yarn with a colorway named “Red-tailed hawk.”

I was sitting in this very seat, working at the computer one day a few months ago, when a red-tailed hawk flew into the tree outside my window here. I stood and watched it for several minutes; when it spread its wings and tail feathers wide and flew off, it was absolutely breathtaking.

My friend Robert, who lives in the mountains nearby and is the weaver of my medicine blanket, rescued a red-tailed hawk about a year and a half ago, injured by the side of the road. He took it home and nursed it slowly back to health over several months. He sent me an occasional email along the way, telling of the progress she was making, of how he’d won over her trust and she would come to him. He described the thick leather gauntlets he wore to protect him from her claws as she would climb up his arm towards his shoulder to get closer.

Then came the day he decided she seemed ready to return to the wild; he thought her wing was probably strong enough now. He took her outside, on his heavy leather glove, and waited for her to fly off.

This was a new thing. She had to decide to stay with him or go. She did not immediately take off, but when she did, she flew to a tall tree close by (proving to him she could fly that far again)–where she perched and regarded him for half an hour, as he waited to see, as he couldn’t take his eyes off this beautiful bird he’d put heart and soul into caring for.

He described it all to me. Then, at last, she lifted her wings and took off into the sky.

I still have this cough bugging me. I still have a fair amount of nausea, and my weight’s down six pounds from the beginning of last week. It’s a little too easy to feel crummy.

And then I got a package in the mail yesterday, red-tailed hawk fingerless gloves to keep my hands and heart warm. The beautiful and unexpected gift of Pam’s time, thoughts, and yarn lifts my spirits high.

Talking to my brother Morgan… When Dad mentioned to him that the baby of the family that used to live across the street from us, when we kids were growing up, was THE Steve Colbert, Morgan went out and got a DVD of some of his shows, curious.

And when Steve mentioned “my sister Margo” on that DVD, Morgan exclaimed out loud, “*I* know *Margo*!” He called me a few days ago, and we wondered whether, with our 40-year-old memories, Steve looked more like Jay or Paul did as kids. Not Peter; Peter had sandy hair in my mental image and a rounder face.

So. What brings all this up. I got some Ben and Jerry’s “Steve Colbert’s Americone Dream” ice cream, and looking at the list of ingredients was one to catch the eye of any knitter: bamboo fiber. Bamboo fiber? In ice cream!? Do I eat it with chopsticks? Can I sharpen their ends and use them to knit it, too? Was it in the waffle cone part? Should I knit a waffle stitch?

Colbert has a fear of bears. (Wave a California flag and ward him off?) So, what do we read into this: do we finish what’s on our plates for the poor starving pandas in China? Is he trying to get the bears to go after our ice cream and leave him alone? Is it a VastRight-Wing Conspiracy?

Ah, my. Life is so complicated. Pass the ice cream.

When Nina was here, I was experimenting and frogging. I woke up the next morning with a mental image of exactly what I really was trying to knit: not this ribbing pattern, not that drop-stitch wave that I’d been trying the evening before, but what I really wanted to knit. For that male nurse.

Baby cables and ribbing framing, in the center of a soft scarf, a knit-purl-patterned hypodermic needle. Such a basic part of his everyday work, and yet something that has been so vitally important to my life the two times I’ve seen him. And he has such a deft touch with them. I pictured the whole thing and worked out the stitch count across the scarf as I lay there–all of which I promptly forgot when I got out of bed, but I later sat myself down on the couch and made myself work it back out again. My brain had it once, I could do it again. I did.

I really, really like it. It’s one of those things where, if you know what you’re looking at, it’s obvious. If you don’t, it’s a pretty pattern. I’m knitting it in the worsted-weight Misti Baby Alpaca Royal I bought at Stitches West a year ago, that I’d wondered why I’d bought such a (for me) heavy yarn. (I know why, it was one of the softest yarns in the whole show and that was the weight it came in. Period.) It’s not spun so loosely that it’ll fall apart at all, and yet, because of the fine micron count and fiber type, it is nevertheless exquisitely soft–the spinners at the mill got the balance exactly right. It’s perfect.

And then I’ll do one with x cables in the center for the x-ray technician.

Meantime, here is the bouquet from Nina, the roses from Phyl and Lee, and the last flower on Sue’s: which has been blooming, with a one-week break in the middle, since the first week of December. Wow.