Etymology of " Sweater"

This sweater is what I call a crunchy cable-- warm, grey but Steve says it has a "girly" collar.

"woolen vest or jersey, originally worn in rowing," 1882, from earlier sweaters "clothing worn to produce sweating and reduce weight" (1828), from sweat (v.). As a fashion garment, attested from 1925. Sweater girl is attested from 1940; Lana Turner (1920-95) was the first, from her appearance in the film "They Won't Forget" (1937).

I am knitting a second sweater, another cable, because...well... not certain why. I checked the online Etymology resource, looking for some inspiration to help explain the why. Perhaps I will select the 1828 reference and say its a clothing item to help me lose weight through sweating. This idea will do as well as any other. The truth is I tired of fiddling with lace and wanted to try my fingers with cables.

After hours of looking for a pattern I could use easily convert for knitting in the round, I opted for just knitting it up with the EZ method and using a saddle shoulder on one, and set in sleeves for the other. The cables are 6 stitch cables with 6 rows between back twists, framed with 2 purl stitches and a six stitch stockinette. Its a simple and satisfying project. The first sweater I made for husband in a single ply natural Aran weight wool, the second is in a natural Suffolk wool but DK weight.

The second sweater is my Olympic project. The goal is to complete it by the end of the closing ceremonies of the Olympics. Success will likely depend on a few sleepless nights and the reasons for this sacrifice seems a tad illusive. I think it has to do with seeking community. A couple thousand knitters internationally are engaged in Olympic efforts of knitting through an online challenge issued annually by the famous YARN HARLOT There is really no rational explanation for it. But why not?

Pictures to follow.

Sweeping away the dust & debris of 2009

I don't like to allow the dust and dirt of one year trouble the new one, so I have evolved a personal tradition of spending New Years Day cleaning and de-cluttering. I have a prioritized list, in fact. Included in the list (its grown over the years): cleaning out the freezer and fridge, putting away all vestiges of the Christmas season (yes, the lights are tested and labelled), bleaching all sinks and tubs, organizing and decluttering closets (clothes, coat, and linen). Calling my brother.

In one or the other of my personal self-improvement phases ( a 12 step program was involved) I deepened the tradition to include an emotional sweeping. I try to ensure that any regret or resentment is resolved or steps identified for getting them resolved. This is an ideal that I admit is never fully actualized, but I try.

This year things seem inordinately messy. There are more items to sort, the closets have become more cluttered, even the freezer seems out of control. I think what may be more disconcerting is the realization that my emotional clutter is extensive. I haven't kept in touch with good friends and I have relatives with whom I am estranged.

I am resolved. I will take a deep breath, plug in my ipod for rhythm, ponder the amends I intend to make with friends, pick up my broom and get started.

The Charter of Compassion

I have explored a variety of faith paths and have decided that each has its validity but I have become convinced only how we lead our life is important. The international, interfaith movement calling all to live a life of compassion is the path I have chosen to humbly follow. I am copying it here.

A call to bring the world together…

The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect.

It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and empathically from inflicting pain. To act or speak violently out of spite, , or self-interest, to impoverish, exploit or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others—even our enemies—is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum of human misery in the name of religion.

We therefore call upon all men and women ~ to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures ~ to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings—even those regarded as enemies.

We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological and religious boundaries. Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensible to the creation of a just and a peaceful global community.

Being changed by the lace

I think there's a moment in the doing of lace when a part of the mind is altered by the repetition of the pattern. Its a little magical when it happens. For a while (at least for me) the following of the pattern is a little halting and clumsy. The chart has to be kept close at hand. There is gnashing of teeth involved, as well as an occasional horrid ripp-it sound. And then the moment comes.

It takes longer sometimes for the pattern to become comfortable in the fingers. There can also be a few false moments of confidence that are commonly followed by restarts. But at some point, there is a moment when the pattern doesn't need to be consulted, the pattern starts to be revealed and there is a comfortable predictability of it all.

Warning.

This feeling is commonly followed by a really really huge error made more painful if your confidence led you to ignore including a lifeline. This is the consequence of hubris. If watchful you can discover it before you have gone too far.

Breathe deeply, correct the error....

... and then settle in with the rhythm of the lace, let the yarn overs and SSK's flow. This is the time when knitters feel affirmed in the choice of lace.

I am certain that a scientist among us would be able to explain this magical moment when comfort is found with ones lace by talking about an electrical pathway having been defined in the brain by the pattern. This may be true.

I am certain a musician could explain it with a metaphor with the way a musical riff or measure is learned through physical and emotional practice.

I am a knitter. I know it as the reason I knit, and the reason I enjoy lace.

TWO HOURS LATER-----

NEVER MIND! MY STITCH COUNT IS MYSTERIOUSLY OFF. Lace is a curse.

Sunday Citar:Remember The white space

I value the white space as necessary to understand the meaning of the space that is filled.

When I attended my first ballet, a friendly mentor explained to me to fully appreciate the ballet, I needed to balance my perception by appreciating the white space ...paying attention to the space and the design formed by the pattern between the dancers.

When attending a museum as a young student, a teacher also explained this to me not only to understand design, but to appreciate the skill in properly hanging art along a wall in a manner that adds to the meaning and the qualities of it.

In poetry, this is also an apt metaphor I think. Poetry provides meaning not only by what is said overtly and in the black ink, but in the space between the words, where one's mind and heart add meaning to the words and rhythms of the poem. Poetry too depends on this white space.

Pattern is formed by the rhythm between the white and the filled spaces.

I think Sundays are my weekly white space.

I am an extrovert as those who know me can attest to. I tire their ears sometimes, especially when I am struggling through a complex thought. You see as is definitive of an extrovert, I process externally through communications with others. It is fortunate that my loved ones are patient, as I have been known to go on tangents. As I have gotten older, however, I have also grown to value that place in-between as being important. That space of emptiness and light is where my soul is replenished and the darkness finds balance.

Playng hide and Seek OR Showing the Shrug in process

I know. Not an elegant picture of my current project. In fact it may be considered a bit odd. But you can kind of see that it has a diamond pattern, and is a lace weight charcoal. The knob coming out my ear is the sleeve. When completed it will be a Shrug. Its from the book A Gathering of Lace, and is taking a very long time to complete.

If you look real carefully you can just barely see my cockatoo's beak poking around in back of me. She is playing hide and seek, so there may be a couple of challenging little holes to mend if I am not careful.

A Good Day in the Neighborhood

Topping off a fun "girlie day" with my daughter yesterday, I went out for breakfast with my girlfriend this morning. I gave her the scarf, which was beautiful on her, ( I have a photo of that and will add it when I can get it off my phone, in the meantime heres a fav photo of a best moment) and we laughed, ate, walked, laughed more, shared stories and recent epiphanies, and in general do what women do when they have discovered the value of friends.

I didn't always get it. For most of my life I didn't place much value in intimate friendships, certainly not with other women. Career, fun, money worries, child-raising frets, emoting over romance problems or possibilities; these things seemed important. Spending time sharing with friends and daughters just didn't measure up to all those pressures. Not then.

Now... a few minutes laughing over shared memories and planning future outings with a close friend, or time spent in the early morning with my daughter knitting seems so essential to my well-being.

So today was a good day,

Breathe out the bad air, breathe in gratitude for all that is good, and for friends

I love walking on days like today. Today after hugging my friend good-bye at her car, I walked a mile down Broadway, among the wet leaves, in the fall drizzle. I realized I know business owners or employees in most of the business along my path. I know them well enough to ask after their families, the most recent tumult and share with them hopes for improved business during the holiday season.

I recognize some of the people walking by and sometimes one stoped to exchange pertinent small talk and smiles. Couldn't always remember the name, but it felt good to have these brushes with familiarity.

This is the " Sense of Place" I always said I wanted one day. When I moved to Portland with my daughter, I was 17 years old and on my own. I had never lived one place for any significant length of time. I hadn't yet developed any skills at crafting mutually nourishing bonds with others. I had never successfully sustained a relationship of any sort, in fact.

I am learning. Not real skilled at it yet. But I am improving.

And I always, always breathe a breath of gratitude while I work at it.

Finished

There is a nice satisfaction to finishing a project. I completed the scarf for my friend. Its blocking now on the dining room table. Here is a picture

Its a pattern by Brooke Nelson called Column of Leaves. Its a free download on Ravelry or you can retrieve it from her website. An easy knit. I chose Berocco Venezia yarn, worsted weight. Its a silk wool blend, very nice with good stitch definition.

I am almost finished with the shrug as well, looking forward to posting those pictures soon. As satidsfying as it is to be completing projects, I have the dilemma of which of the projects in my head do I knit now?

Time to research. I think the most difficult aspect of knitting is to decide on a project.

New Lyrics to an Old Tune for His birthday ---

Now you're 64

(sing to the Beatles tune)

Now that you are older, mourning your hair, Many years have passed
I still call you to lay in our bed
Birthday greetings, bottles of meds

When you are out till quarter to three, I don’t lock the door,
I do still need you, and enjoy feeding you,
Now you’re sixty-four.

I am getting older too,
And I ask you ,will you still love me, will you still tease me
When I’m 64?

You can be handy, mending a fuse
When my lights have gone.
I can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings we go for a ride.

Doing the shopping, visiting rehab
Who could ask for more?
Yes, I still need you, yes, I still feed you

Although your 64

Every summer we rent a cottage,
In the Neakanie, cause it's not too far

We Pack up all the beasts and we have a little feast,
Although we’re 64,
we hold on for more ----


Happy 64th to my husband

On other matters With a comfortable theme.......my knitting

Knitting is a kind of mantra at times like this, its a place for me to let go of all that gets frazzled and tangled, finding the central thread and turning it into something pretty. I don't think much about what the product will be though. I like to get caught in the pattern, and the rhythm that the pattern creates. ..It beomes kinda of a hum as I knit and purl and add yarn overs finding the tempo and melody in it all. Once the pattern gets imprinted in my mind I can knit myself into a special place where nothing else even exists and my body has relaxed into the softness of the wool.

I started a new project with a wine red silk wool blend that is incredibly soft on my fingers and its rich jewel tone is just right as I create a column of leaves down the center of the scarf. Its a comfort scarf and I am filling my knitting of it with the love I feel for the scarf's recepient, my very best friend, Krista.

Its a Comfort Thing.

Perhaps its the smell of homemade soup simmering, the fireplace smoldering and the sound of "trick or treaters" recently visiting us that has made me feel all warm and settled inside. I realize a good portion of my energies in adulthood has been in pursuit of comfort. When there is warmth and softness when its a cold & wet night out of doors and I hear laughter (although silence is OK), I feel pretty good about how its all turned out.

When I am walking through the fall leaves (at least when I can withhold the thought that the task of raking needs to get added to my weekend list); I know that once I am inside it will be peaceful. I know that when I am inside my husband and I will share the days events with some level of interest and intensity; there will be a warm, relatively clean house; pets will greet me with enthusiasm, and I will go to bed feeling grateful for a very good life.

There are times I fret that life has become mundane, but on those days there is enough drama, in family matters and at work, to stave off boredom and to inspire growth.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Walking again

The day started out lovely in Camas Washington. Ok this cool picture is not mine. It was taken by

Randy Cox of the Oregonian, but it could have been taken yesterday. By the time we finished our walk yesterday this is what it looked like. We were totally drenched. A friend lives nearby and luckily was prepared with a dryer and a pot of warm soup. I brought my homemade bread.

It was a good day

I neglected to bring a camera though. So I went searching for a photo on the internet that revealed the drama of the sky in the Columbia Gorge as the storm approached. This one comes close

Lovely, Camas Oregon Taken on another day from atop Prune Hill just outside of Camas Washington, where I walked yesterday. The photo taken for ACTIVERAIN realtor shows the view in the morning when it was clear and the sky was a deep blue.

The black part of the sky did show in the distance. We were certain we would make it through the walk before the sky which had quickly darkened opened up. By the time we finished the thunder and lightening was dramatic and the rain was torrential.

It has been a long time since I could walk more than a few blocks; it felt great to be able to walk 7k. Long way from the marathons I have done in past years, but I am starting to believe I will one day walk distances again.

I know, uncool to go grab the photos of others. I am not taking credit for them and I did not steal bbandwidth. I will one day remember to bring my own camera and then remember to take a picture.