Cross Country Skiing: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Snow

Snow seems to be the theme around here these days. I guess it's a matter of as goes my world, so goes my blog.

We took a long weekend to Colorado last week where we visited Keystone and tried our hand at assorted snow sports. I've never visited the Rocky Mountains, and I've never skied until now. The mountains were beautiful beyond words. And the snow sports were a mixed bag.


I started on Thursday with an all day snow boarding lesson which I pretty much failed. I didn't quit, but I never successfully rode that board down even the bunniest of bunny hills. I didn't understand the physics behind the board, I didn't believe for even one minute that I would ever actually get good at the sport, and I quickly grew really tired of crashing to the ground. Snowboarding is not my thing.

On Friday I took a cross country skiing lesson at the Nordic Center, and everything about it was better. I got it, I could do it, I could imagine myself eventually getting good at it, and I didn't fall but a few times. I would have liked to ski the whole day, but I had pre-arranged other plans.

That afternoon I participated in a eco-hike on snow shoes. There's not much to learn in regards to snow-shoeing really, it's pretty much the same as walking, which I can do without much trouble, mostly. The hike was fantastic, and the scenery awe inspiring. We looked at and talked about trees, and plants, and snow, and animal tracks. I can safely say I learned more in that 2.5 hours than seemed humanly possible. (Okay, maybe not, but I learned an awful lot.) And I had fun.

Saturday saw my return to the Nordic Center. I was embracing the idea of cross country skiing so much that I signed up for a private lesson and advanced my skills on skinny skis a little bit beyond the basics. By the end of the day I could safely maneuver myself through the snow, climb a hill, ski back down said hill, turn, both to the left and to the right, and stop. That's a lot. In fact it's pretty much all you need to start and ski a little on your own.

I really loved the whole cross country ski experience. The scenery was the same as for the eco-hike - truly beyond my ability with words, so all I will say is incredible. The equipment is minimalist. It's relatively inexpensive compared to downhill skiing, and the impact on the environment relatively small. The people are swell - they share the trail, yield to one another, and give a cheerful polite warning when they're about to pass. Not that I saw but a small handful of people, but those I did see were nice. And you can wear your hand-knits while you ski. The best thing is cross country skiing is every where in Minnesota and I will be able to pursue my newly discovered winter pass time with ease next winter when I have returned home to the snow, and I intend to.

Cross country skiing truly was a perspective changer for me. Like running, it is a sport you do solo, which I love. But unlike running it's not done on the city streets in traffic (although I could take up trail running which I've considered, but that's a different post). Skiing puts you alone in the quite stillness of the snow, where you can hear your surroundings, and yourself think. It is quite and peaceful. A sport designed to do at your own pace, and for a lifetime.

Back from Minneapolis

I've just returned from my trip North to Minneapolis. It was lovely. The weather was a welcome respite from the Texas heat, and the folks were as friendly and accommodating as ever.

I went North to teach a workshop on culinary herbs and making pesto. The workshops was hosted by the folks at Ripple River Gallery - a fabulous place to visit if your in Minnesota. You can read more about the workshop and see many photos of the gardens on In the Kitchen and the Garden.

In addition to the workshop I had an opportunity to visit with a whole plethora of creative people - weavers, knitters, gardeners, wood turners, singers, spinners, and dyers. It was a much needed shot in the arm, and I've returned with a renewed enthusiasm for fiber. I also saw family.

I had ample opportunity to experience some nature. I ran at the lake, walked the country roads, spent time in the garden. The air is clean and cool, something I miss here in Texas. The sky has billowy white clouds, something else I miss here in Texas. I saw Sand Hill Cranes - amazing. I saw a fox - with dinner in his mouth. I was buzzed by hummingbirds, and listened to the song birds.

I knit. Socks, of course. I completed the Stripey Eyelet Rib socks and started a pair of Tweedy Basket Rib Socks.

I visited the MN Textile Center, and The Fiber Studio. The Fiber Studio was new to me - the proprietor offers lots of fiber arts classes, and has a beautiful selection of roving, merino tops, some yarns, and fabric. I purchased a truly beautiful little collection of wool fibers, silk scraps, and cotton voile for nuno felting. If you are in the Minneapolis area, please make a stop at The Fiber Shop - times are tough all over, and she has wonderful selection of fiber-y goodness in a homey little shop.

It was a great trip - too short, very busy, inspiring, grounding, peaceful, lovely, and cool.

The Absurdity of Some Rules

I'm flying to Minneapolis tomorrow in the early-early AM to teach a workshop next weekend. As I checked in for my flight online today I discovered that it will cost me $15 to check a bag, even just one bag. I think this is absurd, of course. It means that like myself, all of my fellow passengers will be traveling with just carry-on luggage, and since it is human nature to push the boundaries of rules, and the limits of your luggage this means there will be aisles crowded with too many people, trying to cram their over-sized carry-on bags into the over-head compartments. The last time I flew home from Minneapolis someone was so over zealous in their efforts to make their over-sized bag fit that they broke the door of the overhead compartment. This delayed our departure by 45 minutes so that a maintenance team could come on board and mend the broken door with duck tape. (That is not a lie).

I will not push the boundaries of my luggage, I will pack light. Traveling with just my carry-on isn't a big deal really, and doesn't restrict me all that much. Except where sunscreen is concerned. Which is also slightly absurd. As most of you know, you can not pack more than 3 oz. of any liquid or gel in your carry-on, and 3 oz of sunscreen just isn't enough. If I have learned anything from living in Texas it is to both fear and loathe the sun. And I wear sunscreen. Always. I know they sell sunscreen in Minneapolis, and that I can just as easily buy some when I land. But that is not the point. The point is the absurdity of the rule which allows me to board an airplane with pointy metal knitting needles and a scissors, but limits my sunscreen to 3 oz.

I'm not a rule hater on principle. In fact I am mostly a rule follower, stickler even. But I can not help but be irritated by rules that seem both silly and even a little stupid.

Packing extra extra light means I'll be traveling with sock knitting - portable, compact, and pocket-able.

In other but somewhat related news; I have finished objects to share. Having deadlines - like the one to be prepared to teach my workshop - always puts me in "finisher mode". And so yesterday I finished my Waves of Lace Shell. Finally. It took me almost a year to finish - not because it was a difficult project, mostly I just didn't work on it that consistently, it sat for long stretches at a time. In fact as lace goes, it was fairly simple; easy to memorize repeats, and a beautifully written pattern.

I also finished yet another One Skein Wonder shrug. The first one I made over a year ago was so teeny-tiny I gave it to The Boyfriend's daughter. Then I made a second one for myself that fit, for awhile, but is now too big. A good problem to have I know. So I made a third. And it fits.


For those of you keeping score at home, this means my WIPs are down to three - The Waves of Lace Scarf, and the Branching Out Scarf, and socks. The lacy scarves will be sitting this trip out, they will stay home. I'll be off to Minneapolis tomorrow with a tiny carry-on, socks in my purse and on a mission to buy sunscreen when I land.

A Suitcase Full of Knitting

I'll be traveling next week to teach a workshop in Northern Minnesota. I'll also be visiting family, and making time to run Lake Nokomis. I grew up in Minneapolis - on the south side, right near Lake Nokomis, and it is still my most favorite run. Traveling also means knitting. This trip especially should offer ample time to knit. That's because I'll be staying with my Dad and his wife and they have a fantastic porch, and the kind of laid-back attitude that makes it easy to spend an entire day knitting.

As I prepare for the trip - making sure the dogs will be cared for, prepping materials for my workshop, making plans with friends, and providing easy-to-prepare food for The Boyfriend to eat while I'm gone - I'm also thinking about the knitting. Or more specifically, which knitting to bring along on my travels.

I've got plenty of WIPs right now - the Waves of Lace Scarf, the Branching Out Scarf, the Eyelet Rib Socks, the Urban Hens, and the One Skein Shrug. I have the yarn to start two new sweaters - The Slinky Rib from Wendy Bernard's book Custom Knits: Unleash Your Inner Designer with Top-Down and Improvisational Techniques, and the Empress Pullover from Knit Picks. And of course there is also socks, so so many socks.

Perhaps the best solution is bring it all. I clearly wouldn't finish it all, but then I'd have choices. And besides, other than my running shoes and shorts, and a couple of changes of clothes I don't need much else. Indeed, a suitcase full of knitting...

Back On Dry Land with One Sock

I'm safely back on dry land and I can say most definitely I will never cruise again. I'm just not a cruiser. I enjoyed the fresh salty air, and the down time to read and knit. I also had the pleasure of snorkeling, and a swim with sting rays in Grand Cayman. They were lovely - graceful and gentle and the softest silkiest creatures I've ever laid my hands on. But I didn't love being stuck on a boat with an excess of rowdy strangers. Live and learn I guess.

I did have ample time to knit and I finished a sock while stuck on that boat. My first official sock. I learned a lot from the single sock - the basic structure and anatomy of sock knitting, how to turn a heel, and how to properly graft a toe.

Unfortunately, it will never be a pair of socks. It is simply too big, and a little floppy. Enough so that I won't knit its mate. I can see no point in two socks that don't fit. Instead I'll move forward and onto the next pair.

I have already gone down two needle sizes, as I always do, to accommodate my loose knitting, and knit the lonely sock with a US 0. I'm going to try the same pattern again, but this time I will cast on fewer stitches and see if I can't knit a sock that fits. If I can I will knit its mate.

Austria ...? Nope, Not Austria Just Austin

Turns out the plans couldn't be made and I won't be traveling to Austria this winter. Just an ordinary Christmas here in Austin TX and a secret wish that it was colder here. I almost hate to admit it but the most exciting part of going to Austria was the promise of a taste, just a taste, of a real winter.

When I left Minnesota I swore I'd never grow nostalgic for winter. I went on and on about how much I dislike the cold, about how daunting it is to live where it snows all the damn time, how I would never look back fondly on below zero days and snow up to my eyebrows. And I suppose that all remains true.

Now I'm here in Austin TX and I'm harboring a secret desire that it was colder here. Not the hurts-your-face and freezes-your-eyelashes cold of January in Minnesota. But cold enough to wear all those beautiful scarves and sweaters I want to knit.

I did just fine this Spring and Summer knitting with cotton and bamboo and other warm weather fibers. I was perfectly content, in fact happy, knitting tanks and sleeveless tops. But now it's late Fall and the weather is turning wintry in most places and the current issues of the knitting magazines, and all the blogs in blog land are filled with beautiful winter knits, and I've got a secret nostalgic yen for cold.

I'm not the only one either. Yesterday in my knitting group we dreamily admired several patterns, only to concluded with disappointment "but when would we ever wear it?". I was trying to decide on a yarn to start Flair, and I pet and I cooed over some incredible llama, but concluded "it will be too warm", and settled for cotton, again. It's not that I don't love cotton, we all know that I do, but honestly a touch of alpaca, or a smidge of mohair would be lovely.

In the end, I suppose I feel better having confessed my secret yearnings. I suppose I will continue to knit jackets and sweaters and scarves that I know I will only wear but maybe once a year here in Austin. I suppose I could take up skiing and thereby have a reason to travel to cold and snowy places. I suppose I could knit with rich warm animal fibers and send the finished objects away as gifts to loved ones left in the cold. I suppose we all make sacrifices...

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. And the weather man has forecast a cold front, a big strong cold front. There is a good chance that tomorrow the temperature here in Austin won't get out of the 40's, there's a chance it will feel a little cold just for the day. It will surely be back in the 70's by the weekend. But tomorrow, Thanksgiving Day, it will be cold, and I will wear a warm hand-knit something, and I will be thankful for it. Have a Happy and safe Thanksgiving!

Knitting Nightmare and Austria...?

I had a complete failure come off my needles today. I had been working on the Rib and Cable Gaiter from the One Skein book. I was using Blue Sky Alpaca's Alpaca and Silk. I loved the process. Simple to memorize the pattern, a fast little project, a lovely yarn, more cables, a warm winter accessory. And then ...

The Knitting Nightmare

I did the bind off and what to my wondering eyes should appear...? A really big, really floppy, really disappointing finished object. It was simply huge.

So I thought, maybe I can full it a bit, shrink it down just a touch, I've got nothing to lose really. The result: Ruined. It didn't shrink it stretched. And now I have a really really big, really really floppy, really really disappointing, wet, sad, something. Ugh!

On a more cheerful note: Why all the warm wintery accessories when I live in Texas...? Austria. Austria...?

Minneapolis - From a Knitter's Perspective

A little more on my recent trip back home to Minneapolis, this time from a knitter's perspective. I am a knitter after all.

First up, my knitting. I knew I'd have ample opportunity to knit on this trip. There was the airplane, the two and a half hour car rides, and quality time with my sister, who also knits. I brought all the ingredients for the Blue Sky Alpaca Fitted Tank. A fine choice since Blue Sky Alpacas also calls Minnesota home. I made respectable progress on the tank, finishing the front and a solid 4 inches of ribbing for the back.

I love this project, the pattern is simple without being tedious. And the Blue Sky Alpaca Dyed Cotton is quickly becoming a favorite yarn, it knits up fast, doesn't split, and is amazingly soft in the hand. Delicious.

A side note of irony - the this is really sort of stupid kind of irony - I was not allowed through security at the airport because the hair care products in my carry-on baggage were to large. I had to return to the check-in counter and check my carry-on. I was however allowed to cram my knitting into my purse and sit happily knitting on the aircraft with my pointy, metal knitting needles. hmmm...

I visited the MN Textile Center. Another amazing resource tucked away in Minneapolis. The gallery was a bit sparse. Although there were several pieces in the foyer by Sock Monkey artist Rebbecca Yaker. They involved sock monkeys, blenders, and meat grinders. Just exactly the sort of dark ironic humor I appreciate.

I made a few stash enhancements, although I was very disciplined, and didn't go over board, and only picked up things I couldn't get here in Texas. From the shop at the MN Textile Center I bought one beautiful, and hefty skein of hand-spun yarn by The Cat That Walks on Water. And I picked up a copy of Annie Modesitt's Romantic Hand Knits. A true celebration of style. It was reasoned that carrying books home on the airplane, since I had to my check bags anyway, was cheaper than the shipping charge from Amazon.

I only visited one yarn shop, the one that was my mainstay when I lived in Minneapolis. I was honestly a little disappointed. It's not that it's not a nice yarn store, it is, but it's not Hill Country Weavers. I have a new appreciation for how truly wonderful my LYS is. I told my sister, who has visited me here in Austin and therefore been to Hill Country Weavers, that I was sadly disappointed, and she confirmed I've been rightly spoiled by the inventory at Hill Country. Despite my disappointment, I didn't leave empty handed. I picked up almost 300 yds. of hand dyed soy silk by Two Sisters At Play, another MN vendor. It's gorgeous.

So with a restrained stash enhancement, a new book, a slightly more than half done sweater, and an appreciation for my LYS, I left Minneapolis. A pretty great place from a knitter's perspective.

Minneapolis - The MN Center For Book Arts

I've returned from my first visit to Minneapolis since moving to Austin TX. I remembered Minneapolis was a beautiful city, and a great city, and was only a little amazed at just how pretty it really is. I felt a little nostalgic, and like I missed it a little, but reminded myself that the weather is truly a factor for most of the year. Our visit was over one of the nicest weeks of the year, and I only needed to remind myself that soon it will be cooler here in Austin, and I wont freeze my ass all winter.

In addition to lots and lots of family, and a pleasant run around Lake Nokomis everyday but one, we visited several of my favorite art and craft related places. What else would I do.

The first was the MN Center for Book Arts. An old familiar stumpin' ground for me - prior to my move to Austin I worked in The Shop for years, and was a member of the Artist Co-Op. The MCBA is a rare resource in the world of Book Arts, as well as a beautiful place to visit. There is a bindery, a letterpress print shop, a gallery, and of course The Shop.

The current show in the Gallery space is "We, too, are Book Artists" and features the largest collection of Book Arts by Afro American Book Artists any where in the world. At only 24 artists it seemed a little sad in an ironic way that it is the "largest" collection. The work was mostly political. There were several letterpress printed broadsides that I liked quite a lot, as well as a few books available to "gently handle". I appreciated this not only because it makes art feel more democratic, but also because it is the only real way to interact with a book.

The Shop there at the MCBA has been re-arranged some and was presently well stocked. I took advantage to add to my humble but growing collection of Artists Books. My favorites were two miniatures by artist Jessica Rosenkranz of Headless Press - "Chicken Story" and "30 White Roosters" and a fun little spoof called "How to Care or Your Art". I also picked up a few new zines, including two issues of the letterpress printed zine Ker Bloom, which is also available on Etsy at Artnoose. And a booklet titled "Notta Lotta Love Stories" by Evil Twin Publications, it is absolutely some of the best writing I've had the pleasure to read in a long time.

I also took advantage of the bindery and cut myself an ample supply of Davey Board for journal making. If I had been in Minneapolis longer than the 6 short days I would have loved to spent some time printing on one of the old Vandercook Proof Presses. But time was limited , as it always is on vacations.

Housed in a restored warehouse space just one block from the river the architecture alone is reason enough, but of course not the only reason to visit the MCBA, next time you find yourself in my pretty, pretty home town.

"a blog mostly about knitting, but also about reading, shelter mutts, and other assorted craftiness"

There's lots of ground to cover since my last post, seems I've been absent from blog land lately only managing a post about once a week. As my last post noted there's a new baby in the house, and new babies require lots, and lots, of attention. So while I have managed to keep up with my half dozen or so ongoing projects, and with Aaron (just barely), I have not, shamefully, been able to keep current on my blog.

However, this morning I spent a little more than 2 hours running all three dogs ragged, and now they are sound asleep on the office floor. (Yup, nothing makes me happier than all my dogs scattered about the office resting peaceful, it's truly a lovely thing.) And so I take a deep breath and begin a much overdue blog post.

On the knitting front: I started and stopped, and started again on the Josephine Top from the Summer Issue of Interweave Knits. Yesterday at my knitting group I quit the dang thing for good, and I frogged my meager 6 rows of Josephine. It's too bad really because it is a lovely garment, I just can't seem to get it going. It's the lace thing, every row requires no interruptions, I always have to have the pattern in front of me, and I just don't have the luxury of that much quite time, remember I've got three young dogs, and so I end up not working on it at all. So frogged! I guess I'm just not a lace knitter.

I have been making progress on the Montego Bay Scarf. That pattern I can memorize, and if I'm distracted momentarily it's no big deal, I can pick up and know where I left off. I like that. I also impulsively whipped off an Amanda's Squatty Sidekick purse, all that's left is the fulling, which I intend to do just as soon as the laundry is caught up.

On to reading; I've joined a new Book Club, one that actually reads books. I love my old book club, but as I mentioned previously it tends to be more of a "wine and eating" club, which I've got no problem with. The old book club seems also to have fizzled on getting together regularly. I miss the old book club and will definitely join them for some "wine and eating" should they manage a meeting.

The new book club actually reads books, and talks about them at their regular meetings. They also eat and drink, but that seems to be secondary to the reading. When I attended my first meeting they had just read "The Time Traveler's Wife", a book that has been on my list for awhile now and one of the members was kind enough to loan me her copy, which I started and intend to finish just as soon as I read this month's selection. This month's selection is "Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl". I'm not sure how it was selected but it's one I somehow got a BA in English without having read. I also just read "Water For Elephants" - I mention this only as a way of recommendation, it's a story well worth reading.

As for other craftiness, I've been binding journals, mostly for my Etsy shop. I seem to have set aside the Book Arts for knitting, and other necessities of life, but lately I've been making the time again. I've been working with my favorite sewn binding for hardcovers, the chain stitch. There is something tedious and repetitive about book binding, not unlike knitting, and that appeals to me very much. I've always enjoyed edition work.

And finally as for the shelter mutts: I've already pretty much covered that in the last few posts. The mutts are all well, and beautiful.

So that's the catch up post, pat your self on the back and resume breathing if you made it through this long, windy post. I'm off to Minneapolis, the first trip "home" since moving to Austin, and so I'll be absent again for another week or so. When I return I'll have finished objects from airplane knitting, tales of yarn store visits and stash enhancements, and news from both the MN Center for Book Arts and the MN Textile Center. Until then...

Live from The Landing...

I'm back from a long, soggy, Holiday weekend in San Antonio. We did absolutely nothing to celebrate the 4th of July here in Austin. Too wet, Zilker Park was underwater so no fireworks, and no symphony orchestra. Instead we stayed home and cursed the rain.

On Thursday we began our long weekend away in San Antonio. It was nice, despite the continued rain. I bought a cowboy hat to keep myself a little dry, and we walked for miles, in the rain. We walked the Riverwalk, we saw the Alamo, the Spanish Governor's Palace, and the San Fernando Cathedral. The Alamo was jammed full of people, and was mostly just boring. The Spanish Governor Palace is a much better bet, we were the only people there and it's filled with great antiques and has a fabulous courtyard. The cathedral is incredible, and I'm told the oldest building in all of Texas.

The highlight of the trip, by a million miles, was seeing The Jim Cullum Jazz Band at The Landing. When I lived in Minneapolis the Public Radio Affiliate aired "Live from the Landing, on San Antonio's Historic Riverwalk, it's The Jim Cullum Jazz Band..." every Sunday evening at 5PM. I rarely missed a show for years. Like people get hooked on "must see TV", I was hooked on a radio show. I'd plan my weekend around catching the show.

I was thrilled to get a chance to see it all happen in person. They weren't recording that night, just playing. I was surprised by the size of The Landing, in my mind it was an old classy theater. In reality, it's a very modest little jazz club with a full bar and sandwiches. In my mind the tickets were expensive. In reality it's a $6 cover charge. And I'd venture a bet that it's the best $6 you can spend in all of San Antonio. The band is a bunch of old guys, very old school with suit coats and ties, and the chops to play 4 full sets.

I took full advantage of the opportunity and purchased two CDs, and had them both autographed by Jim Cullum. I'm not much of a "fan" when it comes to TV or Hollywood personalities, but I admit I was a little star-struck for old Jim Cullum. He's a bit curmudgeonly, wears a bow-tie, has messy hair, and has duct tape on his coronet. He was very gracious about the autographs, and chuckled when I told him I used to listen every Sunday Night at 5.

If you ever find yourself in San Antonio, and you want to hear a bunch of old guys play great jazz, pay the six bucks at The Landing. And if you aren't down San Antonio way, check your local NPR listings, tune in, and turn the radio up. You'll be glad you did.

On a little side note: It has finally stopped raining here in Texas, today the sun has shone. A few stats I found interesting: We've had 34.8" of rain so far this year, that's an all time record. Until today we had 8 consecutive days of rain. It has rained 42 of the last 70 days. That's a lot of rain, and that's global warming my friends.