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Slow Progress on the Knitting Front

Have you missed the knitting? So have I. Somewhere along the line I stopped knitting, probably about the same time I stopped reading blogs and blogging, but it is all rather vague now.

I started knitting a sock a few weeks ago and rapidly got about 5 or 6 inches along before I realized that it was too large for the recipient (G) and ripped it out. It is now progressing at a snail's pace as I've just been too preoccupied elsewhere to give it the attention it deserves. The fact that I am knitting in 2×2 rib deserves mention as well; ribbing remains my least favorite thing to knit despite forcing myself to do it occasionally, and I am sure that when I am tired at night, endless ribbing does not inspire me to knit deep into the wee hours.

I did finish the purple sweater that was blocking in early January. I am fairly pleased with the outcome.

This is basically a boxy sweater shape, inspired by a sweater I saw on the Eileen Fisher website. I just wasn't sure about the actual size of the original, the actual color, or if it was as I imagined it so I knit my own, naming it Eileen in honor of the original. By the way, I have since seen the original, and although it is lovely, and I would have worn it had I purchased it, I like my own Eileen sweater much better.

I wanted a lightweight mohair sweater with a bit of a melange effect. I knit the body using a light fingering weight mohair (Classic Elite Giselle) held together with a lace weight variegated merino (Ella Rae Lace Merino), both in purple shades. I love the way the two yarns worked together to form a soft blending of related colors.

I wanted the collar to be a bit more substantial than the light airy sweater, and I wanted solid color that harmonized with the colors in the sweater. Neither of the yarns used for the body was appropriate. Luckily Rowan's Kid Classic, an aran weight wool and mohair blend came in the perfect color and weight. After the body of the sweater was knitted, blocked, and assembled, I picked up stitches and knit the collar about 8 inches deep.

I love the generous width of the shawl collar and the sweater is lovely worn as shown in the first photo. However, that has been a little too warm for the Knoxville winter as I have experienced it so far this year. More often I have just been letting it hang open, which gives it a nice drape, either with the collar rolled back as above, or just left flat.

'Though as you can see that didn't work with this particular outfit.

February 10, 2012
A Movie Date

One of the things I hoped for with this move was that we would find some ways to spend fun time together while doing so was still possible and feasible. To that end, I had scheduled a couple of "togetherness times" during the week. This week the plan was to go out to lunch and a movie. We missed lunch. I had D, our fabulous new handyman, installing towel bars, grab bars, and all kinds of other bathroom necessities and the job took a little longer than I had hoped. But we still made it out to a movie, and it was far easier than in our previous home with a shorter drive, closer parking, and a far shorter walk from parking lot to movie theater. Also thrilling, to me at least, being the movie junkie that I can become when the opportunity presents itself, is that this particular theater seems to have a lot of coming attractions that I actually want to watch, probably far more than G can stand, so it is possible that I may sneak off for a cinematic knitting break on occasion.

I chose The Artist as our first film-foray mostly because it is a silent film and even with headsets, G has trouble following the dialogue in contemporary films. Until recently, watching G watch films, I had not noticed how much faster we speak today, and how much faster the dialog is in new films as compared to older classic films from the mid-twentieth century. I also thought that the fact that it was in black and white would appeal, as G was an avid amateur photographer not that many years ago, and his preference was always for black and white film.

It was a good choice and we both enjoyed the film immensely. Jean Dujardin is absolutely fabulous, with an incredibly expressive face, a great sense of commedic timing and command of body language. One feels almost as if he is too much for today's movies, which is of course not true, and that he would have been a perfect silent film star as he performs beautifully, with both subtelty and an expansiveness that remains controlled and perfect even at those moments where the movie could have really run away into a roller-coaster ride of rampant melodrama. I highly recommend the film as well as the way it rather slyly plays with the idea that it is a silent, black and white film, about a period when films were making the transition from silence to the "talkies". It is also, apart from the purely charming story, and interesting study in how success, over-confidence and arrogance can lead one to resist change, with possibly devastating psychologic effects as well as how one must find new ways to define oneself in an ever-changing world. I know, I know, I'm probably reading too much into a fun film to watch, but it is more than simply a remake of "Singing in the Rain", although the inspiration is obvious, and is well worth watching. The final twist, the one that kind of pulled it all together for me, was at the end, when you learn that George Valentin's voice was fine (of course Jean Dujardin's lovely French accent helps), confirming that it wasn't the industry alone that pushed him aside, but his own difficulty in finding a way to reimagine himself.

February 9, 2012
Quiet Evenings

We are finally settling in a bit, and we have had a couple of peaceful quiet evenings. There is still much unpacking to do but it is going a little bit more easily as G as getting settled into his new surroundings and is no-longer quite as confused and agittated. Anyone with any experience with Alzheimer's/dementia patients would aniticpate this, but even anticipated, it is still exhausting, and the first week was spent more in acclimating ourselves to our new space than in unpacking. It is not the way I would have thought I would go about settling in but one must make the best of what curves life throws one's way.

Our first completely quiet, peaceful evening we sat contentedly reading in the new sunroom/sitting room, still a work in progress, yet transformed since my last post into a cozy nook. Here is a picture of Sam, on the arm of G's chair, next to the book cart, which contains my current "to be read" pile. I haven't unpacked the bookends yet, so various foodstuffs and cleaning supplies have been called into action to keep everything in place.

We had already been to the local library and G was reading Simon Winchester's Krakatoa, which has actually been on my to-read list for a while now. I hadn't read anything for a couple of weeks, with all the stress of the actual closing and move, which is not a story I am in any way ready to share, and was perfectly content to settle down with some light mindless escapist reading, so I read Danielle Steele's novel, 44 Charles Street. It was exactly what I needed, not very realistic, certainly not a book that will stand up to critical reading, but an enjoyable bit of escapism. Considering that reading one of these novels only takes a couple of hours (you have to be willing to suspend disbelief), or about the same amount of time as a movie, I tend to find it more rewarding than the average movie simply because reading engages my imagination in a way completely different from what I experience when watching a film.

Last night we spent another quiet evening, reading part of the time and then watching Morley Safer's interviews with Dolly Parton, Anna Wintour, and Meryl Streep on "60 minutes". We split a new-to-me gluten-free beer, Green's Amber Ale, which was actually GOOD. Yes, the emphasis was needed as too many of the gluten-free beers I have tried just take like amber colored sugar water with a hint of hops. I'm not really much of a beer drinker, as I find it terribly filling, and half a bottle was perfectly satisfactory. It is nice to think that there is some beer to cook with again, however, and I see a rarebit or a carbonnade in our future.

I started reading Charles Frazier's Nightwoods, and I although I am not far along, I am ready to sink into the author's beautifully rendered, resonant prose, which seems to perfectly capture the essence of a person and a place. At the moment though, what resonates with me the most is this particular passage:

"You try your best to love the world despite its obvious flaws in design and execution. You take care of whatever needy things present themselves to you during your passage through it. Otherwise you're worthless."

But perhaps this is just my all-too-human brain seeking connections and ways to tie the various parts of life into one continuous whole.

February 6, 2012
Blue Skies

A few days ago there was an article in the Wall Street Journal on Stress. You would have found me over there at the extreme end of the red zone; exhausted, absent-minded and make mistakes in the simplest of tasks.

We closed yesterday and the relief was palpable. Even drive home, through rush-hour traffic in pouring rain did not dampen my spirits.

Here is a photo of the house-in-waiting, empty and echoing with unfulfilled promises. Or at least that is how I felt at the time. I have to thank almost everyone involved, and most of all our builder for working with me to allow me to move our belongings in before closing. That house is no longer empty but it is far from unpacked. I have created small islands of calm amidst the boxes, the sitting room shown in this photo is now cozy and comfortable.

Posting may be erratic for another week or so, but I will try to get back on track.

January 27, 2012
Moulting

We are still in the hotel. Enough said.

Much as I am tired of living in a hotel, and much as I am very much ready to be in my new house, living in 550 square feet of space for a little over month has not been as much of a trial as I had anticipated, and this is making me rethink all of my previous assumptions about both necessary space and necessary possessions. Compared to our present location, the new house seems enormous, and the thought of all the things coming from New York seems overwhelming. If I was worried about downsizing, I am less worried about it now.

Knoxville itself has been a bit of a surprise as well. Granted it will take me a while to get settled, get involved, and really make myself at home, but I cannot say that I miss New York state or the Hudson Valley. In fact I am more relaxed here. Things are quite different, and I too am probably somewhat different, or at least different parts of my personality are getting to come out to play. There are no expectations here and I have nothing to prove. It is quite liberating.

As you can see from the photo above, the moulting process has already begun. And the truth is that I am completely enamored of this new haircut. In fact, I can even honestly say that I am, at the moment, completely enamored of my face, vain as that may sound. Good photos are good, but even terribly awful photos where I am frowning or scowling show a dimension of myself that I had allowed to slip behind a curtain. I am still not able to reconcile the self I see and the self I feel myself to be, and a part of me still feels that every photo should be burned, but despite all that I spent a terribly embarrassing amount of time yesterday playing with the camera taking photos of myself. I am intrigued by how such a simple change can completely alter perception. I felt like a teenage girl practicing poses in front of the mirror, searching for this new person to be revealed.

I am actually not sure about my ability to replicate the styling, and am a little curious about how this will turn out when I try to do it at home. My new stylist, Jared, used a flat iron before styling with a round brush and the blow dryer. I'm used to the round brush, or multiple round brushes, but no one has ever used a flat iron on my hair before. I am intrigued enough that I bought one today, although I am not at all convinced that the blow dryer in the hotel is up to the styling task, weak as it is and given its penchant for shutting down after about 5 minutes and not restarting for another hour. But I hope even the un-styled version will be nice, and I will learn.

As to other details, the teal top I am wearing is a new purchase, a wedge-shaped, lightweight wool crepe by Eileen Fisher. The spring EF line has some lovely teals and perfect soft summer greens. I highly recommend checking it out if you are attracted to the softer summer colors. I'd share some pictures but haven't found anything online yet, and aside from the bathroom mirror, good photographic settings seem non-existent, unless I wish to go lay things out in the hotel parking lot. Not.

The bracelets are iron and the necklace is Brazilian agate. They were both gifts from G and may be worthy of another post one of these days, as they are rapidly becoming a part of my everyday uniform.

There is one more picture I want to share, but don't worry, I'm not going to inundate you with a gallery of ridiculous expressions. The first picture is the one G likes best, but this one, with its multiple layers and partial views is my favorite. I like the reflection of my eyes over my face mocking me, and the smile in the mirror. The whole is a sum of the parts but each part in and itself is another whole, granting a glimpse into the dimensions hiding behind the whole.

January 19, 2012
Notes at the end of the week

Here is a blurry cell-phone shot of my knitting progress. The second sleeve for this sweater will be finished tonight. It should have been finished before now, but I have fallen asleep on the sofa two nights running. I'm not yet that near done; Once I sew the shoulder seams, I have a large, roughly 8-inch shawl collar to pick up and knit.

Temporary residence is getting wearing. Luckily it looks like we may be in the house and living amongst the boxes within 10 to 11 days. We close on the new house next Friday, and our old furniture is scheduled to arrive on Saturday. Even if there are delays I hope it will be here no later than Monday, and we are in, even if still unsettled.

These photos were taken at the beginning of the week. Since then, more has been accomplished. The floors have been put in. That annoying little granite backsplash/ridge above the countertops has been removed and the tile backsplash has been installed, although I haven't seen it yet.

G was surprised that I would chose such traditional cabinets. Apparently my style is quite modern. I reminded him of the agreed-upon parameters (stay within the builder's standard options). I can always reassess in a few years.

For now I am ready to settle in.

January 6, 2012
Azar Nafisi’s Things I’ve Been Silent About

I picked up Azar Nafisi's book, Things I've Been Silent About on a whim when I was at the bookstore contemplating looking for another copy of her previous book Reading Lolita in Tehran, which I had read, loved, and then lost when I lent it to a friend. In the end I bought this book and promptly let it sit on the shelf for a few years. I am glad that I finally read it.

I picked it up in November but did not get very far before I had to set it aside. The book seemed to intense and difficult for me at that time, filled as it was with strife and very personal memories. It required more energy than I had available.

I started reading it again last week, finishing it on New Years Day. This time around I was able to engage with the book more fully, though I still found it to be a difficult read in that I would need to walk away and clear my head after certain sections before resuming. It is a story that is profoundly private and yet vividly public, about a turbulent life which was also wrapped up in a turbulent place and time, it is a story about Nafisi's family and how their story is also her story and how the woman she became is shaped not only by the private drama of her family and her childhood struggle but also by the public drama of the culture, both social and political which surrounds them.

Nafisi tells the reader in the very beginning that this will be a very personal journey:

I do not mean this book to be a political or social commentary, or a useful life story. I want to tell the story of a family that unfolds against the backdrop of a turbulent era in Iran's political and cultural history.

and later:

Perhaps the most common of all narratives is one about absent parents and the urgent need to fill in the void created by their deaths. The process does not lead to closure — at least not for me — but to understanding. It is an understanding that does not necessarily bring with it peace but perhaps a sense that this narrative might be the only way through which we can acknowledge our parents and in some form bring them back to life, now that we are free, at last, to shape the boundaries of our own story.

As usual in my pseudo reviews of books, I am not interested in going into the details of the story as it unfolds. It is enough to know that Nafisi was a fighter from childhood and that her parents were difficult. The children were caught between an angry controlling mother and a charming dreamer of a father, both parents completely entangled in their own personal fictions. It is no wonder that Nafisi became a student of literature, nor that she would be drawn to Nabokov, just as it is also no surprise that she would be a rebel. These skills help her to analyze her own story and the story of her parents as if she is analyzing a literary text and her storytelling skills help her balance the touchingly personal with the analytic.

She is not completely successful in maintaining this difficult balancing act, and there are times when the book becomes shrill and querelous. Although Nafisi has told us upfront that this is a personal journey, she also tells us she is interested in those fragile intersections — the places where moments in an individual's private life and personality resonate with and reflect a larger, more universal story. To some extent she is successful in accessing those intersections, but perhaps not completely so.

At the end of the book I was left with the nagging sense of something unfinished, of a story that was yet to begin, although I do think this was intentional, that Nafisi had indeed found an understanding that had been elusive before, and understanding that allowed her to move forward.

I will leave you with her closing words:

It was only after their deaths that I came to realize that they each in their own way had given me a portable home that safeguards memory and is a constant resistance against the tyranny of man and time.

January 3, 2012
A New Year’s Miscellany

New Years day was spent quietly ensconced in our small temporary abode, reading and knitting.

A little time was spent in my tiny, oven-less, two burner kitchen preparing a News Year's Dinner with a nod to Southern tradition:

Local Tennessee sausages with black eyed peas, and collard greens sauteed with garlic, ginger and tomato. Not beautiful perhaps, but warm and comforting food nonetheless.

A new USB cable arrived for my camera so I attempted a WIW photo (what I wore) on New Years Eve. The camera works slightly better than my cell phone in this tiny space, but is not ideal. We spent a casual New Year's Eve with family and I wore this outfit during the day as well when I was out ordering a few pieces of furniture we had scouted out during the previous weeks. Quite frankly I was quite happy to end the year without resorting to bulky coats and winter boots.

On New Year's morning there was more banging and yelling than usual from our neighbors and much revving of engines in the parking lot. None of us have grown accustomed to having the great world in such close proximity. Moisés returned to a favorite hiding spot. I seriously wished I could join him.

I'm off to see what everyone is up to on this Visible Monday. Have a great week!

January 2, 2012
Books Read 2011

Overall, 2011 was terrible year for me reading-wise. There were long periods where I read nothing beyond skimming the newspapers and blogs. There was far more frivolous than serious reading.There were other periods were I was up to only reading a page or two a night. There is also a fairly long list (for me anyway) of books I feel I must read again, books I feel that I fell got short shrift because I was too distracted to focus on them and give them the attention they deserved.

Still, I feel the need to make some kind of accounting. If I reviewed a book on the blog there is a link, although you will notice that my ability to take time for reviews stopped for the most part as I got busy preparing to sell our old house and move.

Books I feel I need to read again are marked in red. In the case of Hustvedt and Wallace, I just felt that I wasn't paying enough attention. I loved both of the Atwood novels, and they still hover on the fringes of my thoughts, making me think they deserve further consideration.

1. Freedman, David H. Wrong: Why Experts Keep Failing Us and How to Know When Not to Trust Them.

2. Lebenthal, Alexandra. The Recessionistas.

3. Niffenegger, Audrey. The Time Traveler's Wife.

4. McMurtry, Larry. Books.

5. Ripley, Amanda. The Unthinkable: Who Survives When Disaster Strikes — And Why.

6. Akroyd, Peter. The Trial of Elizabeth Cree.

7. Kingsolver, Barbara. The Bean Trees.

8. Kozol, Maggie. The Color of Atmosphere.

9. Patterson, James. The Postcard Killers.

10. Woods, Stuart. Lucid Intervals.

11. Chabon, Michael. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.

12. Cahill, Thomas. How the Irish Saved Civilization.

13. Dineson, Isaak. Out of Africa.

14. Hirigoyen, Gerard. Pintxos.

15. Hoeg, Peter. The Woman and the Ape.

16. Lewis, Michael. The Big Short.

17. Martin, Charles. Chasing Fireflies.

18. Doland, Erin. Unclutterer: Unclutter Your Life In One Week

19. Chabris, Christopher. The Invisible Gorilla.

20. Chabon, Michael. Summerland.

21. Child, Lee. Worth Dying For.

22. Child, Lee. 61 Hours.

23. Winter, Kathleen. Annabel.

24. McLain, Paula. The Paris Wife.

25. Franzen, Jonathan. The Discomfort Zone.

26. Woods, Stuart. Fresh Disasters.

27. Wallace, David Foster. The Pale King.

28. Hamill, Pete. Tabloid City.

29. Woods, Stuart. Hot Mahogany.

30. Taubes, Gary. Why We Get Fat

31. Watts, Duncan. Everything is Obvious: Once You Know the Answer.

32. Brooks, Geraldine. Caleb's Crossing.

33. Howe, Ben Ryder. My Korean Deli.

34. Lovell, Mary S. The Churchills: In Love and War.

35. Child, Julia. My Life in France.

36. Reich, Christopher. Rules of Betrayal.

37. Gordon, Mary. The Love of My Youth.

38. Staniszewski, Mary Ann. Believing is Seeing: Creating the Culture of Art.

39. Collins, Suzanne. The Hunger Games.

40. Collins, Suzanne. Catching Fire.

41. Collins, Suzanne. Mockingjay.

42. Jansson, Tove. Fair Play.

43. Neville, Stuart. Collusion.

44. Atwood, Margaret. The Year of the Flood.

45. Stockett, Kathryn. The Help.

46. Hustvedt, Siri. The Summer Without Men.

47. Atwood, Margaret. Oryx and Crake.

48. McPhee, Stephanie Pearl. Knitting Rules!

49. McPhee, Stephanie Pearl. All Wound Up: The Yarn Harlot Writes for a Spin.

50. McPhee, Stephanie Pearl. Free Range Knitter.

51. Child, Lee. The Affair.

52. Peacock, Nancy. A Broom of One's Own.

There was very little reading after September aside from the Stephanie Pearl McPhee books which were very light and could be read a few pages at a time. The last two books were read my first few days in Knoxville.

Current Reading:

Azar Nafisi — Things I've Been Silent About

Andrea Eames — The Cry of the Go Away Bird.

December 31, 2011
Transitional Space

This transitional part of my life has not quite been what I expected. Not that I truly know what I expected anyway, as I wavered between thinking I would be twiddling my thumbs in a hotel room with nothing to do and worrying that there would not be enough time. Neither is quite true. We have been busy but not too busy, and this transitional period is proving to be a good introduction to our new home before we get down to the serious work of settling in.

(photo courtesy of www.knoxville.com)

We went to a fabulous Christmas party at this house where we met some very interesting people, and perhaps a few future friends, but all the faces are mostly blurred together in my mind at this point. It was very generous of our hostess to invite us to her home at the last minute, and it was a wonderful welcome to our new city.

I have begun reading again, and knitting, although it looks likely that I shipped far too many books and knitting projects to myself in that pre-arrival fear of having nothing to do.

We have also been driving around a bit, exploring neighborhoods, looking into stores, eating out occasionally. We even took a drive to Nashville once, a one day driving extravaganza, which we found very refreshing way to clear our heads when we were overwhelmed with the abundance of overly-traditional over-stuffed furniture we keep finding in showrooms. It was a beautiful drive and although I love driving, I have occasionally wished that I was once again in the passenger seat if only so that I could snap photos en route.

This temporary abode and transitional life is quite satisfying and all that I feel is missing is time to myself, time for considered thought, time to allow the mind to roam freely, time for blogging. I do have a computer and internet access, and although it can difficult to share computer time from other distractions, I do manage the occasional bit of cyber-wandering.

Overall, this interlude is proving both beneficial and thought-provoking in ways I had not anticipated, the results of which are sure to be revealed in time.

December 31, 2011