Forget About Knitting A Ferrari, I Need a New Door For My Volvo

My week is going from bad to worse and it's only Wednesday. I got so stressed out this morning trying to take care of stupid details (like making lunches, getting dressed and finding my car keys) that after dropping the ST, IGT and the B & C off at their respective summer camps and office, I managed to smash the passenger side door of my Volvo into one of those evil posts that the University of Toronto puts up to control traffic flow. (Did I mention I was on my cellphone at the time?) Bad. Bad. Bad. I feel so stupid. I know that there is this great art student Lana Porter from somewhere in in England--I think it was Bath--who has knitted a Ferrari but will someone knit me a new door for my Volvo 850?

I don't want a Ferrari , just myVolvo fixed.

Should I knit for my new boyfriend?

Unlike most of my peers, I didn't spend many of my teen years participating in popular culture. In fact my inherent angst and need for clarity during that tumultulous time turned me into a raving neo-Con. While my friends were busy trying to buy (scalped) tickets for the Boomtown Rats and going gah gah over the Police. I was musing over Margaret Thatcher's position on the Coal Miners Strike and ruminating over the state of Brian Mulroney's Gucci loafers. Fortunately or unfortunately my politics took a decided turn towards the latte left in my late-20s and there they remain to this day. This may explain my love of knitting, daily yoga practice and aborration of anything smacking of "consumer culture" (a.k.a Big Box Stores). This past Wednesday in the midst of only what can be described as the week where I truly feared for my karmic well-being (I had to unravel eight rows of my Lace Wings shawl among all the work and home crises) I finally ROCKED OUT to alternative culture with Michael Franti and Spearhead and I think I've finally found my true love. He's vegan, practices yoga, has fabulous tattoos, goes barefoot as a means of making a statement about those who have the privilege of wearing shoes and he's an ACTIVIST with a capital A who went to Iraq and Israel/Palestine to make a film about war and peace. Oh and did I mention he and Spearhead are probably some of the greatest musicians in the world? (The way that Carl Young caresses that bass...ah) This guy is so great that I actually spent three hours dancing, jumping and spinning (and NOT knitting) at his concert. Nicorette (who came with me) decided that I should just make him my new boyfriend. Unfortunately he doesn't know I exist but maybe if I knit him a "Power to the Peaceful" hat out of bamboo silk he'll notice me. The B & C however, doesn't hold out much hope that this will happen and then reminded me to pick up his dry cleaning.

A Post for Pagie Pie

I'm absolutely wrecked. I've had a couple of hellish weeks at work. My training partner Bat-Man and I broke up--it wasn't our choice--it was a "corporate decision." Everyone at work hates me because I can't seem to get any of my projects finished and I can't seem to get any of my projects finished because everyone hates me. A vicious circle.

On the home front, I've been dealing with hormones of every colour shape and size from the kind they put in milk, eggs and KFC (a good reason to go vegan) to the Ball & Chain's ("Can we have sex even if there's yarn in the bed?") to the Surly Teen's, ("It's all your fault you didn' knit me socks when I asked.") to the Imperious Goth Tween's ("I don't want to knit, I want to go to H & M, NOW!") and yes mine ("Will you all leave me alone so I can knit!") now that I am officially perimenopausal. BTW: Teen/tween angst and middle aged mummy ennui, are an explosive combination.

In the midst of all this craziness was a single spot of sanity (no, not my daily dose of Prozac.) My good friend Pagie Pie graduated from her expressive arts therapy program and curated a private showing of her knit and crochet thesis for the IGT and I which the B & C shot with the his new digital camera. Here are some highlights. For some unknown reason the MG Monster, so named for Pagie Pie's love, did not turn out. (Mercury Retrograde maybe?)

Pinky was hopeful!

Cirque de Poulet

"Whaddya mean I'm not a chicken?!"

Maniacal Sleepy Time Bears. (You don't wake up from napping with them!)

Lizardos

Flying Fish

"I'm not disemboweled, just misunderstood!"

"Will Ya, Shut Up About Cricket Already!"

I blame it all on the Wicket Rider, the March Snow Storm and Boyce but this spring I turned into something I never thought I could be, an insufferable cricket fan and unabashed supporter of the South African team, for which I recently received a thorough scolding from my long time friend the Road Runner, "How could you?" he demanded, "I make it a point never to cheer for anything coming out of South Africa. It's against my politics." I thought all of this was rather unfair on his part especially since he's NOT from that part of the world. (I should also mention here that shortly after this exchange he asked me to help him find a "Sugar Mummy," who could keep him in the manner to which he would like to be accustomed with no questions asked, which is quite against my politics!)

Well South Africa did not win the CWC and it's now summer but my Cricket fandom hasn't ended. I spent this past Saturday cheering on my training partner Bat-Man (and of course knitting between matches--they were only playing 5 overs) at the CIMA's Mayor's Trophy, at Sunnybrook Park along with the Surly Teenager who quaffed cucumber sandwiches at an alarming rate and the Imperious Goth Tween who learned that a boundary was equal to 6 runs, and not my countless (but lame) attempts to impose a modicum of discipline in our household. The B & C on the other hand had never seen a Cricket match and couldn't believe how a) civilized it was, b) how easliy he could get caught up in the Zen of it all and c) how ultimately thrilling it could be.

Members of the Knit Rabble however, are getting sick of me "Pitching Cricket at them all the time." ("Will ya shut up already!" they beg) but then Blog Mistress Katherine found a Vogue Pattern, circa 1985 (you can tell from the hair) for a Cricket Sweater where the whole team is intarsia knitted into the whole sweater! What's even scarier is that I am contemplating making the damn thing!

Sex and Knit: Children Have A Right To Know

Well it's been a week and a half but I think I have finally recovered from the visual and tactile assault on my senses that was The Great TTC KAL and it couldn't have come a moment too soon. The Surly Teen is finished with school and preparing to go off to "Youth Leadership Camp" and I need all the creative-life-force-energy I have to have "The Talk" with him before he goes. I thought that his father had discussed sects, dwarves and rock and roll with him years ago--like when he was 12 and all his girly friends were starting their menses and PMSing around him--but I discovered from the B & C a few nights back that they never actually got around to talking about "where babies come from" much less sex and relationships. They only manged to cover adoption, choice, same sex marriage and Stephen Lewis's work on HIV/AIDS in sub-saharan Africa. "But it's okay," the B & C reassured me, "he got Sex Ed at school."

Sex Ed at school? I think that I have my work cut out for me. Depending on what they taught him, he may have some major unlearning to do! Given that he's kind of nerdy maybe I can get away with buying him a big thick book on human sexuality with no pictures in it. An appealing idea. Off to Indigo I go!

While I may have been negligent on the Sex Ed front I have not been re: Knit Ed. Both my kids, the ST and his sister the Imperious Goth Tween know where their clothes really come from--time, patience and hardwork (on my part or some "wage slave's" in the "developing world")--NOT the Mall. (Although when the IGT was little she thought that all her sweaters were made from something--perhaps a cashmere goat?--called "Scratch" I think she meant "stash".) Unfortunately not all children get any Knit Ed at home which Rebel Knitter discovered while Riding the Rocket to work.

Sweet 4 year old to Rebel, "Why are you swording?"

(Rebel knits aggressively)

Rebel, friendly, "I'm not sweetie... I'm knitting."

4 year old, innocently, "Why?"

Rebel, nonchalantly, "I'm making my nephew in Australia a sweater.""

Somewhat less sweet, 4 year old, still innocently, "Why? Is his mummy too poor to buy one in the store?"

Rebel irritated, "No... I'm making him a one of a kind sweater just for him because I love him and he asked me to knit him one."

Materialistic 4 year old, incredulously, "Oh.... don't they have The GAP where he lives?"

Rebel, patiently, "No. they don't have The GAP in Australia..."

4 year old, sadly, "That's too bad. I love the GAP."

Mother of 4 year old, loudly, "We're at the Mall. Let's go."

Rebel, to herself, exhausted, "Big Box Store Kid with Big Box Store mindset!"

I think it's time that the education system started offering Knit Ed, any Knit Ed!

The Knit Rabble Rules: Greatest Ever TTC Knit-A-Long

Hey I can walk and knit at the same time! Who knew?

It was the biggest Knit-A-Long ever with just over 60 knitters (not including those we picked up a long the way) a film crew and a roving report who meticulously documented our hunting and foraging activities. (YOUTUBE Clip coming soon, I promise!).

The IGT with Fab Haley's "baby" Pluto.

I think I developing yarnorexia as I managed to stay within the alloted yarn diet calories. I only purchased one skein of Koigu Painter's Palette for Co-captain Jacquie, a couple of balls of Cashcrack (Rowan Kid Silk Haze) and the Porsche of all Knitting Needles, Addi-lace Turbos Circs. Even the Imperious Goth Tween, was impressed, according to her, "Mama c'est restraine! Formidable!"

The B & C though, is dismayed. He thinks I fell off the wagon re: Kid Silk Haze. After the South African Lace Shawl Incident he made me go to a 12 step program for my mohair issues, but it wasn't an abstinence based program as you can keep knitting. He was not impressed but I truly believe that yarn can be consumed in moderate amounts and there are days where I do not knit at all.

The Surly Teen however, was pleased that I came home with yarn, he took it as an indication that I would dig into my stash and knit him 5 new pairs of socks with the skeins and skeins the sock yarn I have (BTW: Sock yarn is NOT yarn so it doesn't count when allocating yarn calories) for the next school year.

I hope that a good time was had by all, although I heard through the woolmour mill that half the North Team was unexpectely attacked by obstreperous subway doors. Both knitters and yarn I understand were not significantly damaged but it did cause some trauma (Could this have led to the yarnakleptia that later occurred at Knitomatic?) I also heard that the West Team was delayed in Kensington Market by a certain organizer's poor time management skills (hmm her yarn moniker isn't Fibre Floozie is it?) re: how much time they had at Lettuce Knit and as a result they did not get to see Naked Sheep, Goats, Alpacas or much else at our last stop before they were libated and sated at The Goo F.

(I think I will need to do a scheduling run through complete with stop watch and test subjects--knitters--for the Fall Crawl so we have timed stops. Anyone with credit willing to be a test subject?)

My compliments to Katherine Blog Mistress for the Knit Rabble for still being able to stand after 8 yarn stores and 20+ skeins, and Rocket Bride for carrying her own yarn, 22+ skeins, needles, patterns and books even though she clearly needed a Sherpa.

Hugs and love to all my the Knit Rabble's Organizing committee who updated the blog, stamped bags, printed passports, cards and buttons, herded cats--err chased knitters--collected sway and captained the teams: Jacquie, I'm- not-bad-I-just-knit-that-way Blackman, Sandipurl, Shallowgirl (a.k.a. Sophie), Lisa the Lung, Lisa the Goth, Kneurotic Knitter (a.k.a Peggy), Shelna and her "flowered face cloth" and of course Katherine, Blog Mistress and Rabbler Extraordinaire.

I unfortunately forgot my camera so these pictures are compliments of my sistah, knittahs! Question for Lisa the Lung how did you teach Greedo to work the camera?

Please notice my Pink Merino Frappe One Skein Wonder

More Knit-A-Long Photos and Blogspot Updates to come. In the meantime I have discovered, much to my chagrin thanks to this photo from Pink Vegan Girl that the hours spent sitting and knitting have clearly contributed to ass spread. I must do something about it but can't figure out how to knit in Downward Dog or while working out. Any ideas?

Bat-Man Needs More Knit!

You know as a formidable feminist knitter there are days when I truly believe that the women's movement has done squadoo to end women's inequality (except when it comes to the fibre arts, even if Kaffe Fasset does rule the colour wheel). Women still earn 70cents for every dollar a man earns doing work of equal value and yes while women may entering professional schools almost at par with men (c.f. the University of Toronto's Joseph L. Rotman School of Management), women with young children are over represented among the poor in this country (which means those who knit must do so with sayelle--described as the boxed macaroni of yarns while they feed their children perishable versions of the same obtained no doubt from some foodbank). Even in my own domestic arrangements the B & C, well intentioned as he is, just doesn't get it sometimes ("Did you remember the dry cleaning?") plus he makes three times my salary despite the fact that we have the same level of education and the complexity of our work is the same. (I'm not poor now but believe me when I say I'll be eating catfood in my old age.) The 14 year old unreconstructed Marxist however, believes that if we just follow Lenin, we will have substantitive material equality. (I tried telling him that Lenin was not very nice to his wife and that women never achieved this in the USSR, as some revolutionaries were more equal than others, but he just rolls his eyes at me and says that the Soviets were unable to complete their revolution because of a shortage of Cuban cigars or imperialistic capitalist forces, I'm not sure which). I was on the verge of giving up all hope of better power sharing arrangements between women and men when Bat-Man (so named for his Cricket prowess, not his resemblance to upside down mammilia) got assigned to me as my new training partner. Not only does he know when International Women's Day is (March 8th), but he loves his mum ("She rocks!") and supports his women co-workers (e.g. he gets us coffee and remembers how we like it--black, double cream one and half sugar, milk and two sweetners). He can also say the word "feminist" with a straight face and understands what equality rights and affirmative action are ("Check out Section 15 of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms"). There is however, no knitter in his life. (I strongly suspect that his mother is a crocheter who makes really great doilies given that she is a "proper" West Indian lady, but that's racial profiling and/or stereotyping which is NOT OKAY even if the criminal justice system does it all the time). I have knit him a cozy for his Cricket bat but anything else would be inappropriate (gotta keep that workplace professional!) Bat-Man however, could really use some cool cotton wrist bands in white of course for summer Cricket practice to keep him hitting hard and a nice cashmere something (scarf, hat, sweater?) for the winter to keep him warm while we schlep flip charts over the concrete tundra of Toronto's inner suburbs. Will someone PLEASE make this man some fabric?