Z is for

I saw this sign from across the street



and got a bit closer



And though it's not, I was hoping it would be a store selling nothing but this:



It's strange how the two have the exact same typeface. And totally confusing to this knitter!

When I returned to knitting a few years ago, I went to a yarn store and bought some Zara. I don't remember why I chose that yarn--but something about it called to me.

I began by making swatches of all different stitch patterns. Garter, ribbing, seed, moss, basketweave, stockinette. Not huge squares--three or four inches.



I just wanted to see how I liked it.

I liked it!

Zara is wonderful to the touch and gives great stitch definition. Knitting with it is totally enjoyable! I'm sure that if I had used some other yarn, I wouldn't have picked up the needles again.

Y is for

Yuletide knitting!



I don't like the pressure of having to make gifts during this time of the year--and have never done so.

But, this year, there was a collision of circumstances.

I needed something easy-peasy with big yarn and big needles to make to/from/at the Retreat AND my niece has been adopted by a new kitten.

Of course! My feline great-nephew needs a blanket for Christmas!

The pattern is the Big, Bad Baby Blanket. The yarn is Plymouth Encore--picked up at last year's Retreat swap table.

Kippy has declared the blanket suitable for cat-sitting.



It's a nice quick, boring knit and I might actually finish it in time--if Barney lets me have the needles back.

X is for

is xeroxing charts.

This is a necessity for me when I knit lace.

I've seen people knitting off of teeny tiny charts. I don't know how they do it. I need to xerox 'em as large as I can make them. Plus, I need to mark up charts. Don't want to do that on the original pattern--especially if it's too small to begin with.

W is for

WOOL!

Be it on the hoof



fleece



skeins



tidy wound balls



on the needles



or off the needles.



I love the stuff!

V is for

Vases.



So many of you post pictures of your gorgeous gardens. I live in an apartment. Up high. In a city. No digging in soil for me. But I do love beautiful flowers and almost always have them around the place.

Over the years, I've amassed quite a collection. The photo above shows only a small portion.

The vases are more than practical containers for me. Each also tells a story.

The chrome Chase vase on the left. Bought thirty years ago for $20. It took me forever to decide to buy it since that was a huge hunk of money for me then.

The amethyst vast was a gift from a long-time friend. Our best times and worst moments--we've been through them all together.

The large Waterford in the back. A wedding gift from former co-workers. We were married two months after 9/11 and that kind act brought happiness during a time of incomprehensible horror.

The large vase with flowers and the little pink one in front. They had been my dear mother-in-law's. She grew the most splendid flowers and she lived a loving and gracious life. When I use one of her vases, I know she's near.

My parents grew red roses and my Mom's bud vase is up there. The house, my parents, the roses are long-gone. But when I put a rose in the vase, I'm a kid in Albany again.

More than flowers fill those vases.

U is for

looking up at urban sights.

New York is a vertical city. Look up!

The spire is St. Patrick's Cathedral. See the new building going up? I love these contrasts!



This is the tram that goes up over the East River to Roosevelt Island from Manhattan.



A diamond in the sky!



Look up to see a sixty year old sign for a company still in business. Look higher and there's one of our 10,000 water towers.



Buildings come and go in Columbus Circle. This is the newest complex that reaches into and reflects the sky. (If you click the link, these buildings are on the left side of the 1907 photo.)

T is for. . .

I'm an old fuddy-duddy, so something pretty special had to catch my eye in the window of Urban Outfitters in order for me to walk in there.

Loud, you-call-that-music? assaulted my ears as I entered the store. Didn't see what I was looking for. But, grabbed one of the teen salesclerks who told me, "They're um like over by the um you know sunglasses kind of under the stairs sort a kind of near the men's stuff."

Um. . . no, I don't know. But, she pointed me in the right direction and I found



Bags that are terrific knitting TOTES!

Aren't they great? They're made of a heavy tapestry. The one on the left has several pockets inside and out. Perfect for organizing the project, notions, pattern etc. And I swear my Mom used to carry a knitting tote that looked like the one on the right.

As I was paying for them, I put on my best old fuddy-duddy voice and remarked to the cashier (Not a teen--but still quite young) what great knitting totes the bags would be. Turns out she's also a knitter and had been meaning to buy herself a couple of them also.

Sadly, these bags aren't available on the Urban Outfitters website. So remember, they're um like over by the um you know sunglasses kind of under the stairs sort a kind of near the men's stuff.

S is for

the Stadium we'll be saying good-bye to today.

R is for

the last rose of summer.

Q is for

the quivet that's been marinating in my stash:

P is for

Pine trees



Pine needles



Pine cones



And if this blog had smell-o-vision,
the luscious scent of pine.

O is for

OFF the needles



and ON the floor.

N is for

For the past two weeks, I've been muttering, "Nothing new till this is finished."



Don't get me wrong! I love the yarn, the shawl and the knitting. But. . . I'm ready for something new.

What will be next on the needles? No idea--but, I do have a notion of what it might be. . . .

M is for

Mah Jongg.

I'm not talking about online Mah Jongg Solataire.

American Mah Jongg is the game for me!





Once a week I play with the nicest women. We chat. We laugh. We nosh.



I love how beautiful the tiles are.



I love the lingo of Mah Jongg. The no-dancing-required Charleston. Crak, bam, dot. Pungs and Kongs.



I love how white dragons are called soaps



And the jokers! How much do I love the jokers?!



But, most of all, I love to win!

L is for

the lake we'll be enjoying this summer!

When I was a kid, my folks would take day trips to a lake in the Helderbergs.

Hated it!

The slimy things in the water. The green yuck that wrapped around my ankles. The squishy things between my toes. The Darning Needles.

Hated all of it.

I especially hated it because all the cool kids were just a few miles away in a pool. The sun was always shining over the pool. The water was clear and the bugs knew to stay away.

So, as an adult, lakes were something I never went out of my way to go to.

However, a few years ago, the hubster and I began to rent a cabin by a lake in the central Adirondacks.

Yes, there's still slimy and squishy things in the water. And the bugs. . . oh the bugs!

But, look ---







I wouldn't trade this quiet and beauty for a whole poolful of cool kids!

K is for. . .

K is for my Kipper cat. However, this post won't be a "oooohh she's the sweetest kitty in the whole world post." (Though, of course she is).

This a story of how weird the animal-human link can be.

I first knew about Kip in 1980. This was 12 years before she physically entered my life.

In 1980, I was the human for the Gray and Orange cats. However, one night I dreamt about a black and white cat with a pushed-in face. When I woke up, I knew I had dreamt about my next cat.

The years went on and by 1992, I was cat-less. Also, the hubster (who wasn't the hubster yet) and I were beginning our relationship. At the time, he lived in an apartment building in Brooklyn that had a backyard courtyard.

Many feral cats lived in that courtyard.

Also living in the building was a woman the hubster worked with. She told the hubster about a little feral cat who would climb the fire escape and look in her window. She had cats and couldn't take in another one, but she made a nest for the cat in a large flower pot in the courtyard and she would feed her. She also looked out for the little cat and she noticed that the little cat kept herself apart from the other feral cats.

When hubster told me the story of the little cat looking in his friend's window, my heart just ached. Here was a sweet, lonely cat longing for a warm, safe home.

Well, you know where this story is going.

We went to Brooklyn and rescued the little cat. She was sitting like a princess on top of a blanket in the large flower pot. When I first saw her, I said, "That can't be her!"

It was.

There she was--my black and white cat with the pushed-in face.

J is for

Jury duty!



I report next week.

New York City's five boroughs are also five separate counties -- Manhattan is New York County.

Big city--lots of crimes and lawsuits. So we have five trial courthouses (Supreme Court is NYS's name for the trial court or the district court.)

No, I won't be gasping for breath while running up the steps of the Law and Order courthouse.

And I won't be questioned for any trials involving murderers or drug dealers. The courthouse I'll be reporting to tries civil cases and is a modern blah, bland box of a building.

Since so many people are summoned for jury duty in NY County, a person can sit for an entire day without ever being called for voir dire. Boring!

In the past, I've read, done crossword puzzles, eavesdropped, stared into space. Didn't knit then. This is the first time that I'll want to knit in the jury assembly room.

Hmmmmm. . . but are knitting needles allowed?

The information for NY County jurors states, "Weapons or dangerous instruments of any kind are prohibited from court buildings."

Well that's as clear as Rockefeller Center during the holiday season.

So I checked things out in Ravelry and other Manhattan jurors report that they've been able to bring knitting needles into the courthouse. YAY!

Now the question is--what to bring? Lace shawl? Stockinette socks? More homework swatches? Cast on something new? All of the above?

I can't decide! Will this indecision as to what knitting to bring disqualify me as a juror?

I is for

Irish Knits.

My mother was a talented knitter.

Of all the things she made--and she made many, many things--I think her (and my) favorite were the Irish knits.

There are probably still people wearing the Irish knit sweaters my Mom made for church raffles. And her cozy Irish knit afghans are most likely still being enjoyed by families.

My Mom is no longer with us, but, I continue to enjoy her Irish knits:







Best of all, some of my Mom's Aran yarn from Ireland is in my stash and her pattern books still inspire.

G is for. . . .

GIFT from a GERMAN visitor.

How cute is this little sock?



This week, at our knitting group, a knitter who was visiting from Germany, joined us. C. found us via the internet.

Being knitters, we chatted of knitterly things. Who taught us and how long ago did we learn. We compared yarn and cast-ons and talked of yarn shops. We admired projects and we look forward to C.'s ruffled sock pattern being available.

We learned that a 32 inch cable might be perfect for the magic loop technique. We drank coffee and water and pulled the chairs closer together as the coffee shop got crowded.

So many different people--but, so much to talk about!

When she left, C. pulled out a little bag and asked us all to choose one. C. said that maybe we'd remember her each time we looked at the little sock.

A tiny sock--but a gigantic gesture!