A NY Moment

NYC isn't always about glitz and glamour.

New York is the people. An ethnic broth of people.

Saturday evening, we went to dinner in the Village. Ate at Rocco. It's been in business since 1922. (Click on photos to make larger.)


And as I was inhaling the best chicken scarpariello ever, we heard the bells of a nearby church ringing. And ringing. And ringing.

Shortly after that, I look up and see a Franciscan priest walk by in his brown robes. OK, this is NYC - nothing suprises me. Then we hear music in the street and see this going by--

St. Anthony being hauled down the street.


See the Franciscans?


The people wearing the Italian flag hats were playing the music.


June 13th is the feast of St. Anthony and the Church of St. Anthony celebrates their saint in a big way. They've been doing this since 1866.

It's tempting to say that for a moment, it didn't feel like NYC anymore. But I would be wrong. This was probably one of the most New York moments I've ever experienced.

Guilty by Lace

Saw a very good movie the other night--The Letter starring Bette Davis.

What made this movie over-the-top excellent for me was that lace was featured prominently in it. Lace was not only a plot point and a metaphor--but, it also seemed to be a character itself.

The Bette Davis character is a hooker. . . uh, that is a crocheter.



Look at that--Bette needs magnifying glasses.

When Bette is asked why she shot a man, she answers that he made advances towards her while she was working on her lace.
Sounds like a good reason to shoot somebody to me.

Later, Bette's lawyer asks why she does lace and Bette says she has nothing else to do and that it soothes her. Her lawyer, doubting Bette's motivation as to why she really shot the man, responds in a sinister manner that it also helps her to forget things.

Well that lawyer obviously never worked lace! I don't know about you, but when I'm knitting lace, my mind tends to wander away from the K2togs and yarn overs and I start thinking about what that Noreen said to me in third grade after lunch on the Thursday when we had the telling-time arithmetic test and it snowed that day.

But maybe it's different for hookers. . . uh, crocheters.

Anyways here's Bette's lace project:



Cue the dramatic music and the meaningful "yeah, right" exchange of looks. Bette claims it's going to be a spread for the bed she and her husband share.

Not only is crocheted lace featured, but Bette wears some beautiful lace accessories. She wrapped herself in this gorgeous huge shawl while on a tense, mysterious mission.
Sonja, you'll have to tell us what kind of lace it is:


And later. Poor Bette! Will there be blood on this jabot?


I think I have to see this movie again. Next time, I'll take more pictures of the lace pay more attention to the story.

She's Not an Imaginary Friend!

When I began to blog, I did so to keep track of my knitting progress. I didn't think anybody would actually read this thing.

However, thru this blog, I've virtually met some very lovely, talented and supportive people.

But, today, I met in real-life one of my blog buddies!

Hi, Jeannie!



Jeannie, aka minipurl, took a day-trip to NYC and we met up at the best yarn store in town, Knitty City.

Hop on over to Jeannie's blog to cheer her along as she makes the February Lady Sweater.

YAY Jeannie! You can do it!

At Knitty City, Jeannie bought some buttons and sock yarn.

And me? How could I resist this?

I is for

IRONWORK

This exercise in participating in the Ravelry ABC-Along with my emphasis on NYS / NYC has made me to look closer at my city.

"I" really had me stumped. Until I walked down the street one day and noticed all the ironwork. Not just simple bars of steel--decorative ironwork.

Take a walk with me:

Setting the Table

One thing I used to collect was vintage tablecloths. Those printed cloths that were made from the 1930s to 1960s. They were printed with florals or fruits. Some had geometric shapes. Others were whimsical with drawings of kitchen utensils. There were also cloths that pictured scenery and people.

Saying I collect them isn't quite right. I didn't buy the tablecloths and safely store them. I used them. And that's why I only have a few left. (There's several more somewhere. Probably in the laundry.)



And saying I used to collect them isn't quite right either. I still keep my eye out for these beautiful old tablecloths. There aren't as many out there anymore and the prices have gotten sky-high. So I've gotten a lot fussier about the condition of the tablecloth in order to justify the cost.

But when I use these tablecloths, I think of the other women who set their tables with them. Did they like to place the dishes just-so to best show the motifs? Did they use them to bring some color to the table? Did anybody else bring out the strawberry tablecloth on the gloomiest, coldest winter day?

Do I set my table with their memories? Is our present and future served up along with other times, other people?

In the Bag

One of my rites of summer is the quest for the perfect summer bag. It usually takes me till late July to find a somewhat suitable bag. The perfect one is out there--but I've never found it.

One summer, I saw a woman carrying an orange bag. It was perfect! The color was just right. The size was just right. There were plenty of pockets. I stopped her and asked where she'd gotten the bag. She gave me a sad smile and told me she had bought it at a sample sale the previous year. It had been the only one in the showroom and it was her understanding the only one made. She agreed that it was perfect. And, no, she wouldn't sell it to me.

And so the search continued. I knew the perfect bag was out there and that someday I would find it.

I think I finally might have found it.



My checklist:
Must be light to carry. Yes! The fabric is a waterproof vinyl.
Shoulder bag. Yes! And the straps are neither too long nor too short.
Must have plenty of pockets. Yes! There's just enough for my stuff.
Must not be black. Yes! Every bag I own is black. I want something different for summer.
Right size. Yes! It's roomy without being bulky.
Must be tailored looking. Yes! I don't like the hobo bag look.

A couple of more views:





I hate schlepping both a purse and tote, so everything has to fit into my handbag.

In the front pockets: cell phone in one; camera in the other.
My metrocard is in the back pocket.
One side pocket holds a Purell bottle; the other is for a water bottle.
Inside, there's a zippered compartment for my wallet. And there's enough room in the main section for the Kindle, my date book, a knitting project, make up bag, small notebook and pen.

That's all my necessities to get through the day.

The other afternoon, I was walking along Madison Avenue and a woman stopped me. She wanted to know where my bag was from because she thought it looked, "just perfect."

Yes, it is!

Except. . . well, except I wish it came in beige with red trim.

(For those interested, it's a the small cargo bag from Delfino.)

The Magical Fix

Many, many, many thanks to the talented Aryn of Knitty City, the best yarn store in NYC, for fixing the mistake.



I wasn't exactly honest yesterday. What you saw was not only the mistake, but also my attempt to fix it. And I wasn't going down that road by myself again!

Yarn Journey, a zillion million thanks to you for suggesting I ask my LYS for help. I would never have thought to do this. I probably would kept the shawl as it was and gradually grow to dislike it. All I would ever see is the mistake.

Aryn worked magic with the crochet hook. Isn't she amazing?! And, yes, Aryn is smiling in the photo. She was having a good time.



Perfect! I'm so pleased!



From all the fiddling, the stitches that were affected are a little loose. But blocking will take care of that. More magic!