Yarn ends

 A couple of days ago I was chatting with a friend about crocheting and knitting. I mentioned that my mother had left a bag of squares to be made into a small afghan. These are a collection made from all the odds and ends of yarn she had, the crazy quilt of the afghan world.  I've been trying to find someone to finish the project because I didn't want to just toss them. I realized that if I wanted to reduce my stuff by a bag of squares, it had better be me who did the finishing.  There are 24 squares. I tried arranging them in various ways and finally decided that there really needed to be 25.

Did I mention that the squares were knitted? I can knit, sort of.  I prefer to crochet because there is only one loop on the hook at a time. Knitting, to me, is something like herding cats. These squares are not just knitted straight up and down: they are knitted from corner to corner which supposedly results in a more even square. I've never knitted squares from corner to corner: it always seemed like too much bother.  My main goal is to finish the afghan so I can find a home for it. Still, it would just look wrong to have one square knitted differently from the others. I headed for YouTube.  Almost every time I look something up on the internet I marvel at how easy it is to find information and I'm so grateful that it is. I spent some time watching videos, some several times before I gave up on them. Eventually I settled on one and began to knit the twenty-fifth square with the only yarn and needles I have. Neither the yarn nor the needles are a match for the other squares.

When I finished the square was larger than the others. Online I found a way of crocheting the squares together. I tried it several times and couldn't figure it out. I gave up and decided I'd use a needle and yarn to put them together.  The result looked ugly.  I took out the stitching and while I was at it decided to pull down the oversized square and knit it up again.  I also went back to the video that showed how to join the squares using single crochet. This time I was able to pick up on the placement of the yarn that I missed before and I began to attach the squares to form strips.  The work isn't brilliant but it is at a place where I can live with it.

The square I made needs to go in the middle. If I could place it somewhere less conspicuous I would but it is just different enough that it would stick out and there is a difference between sticking out and standing out.  It's still a bit larger than its buddies and I'm hoping that won't make too much of a difference. Finishing this afghan wasn't even on my to-do list three days ago and I've spent a good deal of time on it in the last three days while things that were on the list have gone undone. No matter: one of the great things about being retired is, in most cases, things will wait until tomorrow.

When my old cat hisses

I registered for two courses in greenwood carving in Washington State this summer.  I've paid the full tuition and I was looking forward to them. The plan was for me to drive down by myself to enjoy a week immersed in something I love to do. It would have been a chance to get some feedback from the pros and take my carving to a new level. I say 'would have been' because I decided this morning not to go.

I've been watching closely the developments along the Canada US border and reading an article by Australian children's author Mem Fox encouraged me to make my decision. I had read that Fox was detained when entering the US because of some confusion about her visa. Today I read the details in her own words. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/feb/28/in-that-moment-i-loathed-america-i-loathed-the-entire-country  I know that for every person who has difficulties entering the US there are thousands who cross and recross the border with no trouble.

I'm not worried about getting into or out of the States to attend a woodcarving course.  I'm white, a Canadian citizen by birth and I have never lived in any other country. When I signed up for the course I was a little uneasy but I thought I'd wait and see what developed: what has developed is unacceptable to me.

I can hear the 'buts' loud and clear. What difference will it make if you go or not?  Aren't you just hurting yourself by passing up this chance to do something you love? Don't cut off your nose to spite your face. The people who run that woodworking school have nothing to do with what happens at the border. They love to work with wood just like you do. True, no one will care whether I attend a carving course or not. It's early enough that someone will fill my spot.  The course will go on and my backing out will be a mere administrative blip. But, for me to go is to pretend to myself  that nothing is wrong when something is very wrong.

Most of the time my conscience is a drowsy old cat who opens her eyes to have a look around and then goes back to sleep. Occasionally she wakes up bares her teeth and hisses.  I could pat her on the head and tell her to go back to sleep but her hiss would continue to echo in my thoughts. Instead I'm looking at her thrashing her tail and thinking 'I'm glad you're still here, Old Girl.'

I want to be very clear: in this case, it is all about me. If you're holidaying in the States I hope you have a fabulous time. If you live in the States that geography is a part of you. It's a wonderful place and I have fond memories of the times I have spent there. In the future I may choose, assuming I have that choice, to go back and have just as good a time as I've had in the past. For now, however, the cat and I will stay in Canada and be grateful that we can make that choice.

The Advantages of Being a Pack Rat

I've been watching the tiny house movement in fascination for a while now.  The spaces are so clean, so uncluttered, so well thought-out. It's an enticing vision. Just as with the fantasy of living in a wilderness cabin and being entirely self-sufficient there are huge practical drawbacks, particularly for a self-confessed pack rat like me. I like to own cool stuff and  I like to own stuff that may be useful someday. I know that's a psychological trap and I'm hoping that knowledge will keep me from stepping over the hoarding line. The videos of tiny houses have got me doing a lot of thinking about what I keep and why I keep it.

When I was in my 20's I did a lot of crocheting. I have numerous afghans around the house, some on display, some not. I was living in a small apartment at the time and didn't have a lot of room or a lot of time for other crafts.  Crocheting didn't take up much space and it was portable. Because I mainly worked with squares sewn together, I didn't have to worry about lugging a huge blanket around. I loved the colours and textures of the yarn. When I started to teach I moved on to other interests and the crochet hooks went into storage.

When my mother moved out of her house we found good homes for most of her sewing, knitting and crocheting tools. I figured I was never going to use them.  A few years ago I got interested in making prayer shawls and I replaced the crochet hooks we had given away. After a few shawls I put the crocheting away for a while until, trawling in Michaels, I saw a book about how to crochet socks. The socks were colourful and funky so I bought the book and some yarn. I bit off more than I could chew by starting with a fairly complex pattern. That sock sat unfinished for probably six years when I stalled because I simply could not make sense of the instructions. I loved the colours and tried a few times to pick it up only to give up in frustration.

A few weeks ago I was again bitten by the crochet bug after eyeing the lovely colourful yarn in a bag in the corner of my study. I dug out the hooks, the patterns and the half finished sock. I spent hours on YouTube looking at tutorials and patterns. I pulled the sock down so I could reuse the yarn and then I went a little crazy. In the last three weeks I have completed 6 hats, a scarf and a pair of slippers. I thought of giving away my crochet supplies when I realized I wouldn't finish the socks and I'm very glad I didn't. I'm thoroughly enjoying the satisfaction of making warm, wooly things and this time around,  I'm seeing  more than a series of stitches: I'm beginning to see principles behind the patterns.

Warm wooly things are not the only reasons I'm glad I've kept stuff. The slippers I finished last night are very bulky and very cozy. The ridges from the stitches are a bit hard on my bare feet so I searched for a way to make them more comfortable. I always take out the footbeds that come in runners and and replace them with stouter custom versions. I've thrown out a lot of the footbeds but I decided to take a look in a dark corner of the entry closet to see if I might have missed one or two pair. I had!

A quick tracing around my foot with a pen and my new slippers are now wonderfully comfy and squishy on the bottom. Next I'm investigating ways to make the bottom less slippery. I don't feel like I'm slipping when I wear them but I'm now technically a 'senior' and I'm aware of the warnings about falling. I suppose hardwood floors and slippery socks aren't the smartest combination. I think I'll try cutting an outer sole of the rubber mat used to line shelves. It may not stand up well but I happen to have some left over from lining the shelves in the van so it will cost me nothing to try it.

Part of why I keep things is the absolute joy I get when I discover that I already have something that is perfect for a project. I feel smart and smug and excited all at the same time. In every case I could buy something that would serve the purpose and, in most cases, it wouldn't be very expensive so it isn't about saving money.  Maybe it goes back to the fantasy of the wilderness cabin and being self sufficient. Maybe it's a childlike delight in what I've managed to do or maybe it's the excitement of receiving a gift that, at that very moment, is my heart's desire.

I struggle with what to keep and what to toss. I can't keep it all and I have learned that I tend to return to interests after long periods away.  When the bug of an old interest bites it's wonderful to be able to pull the tools out of storage and jump back in. I tend to let scrap wood in the shop accumulate until it drives me crazy and then I purge it. I do the same around the house. Sometimes I get rid of stuff I wish I had kept but sometimes I find exactly the right item and that is a highlight of my day. In this increasingly chaotic world we need every spark of delight we can get.

My next project is a shoulder bag. I already have the dimensions, the yarn and a YouTube video to follow so the yarn and the hooks won't be going back into storage for a while yet. I'm thinking of making a wooden button to close it.

Just Plane Frustrated

Plane blade with small nicks

It doesn't matter how much you love to do something there are times when it drives you crazy.  I'm in one of those spots right now with my hand planes.  I have three that I use the most and I managed to damage the blades of all three around the same time. More experienced woodworkers will sometimes look at me incredulously and ask, "How did you do that?" meaning wow what a talent for screwing up.

I wanted to get a couple of projects out the door so I didn't stop and give the the planes proper attention. When I nicked the blade on one, I went to another one only to nick that blade by hitting a brass bench dog with it. Brass bench dogs are supposed to be less damaging to plane blades than steel ones.  I don't doubt that and I'd hate to see what a mess I could have made if I had hit a steel one. The third plane has always been difficult to sharpen as the edge seems to break down very quickly. No more back-up planes so I have to do what I should have done in the first place: fix them.

Wooden bench dog

brass bench dog

The best way to get the nicks out of a blade is to create a flat right on the edge of the blade until you've removed material just past the level of the nick. Then you can regrind the primary bevel and proceed to sharpen as usual. At least, that's the theory. You can use a powered grinding wheel which is the quickest way, or you can use sheets of sand paper on a dead-flat granite block to abrade the steel. If you go the power route you have to be careful not to get the steel too hot.  In theory, a cutting edge is a strip of material only a molecule wide where two flat planes meet. Of course, an edge that small would to too fragile to work so woodworkers try to get the edge thin enough to cut well but thick enough to withstand a reasonable amount of planing before it needs to be resharpened. The other thing to consider is that you don't want to go right to the edge with a coarse grinding stone because that will leave serrations in the edge and you'll be back to where you started from.

I think the problem I'm having is that I haven't yet gotten rid of the flat I created on the end of the blade. The plane works well for really thin feathery shavings but I can't get a thicker shaving with it. I would love to just throw up my hands and  quit but  nobody else is going to bail me out. If I want the planes to work I have to find a way to fix them. I've already spent more than a day working on the blades and the child within me is pouting, stamping her feet and wailing, "It's not fair." No it's not. I should have working blades after that amount of time but there's no arguing with results or lack thereof. I need the planes in top shape to do my work especially as I experiment with creating thin stock that I can heat and bend. I'm slowly sneaking up on the dream of making ukuleles and have a series of projects in mind that will allow me to develop the skills I need to attempt an instrument.

I thought that most of the skill development in this phase would have to do with wood. Apparently I have a lot still to learn about care and feeding of my hand planes. I used to tell my students that the only serious mistake is one from which you learn nothing.  I don't know if I've learned to be more careful.  I thought I was being careful in the first place. I'm considering using only wooden dogs. I've had it reinforced for me that I really do want to do this work and I want to get good at it so there's really only one choice.  I'll make myself a cup of tea,  take a few deep breaths and head back  into the shop to start working on the blades again. I'll go farther toward the leading edge this time and I'll have to forget about how much time it's taking and just work away until I get the results I want. Paul Sellers said in his most recent post, "When you cross over from impatience to patience, and that is very much requisite to fine hand work, you move towards mastery, better health and wellbeing." If I can achieve even some of those goals the effort will be worth it.

A Year of Eating Differently

I'm not sure when I started to read health and nutrition books and articles. Perhaps, despite my protests to the contrary, my mother's interests in food and nutrition rubbed off on me. At one point I told myself that I wasn't going to read any more diet books, but the titles kept intriguing me and couldn't seem to resist picking up just one more.

I was 'chunky' as a kid. In early adulthood my doctor called me 'sturdy.' I didn't want to be a model, far from it, but I wanted to be able to buy clothes off the rack. When I asked once if jeans came in a larger size, the clerk  told me if I lost ten pounds I'd be able to fit into the jeans in the sizes they had. Thank you; that is soooo helpful!

In my early 20's my doctor said I had high blood pressure and told me I needed to lose weight.  I had moved out on my own and as an employee of the Banff Centre I could get a meal ticket that was cheaper than buying groceries so I ate my lunches and dinners in the cafeteria and put on the pounds. I think now that the blood pressure reading was probably the result of 'white coat syndrome' but I dutifully went home with a diet book and a prescription for what was probably an amphetamine.  I don't know because I didn't fill the prescription. Instead I counted calories and sat in restaurants drinking water while my friends scarfed down pizza. I exercised massive amounts of will power and I was always hungry. I lost 20 pounds and was the lightest I ever got as an adult. I could buy clothes off the rack and I was hungry and miserable. It's hard work telling yourself you can't have this and you can't have that and eventually I caved and the weight came back.

In the '80's I did the high carb low fat diet, going so far as to substitute pureed fruit for fat in recipes and, that too, worked for a while. "Just eat less," said my doctor, as if that was the easiest thing in the world to do. For her it probably was. I kept reading and kept trying things. I knew enough to stay away from any diet that relied very heavily on one food, no grapefruit diets for me. I read about many more eating plans than I tried but I kept hoping that I might find something that I could stick with that would stabilize my weight.

Sometime in the 90's I came across The Carbohydrate Addict's Diet. The book cover had two white-coated doctors, a husband and wife team, on the front. The wife told of having to go without breakfast for a blood test and expecting to feel rotten. Instead she actually felt better.  Enter cucumbers, deli meats, cottage cheese and cauliflower to substitute for potatoes. That one worked as well and I didn't feel as deprived as I had when I counted calories. Around that time I took up running and found that the lack of carbs just didn't do it when I was training hard. I ran religiously and racked up 25 half marathons, 2 full marathons and over 40 shorter races.  We were also cycling long distances at that time and, for once, I didn't have to pay that much attention to what I ate.

Life happens, things change and I ran less. Up went the weight again. "Just exercise more." Right, another of those easy-to-say-not-so-easy-to-do things. I gave up. All of the approaches I had tried had worked for a while but I found it difficult to stick with them and I was discouraged and without the energy to count calories or points or weigh portions. I promised myself  I wouldn't buy any more diet books. In 2013 an article in Runners' World (I think) caught my eye. There was much more research coming out about how food affects hormones and how hormones affect weight gain. In it the author postulated that when you eat is as important as what you eat.  Enter The Eight Hour Diet.

This didn't seem like some wing nut talking and there were references to reputable studies throughout the book. The book suggests eating within an eight-hour window and then fasting for the other sixteen hours. That led me to read about the benefits of intermittent fasting. For most of my life I've been an enthusiastic breakfast eater and I didn't think I could go without breakfast but it was worth a try.  In 2013 I began a pattern that I continue: I have tea in the morning and eat my first meal around noon. For the first four of five days it was difficult and I felt hungry. After that it was no big deal and it makes getting out in the morning much quicker and less stressful. Had I not been eating this way I think I would have put many more pounds on much more quickly.

In January 2016 I was heavier than I had ever been and the pounds just kept creeping on. I was eating things after my stomach was full because I didn't feel satisfied. I know the theory that you eat to soothe something else that's going on in your life and I had tried self-hypnosis and EFT with less than stellar results.

I'm an audio book junky and in my search for something to listen to I came across Always Hungry and bought the audio book. David Ludwig is an endocrinologist and he has an entirely different take on why we gain weight. "His groundbreaking studies show that overeating doesn't make you fat; the process of getting fat makes you overeat." (front flyleaf of Always Hungry.) Of course, every diet book ever written touts itself as the miracle cure and I learned early on that there simply isn't one. I began to think about what was in the book and wearily decided to try one more time to get back to a healthier weight. I was now two sizes up from my 'normal' adult size and finding clothes that fit was even more difficult.

A year ago we were in New York City as part of a mass choir singing at Carnegie Hall. New York was no place to try out a new eating plan so I resolved to start when we got home. All the while I was thinking about how to implement this new plan. The one thing that gave me hope was that the first phase was two weeks long.  I knew I could stick to anything for two weeks. At the end of two weeks if it wasn't working I would simply return to my default settings.  Richard agreed to join me in the experiment.

How would I know if it was working? I wouldn't be constantly craving something to eat and thinking about food. My weight would be heading downward. It would be easy to maintain and my cholesterol and blood pressure would show no adverse effects and might even improve. After two weeks we decided to keep going.  At first we were very nervous about going out to eat or in any way deviating from the plan for fear the cravings would rear their ugly heads again. That hasn't been the case. We splurged over Christmas and five pounds came back. Three of them have gone again and I've learned quite a lot in the last year.

I don't believe there is one fix for everyone who struggles with weight. Each and every weight-loss plan will be vilified by somebody. It's been a very interesting journey through the history of obesity research and the alliances between key players such as Ansel Keyes and companies that produce in Michael Palin's words, "food-like substances." Now there is research into the microbiota of the gut and how that may influence insulin resistance. At times it reads like a mystery novel with twists and turns, selective data being used while contrary data is ignored and careers being ruined when researchers speak out against the norm. In hindsight it appears that correlation may have been interpreted as causation. At best, the research and the resulting dietary guidelines are complex and multifaceted. At worst, it's a jumble and it's hard to know what to believe.

I have surprised myself in the last year. I can happily do without bread, white potatoes and white rice. When I do  put the allowed amount of honey in my tea I usually conclude that it wasn't really worth the trouble. I don't feel deprived when I choose not to eat ice cream, and the miracle is that I CHOOSE quite happily not to eat it. I have never eaten so much chocolate in my life and I'm enjoying 70% cocoa variety almost daily . Occasionally I have some milk chocolate and it tastes really really sweet and, although I enjoy it, I know I don't particularly want it. We are finding new and interesting ways to cook beans. I've always loved stir fries but have to admit to missing the rice that usually goes with them. Just last week we discovered that spaghetti squash fills that gap nicely and that will be our new go-to choice. We are in the phase of the plan where we can have some whole grains but the portions suggested are small and mostly we don't bother. We make eggplant parmesan rather than lasagne these days and don't miss the noodles. I don't go near the bread and bagels when I do my grocery shopping and I no longer have to resist when I pass the cinnamon bun place in the mall.  These used to be my favourite foods and there was a time when I couldn't imagine doing without them.

I don't measure portions and I eat until I'm satisfied. I enjoy nuts and fruit and my favourite dessert is a fruit salad with whipped cream and chocolate sauce. It beats my former favourite, a Dairy Queen cake, by miles. When we eat out or travel we are glad to get back to our own eating plan when we get home.  Even travelling is easier than I expected it to be. Subway chopped salads are huge and fairly satisfying. Often restaurants will provide and extra serving of veggies in lieu of potatoes and most of them are happy not to bring the bread basket.  Ironically I'm now using more sugar because I making my own kombucha, a fermented tea beverage that is supposed to be good for the gut bacteria. I gave up diet pop and wanted an alternative that tasted good and was a bit of a treat. By the time it's ready to drink kombucha has an alcohol content of less than .5%. I love the taste of it  and it is light in sugars: the scoby (symbiotic colony of bacteria and yeast) takes care of that.

I haven't found the perfect eating plan. I have found one that satisfies me,  one that has helped me lose weight and one that has kept my blood numbers where they need to be. After a year, I have a better chance of staying on it than with any other I've tried. I'd like to lose another fifteen pounds but I'm okay if that happens very slowly. I will continue to read and consider as the science evolves but I won't be in a hurry to try anything else. What we're doing now works for me and that is the ultimate test.

Remember to look up

Sometimes it's interesting to look down.

It's the beginning of another year and, as often happens in this part of the world, we had quite a bit of snow over the holiday. Today I was out shovelling off the driveway when I heard the police helicopter overhead.  It circles our area fairly frequently and I usually look up to see how small the circles are and where the centre seems to be. As I watched the helicopter I saw a magpie fly towards a tree in the neighbour's yard. Nothing unusual there. What was unusual was another bird sitting near the top of the tree. It wasn't a magpie or a crow, or a pigeon. I think it may have been one of the flickers that seems to hang around all year.  As I watched, the magpie chased the flicker off its perch and they disappeared behind the roof of our house only to reappear heading north where they again disappeared.

I went back to my shovelling but with the thought that I spend a good deal of my life looking down.  I'm looking down at the screen as I type this.  I look down at my bench as I work with my hand plane or my saw. I look down when I carve spoons or carve signs. I wonder how many other interesting birds I miss by spending so much time looking down.

I'm not a big fan of New Year's resolutions but this year I'm going to try to look up a little more often. I'll keep you posted on what I see.

All the best for 2017.

Vecchia Zimarra*

I didn't have a favourite blanket when I was a kid but I certainly have the equivalent now.  It's a very light down sleeping bag and I've never had anything else that conforms so nicely to my body eliminating all cold spots. There's something really comforting about being warm and cozy when it's cold outside. We had a gorgeous fall but today it's -20C and when you've come from temperatures of +10 it feels very cold indeed. On days like this I wish I could just wear my favourite sleeping bag everywhere.

When the cold weather hits it sends me scurrying through my winter gear. I try each year to pare down the amount of stuff I have and that includes clothing. It's always a tough call. I might wear that. I really like that even thought I don't often wear it. Last year I gave away a heavy synthetic parka in favour of a two part system, a shell and a liner with synthetic fill. When the cold weather did come the new jacket system turned out to be a wee bit on the chilly side, to say the least.

The other night when we finished a choir gig at a seniors' residence one of our friends mentioned that his wife had make the parka he was wearing. It was two coats, a heavy inner one made of thick wool and a cotton outer one to cut the wind. As I admired it I remembered the two parkas that I bought many years ago at Yukon Native Products in Whitehorse, a teal one for me and a red one for Mum. I remembered looking at them and thinking I should give them away if I wasn't going to wear them.  I hoped I hadn't. When I got home I dug in the back of the closet and there were both of them.

I tried Mum's on first because hers was a size larger than mine. It fit well with room for a fleece or a sweater under it. I didn't think mine would fit because my weight has changed quite a bit since I bought it. I decided to try it on anyway hoping that someday I might be able to get back into it. I not only got into it, I was able to zip it up and it fit fairly comfortably with space for a light fleece underneath. The only issue seems to be my habit of leaving my car keys in my jeans pocket until I've zipped myself into both layers of the parka so I have to undo both or stubbornly struggle to extract the keys. Eventually I'll manage to take the keys out before doing up the zippers.

It's not only the lack of shivers chasing up and down the spine and round the shoulders that makes me like my warm clothes: it's the confidence that, by adding layers, I'll be able to stay warm in the cold weather. During university and then living in Banff I wore wool sweaters and duffle coats. The first year in Banff I had no car so I bundled up and walked everywhere.  I was always warm. I think  Colline, is onto something when he sings about his coat being a 'faithful friend.' I don't need two Yukon parkas but during the winter when the air is cold and the days are short I don't think that having two faithful friends is all that bad of an idea.

*Aria sung by Colline, bass, in Puccini's La Boheme.