Clear sailing

This is about the Drawstring Raglan cardigan from the latest issue of Interweave Knits. I fell in love with the style, the pattern and the colors. And it looked so quick and easy to knit up. So I went to my knitting model in SK and she was happy to have such a pretty sweater.

What an exciting day when the yarn arrived. It was shiny and drenched with color. The photo doesn't do the colors justice. What looks like blue is actually a lustrous silver. I quickly started the ripple pattern and was delighted with the results. Then I got to the underarms and sleeve caps. Well! I had been reading in Knitting Daily that there might be a problem casting on 64 stitches over a two stitch space, so I was prepared to have to work at this. But, I tried double points and another circular in attempt to get some flexibility. Nothing worked well nor did it stop the obvious end result of stretched and distorted stitches. The rows were ripped out twice.
OK. I give up. Over to the Ravelry discussions...surely someone has finished this one. Thanks to all the knitters who have worked this thing through. And to Sandi with her EZ solution - I have passed the challenge and it's clear sailing from her on.
I have been knitting for over 40 years and have never had a pattern that had such a strange construction technique. Oh, some have errors and you get screwed up until it's obvious something's going on. I've ripped out more unsatisfactory knitting than I care to remember. But, this is the first time that I've encountered a pattern which actually incorporates in its design something which is not only difficult but which doesn't enhance the appearance of the garment.
That's my rant for today.

Respect

After my Mandarin lesson last Friday, I have been practising and practising. What I am learning is respect. A profound respect for those adults everywhere who are learning a new language. The last time I studied a language was in high school and then in university. Learning languages wasn't as hard then because no one expected me to actually speak French (long time ago!) or Latin. I can still remember some of the vocabulary and grammar and if someone from France (not Quebec) speaks slowly I can usually understand. Sort of. But we started right off into conversation last week. Granted, the conversation was limited to a few phrases I had learned but that didn't make it any less difficult. I listened to my instructor who did not slow her words down for me. I tried to tease out the sounds and match them to the words I'd rehearsed. I sat mute while my mind examined the sounds. Then, the sound and the word would suddenly come together and I knew what she was saying. Whew!
OK...now all I had to do was take that knowledge and rummage around in my brain until I could find the right response. Once I found it, I had to say it. That required visualising each word as it looked on paper so I would get the right tone. Then I had to say each word. Slo-o-owly. Needless to say, a conversation with me is not a sparkling affair.
Sometimes, I 'conduct' my own voice so I get the tone that is needed. I have four different hand gestures - one for each tone. The hardest to get right is the one I call 'A'. It always reminds me of the sound of the pitchpipe when tuning a choir. Since I have very little musical ability with my voice, this is a continuing challenge. Without constant vigilance, I'm sure I would say a lot of things which could range from funny to insulting.
If I had to emigrate today, it would be very difficult, I think, to integrate into a new society. It would take a huge effort to learn the language and not be isolated. And if I needed to become fluent enough to conduct business, well, fogeddaboudit! Fortunately, neither my life nor my livihood depend on learning Mandarin. So, kudos to all those who have learned as adults to speak another language - I am in awe of your accomplishment.

Kids are great!

Babysitting has its pleasures. We buried some old bits of costume jewelry in the sandbox for Becky & Charlie. It was fun to watch them carefully sift the sand and discover the treasure. The old ladybug sandbox is getting pretty crowded, though. When we bought it, there was only one very small girl to sit in it. How will three kids play here?



Then we had a rousing - and very noisy - game of catch with buckets and a football. I'm sure our cheers were heard all over the neighborhood. We should have been on 20 acres instead of in a city back yard. We all improved as the game progressed and we graduated to a soft spiky ball that required a bit more skill because it was bigger and floppier. Then, the ultimate challenge: a little ball with a cloth tail attached. It was quite erratic in its flight pattern and rarely hit the buckets.

Before we were all too tired to work, the compost bucket had to be taken to feed the worms. The bracken ferns are really, really tall when you''re only 2 - or 4 - years old. But they struggled through the trail because worms need to eat just like them. Good thing Becky was still packing her shovel and could push those branches aside.

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All in all, a successful morning. Naps all round in the afternoon.

Villager

It's probably kind of obvious to think of bloggers as being part of a village. But I was thinking this morning, what kind of villager am I? Once a day, I like to go around the 'main street' catching up with the people in my blog village. But do I really? Walking around would seem to imply that there is a shared acqaintance. But really, that's far from true. Most of the blogs I read have no idea who I am and frequently don't even know I read them. So I came to the conclusion that I was like the person who rarely goes out and who instead observes most her neighbors as they walk around the village on their daily rounds. But since it's not possible to have relationships with everyone you know, I'm happy to interact with a very few and keep reading the blogs that amuse or enlighten me.

Just so I get what's going on here.