Now Norma Knits

31. You Gotta Work on that Pickup Line, Bub

A public service announcement:  Sandy's blog is broken! She has set up a new place (possibly temporary, possibly not) where she can blog here.  Be sure to update your feeds, k?  (she's back!)

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They just razed the old McDonalds in South Burlington, and put up a new one in its place. One day last week I was alone over the lunch hour and needed to check my email. Until that point, I didn't have access to the university wireless internet system. I finally have it now. Yay!

For over a year, when I was killing time between classes, I couldn't do anything with the internet unless I got in my car, drove off campus, and found a wireless signal that I could pick up.  When it was cold, I'd have to leave the car idling with the heater on so I didn't freeze.  I don't need to tell you this bothers the environmentalist in me, do I?  Anyway, I saw a big sign in the new Micky-D's that said "Free WiFi" so I veered on in there so I could go in where it was warm. The small print, though, is "free with any purchase."  If you ask for it when you buy something, they give you a coupon for access to their system for an hour.  Pretty nifty, actually. Of course that gave me the perfect opportunity to get some french fries, but I digress. 

Hey, I'm wicked impressed with the new place! No more retina-scorching red-and-yellow plastic. They've taken the "kid" out of McDonalds, and as a kid-hater from way back, you know how that suits me! It's all euro-modern; almost looks like a Starbucks. Being brand new, it's still clean. It's got nice tables, nice benches, a seating area with couches and a coffee table, and a big-screen TV, and here's a rub I have with places that offer WiFi -- they don't often have outlets to plug your computer in.  I think they want you to use your battery, so your time using up their space and their WiFi signal is limited to your battery life.  But the new McD's has outlets at every booth.  Pretty awesome.  I predict it's going to change the average demographic of their clientele, at least for a while. Let the kids and families go somewhere ELSE.  *evil cackle*  Then again, I guess kids are so wired now from birth that WiFi and big-screen TVs are much more attractive to them than play-places.  Who wants to get one's ass up off the couch to move around and play? Grumble. Damn. So much for my idea of a nice place with free WiFi without kids.  I suppose it's back to Starbucks for me, but their WiFi is not free.  Bastards. OK, then, the Staples parking lot.  But no, there's no need!  Now I have university access!  Next round of beers is on me!

So anyway, I'm sitting there all wired up, minding my own business, taking care of my email, and sending Sandy a text message in response to the one she had just sent me saying something along the lines of "Hallelujah! I've got hot water!"  (The poor woman had been several days without a hot water heater at that point.)  A businessman-looking guy comes over, sits down next to me, and says, "Are you sending a text message?" 

"Good grief," I thought.  "Now what?"  I wondered what rule I had broken for sending a text message.  I mean, really, they said free WiFi, not free text messaging, so maybe I was crossing some line?!  So I tell him yes, I'm sending a text message. I'm still wondering why he's asking, but I go back to doing what I'm doing.  He continues to engage me in conversation.  He tells me this is all new to him.  Wonders what would be the advantage of text messaging versus just calling the person, or sending an email; how does it "improve my business?"  Etc. Etc. Etc.

Then it dawned on me:  He's trying to get friendly. I turn my attention back to what I'm doing. He continues to ask me details about the text messaging and about my phone. He says that though these may seem like very basic questions, all this technology is totally NEW to him and he wants to learn more about it. Then he turns his head. 

He has apparently forgotten that he has a Bluetooth cell phone device hanging on his ear. 

All new on the technology, eh, buddy?

30. This Just In: Size Most Assuredly Matters (But It Ain't Everything)

Just a quarter of a millimeter bigger on the sock needle size is making a big difference. Yes, I did indeed rip out and start over. But I may have to rip it out and start over yet again, or just ditch it altogether, since I am positively hating this sock. It's not the sock's fault -- could be it's symbolic of some other deep angsty issues.

What, me, angst? Surely NOT! Meh, maybe it IS the sock's fault. One of us certainly has a bad attitude, and it's something that a quarter of a millimeter's movement just won't cure.  Perhaps something drastic is in order -- a time out for the sock, throw the frickin' yarn in the snowbank, or work on a different project to let it know who's boss -- something like that. Details at 11.

Present Mood:  Cranky.  But you already knew that. 

29. I Don't Do Memes. Ever! Unless I Want To. Plus, I Won't Shut Up.

Grumperina*, my favorite Russian (though you'd never know it if you met her) gorgeous brilliant linguist newlywed (congratulations, Sweetie!), knows the direct way to my heart.  She came to my blog on Sunday with this comment:

You make my day.  Please don't kill me.

Huh? Cryptic or what?  Then I clicked over to her blog to find this, in part:

When I came back from my holiday, I had 17 posts to read from Norma alone. Will Norma ever shut up? No. And that is why I love her. Also, Norma doesn't do memes. Ever! Unless she wants to. Just like me :)

Well, fellow grumps unite! I laughed and laughed.  Honestly, if almost anyone else tagged me for this meme, I probably wouldn't do it.  Well, okay, maybe I would. But to have Kathy The Grumperina tickle my funny bone like that?  Who could resist, and who could fail to be honored by such a knitting and designing and writing luminary?  All homicidal tendencies immediately flew out the window -- at least for a few minutes.

ETA:  After writing this post, and trolling through blogs just before it posted, I found that Nora also gave me the You Make My Day Award.  Holy cow. I'm not worthy. 

So here's what we're talking about.  I'm sure many of you have run across this before:

"Give the award to 10 people whose blogs bring you happiness and inspiration and make you feel happy about blogland. Let them know by posting a comment on their blog so they can pass it on."

Thinking cap, thinking cap!  I have a lonnnnnnnnng list of blogs I read, all of which I enjoy enormously, so this was hard.  I read blogs for a variety of reasons --  the writing style is most often at the top of the list; if the person is a personal friend (most of whom I have met in person, but some of whom I haven't, but we're still friends in that way that only the internet can facilitate); for the knitting; for the lifestyle philosophy; for the photography; or any combination of the above.  But here are 10 that I absolutely must read every time they post, and they never fail to make my day:

Sandy*.  Well, I suppose that goes without saying, since I mention her name in the blog at least three times a week. Sandy is what I call a "sleeper."  Her quiet exterior upon meeting her belies the clever wit and slightly tainted sense of humor that I love.  And although she is NICE in all caps, I don't hold that against her and I still like her. She always makes me laugh.

Mason-Dixon Knitting*.  Ann lives in Nashville, Kay lives in Manhattan. I can't get enough of the eclectic mix of fambly (typo intentional and in an homage to them), serious knitting, the Nawthun-Southun/country-urban dynamic.  Again with the brainy and dry humor.  You will start to see a theme in my choices, I betcha. They always make me laugh.

brooklyntweed.  This site just makes me go ga-ga with the knits.  Jared's knit tastes are more like mine than anyone else I've found on the web (although it seems I never knit, whereas Jared is a regular knitting factory), and his skill with both the knits and the photography is mind-blowing.  His productivity makes me envious and inspired.

Kitty Cafe.  The story of her blog name alone is worth a return visit, and she is always up to something artistically interesting. Build a mosaic goldfish pond?  Done.  Build a mud oven in the backyard?  No prob. Plus, she eats the way I do, except maybe not the dandelions.

Zeneedle*, a/k/a Margene.  Another one you hear me refer to ad infinitum.  She's a personal friend, a mentor, an inspiration.  She can turn a frown upside down, and in a private email or phone call, she can put me in my place tout de suite. She is one of the most exciting bloggers because she loves her landscape, and never fails to share it, though the local predominant religious affiliation is not her cup of tea.  A reformed Mormon the way I am a reformed Catholic and then Jew (organized religion is not my cup of tea, but if it is yours, I respect that, too), she is a must-read if only to see her frequent photos of her mountain and descriptions of Sunday breakfast at The Lodge. She is a phenomenal knitter, too.

Claudia*.  How does one describe Claudia?  As no-nonsense as they get, and one of the best finish-work knitters out there -- she knows how to make a garment fit and look perfect. I'm going to come right out and say it publicly:  Claudia was one of the most exciting and positive surprises I've ever had in my life, when I met her in person and became friends with her. She is real and warm and fabulous.  I'm getting all teary-eyed, and she and her husband (and I) would not approve of the teary crap.  But there you have it.  *sniff*  I shouldn't write blog entries when I've had a generous glass (or two) of pinot noir and have local farmed venison stew simmering on the stovetop.  It goes straight to my head (and heart). 

Mossy Cottage Knits.  This represents a longtime virtual friendship of not only Ryan, but her partner, The Mysterious K.  Mossy Cottage was the original home of the Dulaan Project, of which I was a long-time supporter. My friendship with TMK has recently been further cemented with our mutual interest in the gym and weight-training. Again here, I am drawn to the smart and witty writing, the life philosophies, and the mutual trust we share.  I have not yet met these Seattleites, though I have threatened several times.  Someday it'll happen, whereupon Ryan and I will exchange Princeton AirHugs (r) and TMK and I will give each other bear hugs.

The Scottish Lamb*.  I recently met Jean in person, and wow!  It took about 30 seconds to know she is our people, which I quickly text-messaged to Sandy after our lunch together.  A more fun and comfortable first meeting I cannot remember, and I'm thrilled that Jean, whom I've known virtually for a long time, is back in the states (after being on various military posts overseas for several years) and is posting to her blog more often now. 

The Keyboard Biologist*.  No list like this would be complete without Theresa.  Hers was the very first blog I happened upon all those several years ago, and the very reason I started blogging in the first place.  And now we are personal friends.  A Chicagoan and a new mom, her blog focus has changed a bit, but she is a person who really understands life.  Her blog is nice to look at, intelligent, and charming. She is one of The Beautiful People, and I'm proud to call her friend. 

This list could go on and on, and I don't want it to end. I hate-hate-hate leaving out some of my other best reads, but here is number 10 for now:

Cookie.  She recently volunteered to knit a shawl for my sister, which made my sister cry.  My sister, who often acted as Vincent's surrogate mom, took his passing possibly even harder than I did. Well, OK, maybe not. But yeah, I think so. She needed a shawl like nobody's business.  Cookie knitted it for her, as I've mentioned before.  And Cookie is a fellow people-hater. (hee) How much more can I say?  I love her, and hope to meet her someday soon, when we can hate all over each other.

*These I've met in person.

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I'm not going to tag any of these folks.  If they read it here and decide they want to carry on the torch, great.  If not, that's good, too. They've all made my day (again) just by thinking and writing about them. 

28. B is for Blue

At least one reader was slightly confused about the ABC-Along, so it might behoove me to explain the concept.  Or rather, I'll let Vicki explain it, since she's the shepherd of the event this time. [I'm leaving out stuff here that is not relevant to the way I'm participating..i.e., Flickr*, which gives me hives, as I'm apparently allergic to it (too SLOW to load in the blogs that are connecting their photos to it! somehow those blogs' comments boxes are affected also!  etc.!) and Ravelry, of which I am, as mentioned several times already, a member of the Underachievers' Group, and therefore I can't be bothered.] I seem to have several defective genes, since everybody else is so enamored of those two things and I'm not. But anyway, here you go:

The ABC-Along is a year-long group where participants post a photo to their blog every two weeks to correspond with a letter of the alphabet.

Photos should reflect the personality of the photographer; the subject should be of importance or meaning to them; photos can be related to fiber, but it is not required.  Post at least one photo in each 2-week period to match the corresponding letter of the alphabet. There are 52 weeks in a year and 26 letters of the alphabet, allowing 2 weeks per letter (Weeks 1&2=A, Weeks 2&3=B). Example: - "A" is for... Alaska, asparagus, alpaca, astronomy... Whatever you choose, it should have some meaning for you.

 

So today is all about the blue. 

Really, my home's decor is not overwhelmingly BLUE, but I do seem to have a lot of blue stuff -- Flow Blue, Blue Willow, Wedgwood, Cobalt, Blue Chintzware.  I don't really know how it happened.  It sort of crept up on me over the years. So there you have it:  Blue. 

And believe me:  This is only a sampling of it.
*Hypocrite alert:  It was through Flickr, and Sandy's genius help, that the above mosaic was created.

27. How I Spent Some Of My Vacation Allowance Stash Sale Money

I've been on a little natural stone jewelry buying binge lately. I do tend to do things like this in binges, and a little self-indulgence once in a while doesn't hurt, right?  I don't own much jewelry, and I do love what the earth has to offer in that regard. Gemstones make me feel warm and comforted somehow. 

I got my ears repierced in November, and they have finally healed. I'm supposed to wear only lightweight post earrings for at least six months.  My earring wardrobe was nearly devoid of post earrings, so I went looking for some that would make me happy.

My favorite earrings of all time were a pair of sterling silver and Tiger's Eye wire drop earrings that Abigail gave me several years ago. Unfortunately, I lost one of them and have been on a quest to replace them ever since.  I have not been fortunate enough to find a close replica, but yesterday I did find these post earrings that I like. Tiger's Eye matches my eyes and much of what I wear, so I'm happy to own these. I also got a pair of red coral ones that completely elude my photographic abilities. Or I should say, they really don't look like much in a photo -- just a tiny red disk. Pretty unphotogenic, really. After I got home, I felt guilty about buying red coral because of coral reef depletion. I didn't think of that when I bought them. Sigh. It seems that every purchase must be carefully weighed nowadays. But they do look quite fetching, I think, with the red sweater I am wearing today. Small comfort.    

And I've recently acquired three new pendants.  I got this Yellow Jasper one a few weeks ago, and I've been wearing it a lot. I just love it on that leather multiple-stranded cord.  Yesterday when I was on a quest for earrings, I unexpectedly ended up with two more pendants.  Isn't that always the way? (The stray purple earring is from a pair of Amethyst studs I've had for many years, and I happened to wear them when I went shopping. I'm not really sure how it ended up in the photo.)

The pendant in the middle (or top) of this photo is Jade and Prehnite (a pretty stone with which I was previously unfamiliar), and the pendant was a steal at 50% off.  The one on the right, and in the photo below, is Picture Jasper, and I bought it because the brown vein coordinates so nicely with the Tiger's Eye earrings. Apparently I have a thing for Jasper lately. I had a hard time limiting myself to these four items, but I figured enough was enough for one day's shopping. A lot of what was at this little kiosk in the mall appealed to me. The sad thing is that I thought all those pendants would be interchangeable on the luscious leather cord I already had, but it's so well made that the pendant does not come off (the clasp ends are larger than the bail of the pendant).  So I will have to find a suitable chain or cord for the others.  Damn it.  I love that leather one, especially for the Picture Jasper with the brown veins, and I'm not sure how easy it will be to find one similar to it. 

 

 

I was just putting the finishing touches on this post when I got an email from Donna Schmidt telling me about The House That Yarn Built, "our team" of the Make It Right Foundation. 

I am fortunate in many ways. I have relative security; I have a dry roof over my head; I have a job that I love that provides me with a little bit of discretionary income; and I have the blog and you all, which have enriched my life in countless ways.  How timely that I've recently had the stash sale, which has served many functions -- helping to reduce my clutter, while at the same time producing a bit of a balance in my Paypal account (and sadly, paid some vet bills). Given the timing of Donna's email with the writing of this post about my recent self-indulgences, it seemed only fitting to donate an amount equal to what I spent on my new jewelry.  Thank you so much, Donna, for sending the link.  It's kind of a rush to see my name on that scrolling list of most recent donors.

The House That Yarn Built...doesn't it have a nice ring to it? Perhaps you'll want to join me.  And since I'm a charter member of the Ravelry Underachievers group, it won't be me, but perhaps someone will start a Ravelry House That Yarn Built group.  If you do, let me know.  I'm soooo there. 

26. Two Kids Starving Artists and a Hat In NYC - The Sequel

This poor boy has no money.  He is cold and hungry.  (But he has a nice hat.) 

What ever shall he do?

Zzzzzzzz.

This poor girl is cold and sad.  She has no hat for her head.  What ever shall she do?

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.  ZZZZZZ.  Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

Hmmmm.  Hey, maybe.....?

Heh-heh-hehhhhhh.

Snip-snip.  Die, hated pompom, DIE!

Add a few twists:

 

And:

Snazzy.

Specs:  Snowball Hat from Interweave Knits Fall 2007, sans pompom,  two added pattern repeats for extra depth to cover the ears more fully.

Yarn:  Plymouth Encore Chunky, Soft White

25. More Chocolate Adventures and a Couple Bonus Items

In dire need of psychoactive food lately, I've been earnestly searching for good chocolate.

I will admit that I am sometimes seduced by sexy packaging.  This bar had it -- very understated, very elegant, very masculine, very European. Never mind that I needed a magnifying glass to actually read the writing on it -- it still looked fab.  Just look at that sexy inner wrapper.

It's Dolceria Bonajuto pepe bianco, (dark chocolate with white pepper). 

How disappointing to unwrap it and find that this $5-for-less-than-two-ounces bar had gone out of temper.

It's still edible; it's just that the cocoa butter has risen to the surface.  The bar probably got too hot somewhere along the line when it was being transported.  It makes it less appealing visually, and it affects the texture as well. If one were a chocolatier, one could melt the bar, temper the melted chocolate again, and remake this bar.  Nothing would be lost.

The flavor, after I set aside the looks and the texture, was quite a nice experience.  The texture was confusing, though, and I don't know if it's the bar itself or because it was "environmentally damaged" by the time I ate it.  It was oddly dry and granular, which at first I found to be a turnoff. But the more I chewed and savored, that granular texture seemed like it could have been intentional.  I'm not sure.  It was a very fine sugar-granule feel, in sort of a good way.  I hate to spend a lot of money on these bars to fully taste-test, though.  I would be reticent to buy another one at the same place any time soon, since coming from the same case before hitting their market shelves, I'm sure the bars have all been affected the same way.

This bar is flavored with white pepper.  I'm all about the spices and the chocolate.  Supposedly that's the way the Mayans and Aztecs enjoyed it for centuries.  At first I did not sense the pepper at all, but it hits you in a very subtle and pleasant way, after the chocolate has been swallowed -- the tingle lingers on the tongue, and there is no denying that the experience lifted my mood.  Could it be that the pepper potentiates the chocolate drug effect?  Whatever it is, it's very, very nice. 

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In other news, I wonder what mind-altering substance Roxie was on when she made these for me:

Question:  If I had an extra finger on each hand, could I steno even faster?

Answer:  Made me laugh, Roxie.  You are da bomb. Thank you!

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Progress on the sock is proceeding at an astonishingly fast pace, and it's very pretty.  There is only one problem:  It's a bit too snug on my leg and foot, so the pretty pattern is stretched out and doesn't look nearly as pretty when worn.  Question:  Do I have the intestinal fortitude to rip it out and start over on bigger needles or with more stitches? 

Bleh. 

24. High Peaks, New York -- A Great Place to Pee, But Forget About Your Cell Phone

It was delightful that so many people took so much interest in my first pee place post. Who knew I'd hit such a nerve? And who knew that I'd have the opportunity so soon to take you to my 2nd favorite place, but another trip to the Albany train station allowed me the chance.

Somewhere on the Adirondack Northway, aka  I-87, aka the New York Thruway (signage in Upstate New York is so confusing), between Exits 29 and 30, high in the Adirondacks (it feels like another world), you'll find the High Peaks Welcome Center. If you are on the way and you need to pee, it's worth holding it. Bypass the old run-down grungy places, and wait for High Peaks to relieve yourself.

Reminiscent in feel, and paying homage to, the Adirondack Great Camps, this place is lovely, in a lovely setting.  A few photos for your relief and pleasure.

  Welcome to our French-speaking neighbors.

Res ipsa loquitur.  Well, okay, I'll spell it out:  Beautiful scenery.

Bear-and-raccoon-proof trash bins.  It takes a high IQ to figure out how to put one's trash in these.  Not that I'd know much about that.  The grounds are impeccably clean and well maintained, and there are many picnic tables.

A clarification card in the exhibit.  We wouldn't want to mislead anyone into thinking all these specimens came from New York.  (I got a kick out of this for some reason.)

As clean and beautiful and immaculately tidy as a four-star hotel.  Not an odor to be smelled.  I'd eat off these counters.  It is always this clean every time I've been here, several times over five-plus years.

I'd even eat off the baby-changing station.  And that might be the very last time you'll ever hear me say something like that.

Interesting display of fishing lures.  Above it was a good-looking, informative poster about fishing in the area.

Daylight was on the wane when we got back to the northbound stop:

Interestingly, as with the Williston rest areas, the northbound facility is slightly more lovely and has slightly more detail than the southbound.  I wonder if this is intentional.....and for what reason?  It seems oddly coincidental.  I love that moose weathervane on top of the northbound one.

One thing you will NOT find here:  Food, except vending machines.  And cell phone service.  It is very desolate out here, and the lack of cell service feels a bit disconcerting in this day and age when we are all so reliant on being connected.  It is the source of much controversy and random interviews of weird women photographing their knitting in the snow at rest stops. However, there is a state police station inside this northbound unit.  A nice, cute officer came out and said hi while I was snapping photos. 

Also, if you are transporting illegal aliens or drugs, fair warning:  There is a semi-permanent U.S. Immigration/Customs/Border Patrol (?) something-or-other traffic stop set up just as you approach the southbound High Peaks rest stop.  Rumble strips warn you to slow down for a good long distance before it. Apparently there was a bad accident a while back, where a tractor trailer truck driver didn't see the signs saying "stop ahead" (?) and just plowed right through. I am quite sure there were many fatalities as a result of that event.

So you see?  New York can do it, too -- not just Vermont.

23. My Most Articulatest Moment

   
ARE WE THERE YET?  (nope)

A funny thing happened on the way to the coliseum Adirondacks High Peaks Welcome Center, and aren't I just the lucky blogger?  We love little odd things to happen -- we LIVE for them, don't we?  And of course I just have to tell you about it. 

I have every right to humiliate myself at every given opportunity, and I often take advantage of that right.  More about that later.

I wasn't the only one in the car with a teeny bladder.  That's all I'm gonna say about that.  So first we stopped in Beekmantown.   (ick, ick, don't want to touch anything, smells awful, etc., etc.) 

Next stop, Lewis. I didn't go inside; it looks the same as Beekmantown. But wait.  What have we here?!

Am I being scooped?!  Channel 5 news team on the scene, interviewing truckers about what?  Pee places? 

Totally bogus, man!  This is MY gig! 

I boldly take photos of the news crew, then I go about my business, photographing the neckwarmer that later died.  Remember?

Then I hear, "Ma'am!"  and turn around.  That cute little thing in the photo, with the legs up to there and the long hair, was running up to me.  She didn't even bat an eyelash at the fact that I was photographing my knitting in the snow.  She might have backed.away.from.the.weirdo, but instead she said, "Before you go, can I snag you for a minute?" 

"Um...."

"We're doing a story on the cell phone coverage, or lack of it, on this route."

"Oh, it's CRAP!" I so eloquently say.

"If you could even say that on camera, it would be great!  And can I get the others with you, too?  I won't hold you up for long." 

Oy.  Poor Abigail, who was already in the car, later said she couldn't figure out what was happening.  She thought that the reason the young woman came rushing up to me was that she recognized me. (as in "Mom, you're so famous," blah blah) (pardon me while I stifle a guffaw)

So I said sure, and she followed me over to the car.  Then she interviewed each of us without us knowing the camera was on.  We thought it was sort of a dry run, she'd see if we had anything worth recording, and then we'd do the real thing. 

She asked me, "So what is your opinion about the lack of cell phone coverage here?"  In my shining moment of absolute articulate BRILLIANCE, I answered something like,  "Well.....(dramatically) my cell phone is searching for a signal right now.  It's a perennial problem.  It's....(searching for a word)... nonexistent."  (W.T. Fuck?) 

Well, thank dog I did not say CRAP on camera.  But honestly!  I should not be allowed out in public.  I can hear the viewers at home saying, "She didn't even answer the QUESTION!"  My brain had clearly been left at the rest stop in Beekmantown.

The other two members of my family showed more than a modicum of intelligence, and their answers were so impressively articulate that I wanted to crawl into a hole in the snow and just lie there in the fetal position until the snow crews uncovered me in the spring.  We weren't home in time for the 6:00 news, but on the 11:00 they played a piece of David's answer, and he looked good, though squinting in the sun's glare a bit.  They had his mouth moving, but had his words completely unsynched. Looked a bit like a cartoon character, or a Japanese dubbed movie.  "David Miller, Motorist."   Then on Monday morning he arrived at the gym and a guy in the locker room said, "Hey, I just saw a guy on TV that looked JUST LIKE YOU!"  He goes upstairs to find a couple people he knows say they had just seen it, and clips of Abigail's, too, and someone said it was also played on Sunday.  Thankfully the viewing public was spared from me. 

It would have been so much better if she'd asked me the question, "What are you doing here?"  and I could have answered, "Taking photos of pee places."  At least I wouldn't have sounded QUITE so stupid, and perhaps I would have been labeled, "Norma Miller, Rest Area Chronicler."

Tomorrow is the real deal:  High Pees.  I mean Peaks.

P.S.  On the drive home, I noticed giant signs when entering the Adirondack Park.  They say something to the effect of, "Cell Phone Service Extremely Limited or Nonexistent for Next 120 Miles"  (I can't remember the exact number of miles, but it's quite substantial)  and that is what the news piece was mainly about -- that those signs were put up that day.  All this arises out of a horrific fatal accident that happened last year and the fact that there is no cell phone service there and the rising level of public ire about it.  We used to worry about this endlessly when Abigail was traversing that route all by herself for four years.  For example, it doesn't do much good to have AAA if there is no way to call them.  So about the signs:  Nice touch, New York.  What are you supposed to do?  Decide to turn back? 

And P.P.S.  Have you ever had a conversation with a know-it-all?  Yeah, me too.  One time a few years ago, some guy in a deposition was insisting to me that on I-87 there was cell service all the way down.  I argued with him and said no way!  It's scary and unsafe and annoying!  He inSISTED that there are "repeaters running all the way down the Interstate, and if you just stay on the interstate, you'll have cell service.  I do." (he told me)

Well, I've talked to a good number of folks about this since that time, and nobody has any idea what a "repeater" is.  Pfffft.  Well, regardless, if he thought he knew it all, he was kidding himself, because there is ZERO cell phone service on that route.  So much for know-it-alls. 

22. A Luring

I know I said I was going to knit on my Spice sweater, and I did. A little. Very little.

But the lure of a warm neck, a quick finished object, and working with Jean's pretty and soft handspun was impossible to resist. 

I made Bonne Marie's Favorite Cowl, 77 stitches knitted on U.S. 11s, in Jean's handspun, and I was all done by the time we hit the High Peaks rest area on I-87 on Saturday.  (see tomorrow's post for High Peaks hijinks)

Here are some pictures of it in progress.

Here is what it looks like now. 

It was gi-nor-mous, and would have had zero effect on warming my neck, so I ripped it out.  I couldn't bring myself to immediately cast it back on, with only 60 stitches, which would have seemed to be right, rather than 77, so instead I did something radical.  Hang onto your stomachs; it could be a rough ride.

I'm knitting a sock.
Honest, it is really me.
The blog was not hacked.

(Trekking Zitron 158, first seen here, after which I immediately ordered a skein.) 

I don't know what came over me. It must have been the Adirondack air and, oh, yes:  I'm sure it was also the lure of the color orange.

The cowl was a bust
Now I'm trying for a sock
Will I fail this too?