Bastille Day Story

I know it's been a while.

Someday I'll have to catch up with y'all and let you know where I've been and what I've been doing.

Someday.

Meanwhile, stop me if I've told this before.


Whenever Bastille Day rolls around, I always remember my trip to Paris when I was 17.

I was traveling with a church youth group to England in 1970. It was quite a momentous trip in many, many respects. I had never flown before. We had gotten a charter on the first 747 plane to cross the Atlantic -- the return flight to Paris. In Paris, we had a 24-hour layover before we went on to Heathrow. It was so exciting!

I was 17. Besides one other girl on the trip, who was 15 or 16 at the time, no one spoke French. And our claims to "speaking French" were quite nebulous, especially since this was Paris where we learned that the French spoken is analagous to the American English spoken in the Bronx. We couldn't understand a word!

But we were so determined to use our French in possibly the only 24-hour period of our lives when we'd have the opportunity, that we just kept trying.

Because of the time zone difference, we arrived at our hotel in Paris at about dinnertime on our biological clocks, but it was after midnight there.

My friend the Freshman in French and I, the Junior, roomed together. We were wide awake as Paris was shutting down. We occupied ourselves by laundering our delicates in the "funny little sink in the bathroom" and then writing letters on the little balcony. So romantic! We were in our pj's and bathrobes. It was 2:00 a.m. local time and most of the hotel staff was leaving the hotel, their shifts having concluded.

Two young men saw us sitting on the balcony and called up to us to come down and join them! OMG! What do we say?

We closed the French doors and consulted each other. How do you say "Go away?" Ummmm. Don't know.

"Um" (me), "let's tell them to 'Come back tomorrow!'"

(Her): "Great idea!"

We opened the French doors and peered out, saying, "Come --"

-- and before I could say "back tomorrow," in my faulty French, they entered the hotel and came up to our room and started banging on the door!

OMG. Turn off the lights! Shut the door! Be quiet! Don't answer! They'll go away.

Then went back downstairs and outside and counted the windows (we peeked through the curtain with the lights still out).

They came back up and started banging on the door again!

OMG!

Then we got another great idea! We should use Morse code and knock S-O-S on the wall between our room and the one next door, summoning two strapping young men from our high school to rescue us.

I took a shoe and started knocking. The French guys went down stairs and started counting windows again. They came back up.

I stepped out on the balcony and the guys next door stepped out on theirs.

"Jo Anne, this is your own stupid fault. You should never have talked to those guys in the first place! And by the way, that wasn't S-O-S you were tapping, you idiot."

They went back inside.


So much for chivalry.

Well, eventually the French guys went away, but not after waking the entire hotel. (We learned later that one of the high school guys went down and went out drinking with them.)

Next morning while my girlfriend and I were having our petit dejeuner of croissants and cafe au lait, the Methodist minister who was the leader of the youth group came over to our table. Without even asking us what had happened, he said, "You girls are forbidden to speak French for the rest of the trip."

"But, Rev!"

"No buts. No French. Period."

Well, then it was time for our tour of Paris. We soon learned that our tour was taking place on Bastille Day and that on Bastille Day, all Parisians leave the city and go picnicking in the country. The place closes down! We saw the Louvre from the outside. From the tour bus, we saw the Arche de Triomphe and the outside of the Tour d'Eiffel because they were -- well, outside. Other than that, we were spoken rudely to by anyone we met except in one little cafe where we stopped for ice cream. (The BEST coffee ice cream I ever tasted in my life.) There I surreptitiously spoke a little French with the waiter until I saw one of the adults giving me the evil eye.

Finally, it was time to go to the airport. The minister was having a hard time understanding the tour guide and apparently the gates had been changed for our departure. The tour guide was trying to direct the minister where he should go and he couldn't find all the English words. He answered a question of the minister's in French and the minister turned to my girlfriend and me and said, "What did he say?"

You know those times when you remember later what you should have done or said and then kick yourself?

This wasn't one of those times. We'd been carrying this grudge for over 12 Whole Hours!

My girlfriend and I looked at each other, then turned back to look at the minister, shrugged our shoulders and said in unison, "I don't know, Rev. I can't speak a word of French."

Happy Bastille Day, Everyone!

Black & White

This thank-you post has been a long time coming. Apologies to Kim.
It all started when DH, who is originally from upstate New York, took me to see where he grew up. There, he introduced me to the most wonderful confection -- (Ambrosia, Food of the Gods, Bliss on the Tongue) -- that I had ever tasted.
The locals call them Moon Pies but somewhere I got the name "Black & Whites." I'm not sure if this was DH's name for them or whether I made it up on the spot. Basically, they are sugar cookies iced half with white icing and half with chocolate icing. I guess they must look like moons to some. Anyway, I had never seen them in my 45 years of U.S. travels (at the time). My relatives Back East know that if they want to make me happy, they must send these to me by FedEx. But it's been a long time since my relatives wanted to make me happy, I guess.
Anyway, when Kim became my partner in the Summer of Yarn Love Swap, early on I asked her if she'd send me one after the swap was over. So, true to her word -- three months later and long after I'd forgotten I'd even asked -- I got a package from Kim with two -- count 'em!!! -- black 'n whites.
This only goes to illustrate why I have a blood sugar problem.
I opened the package in the car outside the post office. When I saw there were two, I was so impressed at Kim's thoughtfulness of including both DH and me.
But then I noticed that they weren't the same. One of them had a sugar cookie base and the other had a chocolate cookie base.
Which one should I eat? Did I really care whether DH got one? I mean, he'd had enough of these in his childhood, right?
Traditionally in these swaps, people take pictures of what they get. Here's mine. Taken before I'd even started the car for home:

The Summer of Yarn Love Swap Final Reveal

I figure as long as I am on borrowed time at my job that I should catch up on blog posts.

The final reveal for the Summer of Yarn Love Swap at Ravelry was kind of like the end of the world:  except that it ended with a whimper and a bang.  My spoiler Pamela (of Pamela on the Farm fame) and I had gotten to know each other quite well in emails and I was pretty certain I knew who she was, so the reveal wasn't all that surprising.  It seemed more like a mint on my pillow after full day of heavenly languor on the sun deck over Caribbean waters.  (This is the "whimper" part.)

In the last box she sent, Pamela included a letter that linked each item with her and her family and tied us together with our common threads -- and there are so many of those, it is uncanny.  I don't think she even realizes how linked we have become.

I don't think everything that she sent is visible in the photo above.  She sent playing cards and a car air freshener to represent both Ohio and the inevitable "life in the car" that moms like her lead.

There was lots of sock yarn for my baby projects (she knew I wanted to try making the Berroco design Celestine crochet dodecahedron).  (In fact, I have already started one this week):

What Pamela didn't know (at least on a conscious level) was that right before this package arrived, I had decided to try my hand at crocheted socks.  So not all of this yarn will become dodecahedra.

That book in the foreground?  Another one of the Amazing Pamela's Mind Meld products.  One of the questions on the questionnaire for the swap was, "Do you collect anything?"  At the time I said no, but when I saw this comb-bound recipe book from the Ohio State Fair, I realized that -- albeit not on purpose -- I actually do collect something.  Behold!  My grassroots comb-bound recipe book collection:

Clockwise from the far left:

• Best of the Fair previously seen;
• a Greek cookbook from a Greek festival I attended in Oakland when DH and I were first married;
• my grandmother's church's cookbook (Grace Lutheran in Northern Illinois); and
• last but not least, my childhood church (State Street Methodist in East St. Louis, Illinois) cookbook circa 1961. I distinctly recall my mother and the ladies in her church Methodist Women's circle collecting the recipes inside. They even wrote to then First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy and received "her favorite" recipe for tomato aspic. That recipe, along with a cover letter from her personal secretary proudly grace the first pages of the cookbook.

See that little bag resting on top of the Best of the Fair cookbook in the earlier photo?  I really suspect that Pamela made what was in that bag and that it's a recipe that's in that cookbook, but she neglected to mention it in her letter, so we'll forever be in mystery.  (Unless she decides to comment on this blog post, that is.)  Anyway, it was a yummy treat that sent my blood sugar soaring and would have caused great damage had not my Dear Husband been nearby because after I'd tasted it and it became obvious that it was Not Long for this World, he thoughtfully disappeared the rest of it.  (He liked it a lot, too!)

Now, I would have been perfectly content with all of this, but then I saw the homemade item!  (This is the "bang" part.)

This bag is perfect in so, so, so many ways.  First off, it's entrelac.  I mean, I can't even knit and purl anymore, so just the thought of attempting colorwork this complicated boggles the mind.  Second, it's a bit of Ohio culture.  It's called a buckeye bag.  I wish I could go to Ohio and pick buckeyes and carry them in it!  But I'll have to settle for carrying crochet projects when I go to very special events.  Thirdly, although the photograph doesn't do them justice, the colors are just beautiful.  And fourthly, she felted it!  This is another craft skill I haven't done yet.  I am in absolute awe of Pamela's skills.

I have Pamelaonthefarm to thank for making the summer of 2008 delightfully memorable!

The Summer of Yarn Love Strikes Again

Watch me jump up and down and overuse exclamation marks!



I received my July package from my spoiler!



When the mail delivery guy at work came by with my package I was so excited. I'm expecting several packages right now -- mostly from yarn swaps -- and I didn't know which one it would be.



I was a little behind on work so I couldn't ethically stop and open it. I used it to help stop my procrastination and told myself that if I did this and this and this, then I could open it.



So I did a few of them as far as I could take them and took a lunch hour and decided that was the time to open the package since it was my lunch hour, after all!



So just look at all of this:

My benefactress (is that a word?) heard my plea for more of the SWS yarn in the same colorway, so now there's a Curly Q scarf in my future crochet plans. Finally something I get to keep! (Or maybe not. I may be short on gifts this year....)



Anyway, look that beautiful American flag star in the background is going to hang on my front door.  Isn't it gorgeous?



Continuing clockwise, there's a ranting journal with Sponge Bob on it.  Or else a regular journal with a ranting Sponge Bob on the cover. I haven't decided yet.  I don't do a lot of ranting, so probably it'll be the latter.



Next is hand lotion called Gloves in a Bottle that I used right away because my hands are super dry.  But I'm wondering where online I mentioned this because if I didn't, then my Secret Pal is carrying that stalking thang a bit too far.



Next, gorgeous linen yarn. The color ranges from orange to fuschia with graduated shades in between. Gorgeous! I'm gonna hold onto these skeins before I decide what to do with them because there's one more package coming next month and maybe.... Well, never mind.



And last (if you don't count the note that I'm not going to mention because that's between me and my Secret Pal and I only put it in there so you could see the pretty stationery): A Jar!



When I saw this jar I thought perhaps my Secret Pal hadn't gotten my message about not sending sweets anymore because of my high blood sugar. It has the yummiest looking candy apple on it. I thought it was a jar of caramel and I didn't know how I was going to resist opening it and pouring it into my mouth!



But it's not sugar! It's a candle. I tried sniffing it to see what it smells like, but looks like I'm going to have to take it home and burn it to find out. Either that or test my office's sprinkler system.



Maybe not.



Secret Pal, wherever you are and whoever you are, you're still the bestest!



Thank you bunches and bunches!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Another Yarn Contest: My Black Hills Summer Vacation

See that panorama up there? Those are the Black Hills of South Dakota. Where I come from originally (Illinois), they're called Mountains. (Since I've lived in California now for over 30 years, I have a new understanding of the difference between hills and mountains.)

But way back when I was a teenager in the '60s, those were the highest mountains I'd ever seen. The summer I was 15 I went with a youth group to a summer camp -- not for camping, mind you, but to work. Our job was to dig a trench from the top of the mountain down to the camp to hold a pipeline from a water supply for the camp.
Every day in the morning, we climbed this mountain. Every day at noon we climbed down for lunch and a rest period. Then we climbed back up and back down at nightfall.
I hated this youth group. I'd only been a member of the group for a year or so because my father, a church choir director, had just moved from one church to another. So not only was I a "new kid," I was a choir director's kid. I got picked on a LOT, and especially by the boys.
It seemed every time I turned around the boys were playing some sort of trick on me and snickering at me and thinking I was a stupid dolt.
Mind you, I know now why they were doing it.
My daughter is the spittin' image of me and has been at every stage of her life. In fact, she looks so much like me that when sorting family photos, if they're not marked with the year, I sometimes have to stare at the photo and look at the background and figure out which one of us it's a photo of.
This is what my daughter looks like today. She's 29. She doesn't look much different than she did at 15 -- and therefore not much different than I looked at the same age.

Not bad, eh?
So, like I said, in my old age (and after it's too late to work it), I realized that those guys were teasing me and tormenting me because -- Dang! I was hot!!!
(I'm not even going to say "If I do say so myself" because at the time I thought I was really, really ugly. It took having a look-alike daughter and seeing her every day and watching the men sniffing around her to find out that that coulda been me if I hadn't been so stoopid!)
Of course, people tried to tell me, "It's only because they like you," but I never listened.
Anyway, I digress.
One day after lunch time on a really, really hot day I was wandering around the camp biding my time and enjoying my rest period when these four guys from another cabin walked up to me and asked me to help them.
Of course, I was immediately suspicious. But they seemed really desperate. "Hey, Jo Anne," the hottest one of the bunch called out, "can you help us? We really need to find a hollow-J goose-necked smoke sifter to clean out the fireplace in our cabin and we can't find the camp director. If you see him, will you ask him if he has one?"
"Come on, guys," said I, "you think I was born yesterday? You guys are pulling my leg again."
"No!" they yelled. "You gotta help us. Rev (the minister leading the work tour) is gonna kill us if we don't get this fireplace cleaned today!"

By the way, I ran across this public domain photo on the internet and it looks surprisingly like the cabins we stayed in:

I felt sorry for them and told them I'd try to find the camp director. "But what was the name of that thing again?"
So they had me repeat it over and over and over again and I walked around the camp reciting, "hollow-J goose-necked smoke sifter hollow-J goose-necked smoke sifter hollow-J goose-necked smoke sifter hollow-J goose-necked smoke sifter hollow-J goose-necked smoke sifter hollow-J goose-necked smoke sifter"
until I found the camp director.
"Say, Mr. Camp Director," I said, "do you have a hollow-J goose-necked smoke sifter anywhere? The guys need one to clean out their fireplace."
"Oh, sure!" he said, not missing a beat. "It's up on top of the mountain hanging from a sky hook!"
Oh, no. If these guys were going to get their cabin cleaned in time for inspection, I'd have to climb the mountain, find the hollow-J goose-necked smoke sifter, come back down and get it to them before we had to climb back up again for the afternoon shift.
So, being the helpful and generous soul that I am,
(oh, yes, Dear Reader, I did)

I. Climbed. The. Mountain. Again.

Well, I guess I gotta make this long story short. Lucky for me, my friend Pam wasn't hungry enough at lunch time to come down the mountain and had decided she'd rather stay up there than have to climb it again in the afternoon.
She had no idea where they kept the sky hook up there but she helped me look for a little while.
Then she said, "You know, Jo Anne, I think a sky hook might be some kind of a joke. I mean, where would you hang a sky hook from?"
I didn't tell her about the hollow-J goose-necked smoke sifter. I just waited on top of the mountain for the afternoon shift to arrive.
Along with the raucous laughter.

Look At My Psychedelic Loot!

I got my first Summer of Love package from my super sneaky secret pal! She made me think she was someone by her emails and then her package return address made me think she wasn't that person and now I have no idea who she is at all.

She might not even be a she! (Totally appropros for a San Francisco swap.)

I tried to take a photo that would do all the goodies justice and failed, I'm afraid. (Though not bad enough to give this post a failure label, you'll notice.)

Here's the first pic:

Not a very pleasing presentation visually, eh? Yeah, I thought that too.

Here's what was in my package though! The description'll get you drooling.

Clockwise from the center top of photo:

• A box of floral notecards and envelopes.


• A hang-in-the-window-faux-stained-glass-window thingy. (I think it's called a sun catcher but I get sun catchers mixed up with dream catchers.) Anyway, whatever its name, it's totally wonderful and will get good use because I have lots of windows!


• Two -- two -- skeins of Patons SWS (Soy Wool Stripes) yarn in Rose Natural ombre colorway. It's soft as a baby's bum and very luscious looking but like its new owner, not very photogenic.


• Two -- again, two -- skeins of Caron Span bamboo blend yarn in a colorway called Ocean Spray, which is even softer than the Patons SWS if you can believe it and has a lovely sheen to it that my Secret Pal pointed out to me.


• A lovely note (barely visible pink paper under the Spa yarn).


• A spectacular Hairy Zoo pen by inkology that lights up when you whack its head! Lots of fun and a good outlet for work frustrations.


• The most appropros and themefully delicious bandana for a Summer of Love yarn swap. Like, Totally Copacetic, Man. Right on!


• A barely visible (and not long for this earth) bag of yogurt pretzels.

So, like I said, I decided the presentation lacked balance and aesthetics, so being the True Artist that I am, I did it over again.

Except by this time, the yogurt pretzel bag had *ahem* accidentally gotten opened so I had to put the *ahem* remaining pretzels in a bowl.

Then I decided wouldn't it be cool to whack the Hairy Zoo pen's head and make him light up while I was taking the photo!

Except the flashing lights made movement which made for a fuzzy photo:

I'm sure sorry about all that.

But (I decided again), I simply must capture the design on that kerchief. So the following photo is my final say on the matter after I say,

I have the best Sumer of Love Secret Pal in the

Whole Wide World!

There's Something About Swapping

So, I'm browsing Ravelry to find ideas for my swap partner in The Summer of Love Swap and what do I do but find more ideas for me!

I need more ideas for me like I need another dozen holes in my head.

But just look at this bag! I love this yarn!

Questionnaire for Ravelry Summer of Love Swap

Do you knit or crochet?
For our purposes here, let's just say I crochet. (I have knit something in my lifetime but it may be another half century before I venture to knit again.)

How long have you been at your craft?
Half a century give or take a decade or so. (I learned when I was 5 but I guess I've only actively crocheted for about 6 years in all that time.)

Do you spin? What type of spinning?
Not the kind of spinning you're talking about!

What are your favorite yarns/fibers?
I haven't had enough experience with enough yarns to say! I'm kind of new to yarn snobbery. I hate to admit this, but I'm most used to "plain wrap" yarn like good ol' Red Heart acrylic. That doesn't necessarily mean I like it all that much. I just haven't ventured into the exotics too much yet.

What are your least favorite yarns/fibers?
Wool, cobweb mohair and bedspread cotton. (Actually, I really like wool but I'm allergic to it. Whenever I break down and use it, I regret it.)

What are your favorite colors?
Depends on what I'm making. I love heather-y colors. My personal palette is Spring/Autumn line, so black and white are out. But most of my crocheting is for others, so I can get excited about any color.

What are your least favorite colors?
In general, non-colors like neutrals, black, white, beige (but see below re the 200 squares.) I'm not fond of maroon.

Are there any yarns/brands that you are dying to work with but never have?
See "favorite yarns" question, above. I've also got a crochet project in mind (a toy, actually) that calls for colorful self-striping sock yarn.

What is/are your favorite types of projects to knit/crochet?
Wearable stuff for babies and children and scarves/hats for BFFs (I make BFFs too easily to have just one) and toys.

What are you currently working on?
A puffy poncho for a child; a purse for a child and booties. Lots and lots of booties.

Anything you plan to work on this summer?
Cotton booties and caps for babies on life support in the hospital and cotton wash cloths.
(NOTE: I have plenty of cotton and acrylic yarn for these projects. I don't need any more.)

I'm also in the 200 squares group on Ravelry and we're crocheting 200 squares. I haven't got the yarn for it yet, but I'm leaning toward earth tones (brown, camel) plus aqua, cornflower and navy blues as accents in Vanna's Choice yarn. I don't think there's a dye lot so I can get the yarn piecemeal. (Hint)

Then there are the triplets for whom I'm making lacy ponchos (see Ravelry queue). I think I'm going to use the fuschia fuzzy acrylic I have in my stash for those.

What is your favorite FO? (Post a pic if you would like.)
The baby cap pictured above. Also see my flickr photostream.

What is your oldest UFO?
A pair of baby booties for a the kid for whom I'm making the poncho. She has a little sister now.

Are there any techniques that you want to learn?
Yes. There's a way to do something that looks like Fair Isle in crochet using the afghan/Tunisian stitch. I'd like to do that. I'd also like to do free-form crocheting but I'm giving myself a few years to learn that. And I'll ignore my allergy to wool because I really want to learn to felt.

Are you on Ravlery? What's your ID?
Yes. Myownigloo

Are you a sock knitter?
No. I am a sock (ahem) crocheter.

What are your foot measurements?
Size 8.5 shoe

Do you collect anything?
Besides dust? I'd like to collect interesting egg cups, but I only have two plain ones right now.

I like penguins, but don't want any that aren't practical (IOW, no stuffed animals or knickknacks). Anything penguin themed that isn't Christmasy but can be used for something (ice cream scoop, pencil sharpener, pens, mouse pads, stud earring, etc.), I'm all over it!

Ditto ladybugs.

Ditto jellyfish.

Do you have a yarn winder and/or swift?
No, neither. I live in a very small apartment. OTOH, I could certainly use a swift if it folds up flat and goes into a closet.

Do you love sweets? What are your favorites?
I hate all sweets except those start with the letters C-h and end with the letters L-A-T-E. Oh, and tiramisu and Napoleons and coffee ice cream and of course pecan pie. Then there's Red Vines and Goobers and M&Ms and Snickers... (See allergies below).

What are your favorite scents?
Truly natural fragrances are okay. Rosewater, lavendar, sandalwood, essential oils, etc. No perfumes, please (allergies and asthma).

Where do you keep your needles/hooks?
I have a roll-up case that I ordered from eBay but I haven't received it yet to see whether it will be sufficient. I also keep an assortment of totes and little bags for supplies in a bin under my bed and throw them away when they wear out. And I'm hard on them, so I'm always in the market for a cute project tote.

Do you have a wishlist (Amazon, Etsy, etc?)
Not that it's all that relevant here, but: Amazon.

Even better: DaWanda and Etsy, too!

Having a birthday this summer?
Nope. I just had it on May 16. But I like unbirthday presents just fine and my wedding anniversary is June 25.

Are you allergic to anything?
Allergic to perfume-y stuff like sachets, soaps, perfumes, candles, but unscented are okay. Wool and I don't always get along, but the softer alpacas and mohairs, etc., are OK. And truth be told --

(I'm having a hard time typing this. The little devil on my shoulder is fighting with the little angel.)

-- I am pre-diabetic.

(I can't believe I said that!)

(Ouch! Don't hit me!)

No sweets for me, eh?

Suggested alternatives to sweets:
coffee beans
herbal teas
spices and meat rubs (I like to cook)
jerky
wasabi peas
lime-chili peanuts and cashews from Trader Joe's
Teeccino (I like all flavors)
dark chocolate with 72% cocoa (in very small quantities)