Was waiting at a red light when I chanced to notice a Santa, once inflated and perched jauntily above a doorway on a porch roof for the weeks before Christmas, now devoid of sustaining air, hanging limply by his feet upside down in that porchway. The sight was wonderfully pathetic and nicely endearing and entertained me until the light turned green.
For those new to the word, "steeking" is a knitting term that means cutting into knitted material. Even though I've seen it done I continued to imagine that if I did it the knitting would all spring apart - it is, after, all, just a bunch of individual stitches- so I have been "putting off the experience". But yesterday the motivation was just too strong: awhile ago I came across a handknit rustic handspun wool sweater in a thrift store and gratefully, gladly rescued it. I've worn it a few times as a pullover but I was really seeing it, and wanting it, as a cardigan. Yesterday the cool sunny day said - "Cardigan!" I chalked the line down the front and planned to stitch on either side of the line to 'anchor' all those little stitches in case they decided to turn ornery. At the sewing machine I could not see clearly the chalked line so ran a line of basting in a bright yellow wool. A single line of stitching on the machine got lost in the bulk of the natural wool so I switched to zig-zag. (No matter how many times I turn the dial on my Necchi and come up with something other than straight stitching I still find it magic!) I went and had a drink after the cutting line was outlined by the stitches. This is not an uncommon occurrence amongst knitters at this stage of steeking, I am told; my choice of beverage was tea but I understand the stronger stuff is also a boost to confidence. I cut between the machine stitches. The knitting stitches did not all make a break for freedom. I found I actually had been holding my breath! Then I got out a crochet hook and some handspun matching wool and worked an edging along the front. Only one side is done so far - I had to wear the sweater. I am more than pleased.
The week between Christmas and New Year's has that unreal aspect to it. Some businesses are back 'on the job'. Some not. Kids not in school so the energy and traffic to and fro is more and less. There was frost on the roofs this morning (not a result of the week other than occurring now, I suppose) and my car did a bit of a skid as we tootled down an otherwise deserted road. My Ontario hands gripped the wheel in some sort of memory of steering into a skid (not needed!) but my British Columbia eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Totally by chance and unexpectedly delightful are the fivesome of daffodils in their clear flat vase that I put in the kitchen window being perfectly framed by one of the holes in the wall between kitchen and hall and bathroom! When a person is 'enthroned' the line of yellow and green daffs are a 'picture' in the view across bathroom, hall, kitchen and backyards.
Good lord - a slip of the fingers on the mouse and a click on a date on the calendar on this blog and it brought up the entry from that date! I didn't know it could or would do that! Sigh. Shows the worth of ambling through life looking for and allowing for 'slips'.
Have not heard anyone speak of this before but surely others must have experienced it: while I am driving along a road I become aware of someone walking in my direction on the sidewalk but they are mostly hidden by a telephone pole and continue to remain hidden by that pole as we approach and then pass one another, never ever seeing each other. ??????????
A friend alerted me to the delightful practice of Santa Tracking by Norad. http://www.noradsanta.org/ And just now I heard a man from Norad on CBC giving a report on the sighting of that jolly old gent. I was enchanted. Apparently there is a phone line open as well. What a magical time of year this is. Merry Christmas Eve!
A silvery stream of light dancing in through the bedroom window must have caught the eyelids and turned a roll-over into a wakeful state which led to going outdoors for a bit of moon gazing. Then, realizing it was not middle of night but that some neighbours were actually still up, it didn't seem quite so odd to stay up myself and do some knitting. A stroll-through-stash scarf has been in mind and partially started but was waiting on more 'material' being chosen. Having done this (and isn't it a delightful pursuit to peruse the wealth of wool and select) ten or eleven balls got dumped on the day bed and I started into knitting. Then wanted a drink of water. Then 'strolled' again to exchange a yellow for a Yellow (you know what I mean). Then couldn't find one of my needles. Found it eventually in kitchen by the water jug, though why on earth I took one needle with me into kitchen while getting a drink of water remains a puzzle. Back to the knitting to discover those balls of wool were in a bit of a tangle. Hah! So it isn't our fault when this happens after all. It is wool initiated. Have we not suspected as much. Now I didn't actually see them cavorting. But it wasn't simply my getting up and down from and to day bed that bounced the wool around: no, two of the yarns were actually intertwined! "Well, in a bit of a playful mood, are we?" I inquired as I sorted them into some sort of order again. My fingers were giggling.