Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Left for the Living

Dear January,

Tomorrow is going to be a hard day.  Tomorrow I am going to a funeral.  For the father of my friends.  My friends who are the same age as my youngest sister.  I confess that I didn't really know him that well, but if my friends, his son and daughter, are anything to go by, he must have been an amazing man.  And, dear January, what makes it worse, is they've known this day was coming for almost a year.  Cancer. 

But you couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, January.  Because the day after tomorrow, is going to be even harder.

The day after tomorrow I go to another funeral.  For the father of one of my best friends, and father-in-law to my other best friend.  A man that I've known for almost 17 years.  While I can't really say that I know any of the parents of my friends, hearing the stories about and from him for over half my life, he was pretty amazing.  And, dear January, what makes it worse, nobody had any idea this was coming.  Stroke.

Within the last week I have watched the lives of two families taken apart.  And those left behind will spend the coming days, weeks, months, and years putting themselves and the families back together.  And those that are left will keep living.  Different lives maybe, but alive all the same.


Years and years ago, when André's grandfather Poppy (Patrick) was still with us, he visited a local army base at Trenton Ontario.  And came home with a cross stitch pattern kit for the cap badge for the Royal Canadian Corps of Signals, with whom he served in his youth. 


I finished it a few months later, and gave it right back to him, complete with custom frame by Andre.  And back it came to us when he passed away almost 2 years ago.  Looking at it every so often won't bring Poppy back, or even help to fill the gaping hole in the family left when he died, but it does remind me of him.  And if that's all I physically have from him, it is enough. 

The families of my friends have each other, like our family did when Poppy passed away.  All the pictures, stories, and memories are never ever enough.  But they are all that's left now. 

So, dear January, I would really appreciate it if you could pass through your last few days leaving the rest of my friends and loved ones' families intact.  You've taken more than your share this winter. 

In deference to you, I will go tomorrow, shake hands and say

Good curling

And the day after tomorrow, salute and say

Ready Aye Ready

And the day after that will be a new month. 

Don't let the door hit you on the way out. 

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Walk On - Goldilocks Socks for my Father

I promised more on the Christmas socks for my father, so here we go.

My father and I haven't always had the smoothest of relationships.  As a small kid I have fond memories of crazy things we did together.  Like our 6 o'clock walks.  We lived near a fairly large green space, and dad would somehow manage to not only get himself up and going that early on a Saturday morning, but then drag an 8 year old out of bed too.  We kept a field notebook and everything (I still have it too).  For a lot of those years we were buddies and it was awesome.

But then my parents split up and dad moved out.  And for a 12 year old with her life all planned out in front of her, that was the apex of uncool.  After living the "Canadian dream" (3 kids, dog, and yes, even a minivan) the change in the family dynamic was unsettling to say the least. There was no way that I could really understand what was going on at the time, or even really say how I was feeling myself, other than I resented the complications to my perfectly planned out life.  And nobody can wield the stinging sword of resentment with more accuracy and deadly force than a teenager.  There were a few years there where we didn't talk much at all. 

In the intervening 15 years since, dad and I have danced the awkward dance around each other of not really knowing what's going on inside the others head, but still wanting to try to figure things out.  As I got older things got progressively easier.  Maybe dad was mellowing, maybe I was.  Maybe we both finally figured out that the other person was trying, but in their own way.  Whatever it was, 10 years ago dad was there for us in a huge way and now we own a house directly because he was willing to take a risk on a couple of 20-year-olds who were dreaming big. 

Life at university helped too.  Lunch dates with dad were every few weeks or so, depending on midterms and assignments (writing for me, marking for him).  And when my university life came crashing down around me, it was nice to have somebody on my side who not only knew me, but the system I was struggling through.  That and Zac Brown and Dixie Chicks summer cottage sing-alongs. 

It hasn't all been smooth sailing, but the older I get the more I come to understand that it's just that we are different people with different outlooks and different ways of doing/feeling/being.  I am a bit carefree, passionate, liberal, and outspoken.  Dad (and the whole side of that family really) are conservative, reserved, and staunch.  Added layer of complexity, both sides of this are highly educated and extremely opinionated. Family dinners are sometimes intellectually fascinating.  And others a matter of how long can I grin and bear it (and sometimes it's not long enough). 

My family tends to chuckle when I say things like this, but I've grown up a lot over the years.  And while many of the decisions I've made I would make the same again, I feel that now I might be better and handling them, especially when those decisions involve other people.  I would still choose to walk myself down the aisle on my own at our wedding, even 5 years later.  But now I realize that I was probably the only chance my father would have to walk with his daughter on her wedding day.  And it makes me sad that he won't have that opportunity.  I would have still chosen the same, but think that I could have talked it over better with him.

All of this to say, that while dad and I aren't buddies like we used to be, we aren't complete strangers anymore either.  Our relationship is probably always going to be a work in progress - just like the Goldilocks socks he got for Christmas.

I hadn't knit anything for dad in a long time.  There was a sweater a pile of years ago, but it was an early effort, and not one of my best.  With Christmas rapidly approaching, there was no chance for another sweater, but socks should have worked. 

Over the years I've developed a basic toe-up sock pattern that is pretty adjustable.  Cast on XX (usually just less than half of the foot circumference).  Inc 4 every other round until number for foot circumference reached, knit along for 30-60 rnds depending on length of foot desired, inc for gusset XX to double the number of stitches on the sole needles.  Turn short row heel, s1, *K1,s1p to last, ssk last with gusset / s1, p across p2tog last with gusset.  Race upwards towards cuff for 40 - 70 rnds, 10-20 rnds for cuff.  Cast off. 

Basically I can write a post-it note with a few numbers and I've got a sock pattern.  For me, on 2.5 mm needles it would look like this:  

CO 20 to 48 40rnd, 50 rnd, 10rnd, CO

So cast on 20, increase to 48 for the toe.  Knit 40 rounds, increase for the gusset, turn the heel, knit 50 more rounds, then 10 rounds of cuff.  Simple no?

So when I'm knitting socks of difference guages or with different needles, sometimes there are some adjustments to these numbers.  And when I'm knitting with a different guage, with different needles, for someone I've never knit socks before ever, there tends to be a few more adjustments to numbers. 

Dad's socks were too small, WAY too big, just a little bit too big, too short in the foot and too short in the leg.  All at different times.  By the time I had one sock that I liked I had already knit enough stitches to more than finish a pair if I had got it right the first time.  My pattern notes look like this:


In the end I got it (on the far right of that mess).  According to dad the sock (yes, singular) he received at Christmas was a perfect fit.  The second was finished in time for the annual family gathering to celebrate my Grandfather's birthday on the 27th. 

Just so I never forget, knitting for dad with 2.75 mm needles the final pattern for K2P1 ribbed socks: CO24 to 60, 45 rnd, 85 rnd, CO.

Like our relationship, these socks had some great moments (I absolutely LOVE the colours and the stripes are a fantastic size, just when you get bored with one colour, it changes!) and others where it was all I could do to not just throw up my hands and walk away.  In the end though, it worked out.  It gives me hope that our too close/too far relationship will level itself out too. 

Love you Dad!  Merry Christmas.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Another New Years Tradition

New Years day at our place has been the same for years.  Wake up whenever we feel like it, have Irish cream in our coffees, start a fire, and kick back to watch whatever marathon is on that we are interested in.  It is a day for just us to do absolutely nothing, and do it together.

This year was no exception.  Toasty fire, tasty champagne, and 9 hours of Pawn Stars and 3 hours of Museum Secrets.  Amazing.

It seems though, that another tradition is springing up around this time.  Since I'm going to have hours and hours of knitting time, I've taken to going yarn shopping a day or so before New Years, lest I run out of things to knit.  Stop laughing André.  Just because there is wool in the house does not mean that it is the right wool for the job at hand.  Unless you want your new hat to be knit out of recycled silk.  Didn't think so.

This year, the tasks at hand are 2 baby outfits and a new hat for André.  One baby outfit I've got the yarn for, so we're good there (see André, stash is useful, otherwise I would have had to spend more money).  And so, chaperoned by the darling hubby, I came home on Monday afternoon with this:



That's a whole pile of Cascade Yarns Cherub and more Cascade sport.  It's not all in the picture, seeing as the second I walked in the door I promptly cast on one of the projects.  The sport is going to be a new hat for André... apparently the one I knit for him last year isn't quite right.  The Cherub on the other hand is going to be the ARRR! Baby Set from Knit.1 Winter 06/07.

Multiples of hours of knitting later:


Front and back done.  Now on to sleeves and pants!  Although I bought WAY too much yarn... maybe a hat to go with?  We'll see.