Wretched Wrist

The tendonitis has decided to flare up, so I'm taking a hiatus from the needles for a little bit. The sock can wait, as can the hat I started for Dulaan. Besides, I need to be in good form for Sock Wars.

Of course, that doesn't mean a hiatus from all things fibery. I can still spin, so Monday night I sat down for a bit and spun a bit more of the Junior roving. I got another pound of it from the farm, but I have yet to get an invoice and suspect that I'll need to remind them to send it along so that I can pay them.

Tuesday's mail also brought 4 yards of double-width grey wool twill, which I would like to make into a non-tartan, modern-yet-fairly-conservative kilt (I just don't see black vinyl or patent leather kilts in my future, though if I were ever to do a drag act, I do have this one idea....). I have a pattern. There are also plenty of online resources. Now I just have to figure out where I have can make space to drag out my sewing machine.

Work tonight has been fairly busy with some demanding & difficult clients. Unlike Sean of the Dead, I can't hide in a cubicle in a drug-induced haze. At least it's settled down enough that my headache's gone away. And it looks like it'll be a bright sunny morning for the drive home, which is always good for the soul.

The Night, They Say,....

....was made for bathing dogs.

Photos and Such

I've been a bit tardy about downloading a few photos from my camera, so I thought I'd share a couple things from this past week I haven't blogged. Firstly, last Saturday David & I took a drive up the coast and a tad inland to pick up fresh blueberries from a blueberry farm where I've been getting them for the last few years and my mother's been getting hers for several years. I also picked up a flat for the landladies. This is what 20# of blueberries looks like all ready for the freezer (actually, nearly all - I saved a little for eating fresh):



I love living in Maine.

After leaving the blueberry farm, we stopped at nearby Hope Spinnery, which is a small wind-powered spinning mill. We got a tour of the production area and had a nice chat with the owner about the industry. Maine actually has a fair number of small spinning mills doing both custom work and their own small lines of yarn.

On Tuesday, I went over to see Juliette, now 5½ weeks old, as I hadn't been there for a few weeks. She's recently had her first haircut. The baby fleece is generally clipped a few weeks after the cria is born, as it is otherwise prone to get matted and felted at the tips by the time of their yearling clip. So now I have a bag of butter-soft, chocolate-brown fleece waiting to be spun (someday).



Lastly, I was talking to David tonight, and he pointed out that I never posted any photos of the tattoo he got touched up just before we left Hawai'i. So a little belatedly, here is the before:



Not so pretty, eh? So here's the after:



Much nicer.

Future Project?

Today I've really had Fair Isle patterning on my mind. I've been reading Sheila McGregor's Traditional Fair Isle Knitting and contemplating Meg Swansen's Schoolhouse Shetland Pullover from Knitting in America, which was republished last year as America Knits.

I've actually been contemplating it for several months, but today I even went so far as to e-mail Yarns International, who are apparently the sole US distributors for Jamieson & Smith's Shetland 2000 yarn, which is a line of naturally-colored, undyed Shetland jumperweight. I'm thinking it might look nice in moorit & mooskit.

Of course, that assumes I'd ever manage to finish it, but one must be optimistic about such things.

They All Look the Same, Right?

This is actually a few days old now, but in the wee hours of Monday morning I happened across a link on Google that led me to this:



I thought, "Those poor people. And they just got hit with another tsunami, AND an earthquake." But then I started reading the article and realized that all the names of people interviewed sounded very Filipino, and it referenced the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology, which seemed very odd for an article about Indonesia.

Turns out, of course, that they had put the wrong country in the headline. And even though it had an Associated Press byline, it didn't say who had authored the article - probably because they also made apparent alterations to the original wire story, which was published on several other online news sources (with the correct country in the headline) along with the reporter's name and AP's standard copyright disclaimer stating that the story was not to be altered in any form.

It is Fox News, though, so I suppose for their readers it only matters that they were brown people on an island somewhere. Actually, their readers probably never even bothered to look at it at all. Just for the record, they did manage to correct the headline within 24 hours, but it's still found under the "Australia, New Zealand and Indonesia" section of their World News.

Bachelor Life

I'm on my own until next week, as David's off at this trade show in Salt Lake City. All the big boys and girls are there - Woolrich, Patagonia, Columbia. How much you wanna bet Gert Boyle spikes the punch bowl?

Actually, I'm just kind of worried I'll call and David will be off somewhere slamming down shots with Jimmy Osmond (Is it just me, or was Jimmy really going for the Rosie-O'Donnell-on-Star-Search look in this 1985 TV appearance?). So far, though, he claims he hasn't seen any Mormons. I'd say they only come out at night, but I've been to Salt Lake City and seen them, in the daytime - families with 7 or 8 kids, all blond-haired and blue-eyed. I have to say, though, that it is the most desolate city I've ever been in - avenues 6 or 8 lanes wide with no traffic in the middle of the day. It's like they built it and then forgot to fill it with people (Maybe that's why they're having 7 or 8 kids).

We apparently managed to find him a room in the seediest motel in Salt Lake City, a Super 8 only 4 blocks from the Convention Center and Temple Square. When he arrived Tuesday night, he called and said, "It's a shithole." The elevator is apparently held together with blue masking tape, and he couldn't bring himself to use the stairs because the stairwell smelled ungodly. And after he turned down the sheets on the bed, he called me back to tell me that he'd found a pill in the bed, which of course makes one wonder if they actually bothered to clean the sheets between guests. I was able to look said pill up in the PDR here at work and it's a generic version of Ativan. Maybe they put it there so he wouldn't worry about sleeping in a shithole motel on dirty sheets.

On the Knitting Front

Work progresses on the practice sock. I've figured out why hand-knit socks so often have such a short band of ribbing at the cuff. I prefer more ribbing on my socks, so I started about 1.5 inches above the heel and things immediately slowed. way. down. Of course, it didn't help that my hands were complaining for a couple days, meaning I'd manage two or three rounds and have to set it down. It looks as though there are at least a few novice knitters signed up for Sock Wars, though, so I might have a chance in hell. With my luck, I'll probably be felled in short order by some badass sock slinger.

As the Heel Turns

Okay, it's a dumb heading. It's 4AM & I don't care. I turned the heel tonight while David & I were watching Billy Elliot (Somehow he'd managed never to have seen it, even though I've had the DVD for a few years. I can't hear Swan Lake now without bawling). So now the sock looks like something you might actually wear on your foot.



I may even be able to finish a sock before I get killed off in Sock Wars. I had to stop after I finished the heel, though, as my left hand was hurting. It's usually the tendons in my right hand that start screaming at me first, so I'm not quite sure why the left was bothering me so much more. It may behoove me to go down to size 0 (2mm) needles to do the heel in the future, though, so I can knit more loosely and save my hands while maintaining gauge.

On the Diet Wagon

Today's mail brought me results of bloodwork I had drawn in Hawai'i at the conference. The AVMA has their own group health plan, and the company that manages it always sets up a health fair where AVMA members can get a lipid panel and some other basic bloodwork done at no charge (Otherwise, they suck, but that's beside the point). For $10 we can also get our rabies antibody titers checked (mine are high, as always), which is a very important thing to keep tabs on in this profession. Most of our staff are currently receiving boosters after treating a wolf-dog hybrid while I was away that turned out to be rabid.

I digress a bit, but the upshot is that my total cholesterol and triglyceride levels are in the high range. They've been slowly creeping up - part of my paternal inheritance - and finally they're high. They're not horrible. They could be much, much worse. But this comes the day after my mother called me to tell me that one of her cousins had just dropped dead of a massive heart attack at the age of 47 - only ten years older than me.

So I immediately signed up with eDiets and went out to stock the larder with provisions that fit the diet plan. The only problem is that I don't do recipes. I also don't do pre-fab meals. I love to cook, but a recipe to me is a suggestion, a rough template that I can adapt to my needs and desires. A handmaiden to my palate, if you will. My hope, though, is that just the fact of weighing in and using a plan as a rough guide will assist me in sticking to a healthful diet on which I can lose some poundage.

I don't expect any miracles. I have never had six pack abs and will never have them, and I really don't care. Nonetheless, I don't want to end up on Lipitor like my father (who, at age 59, only has a little bit of a spare tire), or worse, dead before I hit 50.

Sock Warrior in Training

It has been hot here. I know that's not a real news flash, and I know that there are folks in other areas who are even hotter, but it's still not fun. David tells me that the heat index got up to 104º today (That's 40ºC for you metric types). The highest I saw on our thermometer was 98.6º, which means it was as hot outside of me as inside me. Yuck.

So I spent most of the day hiding in the bedroom, which is the only air-conditioned room we have. I got David to knock off work early and join me, and we watched DVD's on my laptop. And I also worked on this:



I figured if I'm going to have a chance at being an effective sock warrior, I'd better get some training under my belt beforehand. Toe-up methods appeal to me more because I can't necessarily trust that a standard ball of sock yarn will actually last to the toes if I start at the top (Have I mentioned yet that I have big feet?). So I started it with Duffy's patch toe method, making the patch a bit wider, as my feet aren't terribly pointy. For the heel I'm planning on trying out the heel method from Widdershins in the latest Knitty. The yarn is Lang Jawoll. I had remembered it being a dark charcoal, but when I hauled it out I found it to be a nice staid navy. Either way, it's a color Franklin would like.


Utilikilt Is Here!

It arrived Tuesday, actually, before I made my way home from work and post-work errands. Because of the heat and because the pleats were a tad wonky after being folded and stuffed in a mailer, I didn't wear it terribly long. Instead, after returning from a trip to the beach with David's friend Katharine (the one on whose property David & I peed in Hawai'i) and her daughter Liz and taking my second or third cold shower of the day, I opted for the sarong I bought in Hawai'i because of the lighter weight.

Ted has already requested photos, though, and they shall be forthcoming. Unfortunately, the belt that I ordered to go with the utilikilt is on backorder and won't be here for a few more weeks. Kilts really call for a wide belt - thin ones just don't cut it. Of course, I generally try to avoid leather (It's not very vegetarian), but it is pretty much impossible to find a nice, wide pleather belt. I really did try, but I gave in and went for dead cow skin, so I suppose Ted will just have to deal with pics with me using my old thin pleather belt. My hiking boots, at least, are leather-free.

I'm a Dog

One last thing, which I have Liz to thank for.

You are a dog

Or maybe you are a mosquito, you certainly can't be human. The highest pitched ultrasonic mosquito ringtone that I can hear is 21.1kHz

Find out which ringtones you can hear!

Heat

It's finally reaching the East coast. Even here in Maine we will be flirting with triple digit temperatures. I'm just praying for a strong sea breeze, as that'll be the only thing that saves us from baking. That and the little window a/c unit we have in the bedroom. Hopefully the 'pacas will do okay and stay in the shade.

I slept horribly yesterday and had a busy, busy night last night, so now I must schlep my very sleepy and very cranky ass home and decide how badly I want to make dinner for our guests.

Good night, Gracie.

Sock and Dagger

Okay, I couldn't resist. I signed up for Sock Wars. Hopefully the sense of urgency (and the prospect of carrying off a successful "assassination") will compel me to actually finish a pair of socks. Chances are, though, that I'm a dead man. If you're jonesin' for a little sock and dagger, then sign up. You may even get to kill me and my size 13 feet.

The Rules

1. The first rule of Sock Wars is, you must talk about Sock Wars
2. The second rule of Sock Wars is, you MUST talk about Sock Wars.
(no really, for this to be a success we need as many combatants as possible)
3. Two socks to a fight
4. One fight at a time
5. No shirts, no shoes, just socks
6. Fights will go on as long as they have to
7. If this is your first time in Sock Wars, you have to fight.

Other Stuff

My first week back at work has been a relatively busy one. On Thursday night, I had two surgeries, one of which was a splenic torsion in an english bulldog. I had my tech take a photo during surgery, which can be seen here (not for the weak of stomach). In the last 15 years, I can probably count on one hand the number of these that I've seen. Until this case I had never heard of it in other than a large breed dog, so this one was truly exceptional.

Tonight, thankfully, was surgery-free, but we did take in a litter of 8 orphaned opossums. Mom was hit by a car and killed, so we had to pull these little guys out of her pouch and move them to a makeshift artificial pouch. They're fairly young, but they're big enough and strong enough they at least should have a shot at survival. I'll be dropping them off with a rehabilitator on my way home from work this morning.

The Woolhead Returns

It's been a little while since I've shown any progress updates. Remember this?



It's been over a month since I frogged & restarted this one. Compare the pic here to the one above and you will notice that there is indeed progress. I've even started a second skein, which means that I'm a bit further along than I was when I decided to frog it before. As I mentioned in the last post, it was a welcome distraction flying to and from Hawai'i, and I actually made decent progress during those nearly interminable flights. Enough to make me feel like I actually have a shot at finishing something before I die.

Sock Wars

I found out today about Sock Wars, which is being organized by Yarn Monkey. I don't think that I'm a very good joiner, in general. I've never signed on for a knit-along before. The whole "death by socks" and intrigue aspects of this have really piqued my interest, though. I just think I may be hard-pressed to knock out a pair of socks before being killed. That and what are the chances my killer will actually knit up a pair of socks that'll fit my size 13 feet? I suppose, though, that it would mean one less Christmas gift I'd have to worry about.

Hawai'i Trip - Final Leg: Puako or Bust

After returning to Big Island from Honolulu, we spent our last three nights at a gay-owned B&B in Puako, which is basically just a dead end road along the shore in the South Kohala District, surrounded by swank resorts and plagued by what appears to be an explosion of new houses. It was a sleepy road, but I fear it may not remain so.

On our first full day there, Alicia & Norma took the day off to come play, so we drove down to the beach at the end of the road and spent a few hours snorkeling around a fantastic reef where we saw a ton of fish, including a couple different species of moray eels. Then we retired back to the B&B, where we spent an idyllic afternoon noshing and gabbing until they had to return home.

That night we drove up the highway a short distance to the Mauna Kea Resort for dinner. This particular resort is known for shining lights into the water in the evenings. This attracts plankton, which in turn attracts the manta rays which feed on the plankton. We did get to see a smallish manta circling about peacefully in the shallow water, beautiful and seemingly oblivious to its audience. At the restaurant we got a slightly chilly reception ("You're not staying at any resort?!") but they did deign to give us a table. The food was good, but horrendously overpriced. I don't think I'd go back.

On day two, Friday, we set out on a bit of a mission. David's friend Katharine, in whose condo we had stayed at the beginning of the trip, has also bought some acreage on the windward side of Big Island, in the Hamakua District near a state forest reserve. She had given us directions to go see the property, and asked us to continue her family's (still new) tradition of "marking" it, which we dutifully did.





Note the steers watching David. He managed nonetheless to overcome his performance anxiety.

Afterwards, we drove up the coast a short distance to Waipi'o Valley.



Much gets written about this valley in the guide books. It's a popular destination, there are all sorts of horseback trips and hiking tours there, and I have to admit that it's a pretty impressive spectacle - wide and lush with streams freefalling over sheer cliffs to the ocean below. Still, it's an inhabited valley, where people cultivate taro and other crops, and that just makes it more, well, tame. I'll take Pololu, thanks.

When we returned to Puako, we quickly changed to try to get in a dip in the ocean before dark. We found the nearby and now-famous "Beach 69", described by the guide books as "quiet" and "frequented by locals". The beach got it's name because the telephone poles used to be numbered and it was nearest to pole #69 (so get your minds out of the gutter). It was nice, but not much reef close in to shore. Plus the sun was getting low, which is generally prime time for shark attacks, so we only stayed in the water long enough to get wet, then watched to see if the tourist teenager floating on his bodyboard kicking the water would get eaten. He didn't.

Our flight home on Saturday didn't leave until 11PM, so before packing everything up, we got up fairly early and drove past Beach 69 to a more secluded beach nearby that our host described as "mostly gay" and "clothing optional" (we opted for, if you must know). There was a tour bus parked at Beach 69, which helped confirm our decision. At our chosen beach, the only people when we arrived were a pair of hippie chicks doing nude yoga on the beach (which begged the thought, How can she do that without getting sand in her....).

We quietly made our way past them to the water so as not to disturb, and I promptly smacked my toe really hard into a rock hidden in the swirl of the waves. I managed not to curse like a drunken sailor, even though I was nearly in tears, and was shortly rewarded for my restraint with the most incredible reefs we had seen on our entire trip. The corals were extensive and vibrant, growing on large lava rocks surrounded by wavy white sand, the water was unbelievably clear, and the fish were huge. I spent the entire time in sheer awe. The photos don't even begin to do it justice.

We spent enough time in the water that I had quite the sea legs when I stepped back onto land, but we made our way back to the B&B, packed all our things, then set out on the road to Hawi to visit Alicia & Norma once more (at Norma's clinic this time) before we had to come home. Alicia had recommended Thai food from a local vendor who sets up a tent under one of the big banyan trees on Saturdays, but we arrived too late and they had sold out. So instead Alicia pointed us across the street to Sushi Rock where we had amazing sushi and the monkeys had fun viewing the artwork.



Afterwards they insisted we stop at the banyan tree for a bit, 'cause what monkey doesn't love a tree?



Then we went back to the clinic, spent a little more time with Alicia & Norma, and headed out on the scenic route back to Kailua-Kona - over the Kohala mountains (where I think I could actually live - up in the clouds looking over rolling, emerald green pastures) to Waimea then down through the plains to the coast. We arrived in Kailua town in time to drop off the last of the disposable cameras for developing and get a cup of coffee at Lava Java before David had an appointment to get one of his tattoos touched up. Then we rushed to pick up photos and return our rental car and hopped on a plane for a long, exhausting trip home.

I did no knitting whatsoever while we were in Hawai'i, but it did help me get through a long, cramped flight from Phoenix to Boston, stuck in a middle seat and trying like mad not to let my claustrophobia get the better of me. I do, however, have 189 photos from our snorkeling outings that I have yet to scan in. I think that, rather than try to write more about this trip, I will post photos from time to time as I sort through them all. Vacation is over, I just got another pound of Junior roving in the mail, and although it's hot right now, Fall will be here before we know it.

Into the Fire: Volcano, Part 3

Our final day in Volcano was fairly low key, mostly because we were still exhausted from the previous day - not to mention the fact that I was walking around with bandaged feet. We headed back down Chain of Craters Road, though, to see things we'd missed the night before. First, we took a side road off of Chain of Craters to go see the Hilina Pali.

Pali is the Hawaiian word for cliff, and the Hilina Pali, we learned, is what is called a fault scarp, meaning that over time, part of the land has shifted about 1000ft. downward along a fault line, creating a spectacular view of the coastal plain from the higher ground. The drop is not quite as sharp as it appears, but it is steep - especially when you're climbing back up. You can see David in this shot giving a bit of perspective to how impressive it all is.



After that little trip, we made our way down, stopping along the way to look at various old craters and trying not to be blown away by the wind, which by that time had reached gale force. I never saw an official measurement, but it was strong enough to make driving alongside sheer drops just a smidge frightening.

As we made our way closer to sea level, the wind died down a bit, and eventually we came to the Pu'u Loa petroglyph field, which is the largest in Hawai'i. Here the ancient Hawaiians had recorded images to tell about their lives. There were also a number of piko, which were small holes cut into the lava where part of the umbilical cord of a newborn was placed to ensure the child's long life.





After leaving the petroglyphs, we drove to the end of the road and contemplated trekking it back onto the lava fields to see the flow again, but by that time we were just too tired and not up to being around the hoards of people who were there for nightfall - something we'd pretty well avoided by going later the night before. So instead we drove back up to the 1000ft. overlook and watched the steam plume flow as the light faded and the lava glow again became apparent.

The following morning, we packed up, said our goodbyes to our host (but not before I had bought two of his Buddha carvings - one mask and one seated Buddha) and took the long way back around the Hilo side of the island to the Kona airport to head to Honolulu, about which I've already written.

I didn't take pictures of our drive on the Hilo side of the island. We weren't in a rush, but it's just as well, as I managed to leave my driver's license in the rental car when we returned it and had to spend a good bit of time retrieving it so that I could get on the flight to Honolulu. The entire Hilo side, though, was very much like our visit to Pololu Valley writ small - lush valley after lush valley after lush valley, most of them small, but very steep and achingly beautiful. Exploring them is yet one more reason to add to my list of why I should return.

Into the Fire: Volcano, Part 2

We actually got home this evening, so I've got a bit of catching up to do. Moving back in time again to Volcano, I had previously gotten to the point at which we headed down Chain of Craters Road to see the lava flow by night.

Chain of Craters is an 18 mile-long (30km) road leading past the remnants of several lava flows, both ancient and modern to the field from the current eruption. In 2003, the end of the road was covered by new flow, so it now ends abruptly at a ranger station, which had to be moved a mile closer in from the road's previous end to escape the flow. As we drove down the road in the dark, we weren't able to appreciate the extent of the old flows, but when we got to an overlook at 1000 ft. altitude, we could suddenly see this in the distance (enlarged more than the later photos, so please excuse the shift in proportions).



When we drove back down the road the following day, we could see that that particular glow was from the lava flowing into the ocean. Here's the view during the day, when all that's visible is the steam plume.



We continued on to the end of the road and proceeded to walk out onto the lava field for about a mile, but the glows never seemed to get any closer. I had brought my binoculars, though, so we were able to get some good views of both the steam plume and a skylight up the mountain that looked like this at 9PM



but by midnight had opened up to look like this.



We could potentially have hiked another several miles and gotten closer to the lava, but we had already done a fairly strenuous hike that day and the terrain was both very irregular (lava rarely lays itself down in neat layers) and very sharp, being surfaced with shards of shiny black volcanic glass. As it was, I still got blisters (with well broken-in boots, no less) and we were still able to see some pretty humbling views of it.

And as if just seeing the lava weren't exciting enough, as we sat and watched the flow, the moon, which was just past full, came out from behind the clouds and shone on the water. And when I looked up over the side of the mountain, I was able to see a hazy but perfect arc which struck me as fairly odd. As I looked a bit more closely, though, I could make out faint bands of color - it was a moonbow!

Now I can safely say that I've traveled more than the average person and probably seen a good bit more than the average person, but a rainbow at night while sitting on the side of a volcano watching lava flow into the ocean? I don't think I'll ever top that one.