Have you seen her?

My poor little motorbike was snatched from outside of the house sometime last Sunday night. And, after a day of going back and forth with the police, it was finally listed as stolen early Monday evening.

Happier times - returning from motorcycle camping last June

I worked last Sunday afternoon - a beautiful, sunny, blue sky kind of day. I got off around 5, and didn't complain when I had to take the long way home (detoured due to an event along the river drives). I'm glad I had the extra mile or so of twists and turns through parts of Fairmount Park. And, when I finally got home, after filling the tank for the coming week, I went about all of my normal routines: pull up, turn off, kickstand down, push it the rest of the way into its spot, lock the fork, remove helmet and gloves, lock them in the trunk case, enter the back yard, enjoy some wine. Or was it whisky?

When we put our trash out that night, the bike was still there, nestled behind Big Blue, the Wacky Sacky, just like usual. All was right in the world of Sparks.

Monday morning, I lazed in bed a bit longer, pinned by cats. When I got up, I did what I always do - look out of one of the windows facing the backyard. A long time ago, before there was the Kawasaki, there was the vintage Honda. Mike had a love/hate relationship with the little bike (similar to how I felt about my vintage Honda). He'd park it in the street, pretty much where my bike is in that picture above, and it was largely untouched. Except, over the course of just a couple of months (mere weeks, really) his bike was knocked down not once, but twice. These older bikes don't enjoy that sort of abuse, so every time it was knocked down, it was not just a matter of getting it up again (TWSS), but then performing some level of maintenance. So, I got into the habit of checking for another toppled bike every morning.

Then, when I got my wee Honda and nestled it up next to his Wacky Sacky, I continued checking the newly installed bike pad just to get a little bit of a squee feeling whenever I 1. saw the bike, and then 2. made the connection that it was Mine!!! I am an easily amused badass.

It makes perfect sense that I then continued this habit when I got Trixie (named for Speed Racer's girlfriend, and because at first, this bike was tricksy to ride, compared to a 200cc vintage Honda). You can imagine the anal chill I felt when I peeked out first the craft room window and then the entertainment room window, before going outside in my garden gnome pajama pants, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Mike had parked my bike in a neighbor's driveway, only to find that there was no bike anywhere.

I spent the day trying to find it. Of course, I called the police first. There was a report called in that the bike had been found, but I was given the wrong address. After nearly 10 hours of waiting and both physically running and getting the run around, the bike was officially marked as stolen. 

My disappointment in the system is currently immeasurable. I know that in the scheme of crimes, a motorcycle being stolen does not trump homicide or rape or kidnapping. But, at the same time, none of those other things happened to me. My heretofore safely parked motorbike was gone, and it turns out that protocol wasn't followed for recovering it (the officer that finally responded to my second 911 call said that if a vehicle is found [as I'd been told around 9am], they are to "sit on it" until the owner or the tow gets there, and that was not done). 

As each hour, and then each day, passed, my hope for finding it waned. By Thursday, I didn't want to see it ever again. Unfortunately, this is not an attempt at leading you to a happy reunion. I've gotten no news about the bike. 

Fortunately, I have full coverage insurance, something that I am likely never to give up AND that I hope to never have to use again. The peace of mind I've had this week is due in part to having sufficient insurance. The other peace of mind comes from two sources: one is the outpouring of support from friends and family. From gentle pleas for updates, to offers of motorbikes as lenders, to rides home and to possibly recover the bike, to Facebook reposts, and everything, I am beyond grateful. 

The final source? Amusement. Somewhere, there's a thug or a wannabe or self-declared I-don't-give-a-shit-Bad-Guy who may or may not be getting the business from his partners-in-crime over stealing a bike with squirrel reflectors, "heart"a librarian bumper sticker, and a sheep decal. Also, if whoever it is breaks into the cases, they will find a Buff that should've been laundered maybe 2 weeks ago, but instead is covered in an assortment of neck sweat and snot.

My one regret from Rhinebeck 2011 was NOT getting a Loop! Spontaneous Spinning Bump, so I was very excited to nab one this past fall. Now, my one regret is not getting more than one*, because hubba hubba, hallelujah, this was so awesome to spin!

I ended up with Autumn Hike, a merino/silk blend. I don't think I have pictures of the bump pre-spun, partly because I started spinning it as soon as I left the fairgrounds. The color changes were so subtle when spinning that I didn't realize the extent of their shift until after I caked the finished yarn.

I almost didn't want to do anything but lovingly gaze at this cake of n-ply gorgeousness, but I couldn't resist the call of my loom. 552 yds of sock-weight gradient looks like this when warping:

This was only my second large weaving project, so I took my time threading the heddles, adjusting the tension, winding the warp, and all that. Then, I labored over what to use for a weft. I wanted something that would coordinate and almost blend in with the warp; and I also wanted something that would fade into the background, so to speak - warp-faced, I guess. After a few failed attempts at finding a weft, I found the perfect fiber in the bottom of my stash, and set to spinning it up.

This is a blend from Kid Hollow Farm that I picked up a few years ago. Before spinning, I hand-carded it once to blend it just a bit more. Then, I spun it fine and plied it to an ethereal laceweight. It's a mohair/border leicester blend that has sheen, softness, and a fuzzy halo. Basically, it's the best.

I had the loom warped for quite a few weeks while I went about finishing (and, ahem, starting) other projects. But eventually, I got to the point where I had some weaving time, and went to town. It took all of a few afternoons/evenings to finish the weaving! It went fast for a couple of reasons: I took the time to really set up the warp, and I deliberately beat the weft so that it would have lots of space - I wanted this to be light and airy. I didn't calculate the yardage on the weft, and I wish I had - I feel like I used next to nothing, maybe 250 yards, over a 65" warp.  Below is just the first 1.5", but you get the idea.

I hemstitched both ends (the start looks better than the finish), then twisted the fringe. Then, I ran some hot water and wool wash in the tub - maybe 2" - and agitated things a little bit. The weft and warp played really well together! Here's a close-up of sorts:

And here're some FO shots:

I am so pleased with how this came out - it's exactly what I wanted it to be.

Raveled.
*I've got 2 - YES, TWO - more bumps coming my way.

Some pumpkins

Last weekend, my mom came up early and the two of us spent the bulk of the day sorting and organizing my formerly catch-all craft-hole of a room. We moved some furniture, emptied bins and cubbies, threw out and donated used up and unwanted supplies, and generally had a good time. I haven't always enjoyed The Grand Sort Outs, but I totally believe in them.

The room, even one week later, still looks tidy:

We did NOT go through the fiber closet or the yarn stash, and the stuff hanging on the door really should be sorted. But, overall, it was really great to go through mostly everything. We found a number of nearly finished projects, some FOs that were languishing in the frog pond, and a few things that I'd forgotten about, like drawings of a trip Mike and I took to New England a few years ago.

This was our second trip to Mt. Washington, and Mike's first winter climb. Living in the mid-Atlantic region, I'm always amused by the moose caution signs. I know that hitting a moose would be a pretty bad scene, mostly for the car, because moose are gigantic. And I do believe in moose - I've just not seen one. This is what I imagined seeing one would look like.

Portrait of Mike, wearing the handspun, handknit hat I knit to commemorate his Kilimanjaro climb. What you can't really tell from my majestic sketch is the hat changes colors to represent the multiple climate zones experienced as one treks up to Kili's summit. I know, right? Anyway, I assure you he has a nose in this drawing. Also, he's a better (self) portrait artist than I am:

Anyway, Mike climbed a mountain known for its spectacular weather, in the winter, and then stayed overnight in the observatory at the summit. I traveled to Maine for a little R&R with my favoritest Boogie that ever, er, boogied. I got a weaving lesson, watched a recap of The Human Centipede (don't click that if you are at all sensitive to things like the C-word or people eating poop against their own will), and slept with another Mickey (a real dog). Then, the next day, I picked him up at Pinkham Notch, and we headed south to the Boston area for more fun, visiting my sister and then our friends D & NJStacie.

Now, most of you will see this map and know that America's Top Hat is up there. You'll probably also read the text as CanadaLand, or even CanadiaLand, as it's written. My mom read it as ChlamydiaLand, which really doesn't help Canada's self image, eh? We had quite the laugh about that, and then she said, "It's a really good map, though!" And somehow, that makes it all even funnier.

So, here we were, chilling somewhere outside of Boston, watching hours of MXC, and hanging out with other craftie types. Mike missed out on most of this fun - he was sleeping off his mountain high. But, he woke up and joined us in time for Jack Chop, also not entirely safe for work, but with 100% less poop eating and c-word use.



I always have such good intentions to take photos on our trips, but invariably I don't - having too much fun, not wanting to ruin the moment, forgetting I have a camera (on my phone, no less). When we got home from our trip north, I realized there was not a single picture of the trip. Not wanting to forget it all, I had this grand scheme of drawing highlights of the trip. I went at it, and after 4 masterful pieces, got distracted or bored or otherwise engaged. The thing is, though, I haven't forgotten that trip, even with no pictures and 4 pencil sketches. It was a great time.

Merry Makemas

Now that everything has been gifted to everyone, here's a recap of what I made for gifting.

For my best Lady, a lovely Wham Bam Thank You Lamb neckwarmer. This is a great bulky-yarn little cowl with offset seaming. I made one for myself a few years ago and wear it all the time. It's the greatest. This one is made out of Brooks Farm Duet, fine mohair and wool, 4 strands held together. It's squish-tastic!

For my sister, I took some lovely Hello Yarn club fiber and carded it into wee rolags before spinning a a sort of colorwave. This was one of the quickest spin-to-knit-to-blocking-to-wearing projects I've ever done. And, it was also the earliest I've ever finished a Christmas craft. The pattern is Wingspan.

For my neighbor-friend, I spun a super bulky Swaledale thread, and then Navajo-plied it to retain some big swaths of color. I tried many non-felted patterns, but none of them seemed to work. I was afraid that going with a felted pattern might require more yarn than I had, but eventually I went with my favorite felted clogs pattern, and made small modifications as necessary. The Swaledale was a big hair mess post-felting:

I ended up shaving the slippers before gifting - her house always seems so hair-free, even with two cats, a toddler, and a husband. She's requested some non-slip action for the bottoms, so I gotta retrieve the slippers once we thaw out from our current deep chill (nothing warms the knitter's heart quite like seeing a handknit in constant use, am I right?).

I knew when I received December 2011's Southern Cross Fibre club that it would be PERFECT for something for my mom. She's a fan of the sea blues and beachy colors, and Oceanic had all of that going for it.

I wanted to weave something for her, but was still very much a novice. So, I instead spun 8oz of this gorgeous BFL/Silk blend into a whack of laceweight 2-ply. The colors matched up pretty well, too, giving the finished yarn long runs of color. I knew that if I tried to knit with the yarn, I'd start something that I might not finish (ahem), so I kept playing around with the weaving idea. My friend Anj persuaded me (oh the force she used!) to take a 6 week weaving class at our local guild, and by week 2 I felt confident enough to warp my 24" rigid heddle side-to-side, full width, and went to town. It's by no means perfect - lots of missed warps, some wonky beatings, and tension issues leading to some meh edges - but it is beautiful nonetheless.

Finally, with all this crafting going on for my favorite ladies, I was struck with the idea to make something for my favorite guy... What could I make for Miki that he'd love? Something that would bring together some of his favorite things - camping, hiking, Mt. Washington, and - sorry, dear - snuggling (but manly snuggles. Like, with beer and bushy beard and beef jerky snuggling...)? It took some thinking, but I settled on making a quilt using the peaks of the White Mountains and the Presidential Range as inspiration. It was not finished in time for Christmas - ran out of thread and even with the quilt bat(t) signal up, I didn't have enough - but I wrapped it for him anyway.

He was delighted! Here you can see he's instantly put it to use in our often-chilly home (we keep the heat set low because I don't know why... To save money? To force the cats to lay on us? To prove a point?). The backing was a mix of fun camping prints, complete with tents and trailers and wildlife. I OF COURSE managed to sneak some squirrels in there, too. The brown chevron fit in well with the mountain theme, I thought.

And here's a shot of the front. It obviously has received the Lucy-Cat Stamp of Approval. The quilt top was pieced using the bulk of a Moda Happy Campers Jelly Roll. The tallest "peak" - in this case, Mt. Washington - is the full 44" of a strip, with the rest proportionate to that peak. I didn't use a pattern so much as I looked at lots of elevation profiles and graphed out peaks and valleys using MS Publisher (I know! High tech!).

And that's it! I can now start to procrastinate on making next year's gifts. I have some plans in the works, though!

Domestic bliss

Mike: you should've seen it!

Me: *dubious*

Mike, standing more upright and with his head tilted oddly: it was like this!

Me: why do you do that?

Mike: what?

Me: act out your turds!

Oh, I know whodunit.

The evidence is plain to see. Someone has been dipping a paw into my ort jar. The first time, I thought it wasn't intentional. The second time, I thought she was just lucky. But the third through eleventh time? I'd say we have yarn stalker.

Don't be fooled by the sight of the two of them snuggling on the radiator. This house is a full-blown crime scene. I'd wrap it in caution tape, but I'm pretty sure draping crinkly ribbon around the room wouldn't end the way I envision.

Rewind

I'm changing all of my resolutions to this one simple concept: don't let this happen, ever. That is the end of a car, that caught fire, while making a left, as the driver was heading back to return it to his friend.

I resolve to have none of those statements apply to me this year. Or ever.

You say you want some resolutions?

While I do like to treat each day, week, and month as the beginning of the rest of my life, there's something unavoidable and traditional about making a list of things to do for the coming year. Last year, I resolved to be as crafty as I wanna be, and I kinda fulfilled that. However, I'm not the best at keeping notes on projects. So, first resolution:

1. Keep better notes on craft projects. This is useful if I want to repeat the same project, or (more likely) stop mid-project and need to know just what I was thinking before getting interrupted. 

Also, this makes it easier to then blog about the stuff I've made

For many of the things I made in 2012, I didn't take decent photos of the progress or the finished object. Resolution the second:

2. Take more photos of WIPs and FOs. This includes ALL the things I make - 

spinning, knitting, weaving, quilting, sewing, stitching, and so on.

2012 found me exploring making garments beyond elastic-waist pajama pants. I'd like to continue exploring garment making. #3, then:

3. Keep challenging myself to try new techniques in my crafts. 

Sew more zippers, work on achieving more precise quilt piecing, maybe learn to crochet for real, for real.

I made some great changes and personal improvements in 2012, but there's always more work to be done.

4. Work on my posture. I really need to display my full 5'1.5" self!

5. Be kinder to my body. Better posture would help, but also 

just becoming more aware and in touch with what my body is telling me. 

One of my biggest errors of 2012 was probably not taking care of my vehicles. The latest car issue isn't included, but there are other things that I've really let slide.

6. Get the oil changed on the motorbike more ... regularly. 

If I expect to ride the bike as often as possible (everyday except hurricanes, blizzards, 

and other inclement events), I need to take the time to care for it. 

Let 2013 be the year of no roadside assistance freak-outs, 

and no freezing road-side stranding. 

7. The Ghia had a decent year - fully inspected, registered, and insured. 

Now troubleshoot and fix those squealing brakes and get the throttle cable replaced. 

Maybe, just maybe, think about paint.

And finally, the typical resolutions: eat more healthfully, exercise more regularly, and so on and so forth.

8. Lean into vegetarian/vegan options more. 

After giving up (house) meat for Lent last year, 

I kinda went meat-tastic from June on. 

Break myself of the meat, potatoes, vegetable meal idea.

9. Stop making excuses for skipping the gym (sick, tired, raining, spinning), 

and try to go twice a week 

(Ideally, Monday and Wednesday mornings 

before work, since my schedule allows it).

10. Practice kindness and explore what it means to be kind. 

Sounds hippie-dippy, but I think it's something that I need to be more mindful of, 

something that if pursued could mean so much more for me in all kinds of ways.

So, there they are. 10 ways to be a better me in 2013, from being a better crafter to a better bike owner to just better. Did you make any resolutions this year?

'Tis the Season

Kindnesses

Saturday morning, Miki and I planned to do some holiday shopping and errands. The day was bright and sunny, and with the top up and the windows 85% rolled up on the Ghia, it promised to be a not-too-chilly jaunt.

Our first stop was to pop over to the business partner's place and pick up/drop off some things. Everything was going great - light traffic, glorious curves of St. Asaph's leading into Conshohocken State Road, the radio turned up loud enough to cover the noise of too-cheap brakes (hey, it passed inspection AND no longer loses brake fluid). As I prepared to smoothly turn off of 23, I downshifted, and when I tried to press the accelerator, I got nothing.

Miki sensed a problem instantly and asked what was wrong. "I lost my gas pedal!" I said. He asked, "What do you mean you lost your gas pedal?"* And, since I had little other option, I guided the vehicle to the side of the road, and coasted as far as the lingering forward motion would allow.

Not-so-quietly started to freak out a little, I demonstrated to Miki how the gas pedal was gone - not working - over and done with - fish out of water - and he said, "Turn off the car. Turn it off." Because let's face it, when faced with any dilemma in my personal life, I freeze. And my husband? He generally remains calm - until after the worst has passed. He's the one that immediately jumps into action whenever there's an accident on our corner (far too frequently), while I duck and cover, and get a severe case of anal chill (you know what I'm talking about).

There we are, roadside in one of the moderately swank suburbs of Philadelphia, rear deck lid ajar, and the sinking realization that what we've just experienced is a snapped throttle cable. Now, the car is 38 years old, and it's most likely the original throttle cable and, in case you didn't know this, shit breaks in the cold (that's the wisdom of the mountains). After some electronic head-scratching, we determine the closest hardware store is a 30 minute walk away, and Miki headed off on an unexpected trek. I stayed with the car because, hey, what if I was doing something illegal by parking my semi-primer'ed jalopy at the curb? Also, what if some sort of automotive miracle happened, and the right part appeared out of nowhere? Fat chance, right?

Not long after Miki left on foot, the first of several well-intentioned rubber-neckers slowed their roll as they drove (ahem) past. Some gave an approving toot-too, others just a thumb's up. Then, a gentleman that lives on the street stopped and after hearing my wee tale of 'wagen woe offered us use of his tools. His neighbor came by 10 minutes later, offering use of his phone to call a tow truck. A dude with an MG stopped just to commiserate that he'd totally been where I was and then chuckled as he said, "Yeah, that doesn't really help much, does it?"

I pulled up various VW forum posts on my phone, looking for any words of wisdom from other airheads. I read the entirety of AAA.com's Membership page (but didn't join - I don't know why). I browsed Facebook, composed a couple of to-do lists, and drank my coffee in record time (I can nurse my 20oz travel mug all day). I silently chastised myself for not bringing any knitting along (even though had things gone as planned I'd have not had any chance to knit a stitch), and I talked to passing squirrels.

I was peering off in the direction Miki walked when a guy in a Mazda passed by slowly, braked, and then parked. I'd been waiting for 40 minutes by now, and while not pleased that the car was immobile, generally I was in a good mood. Yeah, this was a bit of an inconvenience, but there are so many worse things that could've happened.

So, this young guy gets out of his car, and asks if he can be of any help. "Not unless you've got a spare throttle cable for a '74 Ghia laying around..." I say, good-naturedly. And this guy replies, "Actually, I might." I look at him in utter disbelief. Turns out he also has an old VW (or two) and had this same situation happen to him once. He runs home, grabs the cable, and returns. He pokes around in the engine, and then under the gas pedal, and then offers advice on how to get home in 1st gear (if all else fails). I thank him profusely, and he leaves just as Miki appears 3 or so blocks in the distance.

"You're not going to believe this," I say to Miki as he walks up, and then tell him what just happened. He expresses, as only Miki can, his genuine amazement at the situation, and questions me on the details until I've essentially told the tale in reverse. Since we know the throttle cable replacement is an involved task (the instructions include removing one wheel and reaching around the transaxle, we opt to try the on the fly MacGuyvering: needle nose pliers and mirror-hanging wire (turns out the True Value is now a five and dime). It works and we happily go home, our plans completely disturbed and but our day not ruined.




*A while back, during one of our brewing adventures, there was a small, and I mean, tiny, incident with the car, and it led to Mike clearly stating, "It's on fire," and my not-so-calmly asking, "What do you mean, 'It's on fire'?" Yes, the car was on fire, but after standing by with a hopefully-charged fire extinguisher, things ended well, and we should probably get a new wiring harness for the ignition. No big deal....

Of surfs*, peasants, and millers

Way back in the days of dial-up, my dad created an AIM screen name that just blew my mind.

Banana Split PJ Pants

For years, I was convinced he had made it as a reference to a historical occupation. Perhaps he read about this as a kid, or heard about it on Oprah.

Nothing to see here...

I made up entire stories about the life of this medieval worker. I felt a different connection to my dad, like, wow, we both had a thing for the Dark Ages, or something. I thought, oh, this is a reference to some sort of primitive sod farmer! That's so cool! 

Collector of rabbit ears

But then one day, I realized I was wrong. And the AIM screen name wasn't as impressive as I wanted it to be. In fact, it was a much more modern, albeit misspelled, reference. 

Mr. Bucket

So, Happy Birthday, ClodMiller, and may all your Millers be Clod.

*I know it's serf - this is a reference to Jersey Surf....

Binding

Tonight I finish the binding on the Not Quite A Surprise Quilt (but it contains a surprise) for a dear friend and colleague. More to be revealed soon!

DIY

Home improvement goes better when you do it Hawaiian style.

I make things

This is a handspun, handknit sweater. The yarn is a 2-ply. One ply is Spunky Eclectic Birds 'n' Berries on targhee and the other is Southern Cross Fibre and Hello Yarn collaboration Wide Awake on polwarth. I made up a pattern drawing from a few different patterns in my Ravelry queue, including Tappan Zee and Golden Wheat. More details can be found here.

The first home improvement project

After ripping all of the carpet out of our house on August 15, 2001, our next ambitious home improvement project was to finish our basement. Over the last few months of 2001, we studded out the basement, completely stoked that we were new homeowners and we were Doing It Ourselves.

And then, life happened. Tons of other things happened. We redid our bathroom. Twice. We ran new wire throughout the house. We landscaped the yard, built a deck, and started restoring a classic VW.

Finally, though, we've returned to working on the basement. And, keeping with true Sparks form, we had a delivery from the local lumber yard during our recent vacation. Because nothing says rest and relaxation like power drills, Sheetrock, and dust masks.