HALLOWOOLEEN

Every now and then the public should consider grabbing hold of a tradition and shaking it up a bit.  Take, for example, the great Broadway musical  ¨Fiddler on the Roof¨.  It´s main theme is the destruction of tradtion. The Jews of early twentieth century Russia are forced to change habits that have served them well for years and years, but they slowly learn to adjust to these cataclysmic changes in their lives.  Then there is Baseball.  In one of the two Leagues, the designated hitter rule radically altered the game by not having the usually weak-hitting pitcher hit.  Do I personally like that this rule exists?  Not really.  But has it destroyed the game of baseball?  Of course not.  It has created a brand new tradition that many people enjoy.  I myself cannot deny that some games have multiplied their level of excitement by having that extra strong bat in the lineup.  I could cite further examples of how the altering or even the destruction of certain traditions have made certain aspects of life a little more interesting.  But it is time to talk of one well respected tradition that I would like to vary just a little bit.  Halloween.

There is argument about the exact origins of Halloween.  Some scholars cite ancient pagan traditions while others specify a definite Christian beginning.  But no matter how it started, the term ¨trick or treat¨ certainly doesn´t carry the impact it used to have.  The ¨trick¨ part is pretty much an idle threat nowadays.  On second thought, I would bet that the amount of eggs and shaving cream purchased on the 30th and 31st of October is probably a little higher than normal.  But anyway, the concept of - If you don´t give me a treat, I might do some serious damage to your property. - is pretty much history.  But what if we were to offer a brand new alternative to the word ¨trick¨?  Something that is certainly less offensive, having no element of danger whatsoever.  A word that will offer an interesting choice for the typical costumed trick-or-treater.  What about the word ¨Knits¨?  Knits or Treats.  Yes, I like the sound of that.

Here´s how it would work.  Like always, kids dressed up in silly costumes would come to a door, ring the bell  and yell out ¨Knits or Treats¨ to the home owner.  The home owner might then say, ¨Well, Mr. Frankenstein, you look like a lad who could use a little bit of knitting in his life.  So here´s a nice ball of 50% wool and 50% silk for you to play with.  Now you be sure to have your mom or dad take you to your local knit store tomorrow so that you can purchase a pair of knitting needles.  I´d recommend a 12 inch long, size 8 for this particular ball of yarn.  And you be sure to knit a small square so you can get a proper gauge before you actually commit to a project.¨  Soon, children all over America would take up knitting and every 1st of November there would be a run on knitting needles. 

There is one small problem with this tradition-busting concept of mine.  The Candy Industry.  They would not be pleased.  If this idea of mine took hold, their October sales figures, which undoubtedly are in the billions, would plummet drastically.  And what if my unorthodox idea went even further and instead of  ¨trick or treat¨, we would have ¨tricks or knits¨?  I would be a marked man.  The Candy Industry would put out a contract on my life.  I would have to go into seclusion.  But it would be worth it as Cathy´s business would be absolutely crazy in the month of October and I´d finally be able to buy myself that double extra-large vicuña sweater I´ve always longed for. 

YARN SAVES EARTH FROM MARTIANS!

There are two things that come to mind when I think about H.G.Wells classic science fiction novel, “The War Of The Worlds”.  First is the famous 1938 radio broadcast by Orson Welles.  Now there was one slick fellow.  Welles, not Wells.  He wasn't called an enfant terrible for nothing.   He had dramatized the novel in the form of a newscast so when people who hadn’t heard the introduction of the show tuned into it, they actually thought the Earth was really being invaded by Martians.  Quite a number of people freaked out.  The second thing I remember is that the ending in the book had such an unexpected twist to it.  In the story, the Martians were a far superior race than the people of Earth.  Their weaponry was way more  sophisticated so they had little trouble in conquering the Earth.  But an unexpected ally came to the rescue.  Microbes.  The Martians had no natural defenses for microbes.  For earthlings these were the type of bacteria that would give us a common cold or perhaps an allergy of some sort.  But for the Martians, these basically invisible creatures were totally devastating.  Even though they had humiliated the people of Earth and were clearly in control of the planet, it wasn’t long before the Martians started dropping like flies.  While Earth  did emerge victorious, it was left to clean up a huge mess and it was forced to face the fact that it wasn’t the King of the Hill it thought it was.

I have great respect for H.G. Wells.  He wasn’t what I’d call a riveting writer, but the fact that his imagination came up with such a wild tale way back in the nineteenth century when space travel was barely a dream, well, you do have to tip your hat to him.  But had I been around back in the late 1800's and had I had the pleasure of knowing Mr. Wells, I might have given him the following unsolicited literary advice.

“Herbert, it’s a damn good story but it is drier than the Mojave Desert.  You need to inject a little humor into this massively depressing tale.  What about this?  We throw out the microbe ending.  Let’s have the Martians die of something else.  Something really unexpected.  Now earlier in the book you’ll have to develop the idea that the Martians had a keen sense of fashion.  You would go into great detail how first, their fighting armor and then, their everyday clothes were more original in design and in materials than anything the earthlings had ever come up with.  You would have a chapter detailing how, even though the Martians had little respect for anything made by man, especially their insignificant weaponry, they would have been quite smitten with the concept of knitwear.  You know, sweaters, vests, scarves, hats, the whole works.  It turns out that Martians have no equivalent of wool back home in Mars so they were terrifically fascinated by the whole knitting industry.  Once their invasion was pretty much under control, the Martians would have quickly learned how to knit and how to make pretty things for themselves.  But here comes the kicker, Herbert.  There would be something in sheep’s wool that would be absolutely deadly to the Martians.  It would be so itchy that all the Martians would be unable to stop scratching, even after they took off the offending garment.  Yes, Herbert, they would scratch themselves to death.  Yarn would have saved the day.”

Now H.G. Wells might have liked that suggestion or he might not have.  But one should never underestimate the hidden power of yarn.  Years from now, when the first astronauts finally land on Mars, if I were NASA, I’d have them take a ball or two of really itchy wool yarn, just in case.      

STASH

Knute’s International Knitting Dictionary defines the word “stash” as follows:  Unused yarn which is discreetly stored in a house, apartment, garage or any other space with storage capabilities.  It goes further and states that there are three types of stashes. The first is described as yarn that is specifically earmarked for a future project.  The second is defined as yarn that is left over from a finished project.  The third type is bluntly described in the following manner:  Yarn that was bought while suffering from temporary insanity, without a specific project in mind, and that will most likely never be used.  These definitions demand further analysis.

The word “discreetly” intrigues me.  I myself have only been knitting for a little over a year so I have not had the opportunity to amass what could be considered a MONSTER STASH.  Indeed, I am a little ashamed to say that my stash consists of two bags of yarn.  Is my stash stored in a discreet manner?  You bet.  With such a miniscule amount, how could it not be?  But what of people who have copious amounts of unused yarn?  “Discreetly” suggests that this extra yarn is stored in such a way as to be visually unobtrusive.  I’m curious as to whether or not this is true for all knitters.  The only stash I’ve seen is Cathy’s and that doesn’t really count because yarn store owners don’t really have stashes.  Every ball of yarn they have, even if it’s stored at home, could technically be called inventory.  But I really would love to see how people store their excess yarn.  No doubt, there are those that are super-organized in their yarn storing process.  And no doubt, there are those that do their storing in a more relaxed and possibly haphazard manner.  In ten years, when my stash has multiplied in a manner similar to rabbits, I suspect I will be in the latter camp.  But no matter how sloppy it may look to an outsider, if you were to ask me in ten years, “Fred where is that half a ball of pink angora you had leftover from Cathy’s Christmas present from 2015?, I will know exactly where that half a ball is.

Though the size of my stash is small, I can state that I do have the three types of stashes defined in the aforementioned reference book.  One of my two bags has yarn that will be soon be transformed into a blanket.  Not this year, but definitely in 2013.  The other bag has odds and ends left over from already finished projects.  And it also holds one ball of that third type that was so curiously defined.  I should say now that whoever the lexicographer is for the esteemed tome, Knute’s International Knitting Dictionary, he has a twisted sense of humor.  Temporary insanity?   I’m sure there are some of us who at least one time in our lives bought a ball of yarn or maybe two where we later might say, “Yikes!  Why in heaven’s name did I ever buy this monstrosity?”  I caught myself saying this just the other day while I was re-organizing my small stash.

The few times I’ve visited other yarn stores I always make it a point to buy at least one thing.  I might purchase an appealing yarn that Cathy doesn’t carry or perhaps something interesting in the sale bin.  But there was one yarn store in another state where the yarn that appealed to me was stuff that Cathy already carried.  And there was nothing in the sale bin that pleased my eye.  But I had already told myself that I would buy one thing.  Well, I finally made a rather rash decision.  I bought a ball of really ugly novelty yarn.  Why?  I don’t know.  I have no desire to knit with it.  It is truly hideous.  It sits in the bottom of my tiny stash waiting for its moment to shine.  It’s going to have a long wait.  But I insist I wasn’t temporarily crazy when I bought it.  Honest.  I’m proud of my stash.  Even that one mistake of a ball that is better left undescribed.  I suppose I will use it one day.  It would make a lovely wash cloth with which to clean a dirty lawnmower or something. 

RINGO'S STICKS

Everyone is entitled to one addiction.  Mine just happens to be You Tube.  If you don’t know what this is, then please, don’t go looking for it.  You could end up as besotted with it as I am.  As addictions go, I suppose it’s not the end of the world if I, now and then, waste a few hours doing what I call, musical investigative research.  Though it’s not always the music that sucks me in.  I've used You Tube to see old sporting events, documentaries, scenes from favorite movies and so many other fascinating things.   More than a few times I’ve used You Tube as a reference to reinforce a new knitting technique that Cathy has taught me.  But more often than not, it’s the music.  You start by looking up one song and that song leads you to another, and then another, and another, and so on.  Before you know it, three hours have passed and someone’s yelling at you to get off the computer.

So the other day, everything started off very innocently.  I just wanted to see who had the best interpretation of Cio Cio San’s aria, “Un Bel Di”, from Madame Butterfly.  After hearing a number of sopranos emote their way through this beautiful and dramatic piece of music, I noticed a suggested link to a Japanese singer who recorded a quasi pop version of Puccini’s aria.  This led me into the previously unexplored genre of Japanese pop versions of non-Japanese songs.  I’ll tell you right now, the highlight of that research was a version of “The Tennessee Waltz” sung in Japanese by someone named Chiemi Eri.  Around the seven and a half hour mark, I was thoroughly enjoying Japanese interpretations of classic Beatles songs.  At the nine hour mark, I finally decided to end my You Tube fix for the day with the Beatles themselves performing.  By this time my mind was in a psychedelic blur.  Everything was decidedly unreal as my fragile, unfed body struggled to listen to “I Want To Hold Your Hand”.  Suddenly, I’m looking at Ringo Starr effortlessly banging away at his drums and something shakes me out of my You Tube induced stupor.  Ringo is drumming like a madman, but in his hands are not traditional drum sticks, but rather a pair of knitting needles.  For a moment I thought I was hallucinating.  But I kept going back to the spot where they had a closeup of Ringo’s hands and there was no doubt about it.  Size 13 needles.  Possibly bamboo, but more likely wood.  I don’t know if bamboo needles were yet in fashion in the early 1960’s.

Later that night, I’m lying in bed, unable to sleep and pondering the deep meaning of what I had witnessed.  Why was Ringo drumming with knitting needles?  Was Ringo a knitter in those days?  Did he ever try to turn on the other three Liverpool lads to the wonderful world of knitting?  If he had succeeded, could the Beatles’ songs we all love so much have ended up with completely different lyrics?  I finally fell asleep, but all night long, Beatles’ songs with slightly altered titles kept invading my dreams.  “Yellow Submarine” was now “Yellow Sub-Merino”, a song about mustard-colored wool from second-rate British sheep.  “You’re Going To Lose That Girl” was now “You’re Going To Lose That Purl”, a song about some slippery stitches on even numbered rows.  “Day Tripper” became “Day Ripper” which deals with a woman who knits by night but then looks at her project in the morning, doesn’t like what she sees, and proceeds to undo every row and start all over.  “Penny Lane” was transformed into “Penny Skein” a song about a shop in Liverpool where you can buy the cheapest yarn in the world.  “She Loves You” became “She Loves Ewe” which now deals with a woman who will only knit with wool shorn from female sheep.  "Baby You're A Rich Man" changed into "Baby You're A Stitch Man", whose new lyrics tell the story of a woman who falls in love with a man who's a better knitter than she is.  “If I Fell” changed into “If I Felt”, relating the musical story of a woman who is considering throwing all her woolen knitting projects into the washing machine.

And then there’s the Beatles’ classic, “Yesterday”.  Not only did my dream change the title, but some new lyrics were actually conceived by my sub-conscious.  Now titled “I Crochet”, the song begins this way:

I crochet.

I don’t knit, or quilt, or macramé.

All those other crafts are so blasé.

Yes, I’m so glad that I crochet.

Thankfully, the alarm went off and I was no longer subjected to this butchering of some of the greatest songs ever written.  But I would like to share one last snippet of another lyric change that my sleeping self concocted.  The song “Norwegian Wood” begins as follows:  “I once had a girl.  Or should I say, she once had me.”  In my dream, the song began like this:  “I once knit a hat.  Or should I say, it once knit me.”  Interestingly, it then becomes a song about who is really in control, the knitter or the knitting project.  This is a fascinating topic that merits further exploration.  But for now, I’ll just let it be.

T. REX ... AND HIS ARMS

There are those who say that Nature played a mean practical joke on the fiercest creature that ever inhabited this planet.  I speak of none other than that superstar of all dinosaurs, Tyrannosaurus Rex.  Besides his imposing size, T. Rex was given powerful jaws, ferociously large teeth and muscular thighs that are equaled only by the upper echelon of Olympic gymnasts.  But look at his poor arms.  Like an afterthought, those puny little appendages dangle helplessly from T. Rex’s terrifying torso.  He couldn’t even scratch the top of his head with those useless things.  But wait.  What some see as a terrible joke perpetrated on the scariest of dinosaurs might have been a blessing in disguise.  How so?  Well, it is obvious to me that Tyrannosaurus Rex was given the best arms ever for the wonderful art of knitting. 

Consider the arms of a human.  Really, they’re way too long for knitting.  It is because of this length that there are knitters that suffer ailments in the shoulders, and in the fingers, and in all parts in between.  Tendinitis, Arthritis, Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, these are only some of the maladies that one can acquire or aggravate from excessive knitting.  I myself have to be careful when I knit.  Anything more than seven consecutive hours and my left shoulder will bother me for days.  I still can’t figure out why this happens.  But look at a picture of T. Rex.  Those arms might be useless for many things.  The Heimlich Maneuver, for instance.  But they are just perfect for knitting.  Talk about economy of motion.  Talk about unmatched fluidity.  The arms would barely move at all.  T. Rex would have flown through any knitting project.  What beautiful booties he could have knit for himself.  What stunning 50 foot scarves he would have made for his buddy, Brontosaurus.  What beautiful berets he would have knit for the itsy bitsy head of a Stegosaurus.  What elegant horn warmers he would have created for Triceratops.  The list of knitting possibilities is as long as the wing span of a Pterodactyl.

So no, Nature did not make a mistake in assigning those little arms to Tyrannosus Rex.  Nature’s mistake was giving T.Rex a brain the size of a thimble.  With such a sorry excuse for a brain, there is just no way that this otherwise magnificent creature could ever have mastered Fair Isle Knitting.

Those of you who’ve read my blog from a couple of months ago titled “The Alpacas”, know that I proclaimed myself the official Window Dresser of Montoya Fiber Studio.  I don’t know if my article did the trick, but all those stuffed alpacas were sold soon after that particular blog appeared.  Alas, the next shipment of alpacas does not arrive till late October.  So what to do with the windows?  Well,  right now, one of the two window sections has Bert and Ernie, from Sesame Street, proudly exhibiting their love of knitting.  The other window section is being used to visually prove my point that Tyrannosaurus Rex was meant to be a knitter.  Next time you are at the store, feel free to check out this fierce reptilian display of yarn manipulation.       

YARN, YAMS AND YOGURT

No one can state that one cannot exercise while one knits.  At the major international marathon races you will occasionally find a few people who will continuously knit while they lightly jog through the 26 plus miles that a marathon entails.  Granted, these people are not going to be setting any world records, but you still have to tip your hat to them.  But let’s face it.  For those of us who wouldn't dare run a marathon, knitting is a sedentary endeavor.  With traditional knitting you might burn seven calories per hour if you’re lucky.  If you’re one of those folks, like me, who could stand to lose a few pounds, then knitting, as rewarding as it may be, is not going to get you down to your ideal weight.

I’m sure everyone knows that the proper way to lose weight is to eat less than you normally eat and to exercise for a few hours a week.  The pounds will shed ever so slowly, but they will shed.  However, it pains me to think that if I start exercising, then I will no longer have time to knit.  There must be some other way to get that trim waistline.  Well, by golly, there is.  In the tradition of the Scarsdale Diet, the Atkins Diet, the South Beach Diet, the Pritikin Diet, and others, allow me to introduce to you - the Knitting Diet.

The logic behind this diet is so simple that I’m amazed that no one has thought of this before.  The Knitting Diet is based on the concept of the three “Y’s”.  Yarn, Yams and Yogurt.  The proper daily dosages of these three elements will lead to a trim body and lots of finished knitting projects.  Here is the basic daily plan for the Knitting Diet:

Breakfast:  Immediately before eating, a 15 minute walk while knitting.  A word about this.  It will take a little getting used to.  One must not walk too fast in the beginning as this could lead to one’s tripping, which, in turn, could lead to falling and being impaled on one’s own needles.  So for the first few weeks, I recommend using circular needles and easy stitches.  Do not attempt anything with cables on the first day!  Or even the first month.  After the walk, sit yourself down to a nice breakfast of one boiled yam and one cup of plain yogurt.  After eating this delicious eye-opening morning meal, walk another fifteen minutes - while knitting, of course.

Lunch:  No walking before this meal as many are limited to a half-hour lunch.  But if you get an hour for lunch, then by all means do the fifteen minute knit-walk before and after your meal.  This midday meal will consist of one baked yam and one cup of plain yogurt.  Unlike a baked potato, one should not eat the skin of a baked yam.  Though the yam skin is full of nutrients, the taste leaves a lot to be desired.

Dinner:  If you did not walk during lunch, then you must put in half an hour of knit-walking both before and after dinner.  Otherwise, the usual fifteen minutes will suffice.  For dinner you will enjoy two mashed yams and a cup of plain yogurt.  You may drizzle a brown sugar glaze on the mashed yams if you like, or even a couple of tablespoons of maple syrup, but then you must double the walking time after dinner.

There are those who cannot stomach plain yogurt.  I understand your concern.  It took me decades to get used to that taste.  Luckily, there is something that can make plain yogurt more palatable without adding the ton of extra sugar that most flavored yogurts contain.  It is a berry, unknown to most, that is not used commercially, but can be obtained at certain Farmer’s Markets.  It is called the yuckleberry.  Mash up a third of a cup of yuckleberries into your cup of yogurt.  Absolutely delicious.  A warning about the yuckleberry.  It is not very pleasing to the eye, being extremely wrinkly in texture, but it does have a strong, invigorating flavor and very little sugar.  It also cures warts when vigorously rubbed onto those offensive skin blemishes.

There you have it.  Simplicity itself.  Yarn, Yams and Yogurt ( Yuckleberry Yogurt optional).  Now I won’t have to buy 20 balls of yarn for that Double X sweater I was going to knit for myself.  12 balls for a Medium sweater will do the trick, I think.

HEAVEN AND HELL AND KNITTING

I will leave the question of whether there is a heaven or a hell to those who are better equipped to argue such a delicate matter.  Theologians, philosophers, astrophysicists and others who have a professional interest in something so weighty.  But I will go out on a limb here and say that if heaven and hell do exist, then knitting will be allowed in both places.  Not just allowed, but actually mandatory in one of the two. 

When I was young, I devoured books on Norse and Greco-Roman mythology. These fascinating stories had a magical appeal for a boy who needed literary fuel to power up the fiery furnace that was his imagination.  I’ve forgotten most of those stories so I’ve promised myself that one day I will reread as many of those tales as I can find.  While there are loads of forgotten stories, it’s rather curious that I  have no problem remembering those that dealt with eternal punishment.  Those ancient cultures had a wacky sense of justice.  Consider Loki, the Norse God of mischief. Because of one terrible sin, he was tied up to a rock.  A serpent hovered over him, letting its vile venom drip from its open mouth.  Loki’s faithful wife held a bowl underneath the serpent’s mouth so that the painful poison could not reach her husband’s skin.  But every now and then, she had to empty the bowl.  While she did this, the poison, something akin to sulfuric acid, would fall onto Loki.  He would writhe in extreme agony until his devoted wife returned with the empty bowl.  This cycle went on and on and on and on.  Then there was the Greek Prometheus who was similarly bound to a rock.  During the day, an eagle would slowly munch on his liver until it was all gone.  Prometheus was immortal so the liver would regenerate itself during the night.  The next day, the eagle would return and start all over again.  This cycle also went on and on and on and on.  As a final example, I offer Sisyphus.  Granted, the guy was a jerk during his human life (This is a G rated blog so I can’t go into details.), but what a frustrating and horrible punishment he was given.  When he arrived in Hades, the Greek equivalent of hell, Sisyphus was ordered to push a big boulder up an imposing hill.  Just as he was on the verge of reaching the top, the boulder would slip out of his hands and roll down the hill.  Again, this cycle would go on and on and on and on.  We’re talking eternal punishment, after all.  I’m not sure about Loki, but Prometheus was eventually rescued from his cruel fate.  Meanwhile, poor Sisyphus, to this very day, is still trying to get that boulder up the hill. 

I can envision a hell where knitting is one’s eternal punishment.  Picture this:  You must knit a blanket using cheap, synthetic, super-bulky yarn but with size 1 needles.  Every stitch is a purl and every row has ten thousand stitches.  You are doomed to count every stitch after finishing each row.  Now and then, you will count only 9,999 stitches or sometimes you will maddeningly end up with 10,001 stitches.  You will have to go back and try to find the mistake and then correct it.  Occasionally, you have to rip out rows because you suddenly notice that ten rows back, you inadvertently knit a row rather than purled it.  And finally, the blanket has to be long enough to extend from one end of the universe to the other.  Yikes!!  But as bad as this may seem, were I to end up in hell, there are worse knitting punishments that I could be tormented with.  Knitting a yellow sweater for myself, for instance.  And then another, and another, and another, and another, and so on, until the end of time.  (I promise to one day write a blog entry on my aversion to yellow sweaters.)

And then there is heaven.  That place where everything is the pinnacle of perfection.  Here, all your knitting dreams come true.  There is no such thing as a difficult pattern.  Dropped stitches never occur.  All scarves lie perfectly flat.  Everyone knits at a hundred stitches per minute.  I think you get the picture.  I have to wonder, though.  Would endless perfection not eventually lead to boredom?  Here on earth there is a little bit of perverse pleasure in finding a mistake and then fixing it before it gets out of hand.  And undoubtedly, there is a much higher level of satisfaction when finishing a difficult lace shawl that took you a year to knit than when quickly finishing an easy scarf in three days.  Where is the pride of the hard work put into something if all projects are equally easy?  Because of the interminable perfection, might heaven not turn into a different kind of hell?  That’s why these mystical definitions of the afterlife are better left to the experts.  Trying to rationalize the existence of either of those hypothetical places just gives me a headache.  And if I want a headache, I’d rather go knit myself a pair of socks.