On the spot

Halloween in these parts does not mean Beggars' Night--most places in and around the city held that on Thursday--so I needn't fear costumed children pounding on my door and demanding sweets. That's just as well. It was a a semi-long day capping a busy week, so I was ready to crash late this afternoon.

As you can tell by the picture atop this entry, I spent some hours hanging around the press box at Ohio State today. I was asked to fill in and help spot offense for the public address announcer. OSU's opponent practically guaranteed a lousy game, but it's interesting to see the spectacle of major college football. Plus, I didn't have to pay to get in and got a parking pass in a great spot out of the deal. It didn't pay, but eh, why not?

The PA announcer's booth had moved since I last did this a few years ago. It's still high up, but the location is much better. It's not as badly angled or in as cramped of a space. But these kind of details don't interest you, so how about a couple interesting tidbits and I'll leave it at that?

The press box level has its own McFlurry machine with someone preparing them and setting out a bunch on a table for the taking. McCafe drinks--iced coffee, in other words--were the other branded offerings available. The self-serve food choices included: scrambled eggs for those getting there earlier in the morning; hot dogs; pulled pork sandwiches, which were probably from the best local barbecue chain; cole slaw; baked beans; and the typical snacks (pretzels, chips, popcorn).

Just seeing the number of people at the press box level and on the sidelines, it's staggering to think how many people are working to put on and cover the event. (That doesn't include the nearly 105-thousand who attended.)

The marching band isn't usually shown at halftime to television viewers, but they would probably make for better entertainment than the highlights and analysis. The Halloween-centric routine featured some interesting formations--a vampire, a casket, the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man's head--and a little Thriller dancing.

Whiplash

Parents have been here most of the day. Went to lunch before dad and I headed downtown to go to the Blue Jackets game. Mom stayed home and watched my TV, which was surely what she would have preferred to have done even if the option to attend the hockey game were available. Time to hit the sack before getting up and heading down to Ohio State to do some unpaid work for the football game.

Yes, I've been stupid busy this week. No, I'm not ditching my parents. When I was asked to help out at OSU, I called to see if I should turn it down, as I didn't know what my dad was planning. At this time was when I was informed that my mom was planning to come over also. (I'd set this up to take my dad to the game.) I said I could decline to help out, but she said not to do so. They seem fine with this fast of a turnaround, but I wish I had. They're here and gone in the blink of an eye, and I really have no enthusiasm to be at the game after this week.

So go the decisions we make...

Olympic knitting

I'm not sure I completely understand this story, but this story about one of Canada's First Nation tribes getting the right to knit products with the Olympic logo caught my eye.

It reads to me that they will be knitting the garments by hand, which sounds like an extraordinary amount of work if they're to end up with much product. Anybody out there able to shed some light on this?

The yarn yurt

If you were to complete this project, wouldn't it look nice listed on your Ravelry project page?

Despite what the headline says, the ambitious crafter is not attempting to knit a yurt but crochet one. I wouldn't have the patience to bother with something like this, but I appreciate the vision and deliberation needed to try and pull off a project as unconventional as this. More power to her.

A full day

Eleven hour work day and then a three hour Leonard Cohen concert. Who's wiped out?

Yesterday I wrote a little about him, so if you missed that, that'll fill you in. As for tonight's show, it was like being transported to a Montreal jazz club. I got a little sleepy, but the old guy and his band put on a pretty good show. "Hallelujah" and "I'm Your Man" back-to-back were something else.

And with that I must retire for the night.

Everybody knows

Not a lot of gas left in the tank tonight and a busy day ahead tomorrow, but I'm looking forward to getting through it all and then unwinding at the Leonard Cohen concert.



Last year the 75-year-old singer-songwriter embarked on his first tour in fifteen years, and this year he performed his first concert in the U.S. in a decade and a half. With ticket prices being a little steep, I initially balked at this rare chance to see him perform, but a drop in the cost,and a pretty good seat to boot, got me to pull the trigger. While I'm not deeply familiar with his catalog, I know a substantial number of his better-known songs. Plus, I don't expect he'll be coming around again.

The first time I recall becoming acquainted with anything Cohen wrote was an R.E.M. cover on the tribute album I'm Your Fan. Then there was Jeff Buckley's impeccable version of "Hallelujah", which eventually led to the song's new-found popularity in such inexplicable places as Shrek and American Idol. (Buckley's cover wasn't a hit, so to hear John Cale's take in a children's animated film was beyond strange.) And there's also the odd yet somehow fitting use of "Everybody Knows" in Exotica.

The guy has a way with words, and that deep voice is quite an instrument. I can't wait.

Different for guys

Another knitting article shocked, SHOCKED about men knitting. In short, it's good for macking on the ladies or something like that. And it's good we're knitting because us dudes get the mathematics in the craft. Beep boop beep boop. See, I just used the quadratic equation to write a scarf pattern!

OK, so it generalizes some things that have irked some Ravelry members, but I had to smile at this part:

"They're not yarn stashers like women and usually only buy what they need, working on one project at a time, not several simultaneously as women tend to do."

Whether there's anything to that stereotype or not, I resemble that remark.

A Sort of Homecoming

Every October my alma mater, like other institutions of higher learning, welcomes its graduates back to campus. It's a time for meeting up with friends from one's college days, seeing how the school has changed, watching a football game, and recapturing a little of the spirit from a period in time that many people describe as the best years of their lives.

As I sat in the press box keeping stats for the homecoming game, I listened to other people talk about how great their time in college was and how much they missed it, especially in the first few years after commencement.

While I enjoyed my time in college, I'd like to believe that better days are ahead, that the most exciting time in life doesn't come to a screeching halt at 21 or 22. Of course, one could say that I don't have much room to talk because, in a sense, I never left. Until I moved two years ago, I lived within a block of campus and have been working there in a part-time or full-time capacity since graduating.

Granted, that was never the plan. I picked up some extra money keeping official statistics for football and basketball while doing forty hours per week of temp work during my job searches and non-searches. Being around led to some part-time work where I would eventually become employed full-time.

In one capacity or another I've worked during homecoming and have attended it every year since I finished school. For me it hasn't been a big deal--I see this place practically every day--so it hasn't meant much to me. I've watched how the campus has transformed and don't feel a need to wander around. Thus I don't usually bump into any old classmates unless they let me know in advance that they're coming.

This afternoon, as my alma mater made an impressive comeback to win the game and remain undefeated, I did feel a sense of the old school pride as the seconds ticked off the scoreboard andas I hoofed it across the damp, leaf-strewn lawns to my car. (All those visiting alumni kept me from parking by the stadium.)

I enjoy the energy, curiosity, and camaraderie that the academic environment can provide unlike anywhere else, and I understand why people wistfully recall their time in such a place. I may miss out on the nostalgic rush that comes form returning to my stomping grounds after years away, but getting a little bit of that every day at work isn't such a bad trade-off.

On repeat

Trust me, I'm sick of writing about car repairs, but I landed yet another costly one today, so I have to gripe about it some.

The passenger door's failure to unlock electrically or manually was determined not to be related to when my car was broken into. Congratulations, you've won another expensive car repair!

This situation is beyond aggravating. The entire point of getting a new vehicle (in used car form) was to have something reliable that wouldn't need things fixed constantly. Today's repair brings the total to three in the three months I've owned it, with all three coming in approximately the past month. (I'm not counting the broken window from the theft.) All have necessitated taking the car to a dealership and thus paying through the nose. And this is on a car that had just barely passed it's relatively low warranty mileage before I bought it.

OK, so I've just run into a string of misfortune with the car--it drives fine, by the way--but it's so far past ridiculous that I don't have any sense of humor about it.

An Agatha Christie yarn

I shudder at the thought of writing, highlighting, and underlining in books. Call it my inner librarian. (Actually, I worked at a library for a brief time in high school.) Nevertheless, I can admire the artistry in the work of those who alter books.

One altered book contest winner knit a wrap with strips made from the pages of an Agatha Christie book. Unfortunately I've not been able to find a good picture of it. This one shows more of it but doesn't give a sense of how it might look when worn. Of course, no one would wear it as a garment, but at least seeing it draped across someone's shoulders would give a better idea of how it looks.

As unimaginable as destroying books is, I also balk at the thought of how tedious knitting with this material must be. Just think of all of the gluing needed to make the "yarn" and the care that would be needed to avoid ripping it while knitting. Better yet, don't.

Three blogging years

With today's 1076th entry, Knitting Confidential celebrates its third birthday. Where has the time gone?

I've spent three years, both online and off, as "the secret knitter". (Lowercase, please. I don't deem this identity worthy of haughty capital letters or proper noun designation.) There's no alter ego being assumed with the name. Even if there's precious little secrecy as to who's writing this, the pseudonymity gives me more freedom and a lower likelihood of those I'd rather not have reading finding it. So the pseudonym stays, as will my continued secret knitting.

In starting this blog my intention was to document what I learned, discovered, struggled with, and produced on my unlikely journey as a knitter. I am keenly aware that the site now functions more as a public journal, but knitting is still an essential component here and will continue to be. Hopefully you tolerate my diversions and moodiness and filler, but if not, I suppose that's your right.

My last date without posting an entry here is March 24, 2007, the third of three consecutive blank days while I was depriving myself of sleep at a film festival. Frankly, there's been plenty of crap and desperate searching for something to write, and I can promise you more of that in the future. Generating content isn't always easy or enjoyable, but I think of this daily writing as an exercise to flex the creative muscles in much the same way that knitting can and does.

For the moment there's really nothing else to say but thanks for reading. I'll try to keep things interesting.

The other side

If you're reading this, presumably it's because you're a knitter or crafter of some kind. You've already been convinced that the needle arts are for you. What isn't there to love?

It's interesting then to read the perspective of someone encouraged to knit but who just doesn't cotton to it. Ariel Leve found learning to knit to be difficult and didn't enjoy it whatsoever, although when she writes, "If there's one thing I hate, it's practice," it seems clear that her knitting flirtation was doomed from the outset. What else is knitting but essentially repeating the same movement thousands of times?

Sure, the seriousness of her knitting undertaking is fair to question. She claims to have given knitting six months before bailing on it, but wouldn't a published writer realize that the stitch is "purl" and not "pearl"? Maybe that's trying to read too much into a spelling error, maybe not.

Seeing as I was surprised to enjoy knitting myself, I have no difficulty understanding why it didn't appeal to her. I can sympathize with thinking it's hard, to a point. From this side of things it's a wonder that making even knit stitches or performing the purl stitch was ever a challenge.

It seems so obvious now that there's no great secret or complexity to those fundamental techniques, but once they were puzzling and frustrating and, if not not unsolvable, tough to get right. Then again, isn't that how it goes for most anything that's unfamiliar?

Lifted

The day did not get off to the best of starts. Late last night I was convinced that my apartment was blowing cool air when the heat was on. Someone came out from the apartment complex and claims to find no problems. For heat, it sure doesn't feel very warm, but it seems to be moving the thermostat up.

But that's a problem for which any possible repairs are not being paid directly out of my pocket. Which means that, you guessed it, my car has manifested another problem. The front passenger door will not unlock and cannot be opened manually. (Believe me, I've tried.) When pressing the unlock button on the remote and in the car, the lock will move like it's supposed to but immediately bounces back into a partially locked position. It's as though something's in there blocking it's path to an unlocked state.

Obviously this automotive development does not please me one bit. The saving grace is that it could be related to when my car was broken into three weeks ago. If it's related to broken glass getting into the door, then insurance ought to take care of it. That's what my hope hinges on.

Luckily my day ended with seeing Andrew Bird and St. Vincent in concert. Talk about a relaxing night of music. It wasn't as intimate or mellow as the five-song set in the video I've posted below, but the show was a terrific demonstration of two fine artists in peak form. I highly recommend checking out the video.



All but the final song ("Your Lips are Red") of St. Vincent's 45-minute set were drawn from her second (and current) album. Annie Clark and band put together a smoother sounding show than what I saw from them in Newport, KY in June. There were a few noisy flourishes, particularly on the last song, but it seemed like some of the roughness was toned down to jibe with the headliner and the Southern Theatre, a great and gorgeous venue that's the polar opposite of the typical rock club.

Although Clark joined Bird for three songs, including a cover of Bob Dylan's "Oh, Sister" for the encore, and the rest of her band came on stage for a couple songs, the stage was Bird's and Bird's alone for most of his set. He's essentially a one man band who records and loops various violin, guitar, and whistling parts as the layered accompaniment to his singing and live instrument playing. He builds the songs on stage by recording each part there and then adding another and another. It probably shouldn't work as well as it does, but the effect is seeing how songs come to life and hearing the different parts within the collective sound.

All in all, it was about two and a half hours of music wonderfully performed and sung. As poorly as the day began, it concluded quite pleasantly thanks to these talented musicians.

Scratchy

I was prepared to give my report on the Japanese film Wool 100%, but about fifteen minutes into it the DVD started freezing up. Thinking that perhaps my Blu-ray player was being finicky in what it would accept, I tried it in my laptop. Same spot, same problem.

The disk, which I checked out from the public library, bears many scratches. How it came to be so abused is beyond me, but such is the life of a library's property. It appears I'll have to obtain the DVD from Netflix to see it.

This thwarted viewing is symbolic for how much of my weekend agenda I completed. My productivity during these days of rest is practically zero right now.

That time of year

The weather demanded pulling out a heavier coat today. Temperatures in the 30s in mid October? Pretty unbelievable. Now I have to find where the last hat I knit is as it wasn't stuffed in the coat pocket.

The chilly air does get me thinking about the holidays, which will be here before I know it. The holidays mean determining if to knit gifts and what to knit. At the rate I've been going, two months may not be sufficient time, but maybe having more on my plate will get me knitting more.

Anyway, since I've covered the staples--scarves and hats--I think I'm just going to ask if family members want something knitted or not. If so, what do they want? I'm happy to make things if they're desired, and I'm happy not to knit something if there isn't any interest.

Agenda

Knitting-related things to do this weekend if all goes according to plan:

-Finish designing the secret project and begin knitting a sample.

-Watch Wool 100%. I stumbled upon this DVD at the library and decided to check it out. The pull quote on the cover calls it "one of the strangest Japanese movies of the year". It remains to be seen if it truly is that odd because that's setting the bar pretty high.

-Continue knitting the current WIP.

-Start a sock?

Nobody knows

Although I'm methodically working on my Red Scarf Project scarf, I am feeling the itch to knit something else, even if it's just to alternate between WIPs. I've thought about having another go at a long ago frogged sock, but instead I'm opting for...another secret project.

I took stab at a rough initial design and was fairly pleased with what I was coming up with, but then I hit a sticky spot and decided to set it aside. There will probably be more trial and error in this phase, but once I have it sketched out properly, I think I can lock the pattern.

What is the secret project? I can't tell, obviously.

Hidden costs

The other day I was explaining to a high school mentorship student what all goes into the television show that I have been co-producing and co-hosting for more than a decade. It's not a complex or flashy program by any means, but it requires investing a large number of hours to ready each 30-minute show. The average student who helps on the crew and the average viewer at home have no idea how much time goes into it.

Conservatively, I'd estimate my time at 21 hours per bi-weekly episode. Add in roughly 17 hours for my co-host and 8 hours for crew--one hour multiplied by eight staffers--and the final approximation comes to 46 hours for a half hour program. Needless to say, the high schooler was shocked. Yes, the bulk of that time is actually viewing what is being discussed--research, if you will--but it all counts.

Breaking down the cost in time for such a production is what leaped to mind when reading about how much money one woman spent to make a scarf. Yes, buying and caring for sheep is above and beyond what most people would do. In addition, it sounds like she jumped into this with fanciful notions but without a solid idea of what she was doing. Still, I find it interesting to see how everything adds up.

Three years

On this date three years ago I first picked up needles and yarn and received a lesson in the knit stitch. What's pictured above is the product of my attempts. For real.

Yes, the practice piece was basically a disaster. Yes, I knew as much at the time, but I was determined to figure it out. Isn't that what a practice piece should be for?

Three years later I may not be an advanced knitter, but I think I can safely say that I know what I'm doing more often than not. Granted, I'm not one to go out on a limb and try something ambitious, but I'm able to read the knitting and undo work, two key abilities that challenged me for some time.

Making the conscious choice to knit was not a conventional one for me. It certainly wasn't something I ever envisioned doing. This single decision has probably had a bigger impact on me these past years than I realize. Sure, I've learned a skill, but the greater changes brought about by knitting come in how I am and how I see myself. At least that's what I sense.

Have those changes been so significant? Is the me of three years ago or of five years ago that different from who is here typing this blog entry? Does knitting deserve the lion's share of the credit for affecting those changes?

Honestly, I can't say for certain if an affirmative answer to any of those questions is true. Some of you may be better equipped to respond than me. Big effects, little effects, whatever...I'm glad I made the decision to knit. That's what counts.

Front row

I was pleased to have a seat in the first row of permanent seats for tonight's Wilco concert but became somewhat less enthused upon discovering my view.

That's what I saw when seated. To be fair, I could look underneath the railing and not have an obstructed view as long as no one--security, for instance--sat or stood in front of that. And in the end most everyone stood for the headliner. I did too, so my vantage point was this:

This was my fifth time seeing the band. The first was in 1997 in a since closed Columbus club. The last was nearly two years ago to the day in the same place. I had a significantly worse seat at that concert, although I remember it being an amazing show. Tonight's was good but not quite up to the level of the previous concert. It could be due to the more mellow setlist. Anyway, not a bad way to end a long weekend.

Never the twain shall meet

If you were ever wondering if Mark Twain would approve of you knitting while he lectured, the answer would be no:

"Infuriated, Twain declared that he had never played second fiddle to a sock and left the room."

More from this historical tidbit comes in the second item in the linked column.

How do you like them apples?

Not sure how Saturday got away from me--OK, sleeping for three hours this afternoon contributed--but it's been the sort of relaxing day I needed.

Fall means apples, and apples mean apple dumplings. Not much to say about them except I sure am glad I bought an apple corer. That thing worked wonders.

Cinema knits

Anymore Fridays (or weekends) are when I play catch-up on films I need to see. I caught two today. Both had knitting. As usual the knitting has no real significance; it's just become one of those things I document.

Paranormal Activity features the female lead knitting a garter stitch scarf while her boyfriend talks to her. The needles and yarn can also be seen on the nightstand later on. In this case I wouldn't be surprised if the actress, Katie Featherston, is a crafter as she is also seen doing beadwork. (Due to the cinéma vérité technique, it would be sensible that she's staying busy on camera doing something familiar to her.)

The Invention of Lying shows an old woman in a retirement home knitting in the foreground. That's pretty much all the knit content there.

Knock 'em flying

'Twas one of those long days where I definitely earned my paycheck, so the ol' blogging energy is flagging. But the daily entry beckons...

I was surprised to see handknit socks on last night's new episode of Mythbusters. (I imagine it will air a few times yet this week if you missed it or want to see it.) They were testing whether one's socks can literally be knocked off. Can they? What do you think?

Can't say that I'd want to donate any socks I'd made, even if they were less than successful projects or heavily worn. Maybe that's because it can take me awhile to finish a pair.

More guys and purls

It's the story that keeps on giving. A local newspaper article about a LYS's knit night for men was picked up by the AP and been rewritten many times, often with drastically different takes on the information. (I wrote about it here.)

New angles on the story range from news of the weird to proof that men aren't interested in knitting because there aren't that many attending. All of the nuance in the original piece tends to get eliminated. Guys! Knitting! Beer! Swearing! (What, no mention of spitting, scratching, and groin adjusting?)

Tonight one of my fellow knit night-ers mentioned being at a party at which this article was a topic of conversation. It sounded as though the reaction to the men's knit night, which I've never attended, was one of amusement more than anything.

In a conversation with my boss today there was a throwaway mention about meaningless news stories about little old ladies knitting. It wasn't a condescending remark, but it reinforced to me how knitting is perceived in general. (Obviously he has no idea that I knit and, in fact, had my current WIP in a bag in my office.)

Look, I realize that it is not common for men to knit and that the conventional wisdom says the hobby is only practiced by grandmothers. Prior to picking up the needles I thought pretty much the same way. I don't expect that how people perceive knitting and who does it will change, and I'm not particularly concerned about that. After all, I knit in public.

But could we at least come to an understanding that just because something doesn't interest you doesn't automatically make it worthless to everyone else? Also, in my experience, beer and swearing has been present at knit nights I've attended with women. Such features might make a men's knit night sound more masculine, but I don't expect it's all that different.

Bubble

As I'm still waiting for some unknown third party person to contact me about compensation for and replacement of my stolen radio, I am now on day eight of driving in silence. Whether the radio was tuned to a terrestrial station or functioning as a conduit for my iPod, I almost always drove with it on. Not having it available is an odd experience.

At first I treated the missing radio like a phantom limb. Soon after starting the car I would reach out to adjust the volume, but of course I was just reaching into a hole in the dash. I knew it was gone, but my brain was so used to conducting the ritual of tweaking the radio that it took awhile to stop doing it.

Weirder still, without a visible clock and nothing to listen to but traffic and the car's creaks and groans, time seems to fade away. In my little bubble I am buffeted by white noise and focused on the matter at hand, which just happens to be operating a heavy piece of machinery at varying speeds.

I ventured into another bubble inside my apartment tonight. I wanted to make apple dumplings--a venture that could have been met with more success, but I learned a couple things for next time--and became immersed in the activity while plugged into my iPod. (For those who humor my music-related posts, TV on the Radio was the artist soundtracking my baking.) I lost track of the time and merely enjoyed the activity that I was engaged in.

Knitting can do the same thing for me. It certainly did in the early days when I was stitching up scarves like nobody's business. As I find myself distracted and pulled every which way during the day, I must remind myself that time in the bubble can be invaluable. Maybe it comes while driving a silent commute, making a dessert, getting lost in a song, or working yarn with needles. Those moments of internal quiet are more precious than a radio stolen from a car...but I still want one back in there sooner than later.

Chitchat

On the subject of oversharing at work:

"If all you talk about is your love of knitting, for example, people may eventually tire of it and start avoiding you, said Rachelle Canter, president of RJC Associates, a career counseling firm based in San Francisco."

Not a problem. I remain, as always, the secret knitter. (Seriously, nobody there knows.)

We've got a winner?

The NHL season began for the local franchise last night. Fan and media expectations are raised after last season's playoff berth, and I'm among those anticipating good things from the team. Winning the opener was a nice way to kick things off.

Improbably, my NFL team of choice is 3-1 and very well could be 4-0 if it weren't for a fluke play in week one. (Of course, since Bengals fandom breeds suspicion that the worst is always around the corner--that linked play is a pretty good evidence for why those firm beliefs exist--they could well be winless thus far.) They're tied for first place a quarter of the way through the season and have shown an ability to be victorious when they probably haven't had any business winning.

I'm not sure if I'm going to know how to take being a front runner for a change. Yes, years of watching the Bengals has conditioned me to anticipate and receive the worst. Despite the wins, this year's team hasn't inspired complete confidence, especially since each game has been undecided until the last tick of the clock. It's seriously distressing, yet they're doing the unthinkable: coming out on top anyway. I could get used to that, but I'd appreciate more authoritative outcomes than these squeakers.

Stitch it

On the movie beat and pointing out instances of knitting in films...

The roller derby movie Whip It briefly shows a grandmother type knitting on a bus while seated next to the protagonist. Considering the film's feminist nature and embrace of a subculture, I'm a little surprised that director Drew Barrymore didn't tie in the crafter movement in some respect. (Think of the punk attitude underlying Stitch 'N Bitch.)

For what it's worth, the movie is on the sitcom-y side but is mostly well-acted--Jimmy Fallon, I'm looking at you as an exception--and has its heart in the right place.

33 miles

I suppose the attempt to make a 33-mile long scarf is legitimate enough, but it seems less impressive that it's being made by joining a bunch of individual scarves. Isn't that the easy way out? Get enough people to contribute, sew everything together, and there's your world record.

Instead, I prefer the idea of some kind of public art installation where knitters could pop in and work on one enormous piece. That seems truer to the spirit of the challenge.

Starting over

It's a new month and, fingers crossed, a better one than the last. I made it through today without the car acting up. Considering the events of the past week, that's a good start.

That being said, I'm wiped out from the stress and cost of it all. I came home from work and conked out for ninety minutes. A full night of that kind of rest and hopefully I'll have recovered.