Something Knitty

My words are a little stopped up these days.  Perhaps I've let my story-tap subscription lapse?*  Or perhaps I'm distracted by the human tragedy that is occurring in Haiti right now.  If you haven't already, please consider making a donation to one of the organizations that is trying to provide relief to this battered people.  

CharityWatch.org has a list of highly rated charities working in Haiti right now if you'd like some ideas. 

While I seek out my words, here are some photos of what I've been knitting in December. 

Half-Pipe Hat by Debbie Stoller from Son of Stitch 'N Bitch for Sonar X9

Sonar X9 wanted a knit cap with a brim right before Christmas.  We had a few days of actual winter, so I tried to accommodate him.  This is made with a strand of Oxford Grey Lion Brand Woolease and a strand of something else in black (ball band swallowed by the furies of entropy), held together to make a thick, sturdy cap.  The front is sewn in place to hold the brim, but the sides and back will fold down to cover the ears and the top of the neck.  Sonar X5 is modeling in the absence of his brother. 

Half-Pipe Hat before the brim is sewn inHalf-Pipe Hat after brim sewn in

Helmet Liners by Bonnie Long via the Citizen Sam Helmet-Liner Project for My Brother and His Battle Buddies

I made three of these from one skein of Lion Brand Fisherman's Wool.  Hopefully they will warm my brother and his comrades.  This was a very satisfying project.  

Sonar X5 with Helmet Liner #3 and the remains of the skeinSonar X5 demonstrating alternate wearing options for the helmet linerTempest Cardigan by Weaverknits from Knitty, Spring 2008 for ME!

I've been hankering (that's more fake-Texas talk) for a lightweight cardigan for sometime, and this sweater has been in the back of my mind.  I flipped the stash and came out with a few things.  One abandoned project was frogged.  One unsatisfying project was frogged.  A few other things were scattered about.  I thought of buying new yarn, but then there was that earthquake.  I counted my blessings, sent the yarn money to the folks at OxFam, Doctors Without Borders, and The Red Cross, and started swatching with what I had.

The K'nex swift is holding a partial skein of Tofutsies, resurrected from another project, and a partial skein of KnitPicks Gloss lace, also lifted from obscurity.  I liked this combination on the swift, but was less certain about it (and gauge) in a swatch.

Frogged yarn on the swift.

I made a crazy-long swatch of several yarns, trying to work out what I liked.  This is what survived.  The top half is two strands of the KnitPicks Gloss Lace (Celery) held together.  The bottom is a strand of the Celery held with a strand of AlpacaWare superfine (Pale Pink).  Gauge is as close as it's ever been for me.  Maybe this sweater will actually fit me. 

The winning swatch

After an hour or so of measuring myself, measuring my favorite tops, and worrying over the pattern, I cast on last Thursday (thereabout).  I finished the back piece on Monday night, so it's going pretty quickly.  I cast on the first of two front pieces this morning. 

The back of the Tempest Cardigan, among other things on my mind

My Future Knitting

I'm looking forward to several baby projects for different friends who are expecting.  In the meantime, I'm pondering possibilities for the yarn the Sonars gave me for Christmas. 

And what shall I do with this? I have an idea. *Don't miss the veiled reference to Haroun and the Sea of Stories by Salman Rushdie.  Great book.

Did you notice how the holidays sort of zoomed by?  Well, ok, they zoomed by for me.  I find myself here, in the middle of January a little flummoxed by how zippy things have been.   On top of that, we've had a big change. 

The next time you're cleaning up after staining fine wood furniture, or even cheap wood furniture, and you find yourself fresh out of mineral spirits, take heart, a solution is at hand.  Ahem.  

Whoever said that food isn't love didn't know what he was talking about.  

This is a yellow ruler and a batch of my family's Irish Soda Bread recipe.  I can't account for the ruler, but the recipe has been passed down through who-knows-how-many generations of women, each adding, altering and tweaking to her preference.  Each woman (and, I can hope, a few men, perhaps) made up this bread to sustain, warm, comfort, praise, love, or generally provide for their families and friends and bake sale goers.  None of these people, apparently, thought to cut down the recipe.  

I am sworn to secrecy as to the exact recipe, but I must give you a general idea of the scale of it, just in case the picture doesn't make it clear.  That is 12 cups of flour and 4+ cups of milk.  There is a pound of raisins in there, and a pound of butter.  Uh, and some other stuff (because that is starting to sound too much like a recipe and old Irish women are rolling over in their graves in preparation for haunting me).  But one of the other things is Caraway Seed. 

That's it!  I promise not to say any more.  Settle down, Mumsy.* 

Anyway, I made a batch of this last night.  One regular bread loaf, one round in the cast iron skillet, a dozen regular-sized muffins, and a billion mini-muffins.  They make absolutely delightful accompaniments to tea, either at breakfast, or perhaps in the afternoon, or right before bed.  They are just sweet enough to sub as dessert, but not so sweet that they can't be a hearty breakfast.  It freezes well, and keeps forever on the counter even without freezing.  Just add a dab of butter to bring it back from the brink of staleness. 

I learned this recipe from my mother.  So did my sister, though I have no proof that she has ever independently chosen to make up a batch.  As I was stirring the batter, which takes a lot of muscle, I was thinking of my mother.  This bread is all tied up with the best kind of memories of her.  I was remembering funny things, and tea, and being covered in flour ahead of St. Patrick's Day, as we made dozens of loaves of bread for some reason or other.  Good memories.  

I was thinking of my step-father.  It was from his family that this recipe came to us.  He loved a slice of soda bread or a couple of muffins with a dab of butter and a cup of piping  hot tea (Red Rose, mostly, and he had the little figurines to prove it).  Also good memories.  

When the first bits came out of the oven (the minis, which bake in 25-30 minutes), I broke one in half and took a bite.  As the muffin touched my tongue, I had the most intense, reflexive, emotional wave wash over me.  That one bite of muffin made me weep.  Deep, soul-tugging sobs as all of these feelings just bubbled up and out.  

I'm fine.  It felt good to cry about those things that feel so far away most of the time.  

It was a heady reminder of the power of food, and of traditions, and of the things that connect us to one another even when we're not together, or not even alive.  

So, like many women before me, I baked this bread with love and care, mixed and baked it as best I could, with attention to every detail and nuance of the recipe (I've doubled the baking powder and soda, as well as the vanilla; sorry Mumsy), to feed to my Partner and my children, of course.  But I made it with the intent to wrap it carefully (I used ziplocks and bubblewrap and a beautiful piece of fabric) to mail to my brother and sister, far though they may be this Christmas.  

I hope that it will last them from Christmas to the New Year.  The hardest time for remembering in our family.  

This New Year's Eve, it will be ten years since our father died of a gunshot wound to the head.  His soul, I hope, is at peace.  The soul of our mother is more in question.  My brother and sister have been somewhat battered on the oceans of life since then, and in whatever way you send out messages to the universe, I wonder if you could send them a little bit of peace this year as they contemplate this past decade.  Perhaps we can all add to their bread in bringing them a little warmth and calm this year of all years.  

***

*Mumsy was my lovely Irish grandmother.  She would have a genuflection and some very colorful blessing to add to a reference to the dead.  How about this one: May her soul rest in the loving bosom of Jesus.  Yes I think we all need a loving bosom of one kind or another.  

Ok, so I really really hoped that I was done with Ike.  But Ike isn't done with us yet.  Not by a long shot.