Dichroic Reflections

Where the copper shines like Arizona gold

Today I learned to knit. Well, if you take those words very literally I did. I do not yet know how to purl, for example, much less make yarn into anything you'd want to own or wear. I am the proud creatrix of a swatch of knitted Shetland wool about 20 stitches long by 4 stitches deep. It's a start, especially given the instructions I was dealing with.

To back up, I have been a very *very* good girl since Rudder left. Last night after work instead of vegetating, I did the food shopping so I wouldn't have to do it later in the weekend and so I would have snacks for today. This morning I went to the gym to make up for skipping Thursday. Afterward I came home, showered, and drove up to Jerome, a old copper mining town, then a ghost town, now full of galleries, hippies, bikers, and some wonderful glass and other art. The town ins hung on the side of a mountain; there are stairs from one street to another and some of the older buildings have literally slid downhill. My favorite gallery was Raku, not only because I loved their art but because the upper floor has a floor to ceiling window with a mind-blowing view straight out over the Verde Vallley to the Mogollon Rim and Sedona's red rocks. I came home with a lot of jewelry (dichroic glass, of course), a silver barrette, an 8" high wooden cat that is also a puzzle, a tiny cat made of feathers sleeping on a pillow (because it was only $2 and one of my coworkers will love it), and knitting needles (bamboo, circular), Shetland wool, and The Complete Idiot's Guide to Knitting and Crocheting. Also a Dar Williams CD, The Green World, and a bottle of rose from the local winery. Despite the weighty haul, though, I think my favorite part of the trip beside the cool wind was the music in each store. Hardly any of it was anything I can hear on the radio; I heard Johnny Cash, Dar Williams, Patsy Cline, Willy Nelson, some of the Beatles' more obscure songs, and a band in a bar covering Lyle Lovett's "She's No Lady, She's My Wife". That was almost more fresh air for me than the actual desert mountain air. (The title of this entry, by the way, is from Kate Wolf's song "Old Jerome", which is about the town, though I didn't hear it today.)

The knitting, you will have surmised, was begun courtesy of the implements of construction and book I bought in Jerome. I do not recommend the Idiot's Guide - I bought it because I liked the idea of a book that describes how to knit and crochet both, but this is one of the instances when that series' name is unfortunately apt for one of its books. The book would have benefited greatly from an editor who knew left from right; I never did figure out how to do double casting on at least partly because of one illustration where the caption said to hold one strand of yarn in the left hand and the other in the right hand -- while the picture showed both in the same hand. Fortunately, there were instructions for two other ways to cast on, but that leads into another complaint. This book is a bit too theoretical; it has three ways to cast on and two or three ways to do everything else. It's a bit confusing for someone who's just learning -- better to show one way and just mention the existance of others, introducing themlater or in an appendix. Also, there are only general instructions, no patterns to actually make something. The guy at he shop where I bought it was extrmely helpful though; apparently his wife is the real stitching guru (I suspect some of the scarves I saw in a few galleries are made by her) but he was able to give me some advice, like using circular needles even for flat pieces (easier to put it down and not have anything slip off). He also played me samples of several songs on The Green World because I was trying to decide whether to buy that or Dar's live album, and he insisted on giving me his wife's card so I could email her with any questions. I will send them feedback about my issues with the book, if I can figure out how to make it not sound like a reflection on their shop.

I was especially proud of myself because a lot of this all was outside my comfort zone: doing stuff instead of collapsing after work, going to the gym when I knew I'd be walking around hills are day are minor things, but doing a 2 hour drive solo always makes me a bit nervous even though I've done longer ones. Pushing myself to do things that make me uncomfortable but that expand or reinforce my capabillities feels like a virtue, somehow.