Rachael

You asked for it, you got it. Enjoy some holiday pics.
Or:
What I did on my Christmas vacation.

First let me say that it was one of the nicest Christmases in memory – no quarrels that amounted to anything more than giggling, everyone was home, and even though I was Bounced at seven in the morning by two younger sisters, all was utterly fabulous.

Bethany and I drove down on Tuesday, cats blessedly silent in the back of the car. At one point on the drive, we had a rainbow to our left and deer to our right. Oh, the central coast. (There’s snow on what I call the Steinbeck Hills, the low mountain range that separates his valley from the sea he wrote about.)

Got home in time to…. knit. Yep. Did a lot of knitting. Felt a bunch of earthquakes. Was woken early Wednesday morning to a 4.6 followed eleven seconds later by a 4.4. I get queasy before earthquakes, so I had rather an unsettled night. But these are the kind of earthquakes I like – you know they’re just rumbling by. There’s never that moment of thinking “Is This the Big One?” You can just lie in bed and enjoy the rolling. (Wonderful and necessary site here.) Aside – I can’t be flip, though, when it comes to the recent earthquake in Iran. I just can’t imagine…..

On our way down, we hit a hobby store and I grabbed some yarn to make an emergency oh-shit-I-forgot-someone hat. Hat went well. But oh-shit-I-forgot-her-son, so I made some fingerless gloves, which I’m very pleased with! No pattern, no inspiration other than T-minus four hours and a dash of panic.

I also worked a bunch on the sleeves of the Rachael cardie (AKA WingIt) and cast on for some more Koigu socks.

And look! Everyone got knitted goods!

Beth got Koigu socks! (Can’t remember colorway, but the boys know.)

Mom got a hot water bottle cozy (100% silk). (And the hot water bottle came with it. Good thing, ‘cause she had just bought a new one, which she heated and thoughtfully placed in my bed, which burst upon sheet contact. This wasn’t discovered for another hour or so, enough time for the water to spread from coverlet to mattress. The only thing I could grin about, while sleeping between the stacks of towels, was her present, wrapped and under the tree.) Didn’t get a good pic of this, sorry.

Dad got a Marsan watchcap! (Alpaca, forgotten brand.)

And the Super Secret Project is revealed for those of you who didn’t see it on Rob’s site: Christy’s sweater, Harry Rodgers.

An homage to two of her Great Loves, Harry Potter and Fred Rodgers (couldn’t quite squeeze Lord of the Rings in (damn, should have used NZ wool….). She dug it. See?

Damn, I couldn’t WAIT to give this to her. That’s the best part about Christmas.

Other gifts:

From the folks, Christy got a bodhran. Think she likes it?

And from Dad (mostly), Mom got an……

Accordian! Actually, what she first said was, “Oh! What a terrible thing to do to someone!” We’re not sure whether she meant it was terrible to get it or to give it. But she loves it. I think she snuck it down to the garage to play it later in the day. But I was taking a Christmas nap, rain falling outside, EmmyLou Harris’s new album on the stereo, Christy cooking turkey in the kitchen. I couldn’t follow the accordian sounds, tempting as they were…..

Oh, and on the getting side, I got a ton of cool things. Like this:

A Japanese-made swift from Mom (via the boys ) that came with the best translation sheet. It’s the All-Powerful Reeler. “To close shake gently as you do your parasol.” Um. Okay?

And check it out: Dad invented the Magic Parabola.

Do you get it? It’s for reading and knitting at the same time! God bless him. It’s very clever, actually. I was impressed. But now that I’m home and I’ve experimented a bit, I’ve found it works best in two pieces. The thin board works well propped in the lap, a bit of yarn tying the book down and open. Or, and I like this best, just the stand, the front feet hanging off the chair and resting on the legs, scraps of yarn holding the books pages open (Koigu and Paton’s seen here).

Isn’t that just the best?

I got other wonderful things, too.
A present from the East, from a new friend who is already priceless to my heart.
A tummy-ache from too many goods made with real cream.
A chat with Em, who’s as wonderful in voice as she in writing.
The opportunity to play Cranium with my entire smart-but-crazy family.
An incredible dinner, seen here (gotta love a Nikon with a timer).

(Oh, yeah, you can see here that Mom was gifted with the Sweater-I-Hate. Looks fab on her. She said, “Oh, I was HOPING you would give it to me.”)

Lord, I MUST be about done, mustn’t I? The kitties had a good time (Digit only growled fitfully and Adah set a new world drool record) and snuggled as close as I’ve ever seen them (adversity in the shape of Mom’s cats drawing them closer).

And they, as do I, hope that you had a wonderful Christmas, or Kwanzaa, or just a good day to chill out. Mwah, darlings.

Rock ‘n’ roll, baby. The earth’s a-shaking and a-rumbling. And I missed the whole thing! I was at work, on the third floor, and this building sways a little all the time as it is. I don’t think the Bay Area really felt it, as we received no phone calls from panicked citizens (who regularly pick up their phones the second an earthquake hits and dial 911, wanting to know the magnitude and location — give us JUST a moment, and we’ll get it for them, but in those few seconds after, we’re just as shook-ed up as they are).

I DID, however, get a panicky phone call from Christy, saying Home (Central Coast, San Luis Obispo area) had been hit with a 6.5 and she couldn’t get hold of Mom. I did the reassuring thing, as big sisters do, making up an insta-lie: “Mom’s not home, she had to take Kahlua to the vet, so that’s why she’s not answering.” Mom DID have to go to the vet today — I was just hoping I got the time right. Then I hung up and I called home. No answer, no machine. Enough to worry a little.

Mom called about fifteen minutes later, making only my second call received at work about the quake. All was well — she had, in fact, been out, driving her little yellow 72 bug into the Long’s parking lot, thinking she had suddenly lost control of the vehicle. When she pulled over to look under the car, a little old lady rushed up and said she thought she was having a heart attack. Together they figured out that neither the car nor the heart was in any great danger. And the house appears fine (with the exception of the water heater, which needs re-strapping and new vent), although everything was knocked down and off.

We finally found out what Dad had done during the shaker. Everyone raised in earthquake country has an automated response to shakes. I’m a doorway gal. If a large enough truck rumbles past my house, I’m standing underneath the door-frame before I can register the fact that I’ve moved. We had a 3.1 last Tuesday and my hair-dryer and I ended up in the bathroom doorway without even shutting the hot air off. Christy, on the other hand, is a duck-and-cover girl. A car crash on her street will send her right under the desk, piles of paper bedamned.

Christy talked to Mom, who had talked to Dad, who had said HIS method, apparently, is to go over to the plate glass window at work and press his nose against the glass. Hey! What’s goin’ on?

He’s from Arizona.

Me? I was born in Phoenix, but you know the saying, if a gal’s born in a barn, it don’t make her a horse. (A sheep, perhaps…..) But I’m a Californian at heart, reared in the gold-land. And I’m a home-girl, too, and I can’t wait to make that drive down the Coast tomorrow, Beth and my two kitties in the car with me, playing some tunes on the stereo, wind in our hair, heading right home to give the little shaken Mama the tight hug she needs.

Mariko lives in Paso, the hardest hit. Go wish her well.

I’ll be (mostly) off-line for the holidays, back Saturday. Have very happy holidays, no matter what you do. Or if, like my some of my best pals, Thursday’s just a good day for movie-hopping with none of that red and green frippery, enjoy that, too. Light a candle, cuddle a pet, kiss a loved one, and knit a little, too. Love to all of you.

So whatcha think about this? I ordered a vanity plate.

I KNOW!

I live in California, and it’s the ultimate cliche. (Okay, I already have one, but now that I’m so excited about my new one, I’m going to get rid of WRTRGAL. That’s too much of a mouthful. And everyone thinks it reads WaterGal. They stand in parking lots and yell, “Hi, WaterGal!” I’m over that. And it feels a little (a lot) pretentious.)

But the new one? Hold on, you’re gonna love it:

IYARN

Get it? Get it?
Yarn = Fiber.
Yarn = Tale.

I KNOW you don’t need to be told that. But I like to spell it out.

It’s so silly, I know, and it’s doing the Great Grammar Wrong of verbing a noun (like I just did again). It amuses me, though, and ain’t that the point?

I yarn. Why, yes. Yes, I do.

Working on a Koigu sock (thanks, boys!) that I gotta get finished as a last-minute gift, and I’ve started fiddling around with another cardie — gonna design this one myself. Nothing special, but it feels good to finally be working without a pattern. That’s been my goal for a long, long time, to make a sweater using nothing but my tape measure and some multiplication tables. It’ll probably turn out crap, but it’s nice to play. (And even cooler, for the first time EVER, I remembered to take in all the skeins I hadn’t used in my last couple of projects, and after they were cashed in, this new sweater yarn cost me twelve dollars!)

Happy Sunday! It’s a good, shiny, rainy life.

Rufus Wainwright really was dreamy. His voice is so clear, and he’s just so darn campy on top of that purity that he makes you want to both pat his head with one hand and buy him gold-tipped cigarettes with the other. You should have seen his PANTS! Christmassey striped and tight as heck, topped by a black leather jacket. He said he was Elvis on top, Liberace (Libby) on the bottom.

And dude. I don’t have his new album, but he sang a song off it, get this:
“Eleven eleven”
Yup.

He and I were meant to be.

He liked my sweater, by the way. Of course, it was hard to hear him say it, since he was on stage, and I was sitting with the sisters in the back, but I know that’s what he said. Yeah. Darling boy…..

Bethany’s back! Wheee!

https://rachaelherron.com/rufus_wainwrigh/

Welp, she’s done. All done. And I lurve her. Lookie:

May I present to you, Olallieberry?

From BonneMarie’s pattern (she’s so reliably terrific that I set my knit clock to her) and done in Jo Sharp SilkRoad Aran Tweed (merino wool, silk, and a touch of cashmere).

A little dance, a la Becky:

I loved everything about this pattern, including the speed and ease of completion. It seriously helped that there was almost NO finishing needed. This was the first time I worked from the bottom up, and I’m totally hooked. Happy, happy! And know what? IT FITS! It’s not too short! It’s not a bolero! Nice as boleros are, of course.

Notice how impressed Adah is (asleep behind me in the chair).

I am SO wearing this to the Rufus Wainwright show tonight.

Hey, but last night I wore (again) the Must-Bolero. Went knitting in the City (seen from BART platform):

Knitting with the gang – the live music was Celtic, which was perfect for knitting to. The only problem was it was a pretty large crowd – all the musicians had all their friends and family and it was pretty damn loud. Hard to talk. And then when we DID manage to be heard over the music and all the other shouting going on around us, a sweet looking little old lady came over and told us to be quieter – that she couldn’t hear the music over us. I agree, that WOULD be irritating. Except that the music was SO loud, her grandson sat there with her with his fingers plugged in his ears. Or maybe that was to drown her out. Huh. It’s a BAR, woman. With loud fiddling Celtic up front, us at the back, and a whole bunch of loud people all around. Why pick on the knitters?

But we had fun, even in the dark. Here’s The Other Rachel, helping John see his knitting, holding the candle up for him.

And the best part?

Joanna!

I recognized her by her sweater – she was as cute as it was, and she was a joy to get to know. And again, I’m struck by how NOT weird it is to meet online friends. We took BART back East Bay together, and it was great just to talk knitting and blogs and, like, stuff. You know?

Except that was maybe a little too much train-taking, because I had a hard time sleeping and every time I woke, I had Sheena Easton in my head. “My baby takes the morning train, he works from nine to five and then, he takes another home again, to find me waiting for him…..”

I hereby vote this as by far the most annoying song to have stuck in your head all g.d. night. Don’t even THINK about the feminist politics of it, or you’ll lose your mind.

Back to work. Tonight, Rufus…..

https://rachaelherron.com/oh_these_posts_/

Take five seconds and go sign the American Family Association’s poll on civil unions/gay marriages. They’re a Pro-Family organization and I just took this from their website:

Does AFA Hate Homosexuals?
Absolutely Not! The same Holy Bible that calls us to reject sin, calls us to love our neighbor. It is that love that motivates us to expose the misrepresentation of the radical homosexual agenda and stop its spread though our culture.

Hee! That actually makes me giggle. They’re going to present their poll to Congress, and wouldn’t it be amusing if it were weighted a mite more heavily on the pro-civil union/marriage side? Poll is HERE.

‘Course, if you’re anti-gay marriage, I still like ya. I just don’t wanna marry you.