My stash runneth over

Knitters have a special term for all their extra yarn: stash. For a knitter, good stash is like a full tank of gas and the weekend off, a box of chalk and a clean sidewalk, potential and memory singing their sweetest harmonies.

So here it is, Thanksgiving eve. Yarn has accumulated like blessings in my life, from tangled bundles created in the FSM's own image to lofty alpaca that feels like whispers in a kitten's ear. There is yarn everywhere: slipping out of drawers that can't quite close, recently leaping out of my tote bag in the dark and rolling along the street like a drunken hedgehog, and napping in mixing bowls and unpacked boxes.

When I started thinking about the blessings in my life this year, I looked around at all this yarny abundance. That's how it's been lately: much muchness. Lots of yarn and lots of gratitude. I have friends and family who have helped me untangle some gnarly snarls of my own making, and not just once. It was a tough year, with lots of change, most of which I resisted in a completely unzenlike frenzy. I expected it to be the worst year of my life, and acted as befit my unpleasant destiny: unpleasantly.

Instead, what I'm feeling now, is that I have never felt more blessed. I made some really, really bad steps, but in falling, learned how many hands are here to catch me. It's not easy being my friend—this year especially—but damn, you guys aced it.

So, thanks. I am truly grateful beyond measure.

And I'm looking forward to knitting all this yarn.

Tortoise-proof fence

There's a large tortoise here at Chez Whackamole. In fact, this tortoise is so large that she knocks over patio furniture, frightens people in sandals, and has earned the nickname "Stomps-a-lot" from a housemate.

Time has come to contain the tortoise, or at least banish him from the patio.

Yet, it would be nice for dogs and people to be able to travel freely without having to go through a gate. Plus, a traditional fence just wouldn't hold this creature.

So I had an idea [cue crazy scheme music] to get some large sandstone rocks and put them less than tortoise width apart across one area of the yard. A wall of ellipsis that he could not fit through. There was an ad on Craigslist [increase volume] for small sandstone boulders, so I gave the guy a call. We talked, decided on 30 "basketball sized" boulders, small enough for me to roll, but too big for a tortoise to move. The fact is, the tortoise is probably stronger than me, but allow me this small conceit.

So yesterday, a truck dumps 30ish "basketball-sized" sandstone boulders in my driveway. Photo here, with actual basketball for scale:



So, quick as a wink, I scoot the rocks into place and kick back with a mint julep to survey my work!!!


Except in reality, took me all my muscles to roll four of the smallest, dare I say cutest, ones into the yard. Enough, I thought, to tell if the spacing was right.


Tortoise approves. If the fence doesn't work as a barrier, at least it's an effective distraction.




And no, I will not be knitting any of this, unless the rock conceives and the babies are cute. Tortoise penis is way too freaky. Seriously. You're happier that I haven't included sound.

Knitters for Obama

Obama poster
Originally uploaded by Queen Whackamole

And yes, there is actually a Knitters for Obama group, but none of them had posted a knit-friendly version of my favorite Obama image. So here it is, reduced to four clean colors. Should be easy to incorporate into a knit pattern from here.
I'll probably do another version with the word "CHANGE"... the change purse is just too good to pass up...

Next project:

A President Obama change purse. Then a President Obama doll. Then a President Obama afghan. I'm not going to stop for four years.

Of course, it's not just me who's inspired. It's not just America. I was lucky to spend the first week of Barack Obama's President-Electcy in Haiti, the First Black Republic. Friends who had been in Haiti during the election reported singing, dancing, and celebration everywhere in the country. I can report more "President Obama" t-shirts in the Port-au-Prince airport than in Miami. And as I went through customs, one of the uniformed officers took my passport, smiled, and said--in the same tone one might use to say "water" after crossing the desert--"Obama." And he didn't stop smiling.

First images of Haiti: The armed U.N. troops at the airport, the overcrowded streets, the chaos that is part of poverty and the aftermath of dictatorship and revolution and decades of corruption. Trash littered the streets and people urinated into open trenches along the roadside. Chickens, goats, and pigs rooted through the garbage. It seemed like chaos. It seemed overwhelming. It seemed hopeless.

Despite this, the mood on our bus was pure celebration. Most had been to Haiti before (many of Haitian descent) and were excited to be back. I was excited to be there for the first time. We were all excited about the election (though universally saddened by Prop 8 and spiteful sibs). As we traveled from the Port-au-Prince airport to our hotel up the coast, we stopped for lunch at a former sugar plantation, now a museum and restaurant. Though 99% deforested, the island landscape seemed lush and tropical. The food was delicious and plentiful. It was hard to imagine the horrors of the slave plantation and equally impossible not to try.

This isn't meant to be The Haiti Blog Post. There will be many, I suspect, and it takes time to process all this. The one moment I wanted to share now comes from one of the panels during the conference. After hearing several speakers talk about the environmental challenges on Haiti, on top of several other panels talking about problems with education, health, and policy, the speaker remarked that the challenges seemed overwhelming. "There's so much to do," he said. "Can we really change Haiti?"

And spontaneously from all over the room came the answer, from Haitians, Americans, Jamaicans, Canadians: "YES, WE CAN," with whoops and high fives.

Yes, we can.

It was a good time to be in Haiti.