Portlandia

My hometown's all over the news these days.  There's the IFC TV show, Portlandia (if you don't have cable, you can catch some clips on youtube; it's hilarious), a new NBC sitcom that's set there, called Perfect Couples (which has become a guilty pleasure; check it out on cable on demand) and then last week, NPR aired a story the gist of which was this: Portland's unemployment rate is usually 1% higher than the national average and salaries are 20% lower than in Seattle, but (young) people keep moving there anyway because it's so awesome.  And there are biracial guys who work at food carts and play in metal bands.  Again: it's awesome.

I was home for a week earlier this month for a sad occasion, so I was kind of off and blue much of the time, but I did find it warming to be back in Portland again.  The city has changed a lot since I moved away in 1989 (!!), but some things have remained comfortingly the same, like Oaks Park, the amusement park and roller rink where I used to skate to Van Halen, Billy Squire, AC/DC and Ratt.  The park itself was rather rinky dink, as evidenced by the photo, but the skating was always good.

One afternoon in need of a diversion I drove my rented Toyota Yaris over to Burnisde Street in search of a shop owner who is a friend of a friend, just to say hi.  While looking for the FoaF, something in a window of a store called Haunt caught my eye:

Hand knits!  Like I said, I had some time to kill, so I went in and poked my nose around a bit.  The woman working was talking to a friend/customer and since the boutique is small, I couldn't help but overhear their conversation.  The customer was asking about a book that the shop owner had written, if she was going to do another, yadda yadda, and it clicked!  The shop owner was Laura Irwin, the author of Boutique Knits.  After the customer left, I overcame my aversion to intruding on one's privacy and asked her if she was, in fact, Laura Irwin.  She was quite surprised and so friendly.  She said something  to the effect that not many people know of her book, to which I replied "EVERYONE, I know who knits knows it," then admitted that this is probably a small percentage of the general population, however.  Then we chatted about crafting and the smallness of the knitting world. 

I maxed out on dorkiness when I asked if I could take a picture of her (since I'd missed out on my chance when I saw Ysolda Teague walking across the Brooklyn Bridge a few summers ago).  She graciously agreed.  

Cute, right?  The dress Laura's wearing is in keeping with the vibe of the store: modern, feminine with a touch of industrialism.  Because I was focusing on knits, I didn't take pics of the pretty tops, earrings, capelets and shrugs they carry.  Wouldn't have done them justice, anyway, as I'm not a stylist.  But Haunt stocks really lovely items and if you're in the Portland area, I highly recommend stopping in, and if you're not, Laura and her partners also maintain an Etsy shop called Haunt Studio.  Convenient, no?

Another thing that made me happy when I was in Portland was getting the chance to see this dollface:

One of the early members of the Fort Greene/Clinton Hill Knit and Crochet Group, she moved back west a little over two years ago.  She's thriving out there, which is wonderful.  Making and selling a lot of art (on Etsy at her store Little Canoe), being outdoorsey, living the good life, which in Portland, includes eating good food.  In addition to my favorite pie place, Random Order Coffeehouse & Bakery, she turned me on to this spot here:

The Potato Champion is one of Portland's many, many amazing food carts.  This one is located in a "pod" (cluster of food carts) across from the Burgerville on 12th and Hawthorne.  I had a hard time deciding between the Belgian style fries, poutine, chili cheese fries and PB&J fries, but I opted for the exotic sounding poutine.  It's a crazy delicious concoction of French Canadian origin that combines french fries, cheese curds and gravy. Yummy peasant food - right up my alley.  The poutine was hard to believe delicious, and as I sat in one of the pod's picnic tables enjoying my snack, I felt really happy and lucky, and also a little nostalgic for my childhood in hippie, progressive, green, coffee-drinking, beer brewing, laid-back Portland.

Ups and downs

 This past month has been a hard one with a lot of downs.  The downs don't always go away, but focusing on them too much is bad for one's heart, so I try to focus on the ups, of which there are many, for example
Time spent with little cousins

Journey songs 

Karaoke night & Korean food with the Fort Greene/Clinton Hill Knitters & Crocheters
 

 

A pretty hand-dyed (with beets!) skein of yarn from the yarn swap (Brava, Kim!)

A groovy present I received in our gift exchange (well done, Shameka!)



And a surprise, going away gift (a perfect fit, Emily!)

And a chocolate ice cream sundae with warm caramel sauce from Brooklyn Farmacy.  That place is awesome!  I highly recommend a visit if you find yourself in the Carroll Gardens area.

Reflecting on these lovely people and things makes me feel a bit cheerier.

Next time, I'll share some knitting news.

There are worse things I could do (worse)

I like to knit and I like to talk about knitting, but I don't really enjoy taking pictures of knitting.  I like taking pictures of friends, capturing special moments, but I'm not a gifted photographer and it comes across in my photos.  And that's OK!  I bake better cakes and cookies and brownies than most people I know; I can spot a burgeoning romance a block away; I'm pretty good with languages and I get along really well with uncles and in-laws.  I'm not looking for sympathy; I'm just stating a fact.  A fact that is clear when you see these:

I did not take these.  Jim, the recipient of these tweedy socks, did.  I gave them to him before I had a chance to photograph them so I told him he'd need to take some snaps for me so I'd have documentation of the finished product (he's a professional, you see).  Man, did he pull through. 

Details:

Pattern: My own

Yarn: Rowan Rowanfleck DK Tweed

Needles: 3.5mm & 3.75mm

Started: January 4

Finished: January 8



Jim is a dear friend with excellent and specific taste.  His style is a little retro, a little modern and a little Scandinavian (perhaps I should have started with Scandinavian and just have been done with it).  He is one of my most adored friends, and I wanted to give him something special for Christmas, but I knew the gift would need to be both useful and tasteful.  Jim is one of those people who is always pairing down, so extras hold little appeal for him.  It wasn't until after the 25th (but before the Epiphany, so still in the Christmas season) that I knew what I would give him: a hand knitted pair of house socks.  What I call house socks are socks that are heavier and denser than usual and warm enough to function as slippers, without the bulky sole.  Perfect for someone who likes to open a window for fresh air, or spend weekends at an underheated Pennsylvania cabin.

I couldn't find a sock pattern that was quite what I was looking for, so I improvised this one after consulting a couple of toe-up sock patterns I'd followed before (for fingering and worsted weight yarns).  I really like to-up construction; I especially like the Magic 8 cast on.  It really is like magic because suddenly you have a toe without seams!  Anyway, I started these knowing only that Jim wears a 9 1/2 or 10 shoe.  Fortunately I have man-sized feet, so I was able to try these on as I knit them to see if they would fit. 

They do! And he loves them.  What's better than that?

So, in closing, I'd say  that there are worse things that I could be worse at than photography.  Right, Rizz?

Little Queen

There are a lot of chic people in New York City, and fall and winter are the chic seasons.  Spring is flirty and summer is sexy, but fall and winter are when style takes center stage.  Sweaters and tights and corduroy and boots and coats and scarves: there are a lot of elements, including textures and colors, to consider when dressing oneself for cold weather.  It's easy to look clownish, which I sometimes do.

Lately I've been finding myself enraged when I see impossibly chic women with gigantic scarves and cowls wrapped round their necks.  I want! I want! I want!  And sometimes, the best gift to give is one that you would like to receive (assuming, of course, that the recipient would enjoy it as well).

Details:

Pattern: Snickerdoodle, by Lindsay Ingram

Yarn: Quince & Co. Puffin

Needles: US 15/10mm

Started: November 22

Finished: November 28

When I saw this pattern, I freaked out a little bit because it was EXACTLY what I'd been wanting, and I also knew it would be perfect for my friend Amy. Initially I planned to use the yarn called for by the pattern (Rowan Cocoon) but in the end I decided to use Quince and Co.'s Puffin, a bulky yarn that comes in a beautiful variety of colors. Peacock is the one I selected.

Working on this was a little tricky, as the recipient is my roommate; I couldn't exactly knit it up while we were sitting on the couch watching 30 Rock.  Fortunately, some friends asked me to house and dog sit while they were away over thanksgiving, so I decamped to their home and knit this linen-like stitch demonically for four days. I was both sneaky and productive.





I was worried about blocking it, but she Amy was called out of town for work and I seized upon the opportunity to wetblock (I always wetblock) the 56" long cowl and dry it on the floor under a fan.  The stitch opened up a bit with blocking, but it didn't grow a tremendous amount, which was a relief, as it was sizable to begin with.  The yarn did soften a bit, though, which was nice.  It's soft and flexible, yet has good body.  There's definitely going to be more Quince & Co. in my future.  Amy's going to Minnesota tomorrow for the Christmas holiday, and since it's been blizzarding out there (I'm not joking; their football stadium collapsed under the weight of the snow), this should prove quite useful.

A few of my knitting pals and I got together on Sunday to say "Bye for now" to one of our ranks who is heading to India for two months.  It was a lovely afternoon and I took advantage of the daylight to snap these photos. I was excited to see the cowl (dubbed Little Queen", another homage to Heart) on women of different heights, sizes and coloring.

Thank you to all of my sporting models. And good luck with your holiday knitting!

The most wonderful time of the year

Some people say it's Christmas, but if you know me, you know that to my mind, the most wonderful time of the year is the first Sunday in November, or as I call it: Marathon Sunday.  Even writing about it gives me chills.

The New York City Marathon is an amazing event, the largest marathon in the United States, possibly in the world. This year, more than 45,000 met in New York City to run, wheel or walk 26.2 miles in a single day and, incredibly, thousands of New Yorkers in all five boroughs turned out to cheer them on.

My love affair with the Marathon began 10 years ago, when a friend invited me to a boozy marathon brunch at her home on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. We ate bagels and lox and then ventured out to 1st Avenue to see the competitors in action. I was in tears within 10 minutes, no joke. Young people, old people, slim people, fat people, able bodied and disabled people. It was such an amazing sight, thousands and thousands of these people from all over the world doggedly working their way to that finish line.

So affected was I that the next year, my cousin Paula and I entered and ran the New York City Marathon together, which was even more fun than I'd imagined.  There's this tradition with the Marathon of putting your name on your shirt so that supporters can shout personal encouragements to you and damn if it wasn't unbelievably exciting to hear "Go Rebecca!  Looking good!" while we were running.  I could not stop waving and smiling, and it took my mind off of the long slog that lay ahead of us. 

Two years later, I moved in to an apartment that was right on the Marathon route, between miles 8 and 9. Right on, as in step out of my door and hit a runner on. I started hosting a brunch people who wanted to come to Brooklyn and watch the race.  It started small, but last year, at least 50 people passed through my door to enjoy Mimosas, coffee cake, strata and cheer for the racers. 

 
 

 
The true race enthusiasts would come early (8:30 a.m.) to cheer for the wheeled athletes, who are among the most inspirational.  They're followed in start times by other disabled athletes, the elite women, the elite men and then the masses. By 1 pm almost all of the atheletes have passed, but it's still hard to leave.  How can you turn your back on these people??? Especially when you know you;re leaving them to go stuff your face and have another drink.  Eventually the street cleaners would come by signaling the end of the race, but the eating and drinking would continue until the evening (last year's last guests left at 9 pm).  It was always a fun and exhausting day.

Since I moved two weeks ago, I no longer live right on the Marathon route and so, no big party.  I was a little sad about this for a bit, but I had something even better to get excited about: my friend, neighbor and sometimes running buddy, Dawn, was running the race for the first time. It's an amazing feat, but made even more so by the fact that she's a 40 year old mother who also has MS.  No getting her down.

You can see I wasn't her only fan.  Due to a wardrobe malfunction, we almost missed Dawn and Julie, but they were eagle eyed and spotted me bent down in the street trying to pick up a hat.  Squeals and jumps and cheers and waves, and then they were off to finish, and finish they did. Woot woot!

While they wound their way up to Queens, across the East River into Manhattan, up north to the Bronx and back to Manhattan towards the finish line, we kept on cheering and enjoyed some pumpkin doughnut muffins, inspired by my friend Little Bird, Big City.

No doubt about it

 

this certainly is the most wonderful time of the year.

Sullivan County, USA

Ahhhhh, open spaces!

I miss them.  When I first moved to Brooklyn, one of the things I liked the best was that it was low-rise, which meant I could see the sky, which meant I felt that I had elbow room which meant I was relaxed and happy.  Over the past 10 years, grody developers have endeavored to turn Brooklyn into a version of Manhattan's far west side: tall glass "luxury" buildings.  This seldom means luxury but always means expensive and higher rise.  Blech.

Anyway, I was treated to a little trip out of town recently with T-Bone and Pierre.  They have a place upstate and we decamped there for a weekend of good food and mellowness.  On Saturday Terence (T-Bone) and I visited a local farm stand. 

The farm stand operates out of an old barn and opens at 10.  By 10:30 there was a line 10 people long waiting to check out - quite a scene.  Terence bought food for lunch and dinner. I bought hippie soap.

It's so beautiful that it's almost comical. 

While we were out running errands (so much faster in a car than hoofing it, as is my norm), Pierre was making curtains for one of the upstairs bedrooms. 

I was impressed by his productivity: two panels in the morning and two after lunch. Sewing gives a satisfaction that's hard to replicate with any other craft. It is fast and efficient and sometimes incredibly simple.  Cooking is wonderful, but the results and enjoyment, are temporary.  Knitting, even quickly, is much more time consuming, and so the gratification is delayed.  But with sewing, one can often start and finish a project in one day, and enjoy it for years to come.  How wonderful is that?


After lunch I took a 2 1/2 hour nap. Mon dieu!  I never sleep so long, but man oh man did it feel good.  Before dinner, I went for a little walk to wake up a bit, and wound up at my favorite little spot around there: Nearing Cemetery.

It's a tiny cemetery, overgrown and not well tended, on a gravel road the middle of the country.  At night it's really spooky (to me, at least) but in the daytime, it's lovely.

Nearing cemetery hasn't completely abandoned; see the American flag on the left?  Someone had placed it at a more recent grave, perhaps on July 4th?  Terence says there are still Nearings in the area.  Can you imagine anything more gothic and romantic that a family cemetery? So neat.

Tal, Brett, Colin and Peter came for dinner that night. They have homes in neighboring towns, and so often get together on weekends.  I've known most of them as long as I've known Terence: 15 years this month.

It was a beautiful evening, so dinner was al fresco. We ate a lot, drank a lot and laughed a lot.

The Friends and Family Plan

The past few weekends have been jam packed with fun and loved ones. First, my Aunt Anne and Uncle Leon came out from Minnesota to celebrate her birthday. He’d been here once before, for my law school graduation, but it was her first time coming to the Big Apple.

They’re both fun and relaxed people and they had done a fair amount of preparatory investigation before they arrived, had some ideas about what they wanted to do, so I didn’t have to do a ton of planning for their visit. Still, I wanted them to have a good time, so I stressed out, making back-up and double-back up contingency plans for everything we did. I wanted to be helpful, but not bossy; open, but not aimless; available, but not smothering. In short, I wanted everything to be perfect, which it pretty much was.

They saw a lot (including John Waters), and did a lot (including ice skating at Rock Center on an 80 degree evening), visited Jacques Torres (see below) and we had a bunch of fun, so yay! And I found it really touching that they would make the effort to come out here and spend time with me.

After Anne and Leon flew home to the Land of 10,000 Lakes, I laid super low for a few days, resting in anticipation of the arrival of my friend Rochelle.

We've been friends since 1986, but hadn't seen each other in five years. I knew her visit would be easy, though.  I practically lived at her house our sophmore year of high school, and became quite close with her parents.  We made our first college visit together, and she came to Minnesota for my college graduation.  Her dad was responsible for my fall from the wagon of vegetarianism (how could I say no to that gorgeous hamburger  topped with with Tillamook Cheddar?).  It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that we were like family.

As expected, she was an easy and delightful houseguest who was happy to do whatever, which was great.  We went for a run in Prospect Park, ate soup dumplings at Joe's Shanghai and I got to pop in to the newly relocated and revamped Purl Soho store.

The new space combines their yarn and fabric stores under one roof, and is much bigger than the old space.  It's light and white and lovely.  Although she's not a knitter, Rochelle found the fibers and fabrics (she gravitated towards some beautiful Liberty of London prints) enchanting.

So did I.

I wasn't the only New Yorker who was excited to see Roach.  She and Megan go back even farther than she and I do, and played soccer together for years.  The three three of us spent a lovely, if chilly, afternoon together, first touring the Highline (twice in two weeks for me) with my godson, Bruno,

and then supping and drinking vino with my little friend, Margaret. 

The next day I made scones and we embarked on an ambitious walking tour of inner Brooklyn. I'd never realized how many churches and public schools are in my and the surrounding neighborhoods until Rochelle pointed it out.  It is kind of weird.  I mean, I know that we're population dense, but it almost seems as though I live in the middle of some sort of educational and religious breeding ground.  The walk ended at Nicky's Vietnamese Sandwichs, where we enjoyed spicy Bahn Mi with Sricha before scurrying back to mine to indulge in a little Jeni's Spledid Gravel Road Ice Cream. A sweet and salty end to a wonderful couple of weeks.