'T'was 42 nights before Christmas

The mantle clock showed 12:45 AM. The room was dark but for the cool glow before her as she bent to the task that had absorbed her for almost an hour. Keys were tapping steadily as she worked on the list, items coming easily to her mind. "Addi Click Set" was added right after "Wrist Distaff" and "Nostepinne".

"Gift Certificates" came next, with three sub-bullets: "Fun Knits", "N&A" and "Boutique du Laine".

She frowned at the waiting cursor. It occurred to her that her list, although long, was limited. Not everyone, she reasoned with herself, would want to go into a yarn store or to an online spinning shop and order craft-related gifts for her. After all - and this was almost incomprehensible - some people might think it was a little.....boring. She sat back for a moment and stared around the dim room. She was seeking ideas - answers. She was trying to expand her mind, trying to take in more than the single world which so happily consumed her.

After the light and sharpness of the screen, the darkened room was hard to see - all blurred edges and deep shadows. As her eyes adjusted, though, she could make out a bit of the kitchen from where she sat. How about a dye pot? she mused.

She caught sight of the DVD case on top of her stereo, almost lost under a hastily-deposited collection of junk mail and copied patterns. Maybe some Elizabeth Zimmermann....maybe the Knitting Workshop?

Her eyes brightened as they fell on the bookshelves, the many spines unreadable in the semi-dark. Books. Perfect. She pulled the laptop closer and her fingers flew over the keys for one last row. Intentional Spinning, she wrote, Shear Spirit, Knitting Estonian Lace, Sensational Socks, and anything by Veronik Avery.

Select All, Copy, Paste into the email window. Type the nicknames of all her loving family in the To: line, with the subject "In case you need some ideas for Christmas..." Send.

She closed the laptop with a happy sigh. It felt good to be able to think outside the needles and yarn for a change. A quick pat for the puppy sleeping at her feet, and she was off to bed...visions of niddy-noddies dancing in her head.

Wandering I

Everyone has been so productive lately, posting every day for National Blog Posting Month...so luckily there will be a lot for you to read other places and you might not notice that hardly anything is going on over here.

It's portfolio week, actually, and as usual I'm a bit behind. I hand it in today, then we're off for the weekend to visit a friend and get out of Mr HSB's way - he's been prepping for a certification exam next weekend, so I've been single-parenting for a few weeks now. He does emerge from the cone of silence at bedtime and usually brushes someone's teeth, which is a help, but otherwise it's all me.

I was craving some respite a few days ago and wandered into the library with the kids. In order to get to the kids' section you walk past a stack labelled "Romance". I usually don't even look at it but on that day, I suddenly realised it had been ages since I read a bodice-ripper and, feeling overwhelmed by responsibility as I was, thought I'd read a bit of escapism for a change. I glanced over at the shelf and burst out laughing at the first title I saw - "Bedded by the Desert King". Of course, into the bag it went, along with the second title I saw, which was, and I'm not kidding, "Bunking Down With the Boss". There's definitely a theme here.

Anyway, I read "Desert King" in an hour or so, squirming inwardly all the while at the horrid prose and embarrassing triteness, contrived dialogue and fabricated conflicts.

Plus there wasn't nearly enough actual bedding.

So "Bunking Down" was next and I actually liked that one a bit more, except it's the difference between eating a cockroach and eating a worm. Better, but still horrible.

Now I'm cracking open The Cellist of Sarajevo with a sigh of relief.

And I'm off to a friend's for the weekend, so I will be continuing mute until at least Monday. On Monday, I've got a few books to show you that I think you'll like.

No ripping bodices, though.

How do you say "Bling" in Chinese?

I got the neatest gift from Uncles Joe and Dave a couple of months ago. They sent me a piece they had picked up back in the dawn of time, from an ancient Chinese man selling jewelry on the beach in San Francisco. The jewelry was composed of found and reclaimed items. They decided it was time for the necklace to have a new home, and sent it to me.

Dave says the long pieces, such as the one pictured below, are finger tips. But the rest of the components are more mysterious.

Dave made this remark about you guys - you readers, that is. He said "You seem to have some quite intelligent people who read your blog - ask if one of them can translate any of the Chinese characters."

It was very tricky to get good pictures, especially of the shiny bits, but can any of you Intelligentsia shed some light here?

My kind of (US) political commentary

Jean, thank you - this site IS delicious.

Edit: And I can't listen to this without squirming. Oh those naughty Canadians.

Jenny's website

A website has been set up for my knitter friend Jenny. Updates on her progress will be posted there.

Please stop by the site and leave her your best wishes - she could use some good energy now, and when she wakes up.

A note on donation: read Karen's comment of October 31 - there is some question as to the accountability of those collecting for Jenny. Prudence demands that you refrain from donation at least until the uncertainty is cleared up.

Basket of Bobbles, Finished

Ruby's Christmas sweater is finished, blocked, sewn, woven, pressed, bezippered, betasselled and reblocked.

Pattern: from Better Homes & Gardens' Knitting Year Round
Yarn: Naturally's Loyal DK (pewter) and Sandnesgarn Smart DK (melon & lime)
Needle: 4.00 mm bamboo circular
Tension: not sure
Finished size: 3X

I bribed my daughter with a cookie again (sugar - the key to effective parenting) and got some FO pictures of this, my second commissioned garment (and third). She is four and a half, so the sweater is a bit too small for her - it pulls on the zipper a little. Shouldn't be a problem on a 2 year old.

I thought about captioning these, but they tell a perfect story on their own. Enjoy...

Imperfect, Inimitable

Erudite Mondays at HalfSoled Boots

Volume 6 Number 3

Quilts of Provence - the Art and Craft of French Quiltmaking

by Kathryn Berenson

I've been meaning to tell you about this book for a long time. I got it a year or two ago and I've been reading it off and on ever since, trying to work up the courage to try this beautiful incarnation of the textile arts.

Broderie de Marseilles is a method of quiltmaking in which two layers of fabric are densely quilted, by hand, with no batt in between. There are often several parallel rows of stitching on the edges of the piece, with the centres featuring designs of flowers, suns, and plants. There are extant pieces featuring more abstract designs, too - usually in a very romantic style. Lots of swirls and curlicues.



Once the entire piece has been quilted, the finished item is corded and stuffed - that is, each individual channel between quilted rows, or each quilted pocket, is stuffed with cotton. To do this, the quilter uses a needle to carefully open a space between the threads of the fabric until it is wide enough to admit a darning needle. She threads a piece of cotton cording into the eye and runs the needle through the channel until the entire channel is corded. She cuts the cord, manipulates the end in through the hole in the fabric, then wiggles that hole closed with her needle. If it is a pocket that needs stuffing, she opens a hole as before, then uses a needle to curl the cording tightly into the pocket, bit by painstaking bit. The holes are all closed up afterwards, and the entire piece is washed.



It takes an unbelievable amount of time, and careful work. When I first saw the book, I was drawn to the gorgeous finished pieces and declared to all, "I am going to learn this technique and make a bed-cover!" Then I read on a little bit and decided, "I'd better make a table runner instead." Then I got to the part with the templates and the instructions for cording and stuffing, and thought to myself "I could really use a coaster."



This book is a sumptuously presented, intelligently arranged blend of history, instruction, and eye candy. Stunning photographs depict gorgeous, brilliantly-coloured textiles, dated from as early as the 18th century. There are closets full of antique quilts, sofas covered in folded florals, and dress forms garbed in authentic Provençal regional costume. There are instructions and templates for 11 projects ranging in difficulty from an easy placemat (in imitation broderie de Marseilles) to an advanced single-piece, corded and stuffed wedding quilt in ivory silk.



What impresses me most about this beautiful book is not the inspiration to try the technique - although I am dying to, one of these days - or the respect I feel for these women who clothed their families in this incredible art. What I think about most is the concept of regional dress: the idea that at one time, any given People expressed their identity, their history, their place in the world, and their sense of community through clothing and textiles.



I thought of this book when I was at the Fleece and Fibre Fair, walking around the venue and taking in the knitters, crocheters, felters, and spinners all around me. There isn't one unified dress sense, at all, but there is a unified pride in our accomplishments. Some people are visibly....well I must say tickled pink to be wearing their first botchy, lopsided hat, while buying more yarn to make coordinating chunky mittens. Others are standing watching the spinners, their backs straight and their heads carried with quiet pride above dreamily soft, perfectly-executed lace shawls in baby alpaca.

It was, really, the incarnation of what people refer to as "the fibre arts community". We aren't neighbours, we share neither a place nor a history. We are united not by a common tradition, but by our love for the craft. Maybe there isn't a region, strictly speaking, but there is a regional dress: there was so much Handmade in that hall, it was exhilirating just to breathe such a creatively-charged atmosphere.

I don't imagine the Marseilles needlewomen felt quite the same way about their handwork as we do. In the days before widespread mechanisation, it was nothing extraordinary to clothe one's family entirely in garments made by one's own hands. The extraordinary thing, in fact, would have been to spend the family's money purchasing clothing and linens when you could make them yourself.



Then, as now, the beauty of these items is in their uniqueness: no two pieces are exactly alike. It's a little depressing to look around me, sometimes, and realise just how many things in my house are mass-produced, and therefore also in the homes of hundreds and thousands of other people. I like to think of myself as an individual, a non-conformist, but the reality is I buy the same Rubbermaid bins and Levis jeans as everyone else does.



Times have changed. Making your own clothes isn't unheard of, but wearing them is much less usual. I like to see people taking pride in the works of their hands. I like the feeling of wearing something I've made, and I don't mind when people ask me, "Did you knit that yourself?" As some never tire of pointing out, you can buy a sweater for $40 at the Bay. But nobody can buy MY sweater. I made it myself, and there'll never be another like it.

One of these busy, full days, I'll try some broderie de Marseilles. I have some fabric that I bought specially to try it, and I have even sketched out a template for a stylised sun, very much in the Provençal style. It's a little intimidating, but I think if I'm patient and careful I can do it. I'd like to have something that no one else has - even if it's just a coaster.