Tenebrae

Last night Eric and I attended the Tenebrae service at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart (tenebrae means 'darkness in Latin). The first time I had heard of Tenebrae was last year soon after Easter. My chiropractor had attended one and filled me in, and I was intrigued and made a point to go this year.

I had heard the basilica was filled to capacity last year, so we went half an hour early and eventually found a couple of the last free seats. With so many people in one place, it was slightly disconcerting to have the pervading silence until the service began.

The service is solemn, consisting of Psalms and Lamentations and excerpts in Latin. Candles were regularly extinguished until there was only one, the Christ candle, remaining lit. Then all house lights went out.

The candle is carried out, leaving complete darkness, and everyone begins pounding on the pews to represent the earthquake after Christ's death. After some time of this, the candle reappears, and everyone departs in silence.

I found the symbolism welcoming, because however much I would like to think otherwise, I'm not very good about taking time to be reflective and this made me be so. There were two scenes that I especially enjoyed. First, the two cantors were singing from Lamentations, and their voices would join for the mournful plea, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, return to the Lord, your God." Second, the ache caused by the departing candle, and how its appearance erased the despondency.

SKP 2008 #1: Jacobean

My life has been relatively routine -- I work, I knit, I help with the high-school youth group, I visit with friends. Since I continue to be a negligent blogger, I feel like I need to put in a plug for any remaining readers to check out Bloglines or Google Reader, either of which is a central source to input numerous blog addresses or website feeds, and it keeps an update of changes. I have found Google Reader to be a convenient place to follow blogs, even letting some pile up if I don't have time to read them, and then I don't forget about the blogs of friends who only update twice a year or so (I tease, Eric, I tease).

One friend brought my attention to SKP 2008 (Sock Knitters Pentathlon 2008), a knitter's challenge in honor of the Beijing Olympics this summer. The goal: every two months, a pattern is posted. Complete it in the alloted time, and you remain in the running for prizes distributed at the conclusion of the contest, one year later. The first pattern was posted March 1. There are some serious knitters out there, at least one who finished her pair of socks before I awoke last Saturday morning, so I'm not holding my breath for actual prizes of yarn. In fact, if I don't like one of the future patterns, I wouldn't bother going through the time and yarn to knit it (unless I thought I knew of someone who would enjoy a pair), and skipping a pattern would remove me from the competition.

My personal goal, however, is to beat Carly. It looks like I did accomplish that with the first pair; it didn't hurt that she was sick much of last week either, even sick enough not to knit.


This is my personal best, as I began the first sock on Saturday, March 1, and completed the pair on Thursday, March 6. It doesn't hurt that we now have an informal knitting guild at work, with several of my coworkers knitting through the lunch hour with me. In fact, all four of us in the main office went to a yarn shop over lunch a couple weeks back, with the sole purpose of buying sock yarn on sale. I can only say that it's a spreading virus.

I also have recollections of my mom never liking idle hands, so even to this day I feel more comfortable when I can have something occupying my fingers when there's little else for them to do. Knitting is perfect for this, books almost so. Books fall short when watching a movie or talking with friends, since you cannot do both simultaneously. Knitting is the perfect complement, since my fingers usually know what to do, leaving my brain free for other pursuits.

Furthermore, Elizabeth Zimmermann doesn't help matters. After having several of her books on my wish list for many months, I now find myself the proud new owner of two of them. If you click the above link, you will find tributes written about her after her death. People loved her far beyond her contribution to the knitting world, and as I flip through her books, I get a great sense of her personality. I can read her columns for the sake of reading, whereas other tutorials or patterns are clear enough to follow but void of any personality.

Heather's Wedding

It's Thursday night and I'm just now sitting down to share some stories and a picture from my older sister's wedding; I'm still recovering from sleep, so my evenings have been filled with less demanding activities.

I restrained my camera usage, since I never knew when I'd need to run off to be in pictures and I presumed with the four photographers (long story) and numerous others, I'd have my fill when all was developed or uploaded. One great uncle and several Facebook friends have already done this, so my destitution is lessened. I'm not sure how I got through the rehearsal and the reception with nary a picture of my nieces and nephew, though.

We drove to Iowa Thursday and returned late Sunday, so the trip was quick. The bride didn't want to do much sleeping -- she's a detail-oriented artist and had some final details to finish up.

I'll include some of my favorite stories from the weekend.

During the rehearsal, we were prompting our nieces, who served as flower girls, on the proper conduct. The six-year-old asked, "Do we get to pick up the flowers when we walk back?"

The two of them agreed to hold hands down the aisle after the ceremony concluded, and did well, but when the younger tried to take the older's hand during the ceremony, the older sister pulled away wildly, leading to some pinching and the three-year-old slipping off her shoes repeatedly. They were short enough I think you'd have to be in the front couple rows to see, but I've noticed in some of the shots my head is turned down.

Heather ate chocolate (intentionally) for the first time in ten years at her bachelorette party, which was followed up by the four sisters trying to share a king-sized bed. We did okay, but I'm not sure anyone slept well. And when Hope left due to being too warm and probably cramped, Charity hogged the gained space until I grumbled out a request to move over. She is unflappable when she sleeps, so I had to forcibly 'encourage' her to turn over to spare me from slipping off the bed. Ah, memories!

The sisters, sans bride, had our hair done at SPA, an academy for beauticians in training. I saw one guy and assumed, with my luck, he was my stylist, and I was right. Pardon my stereotypes, but he sported the spiked-mohawk, fake-tan, makeup-faced, painted-nails look. I admit I was slightly taken aback, but since I wasn't the bride, I thought it didn't matter too much how I ended up. I think the final results met my expectations, so all was not lost.

The ceremony and reception were beautiful, and even though this is the third wedding I've been to that used Cindy Morgan's "Make Us One" as the processional, I still love it (the two later weddings stole it from the first because it is that good, and when I finally learned the name of it Thursday night, it was quickly purchased through iTunes for my continued auditory pleasure).

I'm still sleepy, and ought to head to bed soon, even though I've not done justice to this weekend.

In short, it was a chance to catch up with both immediate and extended family, and indulge in one perk of not being the bride nor the groom -- I could stop and talk with someone for twenty minutes with nary an interruption. Several family friends were there as well, and since I didn't get to see them at Christmas, there was much updating all around.

It was a special wedding: Heather was stunning, and Chad has felt like family for at least a couple years now, so we're quite glad it's official. As someone else noted, he's not only my brother-in-law, he's a brother in law (patent, that is) -- eerie, isn't it.

(P.S. Chad, I hear a kleptomaniac made off with your open bag of Munchies, and it's possible Andrea broke a glass of yours -- fortunately you'll never miss either with Heather overhauling your bachelor pad.)

One Year is a Fluke, Two Years a Tradition

One of the main responsibilities of my job during this time of year is to arrange our recruitment weekend for prospective students. We bring in around forty students each year, introduce them to our program, and interview them, all in hopes of wooing them so that many will enroll in the fall. I correspond with all of the students, arranging travel, food, and lodging for the time.

Last year, it was a trial by fire. The Sunday students were supposed to all fly home also coincided with a Midwest ice storm. Flights were canceled right and left, and I started relaying frantic phone calls at 4 AM, steady until the afternoon. In the end, about six students had to stay until Monday, and two all the way until Tuesday.

I was hoping that I would get off easy this year. The weather reports looked good -- potentially light snow, and possibly strong winds. The wind concerned me, but there wasn't much I could do about that.

There were minor issues with travel Thursday, but those were dealt with. Friday, I met the students at lunch while they listened to an overview of our program. Afterwards, as I was cleaning up and preparing to return to my building, I wheeled my cart, now bereft of folders, to the third-floor elevator. I was escorted by a co-worker and a wayward prospective student. We entered and pushed the main floor button. Motion began, but after a few seconds elapsed, the elevator made a huge bang and shook. We were stuck.

My co-worker pushed the call button, which put us in touch with the local 911. They alerted the fire department.

I had my cell phone and alerted a colleague in the main office to our situation. She laughed, and took notes for what I needed covered in my absence. There were volunteers scheduled to meet me any moment to help with set-up for the next day, and some could be done without my assistance.

Almost as soon as I hung up my phone, it rang again. It was one of our last students that had a late arrival due to a prestigious meeting -- she had arrived at the airport for her flight, only to realize the ticket had been issued for the previous day. Even though I had told our travel agent the day she needed to travel, the agent accidentally switched the days, and the student didn't spot the error when she was asked to okay the itinerary a month earlier. Long story short, we purchased a one-way ticket less than an hour before departure.

By now, the fire department had arrived, and we discovered that we were between floors. One fireman stayed with us, propping the doors open, while the other one attempted to turn off electricity to the shaft. With the electricity off, the car will be kept from moving. If it's left on, at any moment the elevator could try to correct itself, not very comforting if you were crawling out at that moment. Certainly I and my co-worker may have been expendable, but once there's a recruit in there with us, things change; after all, it's bad PR when a recruit is split in two.

So time passed, and eventually we were able to feed the cart through the doors, and then the three of us managed to crawl out with varying degrees of assistance. I wore a skirt, not intending to have to crawl out of an elevator, but it all worked out. From beginning to end, we were probably only in there for about half an hour. We still had a cart with us, so the prospective student, amused by the whole thing, led the charge to another elevator (which worked just fine).

I spent my afternoon catching up from my lost time, grabbing unsuspecting volunteers who happened to be in the halls to help me with remaining tasks. Pretty intense start to my weekend, so I hoped that balanced out last year's craziness, and I would be spared.

Fast forward to this morning. I woke up around 7 AM, earlier than I would need to for Sunday morning services, to see if the first couple flights of students would get out. Everything looked good, flights were boarding and leaving the gate...and then they were sent back. At least two flights (one from Chicago, one from Detroit) attempted to land, circled for ten minutes, and then had to return to their original destinations.

Our students were on eleven different flights, ten of which were canceled. I fielded dozens of calls today, playing both travel agent and therapist. Many were able to take alternative transportation to their transfer location, where they should have had no problem making their connection. When the winds stalled this afternoon, the pilots, crew, and planes were readied, and then it was discovered that the deicer was broken.

All students were gracious, although some were understandably frustrated with the long lines and uncertainty.

So finally, I think I only have 8 stowaways for another night, and all should depart at a reasonable time tomorrow.

Honestly, though, I really don't want to go through this again next year.

Homemade Christmas Gifts From My Family

I realize this post is belated, over a month past Christmas, but I still think it's worthwhile to share the homemade gifts from my family. Some members embraced 'Homemade Christmas' at the outset, others struggled coming up with ideas, but it was so much fun as I anticipated how everyone would get involved.

I'll start with the presents that arrived at my doorstep which will encourage me to be creative. My maternal grandparents gave us gift subscriptions to Better Homes and Gardens and Smithsonian. Two months' worth have been delivered, and I have really appreciated them. This is the sort of gift that keeps on giving. Each time I see one in the mail, the first thought that crosses my mind is, "Yay! A magazine from my grandparents!" They allow me to indulge in some relaxing reading (and the former gives me decorating and recipe ideas, while the latter makes me feel smarter!).

Continuing with my grandparents, I will move to another gift from them. It was a beautiful bracelet made by a local artist.


And then my grandmother had all the grandchildren select a photograph that she had enlarged, matted, and framed. Each had special significance and many were taken on their travels. The one I chose was from a recent Canadian trip.


Heather made necklaces for us, showing that she is talented in so many ways.


Admittedly, I had requested the following sewing project from Hope when she asked for ideas.


When it unrolls, it reveals my stash of double-pointed needles for socks, as well as some crochet hooks.


Since apparently that project was too simple and quick for her, she felt she needed to make something else. First, a simple striped table runner...


...followed by a solid table runner.


Charity knit me some fingerless gloves, Fetching (or as we like to call them, Fisticuffs).


Chad undertook Christmas dinner for all of us, everything from the turkey to the mashed potatoes. Quite delectable.

Even Eric got in on the homemade action. He used his Latin background to choose quotes tailored to each family member and printed both the Latin and the English together and framed the result.


Finally, while I don't have pictures of them yet, my dad made us two matching bedside tables. Take a look at the plans if you'd like. They're spectacular, but there was some more staining and polyurethane that needed to be done, and since we were going to be in Iowa for a February wedding, we didn't make him rush.

I'm not sure how everyone else felt, but I really enjoyed Christmas this year. There was no stress about needing to get a gift as the date neared, compounded with the uncertainty of what that gift would be. And I'm surrounded by special things that will always draw my mind to loved ones. I confess that after several months or years have passed, I sometimes forget who gave me a certain gift, but there's no chance for that this year.

One couple we know had another creative family exchange this year. The adults drew names, and the task was to spend $15 at Goodwill. There were books, games, and furniture discovered (although she admitted that the Indiana stores she checked out seemed pretty picked over). Some were gag gifts, but she admitted she felt like she ended up with some of the better things. This is an amusing idea, especially for adults who don't need anything, and it lends itself to a scavenger hunt.

How Ravelry Saved the Day

Heretofore, I have remained silent on my blog about Ravelry. I didn't want to get all nerdy talking about yarn and web communities centered on yarn, but I have to do a little bragging. Sure, I can be a little sheepish admitting that I'm a part of a knitting and crocheting community, a la Facebook or MySpace. For non-crafters, it sounds unnecessary. But it's useful for someone like me: I learn about all kinds of new patterns, search by yarn to see what others have made with what's on my shelf, check for addendums when patterns were found to contain mistakes, organize future projects in my queue instead of bookmarking them haphazardly, and see that all my needles and hooks are cataloged in a simple chart. Convinced, yet?

But my favorite part occurred over the Christmas season. There I am, working hard on some Jaywalker socks earmarked for myself. I've finished the first, almost halfway through the second. Then I realize it. I am going to run out of yarn. I'm not actually sure how it happened, but it was a new pattern, and apparently the technique was more of a yarn hog than I anticipated. O cruel world! I'm not sure I can appropriately convey the devastation of that moment for you non-crafters. I was in denial, trying to delay the inevitable realization, counting how many color repeats of my yarn remained, comparing that to the finished sock to see how close I could get. Not close enough. And then I shoved it in my luggage for the duration of the trip, trying to put it out of mind. The hours that I spent on knitting, possibly wasted. It deserved the dark time-out.

So there I was, trying to decide what my next move was ... only undertaken when I happened upon those chance moments where I was actually strong enough to face my options. Buy another skein? The yarn is no longer being sold. Rip out the first one, shorten the foot and try to salvage enough yarn to finish the second? Yikes, I've never had to rip back once I've bound off, and I wasn't convinced that I'd gain enough; I'd hate to go through this experience twice. When my self-striping yarn ends, should I just use a solid? That last one especially would be a bitter pill for this perfectionist to swallow and would show the world that I messed up somewhere along the way. The socks would probably never see the light of day, given that last solution.

But in the midst of my low spirits, I somehow remembered there is Ravelry. On Ravelry, you can catalog your stash (or 'excess yarn'). When you upload your stash, you can mark it as 'will trade or sell' if you're wanting to unload it. So in my brilliance, I did a little yarn search.

Lo and behold, there it was. Hundreds of unused skeins in my color, several marked to be sold. Imagine my excitement when I contacted the first one who had specified a price, quite reasonable. She still had the yarn, and at one point even offered to send it to me for only the cost of shipping. Admittedly, I couldn't let her do that, since she was saving my project here. And even with shipping, I was still ahead than if I had found it being sold in a store. Information was exchanged, money switched hands. And I distracted myself with a new project.

Friday afternoon, when I returned home from work, it had arrived.


Yes, Ravelry did indeed save the day.

New Year's Eve and Snow

My sister Hope called yesterday to share a story. One of her daughters was found crawling around the room, and when Hope asked her what on earth she was doing, she replied, "I'm being a turtle, like the one Faithy gave me." Rumor is that Sheldon and her new doll accompany her to bed every night, as well as tag along during the day. I'm glad to hear it.

The weather here, true to Midwest form, has fluctuated greatly. When we left for the New Year's Eve party last week, there was plenty of grass visible. We played games and at the stroke of midnight, we pulled Christmas crackers (a contribution of a British friend in the group). Here are Eric and I in our hats:


For those unfamiliar with Christmas crackers, as I was, they are little novelties common in England. Two people each grab an end and pull wishbone-style, revealing the inside contents. They generally have the above hats, as well as a little trinket and a less-than-funny joke. Traditionally they are opened at Christmas dinner, and some families will wear the hats throughout the meal, even making a contest of whose flimsy hat remains intact the longest.

Shortly after midnight, we were astonished to look outside and see several inches of snow deposited, and still heavily falling. It was beautiful, and I was glad that it was New Year's, so that I was awake to enjoy it.


It's not that the snow has stopped falling in this one below, but I used the flash in the above one to give you an idea of the size and intensity of the flakes. All of the snow on the vehicles is new. (The birdfeeder picture at the beginning of this post is from a day or so later, when another couple inches were added.)


It was perfect snow for a snowman (and snowball fights, but I was 'Switzerland' and just focused on Frosty).


Alas, he's gone, I'm sure, what with the temperatures in the fifties today. Apparently, tomorrow could hit 61 degrees, which boggles the mind in early January.

Christmas 2007 Projects

As I've mentioned before, this year our family tried out Homemade Christmas for the first time. Perhaps I'll do a post soon of some of the things family made for me (no photos have yet been taken). As is, this post is still picture heavy.

As far as what I gave, socks sum up almost everything. To the right you can see all the pairs of socks given to friends and family. My sisters received the three identical striping socks, my grandma received the blue striping, and dad, grandpa, and almost-brother-in-law received the solid ribbed socks. The pink striping pair is still wrapped and will be mailed, since we didn't see the friend they were meant for.

I used only two different patterns. While I don't mind reusing a pattern, I have learned that the same color yarn and size can borderline on taxing.

Mom received the mittens she requested, in white:


The cuffs can be folded up, as seen on the left one, or rolled down if the wind and cold are fierce, as seen on the right.

My nephew was pleased with his snake and mice:


My younger niece kept asking me to remove Sheldon's shell, then put it back again:


My oldest niece had requested handwarmers, "because it gets cold on the bus."


I saw her practice her penmanship as she asked for directions on how to use the rice packets inside and dutifully transcribed what I said, with only periodic help needed with the words "microwave" and "freezer." She was disappointed to learn that they wouldn't stay warm all day, for she has three recesses.

Lest you worry that I have tired of socks, do not fear. While traveling, I finished grafting the stitches to the pair of socks I'm sporting today.


And at the end of last week, I cast on a pair of gray ribbed socks for me. I'm hoping to wear them when I return to work Wednesday, and since I'm already working on the leg of the second, that might actually happen. These might be a little tight in shoes since they're a heavier yarn, but they will sure be warm.


And because Rachel does not tire of kitty news, this is for her: Augustine did great with the drive (no carsick episodes like last year) and she behaved well in the homes of family, provided cats (and the occasional dog) steered clear. As you see here, however, her idea of comfort does not align with ours.

She would lay like this, suspended between our armrests, when she wasn't sprawled in (or on) her carrier.

Wherein I Mainly Talk About Our Cat and Then Proceed to Apologize for Doing So

I have been a terrible blogger. I can't believe this page has been silent since Thanksgiving. To remedy this, I will update on miscellaneous topics, none really involving knitting since I have to remain mum just a couple more days until gifts are revealed. But they're all done and they make me happy!

The last few weeks have been filled with me being sick (nearly everyone in the office has been passing around a sore throat/nasty cough for the last couple weeks). I took a sick day for the worst of it, wherein my cat and I were nearly identical in our sleeping habits.

A couple weeks back I attended a local art studio that was selling pieces for the holidays, and I grabbed up this bowl. It is happily containing leftover yarn that has no other home and yet is too small for my tastes to be wound up into a center-pull ball.


Early in the month I finished reading Middlemarch, and if I return to blogging, I may very well share my thoughts on it, provided they don't fade too drastically.

And in other news, our cat loves snow. We allowed her to be on our screened-in porch periodically during the spring and summer, and she adored it. She could crouch for hours at the screens, and would hide behind my plants when we tried to get her to come back in (she's like a petulant child).

Knowing this, we dreaded the onset of colder weather. Even though the temperatures have dropped, she still thinks she wants to check out the scenery. So we let her out and stand at the door until she quickly returns to us. Unless there's snow blown in, like there was a week ago. I think she scampered around and did the following in under five minutes. And then wanted back out nearly as soon as we brought her in (we didn't indulge her). Those markings that almost look like human footprints? Not so. She slid around in it, and pounced on the snow clumps when they snuck up on her.


And I'll close with yet another cat anecdote. But first, an apology to you people who despise felines and cannot understand the turn this blog has taken: I'm sorry. Since I'm no longer teaching, I'm stuck when it comes to amusing stories, and this will likely remain the case until we have children. Alas, summon that patience from deep somewhere, for this, too, shall pass. Now, back to my closing story.

When Eric was home this week, he heard Augustine bolt for the front window. Eric figured the mail carrier was at our door, since our cat has sensitive ears and takes pride in serving as our guard. This was the case, so Eric stepped out to retrieve our letters, only to find our mailwoman stopped in our yard, standing in snow and staring at our front window. When she saw she'd been caught, she gushed, "I just love your cat!" I am amused to imagine our cat and mail carrier bonding over the year, watching each other through the glass.

Second Annual Indiana Thanksgiving Extravaganza

This week is coming to a close, somewhat against my wishes. With it, Heather and Chad left for Iowa today and our normal routines will resume tomorrow.

Tuesday night they arrived and we collected our hungry charges to commence the second annual "Visit Eric and Faith for Thanksgiving because they don't have enough days off to drive to Iowa and back in order to have quality time with family" extravaganza!

Wednesday, Heather and I enjoyed a tour of the South Bend Chocolate Company. If you recall, I first traveled there in May with another sister, but as it was on a weekend, we missed seeing it in action. This time, we didn't have to imagine employees; instead, the machines were rolling out chocolates and people were individually setting almond slivers into the tops of the chocolates as they emerged from the conveyor belts. We both posed for the following picture:


Naturally, the requisite campus sightseeing was accomplished, and the Snite Museum duly visited. When we were collecting Eric from the library, Chad and Heather's reaction was comical as the elevator doors opened to reveal the following sight:


I was prepared for the emptiness, as this is an overflow floor, but there were some comments as to whether the university money was spent in all manner of ways so as to preclude books, or whether our pupils are so studious so that all printed materials were in constant circulation.

Thanksgiving was a treat. One downside, however, is that since we partake of a catered meal, we don't get the turkey and ham leftovers for sandwiches and the like. Nevertheless, we still managed to find enough food around to keep us happy. After all, we had to bribe them with shrimp and cheese balls so they'd make the trip.

The remainder of the time was spent creating stitch markers and making cards, watching movies and Heroes, knitting, cheering on Notre Dame, having a date with my sister, and watching our gentlemen play a PS2 college football game with numerous team match-ups -- I'm sorry to report that Notre Dame lost against Iowa State, Stanford (twice), and pretty much everyone except for Wofford College. Even fantasy games left me with the desire to get this season over with so we could move on to the next.

Now, with the house to myself, I am getting caught up on laundry and dishes and am trying to decide if I'm catching a bug. As such, I'm indulging in the following scene: I am wrapped in a quilt as I sit in an armchair with a classic book, sipping from a large mug of black tea, listening to various music, and turning my head to see snow floating down outside my window.


Yup, it's going to be hard to leave this and exchange it for work tomorrow morning.