Knall!

Wow, this spring weekend has been totally amazing. We've had glorious sun and temperatures around 15 celsius, which means we've been outside practically the entire time. Fabulous!

I finished the Porticus pullover. It fits perfectly, and I was able to block it outside on the patio!

I love it. It got a little hairy there right at the end, as I was knitting the last sleeve. I ended up with no more than 20 centimeters of yarn left over. Talk about maximizing one's resources!

My sister-in-law stopped by for a visit, so I baked an apple cake using the recipe from Smitten Kitchen. I discovered after I started that I was short a couple of eggs and some vegetable oil, so I had to improvise. Even so, it turned out delish.

At the request of KE I cut way back on the sugar (one cup instead of two) and was assured that it tasted just like a Norwegian (read: better than American) apple cake. Go figure! I'll definitely be making this one again.

Klagestrøm

I fear a political rant has been building up for some time here. So although this blog is mostly just for recording knitting highs and lows, I think it's time to get a few things off my chest.

Background:

When I was a kid in the 1970s, living in the U.S. was great. I lived in the most beautiful part of the country. My dad had a steady job as a college professor, and my mom had the luxury of dividing her time between homemaking, art, and volunteer activities (the local museum and various craft/art organizations). I became politically aware at a relatively young age, as my parents were actively opposed to the war in Viet Nam and vocal critics of President Nixon's policies. They also raised me without religion. And, living just south of the border, they prefered to watch Canadian news, which they explained typically had less propaganda and gave a more international perspective. We drove the same car for twenty years, but had a lake view from our (shoddy and drafty, but comfortable) house. From a very young age I got interested in other cultures and my parents encouraged that, even going so far as to let me go abroad as an exchange student the year I turned sixteen. As a parent of a seven-year-old now, I find it hard to believe that they let me do that, back in the bad old eighties with the primitive communications we had then (no email, no Skype, no 24-hour news cycle...). I had a close relationship with my grandparents and learned a huge amount from them about what things were like when they and my own parents were growing up. I got a good college education at a state school without taking on student loans. I worked my way through graduate school as a teachign assistant and came out of that debt free too.

Rant:

All this is just to say that I experienced the very best that the U.S. has ever had to offer. My life was truly charmed and privileged, even though we were by no means rich. Looking back, I am just infuriated by what has happened to the U.S. I once knew. I hardly even recognize the place. I simply can't comprehend where all the destructive, right wing ideology is coming from. Did the people who are now systematically dismantling evrything that was good about the U.S. not grow up in the same country, with the same rights and protections that I had? The case of Glenn Beck, one of the "architects" (if you can even compare his ideologically confused ranting to anything as structured as architecture) has a strong personal significance for me because, although I don't remember him, we went to high school together. So, here's a person who lived in the same place at the same time, and theoretically at least had exposure to the same values and ideas that I did. But we couldn't be more different. Yes, his childhood and youth were troubled in ways that mine weren't (divorce, the death of his mother, frequent moves, etc.). But my best friend in high school had a childhood that was even more troubled and unstable, yet she ended up the farthest thing from Beck ideologically.

So, where does the vitriol come from then? What could possibly motivate all these people to take a reasonably functional civil society (one that already had revealed a dark side, I hasten to add. History has shown that U.S. actions in the Viet Nam War were even more unethical than my parents feared), and attempt to turn it into a fundamentalist state? How can they repeatedly make legislative coups that reduce the freedoms of individuals (women, same-sex partners, ethnic minorities, the poor) in the name of freedom? It makes no sense.

Although I spent most of my youth and young adulthood dreaming of living in Europe, even after marrying a European, I somehow didn't think that was possible. I assumed we'd live in the U.S. But after I had a child in the same year that George W. Bush was reelected, I realized that I needed to get out, and we started laying plans to return to Norway. I could live in the U.S., but in the long run I couldn't raise a child there. There are just too many stupid ideas and social pressures that I would want to shield him from. Raising him in a Norway just made better sense. We have a reasonable expecation as parents that the political system supports our family in real ways: universal and good health care, free higher education, decent schools, legal same-sex marriage (who knows what his orientation will turn out to be, but it's good to know his rights will be protected in any case), a culture that in general emphasizes nature and healthful living, a culture of civil debate... the list goes on and on.

Sure I miss my family and friends. Sure I still think the Pacific Northwest is heaven on earth. But after three years in Norway during which the U.S. seems to have exploded into a seething mass of collective idiocy, I can't imagine moving back for good. We'll be going back for four weeks of (paid...!) summer vacation. It will be really interesting to hear how my family and friends see things from the inside.

My point:

From my perspective, despite the war, things were going in the right direction in the 1970s; the civil rights movement had made huge breakthroughs in race relations, and the sexual revolution promised to do the same for gender relations. We progressives had the wind in our sails, and the right was maybe a little in shock over losing so much ground so quickly. And now, thirty years later the political landscape has shifted 180 degrees...

Våryr

Spring has sprung, at least tentatively! Today was a gorgeous day, and we went out for a little walk around the neighborhood to find out what's been going on under all that snow, ice, and darkness  for the past half year. Nothing much, as it turns out, but as always I love looking at the houses and cabins in my neighborhood.

E was home sick from school for three days last week, which meant I got in plenty of knitting time on the Porticus pullover. Here it is, just before the last waist increase and before I'm supposed to start doing the pattern again as a bottom edging:

I can never get my camera to photograph the green of this yarn accurately, which drives me crazy.

Yesterday E was feeling pretty perky, so we took the ferry into Oslo to get a bagel (his standing request--one of the things he misses most about living in the US) and go to the Cultural Historical Museum, which E raced through, but seemed to enjoy anyway. Personally I think it's a pretty poor excuse for a museum. On past visits alone I had only ever been on the first floor, which documents Norwegian cultural history from the stone age up to medieval times. E was eager to race through the exhibitions on all four floors, and I was certainly not impressed by the hackneyed ethnographic displays they apparently haven't touched for the last 50 years or more. Now everyone knows I'm a huge fan of Norway and love living here, but this museum is a good example of what occasionally drives me crazy about this country. Norway is one of the richest countries in the world, and they spend millions on all kinds of things, but they seem to have no idea what to do to improve this museum. The first floor displays are exactly as I remember them from the early 1990s, including the ridiculously stupid embroidered goddess-y "art" installations that are supposed to do ... something? ... to enhance the Viking era display. Grr!

But really, the point of the expedition was to get E out of the house and give him some new experiences, and in that sense it was a totally successful day. He bought his own orange juice on the ferry ride home, and you could tell it was a big deal to stand in line and pay all by himself.

Digg

Oooh, I'm totally loving the Porticus pullover! At this point (just a few inches into the yoke), I'm thinking I want to make one of these in every color. I just saw a beautiful black one on Ravelry that made me think that this would be the perfect thing for all that recycled charcoal gray yarn I have tried twice to make something out of.

Here's what the turtleneck and beginning of the yoke looks like:

It's really stiff with this shetland yarn, but based on my experience with the Bulgarian pleated skirt, which I made with the same yarn held single, it should really soften up when washed. I can barely put this down, and I'm especially jazzed about the yoke increases all the way around (instead of the usual raglan shaping, which I'm getting a little tired of...). Stay tuned!

Ganske mye garn, gitt!

My next yarn foray in London was to I Knit London, south of the Thames near Waterloo Station. My colleagues at UCL were appalled to hear that I had ventured into enemy territory, but actually I really dug the no-nonsense vibe down there. It kind of reminded me of some of the Mexican neighborhoods I've been to in cities like Chicago and Phoenix. Which is to say: yeah, a little scruffy, but also lively and full of interesting things to see and do. I didn't have my camera along with me, so I didn't get any snaps of the shop or of Lower Marsh Street where it's located. The selection itself was a bit disappointing, at least for someone looking for British yarns and with my very narrow tastes. I ended up buying a gorgeous skein of Canadian Handmaiden Seasilk:

It's the most amazing green. What sold me on this yarn was the store sample of the ubiquitous Swallowtail shawl by Evelyn A. Clark. There are something like 10,000 of these registered on Ravelry, and the sample in the store made out of this yarn was to die for. I started knitting it almost immediately (and knit the whole way on the train from London to Edinburgh last Friday) and found it pretty easy, considering that it's lace.

As everyone always says, it's almost impossible to take good pictures of lace in process--it just looks like a blobby mess--so there probably won't be any photo documentation until after it's finished, I'm afraid. But I promise that I have made it through the fourteen repeats of the bud pattern, have dutifully inserted a lifeline, and am letting it sit for a few days before starting in on the Lily-of-the-Valley pattern with its legendary "nups." Should be interesting.

In Edinburg I tracked down the K1 Yarns Knitting Boutique, which was as charming as could be from  the outside:

(It's the bright blue storefront) For some reason, however, I remained for the most part un-charmed by the selection here, again given that I was looking for British yarns. They did have a fair amount of British yarn (after all, they produce their own line of yarns), but there is something about the color palette they offered here that left me cold. In fact, I found the colors themselves surprisingly (and off-puttingly) cold. I really wanted to buy at least a skein of something to support a small independent yarn shop, but the only things I came close to liking were produced in Germany I think.

Since I had to go to a department store or two anyway to look for other things, I stopped off at the yarn department in Jenner's of Edinburgh. Much to my delight, I found a bag of discontinued Rowan Silky Tweed on sale for 50% off. It was a beautiful blue-ish teal, so even though I have more than enough sweater projects to work on, I snapped it up.

The saleslady there gushed about how fabulous this yarn is to work with, so I'm excited to give it a try. I may make an Hourglass Sweater to replace the one I frogged a couple of years ago. I always really liked the fit of the one I made, and it was an incredibly useful garment to own (unlike many of my sweater projects). We'll see.

But for right now, I'm starting in on a different project entirely, a pullover called Porticus (Ravelry link here) that I'm going to knit out of all that green shetland yarn I bought in Denmark a couple of years ago. The yarn is a light fingering weight which I'll double to get the right weight. This design is pretty much perfect for me: it's top down, has a high neck, waist shaping, and mostly plain stockinette but with some interesting detailing. I really hope it works out, especially since I'm not all that happy with how the Graystone tunic turned out. I finished it while in London (hence the starting of the Swallowtail):

It almost works. Unfortunately I got worried that it would be too tight over the hips so I did a couple of extra increases that in the end turned out to just make it look lumpy. I'm going to wash and block it and see if that helps at all. If it doesn't, it's really not that much to rip out and reknit. The problem of course is that spring is coming and it is pretty much already too warm to wear this. Ah well, there's always next winter!

ETA: someone on Ravelry recommended a different yar shop in Edinburgh, McAree Brothers. Filed away for future reference:)