rinnnnnggggg

Mom: hello

#1 Son: [without preamble] I need to go buy chains right after work today. Some scary $#!* happened on the way over here.

Mom: Are you OK?

#1 Son: Yes, I’m fine. But it was really scary $#!* – really scary!

Mom: I worry about you driving over the bridges.

#1 Son: The bridges were fine. No problem across the bridge. But Hawthorne is really sketch. Really scary. I’m still sort of stressed out. But slow and steady wins the race and all that. But I think I really need to get chains.

Mom: I agree! Chains would be a very good thing! Call first before you go to the store to make sure they have them in stock.

#1 Son: Good point. Did you know that they’ve declared a state of emergency here?

Mom: Yes. It’s pretty dicey out here, too. The roads around me haven’t been plowed and it’s really bad. I don’t want you coming up here if it’s like this tomorrow. It’s not worth it, even if it is Christmas. We’ll just have Christmas later.

#1 Son: You’re right. I agree.

Mom [somewhat surprised by #1 Son’s ready agreement not to come on Christmas after several previous conversations where horrible driving conditions were dismissed as not really that bad]: How about New Year’s? Are you off that day? We can just have Christmas on New Years!

#1 Son: Good idea! That sounds good. I’ll let you know about the chains. Love you!

Mom: Love you, too!

RIght now as I look outside it’s raining lightly and the snow is starting to melt. But there’s so much of it, I can’t believe that it will all be melted before it starts to freeze again tonight, especially with the layers of ice. And there might be more snow tomorrow above 500 ft. For me, that means that someone somewhere will flip a coin to decide if I’m going to get snow or not. Friday we’re supposed to be back to just rain. Thank goodness.

I’m not sure who ordered the record snowfall for a white Christmas here in Portland. But… let’s not do this again, eh?

Via text, rather late at night:

#1 Son: Hey momma are you awake?

Mom: Yeah. Wazzup?

#1 Son: I got this piece of paper I was using as an earplug stuck in my ear cos I’m at a show. Should I go to the clinic in the morning? It’s seriously stuck up there.

Mom: Yes if you can’t get it out carefully with tweezers or such because you don’t want to damage your eardrum. Be very careful not to poke it in deeper.

#1 Son: I think I already did.

Via phone, shortly after the above:

Mom: Is your ear bleeding? Does it hurt a whole bunch?

#1 Son: No. No bleeding and it doesn’t really hurt.

Mom: I think it’s safe to wait until morning. Until then just leave it alone and don’t mess with it. If it starts bleeding go to the emergency room. Dare I ask why you weren’t using regular earplugs?

#1 Son: I usually use toilet paper but there wasn’t really any so I just used a wad of paper.

Mom: Go to the clinic in the morning. Then get some ear plugs.

Gentle reader, I tell you, I am reminded of the time when #1 Son was about 3 years old and he stuffed an entire, 2-ply Kleenex up his nose until the only way you could tell it was there was by peering up his nostril. He was very proud of himself, and the doctor was quite impressed. Upon extraction, it proved to be a pretty big wad. I really thought those days were long behind me.

I am happy to report that the folks at the clinic, according to #1 Son, appeared to be vastly amused.

Me? Not so much.

brioche scarf for #1 Son

Yesterday (Thursday), #1 Son planned to come down to my work place-of-business to exchange something I needed from him for a few things I had for him.

He had requested that I knit a scarf for him from some of the mystery sock yarn he brought me from Germany, and, although I’m not all that fond of knitting scarves, I was happy to oblige because he is, after all, my kid, and he was nice enough to bring the yarn home, and it’s pretty yarn. But, being not that fond of knitting scarves, I cast around for some manly stitch pattern that could be worked quickly on fairly large needles, but would still be warm and cozy. I cast on last Friday evening, and the timing could not have been better. Autumn has arrived with a vengence, and it’s cold! I’m wearing wool socks every day now, and wrapping up warm. I didn’t want #1 Son to have a cold neck. Although he does have other scarves I’ve knit for him.

So I cast on. And I knit a bit on the weekend, but I was pretty busy. I knit during teleconferences on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. But it wasn’t growing all that quickly. It was the only project that I brought to Wednesday Night Sip ‘n’ Stitch so I had to work on it. And I knit and knit. And I went home and planned to finish it up so all I had to do was the fringe. And I settled down for a little late-night knitting. And promptly fell asleep in front of the TV. I woke up at 3:00 AM, and knew that no more knitting was going to happen that night.

Thursday dawned clear and cold and I was still scarf-less. I knit through teleconferences and while reading email and during conversations and while reviewing presentations. I stopped only to eat a quick lunch and when I had to type or otherwise use my hands – making sure, of course, that work did take priority and was not impacted by several feet of scarf a few stitches here and there.

After lunch, #1 Son and I had the following phone conversation:

Judy: Can you come at 5:00?

#1 Son: No. I have to be at work at 4:30. I could come at 2:00.

Judy: No. You can’t come at 2:00. How about 3:15? Can you come at 3:15?

#1 Son: Uh… OK. Whatever. I can come at 3:15.

Judy: That would be great. But don’t come before then. And don’t come after because I have a meeting at 3:30.

#1 Son: OK. I’ll see you at 3:15.

It should be noted here that #1 Son is used to my peculiar ways, and thus the relative lack of comment on the apparent state of my mental health.

At 3:05 PM I finished applying the fringe and gave it a final trim. Loopy helped model it for me, as trying to catch #1 Son long enough for a photo op is nearly impossible.

At 3:15 PM, the scarf was delivered to #1 Son, who said, Cool! It’s perfect. Or words to that effect.

The Particulars:

• Yarn: Mystery sock yarn from Germany, brought home in #1 Son’s guitar case. I used all of one ball, which I’m guessing had about 450 yards on it.
• Needles: Addi Lace 24″ circ, US#6 (4.0mm)
• Techniques: Brioche stitch. What seemed like miles of it.
• Finished size: 7″ x 50″, unblocked and not including fringe. #1 Son likes shorter scarves, so this worked out about right. There was no time to block it, but it didn’t really need blocking anyway.

mystery yarn from Germany

Look! I have actual yarn content!

Of course, it’s a mystery as to what it really is, because this is the yarn that #1 Son brought back from Germany in his guitar case sans ball bands. And let me just repeat, gentle reader, how proud I am of him for going into a yarn shop – not his native habitat at all – and making himself understood and finding sock yarn. A very nice present for his mom, eh? I think he did really good.

The consensus from those who have seen it up close and personal is that it’s probably Trekking. Unless, of course, it isn’t. As I look at this picture now, I can see that the ball in the upper right corner is slightly larger than the other balls. I don’t know if that means it’s a different brand or just a different type? The yarn itself appears to be almost identical. It’s all wool, with maybe some nylon woven in. I wouldn’t call it exactly soft and squishy – not like, say, Dream In Color or Koigu. But it’s not unpleasant and I think it will be nice after washing.

I really like most of the colors – they’re growing on me, I will admit. #1 Son wants the upper right corner ball for a scarf. But the more I look at it… He may get the one in the middle instead. We shall see.

So, what do y’all think this might be? Any guesses? (beyond the obvious sock yarn that is)

new toy

Yes, I have a new toy. I’m not going to talk about it much – just show you a picture. I only have one of them, but thanks to the magic of Photoshop, I am able to show you both sides at the same time. Love it. What I really love is going to meetings with a bunch of geek types. For quite awhile, now, I’ve been forced to watch them casually set their iPhones down on the conference table, carefully arranged to be in sight of everyone there. I kept my poor little PEBL in my pocket, so it wouldn’t feel inferior. The last week I’ve been casually setting my lovely, obviously gen 2 because it’s white, iPhone down on the table, carefully in sight of those with their gen 1 iPhones. It was noticed. I’m a geek grrl. I admit it.

And why did I make this little purchase? #1 Son’s birthday was a week ago last Friday, coincidentally the same day as the world wide launch of the iPhone 3G. I decided that I deserved a present for his birthday, what with all of his travels and the gray hairs I’ve gained (nicely covered up by Carla The Wonderstylist) and such. Don’t you agree?

At any rate, speaking of #1 Son, when last we spoke he had missed his plane from Germany on Wednesday, but we were hoping that he would be able to get on the plane the next day.

There was no 3:30 AM, I missed my flight, wake-up call on Thursday. So that gave me hope that at least he was actually on the plane. I had asked him to call me from Philadelphia, but no call came. When I checked online, however, I noted that there was probably just about enough time between his flights for him to get through customs/immigration and make it to the connection. Assuming that I would hear only if something went wrong, I hied myself to the airport at the appointed time. I had looked online to see what gate the airplane would be coming in at, and parked on that side of the airport. I remember his return from Brazil and the crazy heavy stuff he had to carry.

And then I went to the waiting area by the security for that concourse and I waited. And waited. And waited. I could see via my new toy that his plane had arrived. A stream of people came up the concourse, met their loved ones and headed off. And no #1 Son. I was beginning to feel a bit of panic, when I finally spotted him. I breathed a sigh of relief and gave him a big hug. Can’t begin to tell you how glad I was to have him in Portland!

We walked to the baggage area, hauling his carry-on bags. He had a small duffel, a tote bag full of records (remember how heavy those are?), and his guitar case. We marched to the side of the airport where his plane had arrived – the side of the airport where I had parked. An announcement came that baggage from his flight would be coming on a belt on the exact opposite side of the airport.

OK, I thought, it’s going to be that kind of evening.

We hauled his carry-on bags across the airport to the designated baggage carousel. And waited, and waited, and waited. And his bags did not come. What are we looking for? I asked.

#1 Son: A black, sort of Euro-style backpack and a cymbal case that I brought back for Drummer Boy. All of my clothes are in the backpack. And, uh, my wallet is sort of in the backpack, too, with all my ID and my driver’s license and money and stuff.

Mom: You should always carry your ID on you, not check it!

#1 Son: I’m traveling on a passport. I don’t really need my driver’s license.

Mom: You will need it to drive home from my house.

#1 Son: … that’s true.

We waited. Passengers picked up their luggage. The number of unclaimed bags became smaller and smaller. No new bags came out of the bowels of the airport. Eventually the belt stopped.

Well, I said. The good news is that, since we had to come over to this side of the airport, we’re right next to the lost baggage claim area! You go talk to them and I’ll sit here with your stuff.

Off he went, and I waited. After a bit, a goodly bit, he returned. The airlines didn’t have a clue where his bag was. But there was a second flight coming in at midnight, and his bags might be on that.

After some discussion, we decided to stay and wait, in the hope that the bags actually would be on the second flight, and thus he would have a few rather necessary things like clothing, a tooth brush, and his wallet. But there was no reason to schlep his heavy stuff all over the airport. Instead, we schlepped it to the parking structure across the airport, where I had thoughtfully parked, as you will remember gentle reader, to be close to his arrival. At the car, we had this conversation:

Mom: Did you managed to make it to a yarn shop?

#1 Son: I did! I had to go to two of them, because the first one was closed. But the second one had tons of yarn. The lady in there was really nice, but she was the only person I met in all of Germany who spoke absolutely no English. I had a hard time communicating what I wanted, but finally I pulled up my pant leg and pointed at my socks and said “socks” a couple of times. She pointed at some shelves in the back and I picked up a bunch of yarn and bought it for you. I’m pretty sure it’s sock yarn.

Mom: I suppose it’s in your backpack.

#1 Son: No! It’s in my guitar case! Made great padding.

He popped open his guitar case, and, sure enough, there were 5 balls of yarn. I picked up a ball. There was no ball band, but it looked sort of like maybe Trekking or Opal — that kind of ball and some sort of self-striping colorway.

Mom: This looks… OK. Where’s the ball band?

#1 Son: The what?

Mom: The ball band. You know. The label that goes around the ball of yarn to tell you the fiber content and the manufacturer and the color and all that stuff.

#1 Son: I don’t know. I don’t think there were any. Is it OK? I didn’t get any that was pink.

Mom: Yes, sweetie. I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you for avoiding the pink.

#1 Son: You’re going to blog this, aren’t you.

Mom: Yes, I am. I’m going to brag about how wonderful my son is, who brings me sock yarn all the way from Germany. And who managed to be understood in a yarn store outside his native country. And how wonderful is that?

#1 Son: Is the yarn OK?

Mom: Sweetie, it’s not quite what I expected. But it’s yarn, and it looks pretty, and it will be made into socks. I am so happy that you did this. Thank you very much! Now, let’s move the car over to the side of the airport where your bags will come (if they come) and get you something to eat.

#1 Son: I’m not really hungry, but OK.

He kept protesting that he wasn’t very hungry as he devoured a huge veggie sandwich, a carton of yogurt and a pint of orange juice. We had a nice chat as we waited for midnight and flight #2 to arrive.

#1 Son: Can you look on your phone thingy and see if they’ve found my bags yet? Here’s the claim number. Look how they described the cymbal case as a hatbox. I kept telling her that it wasn’t a hatbox, or even really the shape of a hatbox, and it would be better to use the other category and describe it. But she insisted on using hatbox. And not a clue where the bags were at all.

Mom: Hopefully they’re not looking for a hatbox, because according to the claim lookup online, they are still attempting to locate your bags and that will make them harder to find.

#1 Son: I can’t figure out why they don’t know where they are. Shouldn’t they scan them when they load them on a flight, or something?

Mom: I don’t know. If I’d designed the system they would. And most times when my bags didn’t arrive on the same flight as I did, they’ve been able to tell me what flight they were on. So I don’t know what’s going on with this airline. I’ve never flown it before.

#1 Son: I’m never flying them again.

Mom: OK

At the appointed time, we stood next to the baggage carousel of doom. And waited. And waited. And passengers picked up their bags and left with smiling faces. And we waited. We were both sure that we were waiting in vain. All of a sudden, I spotted something…

Mom: Is that your backpack?

#1 Son: OMG! It is! [grabbing it off the belt]

Mom: Look! Look! There’s the hatbox… er, cymbal case.

#1 Son: Very funny. [grabbing it off the belt]

Mom: Is there anything else?

#1 Son: That’s all!

Mom: Yea!

He dug around in his backpack for his wallet, and pulled out another skein of yarn.

Back we went to the car – now closer than last time. Mom, I’m really tired. I can’t begin to tell you how tired I am. Please just drop me off at your house, and I’ll come over tomorrow and pick up my car. OK?

So that’s what we did. And when he walked in his door, all of his friends and roommates – who had been waiting for his return – sent up a shout of joy that was probably heard all the way to Salem, and scared him half to death. And, what with all of the excitement, I left the yarn in his guitar case. And that’s why I have no pictures of it to show you. But he has promised to get it to me on Monday, and then, gentle reader, you can maybe help me figure out what it is.

P.S. On Friday he came over with his roommate E to pick up his car. When he opened its door, he said, Ah. You knit me a steering wheel cover. How cool is that!

Mom: Notice anything else different?

E: It’s clean! It’s really, really clean!

Mom: Yes, it is. It’s also full of gas and has brand new registration tags.

#1 Son: It does? Mom, you’re the best mother ever!

We’ll see how long that lasts, eh?

At 3:30 AM Pacific Time, my phone rang. At first, in my confused and asleep state, I thought it was my daily wake-up call (have I mentioned how much I love my landline voice mail?). But voice mail doesn’t answer back when I say hello. (Please note while you read this that it was around 12:30 PM in Germany.)

Mom: Hello ? ? ?

#1 Son: Oh! Hello! Hello there!

Mom: Hi ? ! ? ! ?

#1 Son: Uh… I sort of missed my flight. But they say I can get on the one tomorrow and it shouldn’t be a problem. Except that the flight tomorrow is sort of booked full. But the airlines can offer people a couple of hundred bucks to give up their seat to me and that should work OK. Except I sort of have to give them the couple of hundred bucks so they can do that. You know.

Mom: Where are you?

#1 Son: I’m at the airport. I’m talking to the airline guy at the counter right now.

Mom: And you missed your flight? Why did you miss your flight? [note – I’m not really swift when woken from a sound sleep. It’s a failing, I know.]

#1 Son: Uh… well… it should have been OK. We left a couple of hours early. But we couldn’t find a parking place. And then nobody knew where the right terminal was. And we couldn’t find the ticket counter.

Mom: But you can get on the flight tomorrow? I’m still trying to catch up here.

#1 Son: Yeah. Well. The flight tomorrow is 100% full so I’m sort of like standby but not really. I guess they’re sort of overbooking me on. They just need to offer a couple of hundred bucks for someone to give up their seat is all. Sorry. I know it’s really late there.

Mom: What happens if they offer money and nobody gives up their seat?

#1 Son [after conversation with guy at ticket counter]: He says that’s never happened. And once I get to Philadelphia it’s OK. They can book me from there to Portland. It’s just from Munich to Philadelphia that’s full. But, you know, people don’t show up and stuff. It should be OK

Mom: OK. So you need money to offer to people?

#1 Son: Well… yeah…

Mom: OK.

#1 Son: Thanks!

Mom: There’d better be yarn coming home from Germany for me.

#1 Son: Well… The good news is that now I have time to buy some!