Seasilk Lattice Moebius

I am back, gentle reader, and what a journey I have had. I now have a working computer — and boy howdy is it fast compared to the old one. There were a few parts that just aren’t going to work, it appears. XP will not recognize my internal Zip drive, although the bios insists it’s there. It’s very old, however, and may have come to the end of its useful life. Or may have been harmed when the floppy bit the dust. Poor thing. Let us shed a tear. 😥 The floppy drive was fried — quite literally. There’s an amazing amount of smoke that comes pouring out when a floppy drive melts.

Note to self: This is not something that should be repeated with any frequency. In fact, never would be good.

I pretty much have software back in working order, etc. I managed to recover my mail, so nothing was lost there. Whew. Thank you to all of you who commiserated with me. I was tempted a few times to call Bobby’s hunky techie contact. But then I would have to explain what had happened. I’ve had enough embarrassment over this one, I think.

It’s all running again not a moment too soon, because in just a few short hours, I will be heading north for a Floating Knitting Retreat with Cat Bordhi, Lucy Neatby, and other wonderful knitters. Riding around on the ferries through the San Juans and knitting — what’s not to like? I think it’s going to be a blast! I will report back next week.

The first picture is what up to now has been called secret project. It can now be revealed as a lattice-stitch moebius in Sea Silk. (Note that this one is actually the right size!) This was a birthday present for my friend LT, who likes to wear pink. Although she tells me that she is branching out and trying other colors, so I will have to expand my LT palette.

ladybug, ladybug

This is a close up showing how the little ladybug stitch marker from J L Yarnworks’ Etsy shop. Isn’t that just the cutest little thing? I had a ton of fun watching it fly around the moebius while I knit, and every time it came to the front, I just had to smile.

I have not had much other knitting time. The Coriolis socks progress slowly up the ankles. I like the beads. Next time I’ll show you a pic or two.

The Particulars:

• Yarn: Sea Silk (70% silk, 30% Sea Cell / 100g, 400m per skein) in colorway Rose Garden — Parts of two skeins with a goodly bit left over.
• Needle: 47″ Knit Picks Options circular, US#6.
• Pattern: Made up as I went along, with much inspiration from A Treasury Of Magical Knitting by Cat Bordhi
• Modification to pattern:
  • Not really a lot. I used a lattice-stitch pattern.
  • Cat suggests the I-cord bind-off, which I used.
  • I trusted Cat as to how many stitches I should cast on. 😀

I like to think of this as the longest, scariest bridge in the whole wide world.

This is the Astoria-Megler bridge. It carries Hwy 101 a little over 4 miles across the mouth of the Columbia River from Astoria, Oregon to Washington. Above is the main span which is 1,232 feet long and is the longest continuous three-span through-truss in the world. Or that’s what the guide-book says. I have no idea what that means. I just know it’s tall and long and scary.

On the Oregon side, the approach to the bridge is a 360-degree twist that rises from just above the river to the level of the main span some 200 feet above. At the end of the main span, the bridge drops to near river level again for most of the length. Click on the pic to see the biggie version. If you follow the bridge in the picture over towards the vanishing point at the Washington side, you will see a second smaller and lower span at that end. From the Washington side, Hwy 101 flows on just above the river and it doesn’t seem nearly as scary from that side. Until you get out in the middle of the river and see the main span rising ahead.

I drove the Astoria-Megler Bridge twice this weekend. My friend’s beach house is in Longbeach on the Washington side. Going through Astoria is my favorite way to get there. Other than the bridge, that is. The bridge is scary.

I had a wonderful time knitting. The house is about 3 blocks from the beach, on a quiet back street. There’s nothing behind it but dunes and scrub pines and a couple of buildings — one of which, I later found out, is a kite museum.

I arrived about 7:00 PM on Friday, and set right in to knitting. I knit until midnight. I woke up at 6:30 AM Saturday, made a pot of coffee, and decided I wanted a brisk walk to the beach while the coffee brewed. I set off along the path behind the house, and within the first block was swarmed by a hoard of mosquitoes, each intent on sucking me dry. I decided that discretion was the better part of valour and beat a hasty retreat back to the house. Coffee mug in hand, I went back to knitting. Other than a couple of short breaks for meals, I knit until nearly midnight.

In all that time, I knit on only one project: The dreaded green sweater that grows only in tiny, tiny increment. I mean… really. I’m a fairly speedy knitting. Not the fastest in the world, or anything, but not the slowest. I’m getting 4 rows to the inch on the darn thing. I swear it grows less than 1/32 of an inch each row. I swear.

I took other unfinished projects with me, but I never touched any of them. I knit only on the green sweater. I got most of the way to the shoulders. Not all the way — most of the way. In about 20 hours of knitting, more or less. (OK. there were a couple of meals in there, and maybe a nap.)

I woke up at 5:30 AM Sunday morning, made coffee, watched the Trojan cooling tower implosion on TV and read a book. I couldn’t face the green sweater again. I think I needed a knitting break, strange as it may seem.

I spent the morning picking up the house, doing a little laundry, finishing a Reader’s Digest Condensed Book I found, and just goofing around. I left about 11:00 and drove to the beach, thus thwarting the swarms of vampiric mosquitoes.

This picnic table and its surrounding platform was down on the beach with no explanation. Is it meant to be there? Did it, as it appears, float in on the high tide during a winter storm? It’s turned the wrong way for the short walls to offer any shelter from the prevailing wind (off the water). And I think it would be tough to keep a picnic on the table without it rolling off.

Anybody who knows anything about this, please comment because I really would love to know more about it. In lieu of real information, it’s fun to speculate. Perhaps we could raft it over to the Lost survivors, eh?

After leaving Longbeach, I drove down 101 and on to the bridge. I was at the tail end of a long line of slow-moving traffic. Three large SUVs came up behind me like bats out of hell, and then passed me on the bridge and cut back in in front of me. I have no idea why. It was a majorly stupid thing to do. Nobody was going any faster than the person at the head of the long line of traffic, and that was about 30 cars in front of me. Perhaps they just couldn’t stand to be last. But it was stupid.

They were very big SUVs. Very big. Driven by men. And my theory has always been that the size of the SUV is inversely proportionate to the size of the other equipment the driver might be packing. (yeah… inversely. That means… the bigger the truck, the smaller the dick.) They would have been real hot shots if they’d lost control and driven off the bridge, eh? I dropped back and gave them plenty of room.

Along Hwy 30, I passed Trojan before I realized it. It’s so strange not to see the cooling tower rising above the river. I’m glad to have it gone. But it’s strange.

Since arriving home, I knit 1/2 a row on the Tipsy Knitter socks and then just put the knitting away. My fingers hurt and I’m really tired. Sleep sounds better than knitting right now.

Guess where I am today? Newport! A little drizzly and gray, but a fun time was had by all.

Part 6: MGM Grand (redux)

Tuesday got off to a late start, but I did manage to squeeze a little gambling and a cup of coffee in before noon. When #1 Son got up, he looked out the window and said, It’s really raining hard, Mom. You’re going to get wet going down to MGM Grand.

I dithered about whether to do the focus group or not. But… $50 is $50 and I’m not so wealthy that it isn’t a meaningful sum of cash. I was due down there at 2:15, so I started out about 1:00. I decided to be “smart” and take the monorail so I wouldn’t have to walk so far. I knew the closest monorail stop was a Bally’s. For some reason I thought that I had to walk up to the corner and take the people-mover conveyor belt thingy into the casino. By the time I walked up the street, I was soaked. And, once in the casino, I realized that I could have walked through Paris and gotten there virtually dry.

And my foot really hurt, now. I could tell it was starting to blister on the bottom.

Since it was raining there were quite a few people waiting for the monorail, but I managed to get on to the second train that came. At MGM Grand, I hobbled down to Television City for the focus group. We were asked to watch snips from several shows that were simulcast on both HD-TV and regular TV and notice the differences. Then we were led to a room where we were asked lots of questions about how much we would be willing to pay for on-demand TV shows (zero, in my case), if we would pay $7 to see a movie 0n-demand with no commercials and available for 24 hours (no, since I currently pay around $3), if we would rather have $1500 cash or $2500 in electronic equipment (probably cash), and what equipment were we planning on buying in the next year (none). There was some debate about whether my computer counted like a Tivo, since I do have cable running to it and can record TV shows for later viewing.

After receiving my hard-earned (hardly earned?) $50, I hobbled out to the monorail station. The line for the monorail was now all the way out to the casino. I waited for a long, long, time. I would have risked the rain and walked, but by now my foot was killing me and the blister on the bottom felt like it was the size of Mt. Hood. So I waited. Back at Bally’s, I turned left and walked through Paris. I only got a little wet between Paris and the Aladdin. I bought some band-aids and hobbled upstairs to tape my foot up. I told #1 Son that I had to have some different shoes, so we needed to go shopping. I was also pretty hungry, as I hadn’t eaten. The litter in the room announced that #1 Son had gone for take-out sushi, but there wasn’t even a crumb left.

Part 7: The Aladdin (redux)

While in the room, I called Aladdin engineering and told them that I was having problems with the mouse, that I’d called Sprint, and that nobody had ever come by or called. The guy I talked to said that he’d call me back right away. I never heard from him.

The Desert Passage mall at The Aladdin has 104 shops. It’s not quite as upscale as The Forum at Caesar’s or the mall at Paris, but there are a lot of cool shops to look in. There was, of course, a shoe store. And they had shoes in European sizing, which fit me much better than American sizes. I bought two pairs — a pair of red casual shoes and a pair of black dress shoes — and wore the red ones out of the store. My foot started to feel better immediately, as did my spirit. There’s nothing like a new pair of shoes. Mama used to say that when you’re down you should go buy a new hat to lift your spirit. I look sucky in hats, so I buy shoes. 😀

We also stopped in a souvenir shop to buy umbrellas and gifts for some of #1 Son ‘s friends. He picked up a t-shirt and two souvenir lighters. We also ate passable but totally uninspired enchiladas at a Mexican restaurant that also boasted (go figure) bad coffee.

It was still raining. It rained hard enough to overflow the Bellagio fountain.

After shopping we hung around the room (mom with foot propped up) until it was time to hobble down to The Flamingo for:

Part 8: George Wallace at The Flamingo

Finally a good show! Both George Wallace and the comedian who did the warm up were hysterically funny. We were sitting right by the stage, so #1 Son got teased about his hair. 😉 I thought of it as turnabout’s fair play since last year I was teased soundly by the magician at V.

On the way back to The Aladdin, it was still raining like crazy. But, we were dry under our umbrellas. We turned in right after the show because we had to get up early for:

Part 9: Hummer Gold Rish Adventure Tour

Last year we took a Hummer tour to the Grand Canyon and it was lots of fun. So this year I booked the Hummer Gold Rush Adventure Tour, that takes you out to a gold mine and a ghost town. We had to be out at the pick-up point at 8:00 AM in order to catch the Hummer for the tour. The Hummer showed up about 8:20, and the driver said that the tour had to be cancelled.

Water and deserts don’t mix. The electricity at the mine and the ghost town was out and the roads were closed because of flash floods.

We were offered $10 off on the Valley Of Fire tour, but since I happen to know that tour is quite a bit less than $10 off of the gold mine tour price, I declined. Instead we trooped back in to the concierge desk to get a refund and find out if any other tours were still open. Well, said the nice lady at the concierge desk. I could probably book you on:

Part 10: Annie Bananie’s Wild West Vally Of Fire & Lake Mead tour

OK. It’s a hokey name meant to grap the attention of Japanese tourists. But, hey… what the heck. It was either Annie Bananie or boredom.

While the concierge lady got our tour booked, I took the opportunity to discuss with the manager the situation with our mouse. She not only promised to have it fixed by the time we got back, but also comped our internet usage. 🙂

For the tour, we were picked up by “Sierra Sam” in a 12-seat mini-van. Sam was a Texan who’d been doing the tour for many years, and he was a hoot. He had a story about everything, including the Las Vegas sign. I don’t know how many stories were tall tales, but he was entertaining. Along the way to Lake Meade he told us about the rock formations, the history of Las Vegas and pointed out the homes of famous people. Our first stop was at an area of rock formations where we got out and took pictures. We were up high enough to get some great views of the valley.

From there we travelled to Lake Meade. I was surprised to see that in many place there was dirt and gravel on the pavement where the water from flash floods had gone over the road. Many of the normally-dry gullies now contained fast-running streams. Sam said he couldn’t recall seeing it quite like that ever before.

At Lake Meade we ate lunch at a little restaurant. Food was good. Coffee was bad. It was too windy and cold to walk around much. But we did look out over the lake for a bit before retreating to the van.

Our next stop was Roger’s Spring. We looked at it from the van but didn’t get out because Sam had heard some of the roads ahead were bad and more bad weather was coming. He wanted to make sure we saw the Valley of Fire before the bad weather hit again.

We stopped at several spots in The Valley Of Fire, including the Visitor’s Center.

One stop was at some stone cabins built in the ’30’s by the Civilian Conservation Corps There are petroglyphs on the rocks behind the cabins. This picture was taken looking out of the window of the middle cabin. (click on the pic to embiggen)

As you can see, there was a great view, but the accomodations left something to be desired. The room is about 10′ x 10′, with a small fireplace and chimney in the corner opposite the door. The floor is dirt. There is no door or window. I doubt that anyone leaves a chocolate on your pillow. But, if you climb down the rocks in front of the cabins, there’s a pool and the swimming looked good.

Our last stop was at an arch formation. While there, it started to rain, and then hail. I was glad we’d seen everything because it was obviously time to call it quits.

All-in-all, the tour was a lot of fun. Sam was an awesome guide and the sights were well worth seeing. I’d recommend the tour to anyone. I’d even take it again myself. (But next year I’d really like to do the ghost town and gold mine!)

Sam dropped us off at The Aladdin in the afternoon. I was sorry to learn from him that the Aladdin is closing and will reopen as Planet Hollywood. I would have stayed at the Aladdin again. But Planet Hollywood… uh… no.

Part 11: The Aladdin (finale)
We debated where to eat dinner, and finally decided on Tremezzo, an Italian place in The Aladdin. #1 Son ordered a cup of coffee. Might as well give it one more shot. he said.

His coffee came in a French press. It smelled divine. I’ll have one of those, too. I told the waiter. Finally! Decent coffee!

After dinner it was pretty much just a little TV and then bed. We had to get up at 4:30 AM [groan] in order to get to the airport by 6:00, to catch an 8:00 AM flight. I always allow extra time for the trip back, because we always, always get stuck somewhere (usually in security).

Part 12: Homeward Bound

And we did get stuck in security. Not me this time, but #1 Son. At least the TSA in Las Vegas asked my permission before searching him. That was refreshing.

They confiscated one of the lighters that #1 Son had bought (just one of the pair, even though they were the same). And not because he had too many lighters (which he did), but because that one was deemed to be a “torch lighter,” whatever the heck that is. They also confiscated the 2″ pair of scissors that was in the little sewing kit I bought in the Aladdin sundries shop so that #1 Son could sew a button on his coat. The little scissors that could barely cut thread were deemed too dangerous.

The TSA offered to let us mail the lighter and the scissors back to ourselves for (get this) $8.00 apiece. That’s nuts. I could drop the scissors in a letter with a regular stamp and mail it at postage rates. We declined.

#1 Son was sorry to lose the lighter. But he bought another one at the gift shop in the terminal while we were waiting for our plane to board.

The ride to PDX was uneventful. Getting the car out of the parking lot was expensive, since we had to park in the garage. The fur kids were glad to see us when we picked them up. Captain Kidd had finally started eating a little Gerber turkey, Phoebe was happy since the staff had learned she likes to be scratched, and Moo Cow was queen of the world once the staff moved her into what she consideres “her room” (she whined and moaned until they did). And we were all glad to be back home.

Pics will be up on Mommymonster when I get around to it, which may not be any time soon.

I usually don’t comment on sports, because I’m not much of a sports fan. The sporting events I like are ones that aren’t usually shown on national TV.

OK. That came out wrong…

The sporting events I like to watch are ones like curling and 3-day eventing (that’s equestrian) that have a limited viewership and are, therefore, usually not broadcast nationally. Of the “big three” American games — baseball, basketball and football — I prefer the first two because they are non-contact sports. Watching two lines of burly men attempt to inflict the maximum amount of damage on each other while moving a pigskin-covered, squashed-out-of-shape “ball” for 10 yards at a whack during “minutes” that last for hours just doesn’t turn me on.

After this weekend, it appears I’m down to baseball.

It’s true that I did not watch Friday’s Indiana/Detroit game. But I’ve watched the end of it several times. You can see it yourself here. The “interesting” part of the game started when Ron Artest fouled Ben Wallace hard from behind. Wallace then shoved Artest. This was followed by what is being called a “typical team fracas,” with the players of both teams shoving and throwing punches while officials tried to restore order. Artest stayed out of most of it, choosing instead to lie on the scorer’s table. (Is this usual behavior? Why didn’t he go to the now-empty bench if he wanted to lie down? Regular viewers will have to answer that question for me.) [ed. 11/22/04 2:50 pm My friends who are regular basketball watchers, when asked why Artest found it necessary to recline on the scorer’s table, replied, “To show how much of an asshole he is.” Uh… OK. I guess that’s why the cup-throwing fan was pissed.]

A fan tossed a cup (variously described as containing ice and/or beverage – it looked to me like beer) at Artest, hitting him in the chest. Artest responded by storming into the stands, leaping over the seats, cold-cocking fans as he went. The fans responded by throwing punches themselves. Other players joined the melee in the stands, some hitting fans and some trying to break the fight up. Security personnel and ushers managed to get the players back on the court. Some of the fans followed them down. A man shouted at Artest, and Artest slugged him. When the man got back up, former Blazer Jermaine O’Neal knocked him down again. Another former Blazer bad-boy, Detroit player Rasheed Wallace, actually tried to break up the fights.

Both teams finally left the court, under a hail of beverages, popcorn, cups, clothing and even a chair. Players were injured. Fans were injured. Children were in tears. The game was called. Oh, yeah… it was real exciting! NOT

What has amazed me is where many of the sports reporters I have heard and read since place the blame. Ben Wallace is blamed for starting the first go-round. He “overreacted” to what is described as “not an excessive” foul. Artest cannot be held accountable for his actions. He never would have come unglued if that fan hadn’t thrown a cup at him. So the fans are to blame for the whole business.

What unmitigated bullshit.

In a non-contact sport, any deliberate foul is excessive. I saw Artest foul Wallace. It wasn’t a tap on the shoulder. Should Artest have fouled Wallace? No. That’s not OK in basketball. Should Wallace have reacted? No. He should have left it up to the officials. Should the player have left their benches to shove each other around the court? No. They should have allowed the game to continue. Should Artest have laid down on the scorer’s table? I’m saying no. That seems weird to me. Should the fan have thrown a cup at Artest? No. What ever happened to common courtesy? Fans should not be out of control any more than players should. Should Artest have left the court and jumped into the stands to whack a fan or two? No. Jumping into the stand is a no-no. Whacking fans is battery and is against the law. Should fans have thrown popcorn and beer on the retreating players? No. It’s a waste of possibly good popcorn and probably bad beer (I’m a microbrew fan), and see the above note regarding common courtesy.

The NBA Commissioner has suspended Artest for the rest of the season. Stephen Jackson has been suspended for 30 games and Jermaine O’Neal for 25. Ben Wallace drew a 6-game suspension and Anthony Jackson got 5 games. Reggie Miller, Chauncey Billups, Elden Campbell and Derrick Coleman will be out one game apiece. All suspensions are without pay.

The players union claims that the penalties are “unduly harsh” and has vowed to appeal (and will probably get reduced suspensions for most players). O’Neal’s agent claims that the league singled him out for punishment without taking into consideration the fear he was feeling for his own safety. (Yeah… right…) Artest has released a contrite little statement that also questions the length of his suspension. (Guess he’ll have time now for his rap music, though.)

Mama always told me that two wrongs don’t make a right, but might make you left. And if that applies to two, then surly a dozen wrongs don’t add up to OK. Mama also told me that you have to take responsibility for your actions and be prepared to suffer the consequences if you choose to act badly. Considering their suspensions will cost Artest about $5 million and O’Neal some $3.7 million, this is a fairly expensive lesson. Judging from the reaction, it is one that neither the players nor the league seem inclined to learn.

Do I think the penalties are unduly harsh? No way. I think all of them, players and fans alike, should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. I think that any player who threw a punch, either at a fan or at another player, should be fired. Season ticket holders who threw objects of any kind at the players should lose their season tickets forever. But I also think that trying to place “blame” on any one group is both moot and an exercise in futility. The root causes are much more complex than that.

I think it’s time to clean house and make basketball safe family entertainment again.

Where does Denmark get off in claiming the North Pole?

COPENHAGEN (Reuters) – Denmark aims to claim the North Pole and hunt for oil in high Arctic regions that may become more accessible because of global warming, the Science Ministry said Monday.

It said Denmark would send an expedition to try to prove the seabed beneath the Pole was a natural continuation of Greenland, the world’s biggest island and a Danish territory whose northern tip is just 450 miles from the Pole.

Denmark expects that this will give it access to new resources of oil and natural gas outweighing the $25 million that they have earmarked for the search.

I didn’t think that anybody could own the North Pole. Apparently Denmark’s claim rests on a U.N. convention allowing coastal nations to claim rights to offshore seabed resources. Countries that ratify it have 10 years to prove they have a fair claim to the offshore territory and its resources.

But they have to prove that it’s a valid claim, first. Other claimants include Russia, Canada, Norway, and of course the USA. Samantha Smith, director of the WWF environmental group’s Arctic Program, suggests that it would be a good idea for nations around the Arctic to sign a treaty to regulate access to oil, fisheries and possible new shipping lanes through the Arctic as the ice retreats because of global warming.

All of this begs the questions: Doesn’t Santa Claus have a prior claim to the North Pole? Where will Santa go if Denmark builds a drilling platform on top of his workshop? Will toy production and shipping be disrupted? There might be a pretty sad Christmas if Denmarks claim is upheld as valid. 🙄