Seven Years...and Still Itch Free!

This weekend marked Max's and my seventh wedding anniversary. Seven years simultaneously feels like the blink of an eye, and a lifetime. I was just looking through the photos, noticing that several of the loved ones pictured there have died, several of the couples are no longer together, all the children have grown up, and a few new ones have been born. Max and I have certainly been through a few changes, and yet here we are, still genuinely happy to be in each other's company every single day.

What's funny, though, is that even though I am married, I often find myself wishing the institution of marriage didn't exist at all. It just seems crazy that heterosexuals who choose to couple up can pick the "default" setting, when queer folks have to jump through hoops to get health care or parental rights or survivor's benefits, if they can get them at all. Certainly, in the short term, gay and lesbian couples should be legally allowed to marry, but ultimately, why can't the government just butt the hell out? Why can't we all have decent health care? Why shouldn't we all have to put in writing who gets to make our end-of-life decisions?

It doesn't mean people couldn't celebrate their own private unions. Certainly, there's something really wonderful about standing up in front of all the people you care about and declaring your commitment to another person. But maybe, in the absence of the legal privileges that come with marriage, we would begin to strip away the cultural ones, too. It's so safe and easy to refer to Max as my husband. I can fall back on it when the plumber comes and I'm the only one home. I can use it to feel chummy with other women in the checkout line. I can use it to make creepy men leave me alone. It immediately identifies me to others as a known quantity, non-threatening, normal. If I were a lesbian I'd be forced to skirt the issue, out myself, or lie.

I've tried in some ways, and with varying levels of success, to get myself out of this comfort zone. It's a really difficult zone to leave, especially when the air we breathe is saturated with heterosexism, but I'm going to continue to work on it, think about it, and make some small changes. We'll see where I'm at in another seven years.

Craftspeople and Customer Service

Do I expect too much from a yarn store proprietress? Is it too much to ask for a pleasant, straight answer to a simple question?

My last two visits to my local yarn store have yielded less-than-positive results in the aforementioned litmus test. Her modus operandi seems to be "if you inquire about it and it is not in my store, that is because it is a very bad thing, and I will insult it." I can sort of see where she was coming from with the hemp yarn I asked about last week. I wanted something a little rough to make a loofah-type washcloth. Obviously, she wants it known that she carries only nice, soft yarn, so she laughed away my request and told me to go to the hardware store and buy some jute. Ha ha, yes, okay.

Next question: Any non-wool sock yarn? Answer: ALL sock yarn has wool. I know that there's a cotton/nylon one out there somewhere, but I can't remember the name (I now know it's Fortissima Cotton Colori). Nope. All wool. But what about the Cascade Fixation? It's a very popular yarn. It's a nice, stretchy cotton that can perform a multitude of tasks, including socks. I asked if she'd be getting any more in (since there were only a couple of bland balls lying around). That request met with eye-rolling. It can be special ordered, but obviously not happily.

Intrepid yarn shopper that I am, I tried again yesterday, this time seeking double pointed needles. No Crystal Palace, but she had Plymouth. I like my Plymouth interchangeable circulars a whole lot, but had been wondering if they made any longer cables. And since she carries the brand, it might demonstrate that I am a Serious Knitter with Good Taste in needles who doesn't just want scratchy hemp yarn if I ask about them. Before even getting the whole question out of my mouth, upon hearing the word "interchangeable," she told me how much trouble all interchangeable needle sets are. They come unscrewed. I told her I hadn't had any problems with mine. To be fair, she did look for the answer to my question, finding the answer to be "no."

Onward to my purchase - two sets of Plymouth dpns. I mentioned I was used to the Crystal Palace (Aha! Another brand popular with Serious Knitters!) She told me how much she disliked the Crystal Palace ones, especially the finish, and that her Crystal Palace needles had actually gotten sharper with use.

Now it's possible she's being a discriminating retailer and not carrying any merchandise she doesn't believe in, but at this rate, she won't have any inventory left! And quite honestly, she may not have much of a customer base left, either. At least now I no longer care if she thinks I am a Serious Knitter or not.

After the yarn store, I stopped into the local quilt shop to ask about classes and received an equally brusque reply.

It's not that any of this stuff ruins my day, and I'm not the sort of person who boycotts a store over a little rudeness (although there are exceptions - one being restaurants that serve me meat and are not sufficiently apologetic). Sometimes, as in the case of my LYS in New York, it just takes a while for these yarn store folk to get comfortable with new customers. I guess I'm just surprised because in general people have been so very nice here, and I also expect knitters and other crafters to be really nice. I think I also really want to love the yarn store because it's so close to my house, and I want to support local businesses.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I think a lot of knitters open yarn stores because they love yarn, not people. There are times when I daydream of having my own little yarn store, with nothing but eco and animal friendly yarns, but the truth is, I'd hate it. I can be very good at customer service when called upon, but it seems to suck out my very soul. It wouldn't be long before I was spouting off hateful rhetoric at the next person who came in looking for some mega-corporation's brand of wool cut from slaughter-bound, mulesed sheep soaked in chemical dyes. I would be like Jack Black in High Fidelity. "Do we look like the kind of store that sells I Just Called to Say I Love You? Go to the mall."

The good news is there's another yarn store in the next town. Their yarn selection is interesting if not entirely up my alley, but they carry lots of needles and notions. The jury is still out on the staff. I'm hoping they're more the sort who are interested in helping people. I also discovered another yarn store a few miles down the road, but I was there on the one day of the week that they're closed. And when in doubt, of course, there's always the internet!

But no more yarn shopping today. I'm off to join ranks with the Soccer Moms. I'm helping out a colleague of Max's who can't drive right now for medical reasons, by taking their daughter to soccer practice. One interesting thing I learned at last week's practice: Soccer Moms always carry wet wipes. It's kind of handy, that.

Rhinebeck, I Hardly Knew Ye

I'm feeling a little sad today thinking of all the gleeful knitters, spinners, and bloggers at Rhinebeck this weekend. I'm happy for them, of course, but sad for me.

The fairgrounds were a mere forty minutes from my old house in New York, and yet I never made it to the festival. Two years ago, when I first heard about it, I hadn't yet learned to knit, although I had my first lesson just a few weeks later. Last year my knitting addiction was in full swing and I was eager to go, but my mom had to go and get married that same weekend in another state. (Max was very kind and tried to find time for me to hit the fairgrounds on the way home, but it wouldn't have been enough time to do it justice.)
I really believed that this would be the year, but lo and behold, here I am 3000 miles away.

For me (and this may sound like sacrilege to some) it's not even the yarn that sounds so exciting. I was really looking forward to meeting a bunch of these virtual people I know in person.

Oh well. The mystery will be preserved. Perhaps that's a good thing.

In the meantime, I will console myself with a little Star Trek, which can be had for the price of a Netflix membership, instead of meeting all those fine knitters, which, while lovely, surely would cost more in yarn.

I've decided...I think

I have got to be the world's most indecisive person. Really. Going to the video store with me is a nightmare. And forget shopping, especially if there's something particular I need. Sometimes I bite the bullet and buy something quickly, but then I almost always have buyer's remorse. I have to shop alone or I drive people crazy.

Take, for example, the shawl I've been pondering for months for my mother-in-law's birthday. She's very particular, so I had some requirements:

1. The Yarn Must Not Itch. She has very sensitive skin and some allergies. She wears very little wool and then only as an outer layer.
2. The Yarn Must Not Snag. She has dry skin on her hands that snags easily on fibers. She's commented about it when fondling some of my knitting projects.
3. The Yarn Must Look Pretty. She loves blue. I wanted a pretty color, preferably something variegated or handpainted.
4. The Yarn Must Fit in with My Ethical Framework. I fondled some lovely silk yarns that would've fit the first three criteria, but I wouldn't buy them.


My original plan was to use linen, but I realized that linen sweaters I've had for years still retain a small itch factor, so I swapped away the Euroflax.
I looked at lots of different yarns, but couldn't find anything I really liked that would fit the bill.
Eventually I bagged the whole project, deciding that she might not even wear a shawl and I should make her something more practical, like socks. I began to search for sock yarns that would fit the criteria, but I just couldn't get excited about socks. I know that handknit socks are a lovely thing, but it just didn't say "60th Birthday" to me.

I had begun to come back around to the idea of a shawl when I went to the fiber fair a couple of weeks ago, but still couldn't find anything. Then I finally went to my local yarn store and bought some yarn on sale that I had looked at at least three times before.

So here I am, knitting away at a pretty basic Feather and Fan Triangle Shawl from Folk Shawls in Zitron Incanto. It's cotton, acrylic, linen, and rayon. It feels soft, it doesn't seem snaggy, and I think the color is pretty cool. It reminds me of the ocean.

My only problem now is that her birthday is in less than a month, and I have a couple of other projects I was hoping to get done at the same time. I'm trying to knit a little everyday, but the rows just keep getting longer and longer and longer and longer....wish me luck.

For tonight, though, no knitting is planned. We're going to see Gillian Welch!!

Swag

Ack! Normally when I read rants about Blogger messing with people, I think "what are they talking about!? Blogger always works for me!" But I just typed a huge post that disappeared into the ether. Drat.

So here's the Cliff's Notes version:

I went to a fiber fair and all I got was some lousy hand dyed hemp/cotton yarn, a niddy noddy, and a row counter.