wabisabi

so long and thanks for all the fish

Yes, I'm packing up and moving on.

I came to the conclusion about a year ago that wabi sabi had outlived its useful life, but I didn't really know what I should do about that.  And then when yet another fibre blog with "wabi sabi" in the title came along a few months ago, I knew it was really time to go.

I had the nugget of an idea back in June, and finally figured out where I should go with it.  I'm not really one hundred percent ready with it, but my horoscope suggested that January 8th would be an auspicious day to undertake new endeavors, and I figured it was as good a moment as any.  What I can't do now, I'll do later, and what I can do now?  I'll do.

For those of you who've been kind enough to read, to comment, to offer kind words and advice -- many thanks.  Often your words came at just the right moment, when I needed to hear from someone, or needed those words of wisdom or comfort or support.

2007 was a tough year for us in many ways, but it also was a time when I made new friends and acquaintances, acquired some new skills, and took the first steps towards a new path.  In 2008, I want to build on that, and finally figure out where I should be going in life.

If you've come here for the knitting content in the past, you'll now find it over on Purl Diving.  It made sense -- I designed Purl Diving about three years ago as a blog, and never made it public until I decided to use it for the podcast show page.  It just seems to make sense to put whatever writing I do about knitting there.  I can't say how much there will be, because one of the things I've decided is that sitting on the fringes of the knitting community isn't for me any longer.  I knit, but I've known for a long time that I'm not "A Knitter".  Knitting just doesn't define who I am; it isn't at the centre of my existence; it's just a nice way to pass the time, and there are many other things I like doing just as well or better, and I'm honestly tired of having how others see me boil down to, "Her?  She's the one who knits..."

Nope.  Not any more.  Oh, I won't stop knitting, and for the moment I won't stop writing about it, but I'm sure the day will come when I've nothing more to say, and will be perfectly happy knitting the odd thing here and there.  But honestly?  I have so many other things I want to do in life, and there is only so much time in a day.  I figure if I don't start now, I'll never get to them, and if I get to the end of my life and all that I'm known as is "knitter", well, frankly, I'll consider that a life wasted.

(You can see now why I sit on the fringe.  That's probably not a popular attitude to have.)

So.  There we are.  If you're curious to find out where I'm going in life,you can check me out over at my new home, 42.1.  To tell the truth?  I'm not sure myself what direction I'm headed in -- the best I can say about it is that I'll be fumbling towards...well...something. 

But fumbling, definitely fumbling.  Because some things never change, you know?

tom-ah-to, to-may-to

I understand in life that there are often two sides to every story, and that our own individual perceptions can colour how we experience something.  Something happens, and like the proverbial snowflakes, no two of us tell the story in the very same way.

Except when we have a glass baking pan (size 13 x 9 inches) made by a particular and prominent maker of glassware that explodes in the oven.

Oh, now wait.  I'm not supposed to say "explode", because the company in question, when confronted with a whole whack of folks who've experienced this same phenomenon with their 13 x 9 inch glass baking pans, well, that company has a spokesperson who, in a tone so patronizing that you can almost feel the pat on your tiny, misguided head, will tell you that the glassware doesn't "explode", it "disintegrates".

Now, one of the definitions of "disintegrate" is "to become reduced to components, fragments or particles", and I suppose, based on that, that the company spokesperson is not wrong, for my glass baking pan was, indeed, reduced to components, fragments and particles.  In fact, so reduced to components, fragments and particles that those same components, fragments and particles ended up all over the inside of the oven (including in the baking pan *above* the one that, er "disintegrated"), as well as all over my kitchen.

Of course, the helpful company spokesperson doesn't want those of us who experienced this phenomenon to use the word "explosion", because, of course, the pans couldn't possibly explode.  Nyet, nein, non, no.  Those pans could not, in the strict definition of things "shatter with a loud noise", or "burst violently and noisily."

Except, those of us who have experienced this phenomenon?  We've all heard a loud noise, and we've all ended up with glass everywhere, in every direction.  Some of us have been hurt by the flying -- ooops -- disintegrating glass.

I was fortunate, I think.  I honestly don't know how I didn't end up in the emergency room last night, as great shards of glass were strewn everywhere across the kitchen floor.  I was holding the pan in my left hand and stirring the roasting vegetables with my right when the thing exploded -- oops -- disintegrated.

The worst for me was a ruined dinner (which made me weep, as it was a lovely dinner of roasted autumn/root vegetables that I'd lovingly selected just that afternoon), some cuts in the fingertips of my left hand, a piece of glass in my right foot that The Other dug out with the tweezers, and the shakes for a couple of hours.  As we cleaned up the shards, I shook even more, because I couldn't believe how lucky I was that I didn't end up with one of those flying into my face and taking out an eye.

It took all evening and some time this morning to take the whole oven apart and get the glass and exploded -- oops -- disintegrated pan and ruined dinner out of it. 

The moral of this story?  If you are a company, and you send your spokesperson out to speak to your customers (some of whom *were* hurt by the exploding -- ooops -- disintegrating bakeware you make), and this person is condescending and patronizing and pats us on our heads and insists there is nothing wrong here, that we're just being a little sensitive, and uses doublespeak and obfuscation to deal with the situation, well...

You can expect that I will never buy a piece of your disintegration-prone bakeware ever again.  Nor will I buy any other product your company makes.  Never.  Ever.  Again.

And remember -- your customers?  Are your best marketing tool.  Treating your best marketing tool like naughty children?  Not your best move, you know?

snow days

Snow Valley

Each drifting snowflake
Falls nowhere but here and now
Under the settling flowers of ice
The water is flowing
Bright and clear
The cold stream splashes out
The Buddha’s words
Startling the stone tortoise
From its sleep

- Muso Soseki (1275-1351)

(And if you haven't had enough snow yet, you can go make your own snowflake to add to the drifts...)

(Personally, I've had enough snow.)

talk about yer viral marketing

Okay, so I know I'm still tired and draggy with cold today, but I'm not sure that even that explains why I found this terribly amusing this morning.

(Oh, and make sure your sound is turned on.  I watched it three times before I realized that there might be sound to accompany it.)

christmas pixies

Now, y'all know that I love me some nisser (Danish Christmas Pixies), and in the past, I've linked to Vivian Høxbro's pattern (scroll down the page when you get there to find them).

But I stumbled across a new-to-me pattern for the cutest little Korknisser (pixies made using wine bottle corks).  Not that I have a lot of wine bottle corks lying around, but I can imagine making some of these and hanging them on the tree.

Oh, and if you're wondering?  It's not Christmas yet.

supersize me

So, the city of Dresden is known for the creation of Stollen, the traditional (and very delicious, especially with marzipan) German Christmas cake.

They celebrate this fact in a big way -- by baking the world's biggest Stollen.  This year's Giant Stollen (not the biggest ever) weighs in at 3,320 kilos, and amongst its impressive ingredients list is 44 kilos of Jamaican Rum.

So, I know what you're wondering -- how does one slice the World's Biggest Stollen?

Why, with the World's Biggest Stollen knife, of course.

dear god, this is the silliest thing i've ever done

I'm almost embarrassed to admit how amusing I found this, but since I did promise a few Advent-y tidbits, I suppose I need to share the elfish goodness. 

(many thanks to Walt Jaschek of the Walt Now! blog for posting this -- he's right, life is worth laughing.  Mind you, I laughed so hard I started to wheeze and need to go get my puffer, but still, worth it, I think.)

i'm going to whine, so move along right now if you're not interested

I'm sick again.

Again.

I'm miserable and stuffed with cold and I'm wheezy and need a puffer.

AND.

My damned eye is infected again, too, so it's Round Three of antibiotic drops, and an appointment with the eye doctor tomorrow to make sure it's not something more serious that could cause other problems, like, you know, blindness.

Sigh.

And the worst part is, I can't knit.  Not just "can't read a chart".  But I can't knit.  Period.  Even plain old stockinette.  It's too tiring.

So I'm tired and crabby and grumpy and tired and did I mention grumpy?

Think I'll go lie down for a bit.  Because reading the computer screen?

Also tiring.

keep the promise: let's get talking

December 1st is World Aid's Day -- I've written about this in past years, and although I find it heartbreaking on some level to read the statistics and realize that AIDS/SIDA continues to increase instead of decline, I wanted to focus on the positive this year.

For me, that means awareness, that means dialogue.  It means, as I've said in the past, educating people as to how they can stay safe.

To that end, I present a noble effort* from the Nrityanjali Institute, a little number called "Protective Cover".

(Note:  please don't click on this if you are in any way offended by frank and open  --and occasionally graphic --  discussion of sexual health issues.  Or by dancing condoms.  Don't complain to me.  You were warned.)

*I'm not kidding around here -- I think it's brilliant to take the material and educate people in a form that's familiar and comfortable and entertaining.

i am sorry about this. really.

You may be aware that tomorrow is the first of December.  You may also be aware that for the last few years, I've put up an on-line advent calendar to lend my own curious touch to the festive season.

And I honestly had been thinking about it for this year, but what with the back problems and the constant colds and eye infections this fall, coupled with trying to juggle a lot of balls lately (and more to come in the new year), well...

I looked at the calendar and suddenly realized I'd done nothing, and tomorrow is the first of December.

I thought about scrambling around to do it, but then sanity took hold.  I'm doing myself no favours by taking on something I can't really do right now, and I won't enjoy doing it, which doesn't sound terribly festive to me.

So, to those of you who were looking forward to it, I really, honestly am sorry.

Here's what I will do, though -- I've got a few things tucked away that I'd thought about using on the advent calender, and I'll make a point of putting them up as posts on the blog here over the next few weeks.  If there's a recipe I've posted in the past that you might like to see again, do let me know, and I'll dig it out. 

And I really do hope that next year I'll be in a better state of health and frame of mind, and have the breathing space to take it on again, because I have enjoyed doing it in the past.