antique circular knitting machine

A few years ago when I was hit by the Must Knit Bug, I dove once more into the Yarny Side Of Life. I had avoided it for years because, quite frankly, during my formative years (how funny is that expression?), I used to have a terrible time understanding most written instructions. I couldn't understand sewing pattern instructions, so I just made up my own. I couldn't understand most recipes, so I cooked and baked ad-lib. And I could not for the life of me follow a knitting pattern, so instead I would decide what I wanted and make it up as I went along. It was a frustration that I just learned to live with because I could still create stuff, though my means may have been unconventional.

At some point in my unformative years (adulthood), I decided to give instructions a second chance. I began by forcing myself to follow recipes the whole way through without second-guessing or variations. It's amazing how things turn out when you do that. I made myself sew a Vogue pattern. It was emotional torture, but I did it. And I started trying knitting patterns from sources like Knitty, to get my creative groove on. I had apparently outgrown the comprehension problem. I was already in a full-on romance with quilting, (which I always do freeform with no measuring, patterns, or instructions), but I wanted something more portable to work on when I couldn't be at my sewing machine. Knitting is a natural choice because it's not only portable, but very relaxing yet engages the Cellular Matter of The Brain. I wanted to master the basics (knit without tears) and then branch out into my inventing my own creations.

A few weeks into this newest fetish, I was gradually accumulating the best needles and all sorts of gorgeous yarns and I started getting Really Wicked Hand Cramps. A few minutes into knitting, my hands would seize up in a claw-like position and I could not relax them again. Long story short, I ended up consulting my doctor, having a variety of tests, trying all sorts of exercises and dietary changes to see if I could sway it, but no luck. I knitted, I cramped up, I knitted, I cramped up.

I tried switching to crochet, embroidery and other hand sewing, but no such luck. My hand cramps apparently had no medical explanation or remedy other than to avoid fine hand work. Piff!

While surfing for possible answers, I stumbled upon a website showing antique circular knitting machines (also referred to as 'circular sock machines' or CSM's). There was mention of CSMs being easy on the hands for someone with arthritis. Admittedly, knitting wasn't my prime attraction at this point but rather the existence of this beautiful, old machines I had never heard of before. I have a small collection of sewing machines from throughout the 1900's (that I got before I gave up hoarding-ish behaviour and are, dear readers, most deserving of a future blog entry all their own) and this type of machine fits in my favourite category: the ingenious mechanical workhorses of the Victorian era. They are both beautiful and useful and will outlast us all.

That page led me to some online discussion groups about these machines and triggered the relentless desire to have one of my own. In those days I attended a lot of country auctions with all sorts of weird machines and gizmo's coming up for sale, but I could not ever recall seeing or hearing about a circular knitting machine.

I scoured eBay and other online ads and sources, but was disheartened to find that a refurbished machine could cost upwards of $800 U.S. (This was about six years ago). And some crooked sellers were selling damaged machines that would and could never work again (mail-order buyers beware: research your seller). I may be enthusiastic but I'm not crazy or rich. That was just too much money to risk on something that might not work.

But, as tends to happen in this whacky life of mine, serendipity stepped in.

I was attending an auction with my mother and lo and behold, I was looking through some boxes of 'junk' before the bidding started and there, distributed between a few boxes, were all the parts of a 1885 Improved Creelman Money Maker. The grandmommy of antique circular knitting machines.

Bingo!

I thought my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. I knew I had to have the machine but I also saw that a few other people were looking it over during the auction preview (did they even know what it was or what it was for?) and, more pressingly, my budget was very limited. I had to play poker face, seem disinterested, and buy that 'junk' for a song. If it was in working order, I'd be fine but if it was cracked or damaged (which is not always apparent upon first inspection), I would be investing in useless junk.

My nerves got the best of me and I asked the auctioneer to have someone bid on my behalf, known in the biz as an Advance Bid, even though in this case I would also be present for the auction. The way it works is, you just tell him your top price, and one of his staff will bid on for you until you max out. It sounds potentially crooked, but it's not. They just join in the bidding like any other customer and bid in a fair fashion. After all, they're doing it in front of everyone so they can't exactly slant things to bring in more money. They just go with the flow. It's a great option for a nervous buyer and wannabe Cranker, as circular knitting machine knitters are fondly called.

I knew if I bid on my own behalf, I was going to draw unwanted attention to the potential value of the machine. And make a bloody fool of myself.

It sounds kind of silly now but I was so excited at the prospect of having that machine but so freaked out that some other enthusiast might be there and out-bid me, that I could hardly hear the auctioneer because my heartbeat was pounding in my ears.

As it turned out, my competitors really just wanted interesting boxes of mysterious junk at a really cheap price, and when the bidding reached $30 CAD, the machine and accessories were mine. Yippeeeeeee! Sold to the woman with her heart pounding right out of her chest.

I was delighted to find notes from the original owner (circa 1898) stuffed into the box and the original manual, which was too torn to use but fun to have anyways. (I since found a scan of it online.) Most of these machines were originally purchased as potential money makers (hence the name), where the knitter could (theoretically) crank out an assortment of knitted goods and mail them into the company as wholesalers. Or that was the sales pitch, at least.

Online discussion groups led me to information on cleaning the machine (it needed it), finding suppliers for new needles and weights, and within a few weeks I had the machine in fine working condition.

As you can see in the photo, the machine itself is not that big. It mounts to my little supply table, constructed by attaching a board to the seat of a folding stool.



CSM enthusiasts (Cranky Knitters) are a very kind group of people. One person sent me a homemade video on how to operate the machine (which gave me all the starter help I needed) and one very nice guy sent me a pair of socks he made on his machine (based on my actual foot measurements) so I could see how they were constructed. Comfy! His fine work encouraged me to really work on my cranking skills. My novice efforts produced a pair of socks in just under 45 minutes. It's fun, fast, and hand cramp free. We like it!

I went sock crazy for a while and then branched out into mittens. From there, my quest for the perfect thumb led to a lot of experimenting. I would try new ideas and then frog (unravel) the yarn after each trial, reworking the same yarn over and over again. I was knee deep in glove instructions about two years ago when life took me elsewhere and I put the machine aside.

I thought of all this the other day when I was reading Miss Mel's blog describing her recent (hand) knitting projects. I went upstairs to visit my CSM in my closet, deciding it was time to take it out again and play some more.

The original instructions from the 1890's promise that an assortment of items from bloomers to bonnets can be made on the machine. But they also say, We do not wish to insult the intelligence of the reader by explaining how to make these items. ..'. No: really, insult my intelligence and tell me how it's done! Fortunately, CSMers share all this stuff online now so I have all the resources I need. My hands still cramp up with any fine motor skills but at least I can still get cranky.



Knits from my early learning-to-knit days





















My first attempts with the circular knitting machine:











Plus one final greeting from my favourite (then) little model:

can she do it? #4

Day 10
The mission: to get fitter, as opposed to having a fit
The means: Jillian Michael's DVD: 30 Day Shred (20 minutes a day = no big whoop)

I've had just one day off so far, and I see good progress already. Get a load of this: I'm up to three pushups. Three! Three! Three! That's three more than I could so when I started and just seventeen fewer than I hope to be able to do...eventually. Wow. I'm impressed.

I'm actually not kidding. It's amazing how quickly the body gets in shape if you give it the opportunity.

I had pretty good excuses to skip exercising today but I couldn't miss it. I wanted to do it. I wanted that good feeling that comes midway and after the workout. In other words, I'm being pulled to the other side.

It feels good. I knew that it would.

the turkies know what you people are up to

It's not uncommon to see wild turkeys around here but the other day we noticed something different. We were driving along a back road from the market and saw about fifty of them crossing the road ahead of us. Normally they hang out in gangs of five or six. Fifty means something is up.

Of course, by the time I got to them, they had retreated to the woods so I couldn't get The Big Picture.



But here's what I overheard. The turkeys are not impressed. With Canadian Thanksgiving last month and American Thanksgiving this month, they've had it up to here with all the media coverage and all that it implies. Do we have 'traditions' or bad habits?



So the turkeys are organizing. The groups are getting bigger. They're meeting regularly in the woods and you just wait...



We'll see who gobbles last. We'll see.

friday the 13th (part 1)

I start writing a new novel just about every day. In my head. I find myself spontaneously thinking up opening lines as we walk to school. As if every day of life is a whole new book. Friday the 13th was frosty and foggy and the combination had a definite creepy yet beautiful feel to it. Is there such a thing as a novel that is comprised entirely of opening sentences? If not, I shall be the first to write it.

A deep, night frost was dislodged by a rush of warm morning air.



A heavy fog stole away the distant cars and noise, leaving the quiet of the pond.



There were no sign of the ducks or geese. Or kids walking to school.



Yet a feeling of something present, something watching could not be shaken off....

Mwah ha ha ha ha.

Or something like that.

can she do it? #3

Day Five

I woke up early this morning and thought it would be enjoyable to do my workout right away. So I did it. What is happening to me?

I'd also like to report that after just five workouts, I am vaguely near being able to perform a push up. Hold your applause people. I consider myself to be fairly strong. I lift big, heavy things in the garden all the time. But the muscles required to do push ups are another matter entirely. And wow, do I have a long way to go. The goal? Twenty push ups. How long will it take? As long as it takes. Otherwise, I'm getting used to the cardio (jumping jacks etc) and strength training. The workout is too brief to feel sorry for myself. That's a good thing.

What I like about the Shred DVD:
-you can do it in a very small space
-it takes just 20 minutes
-you can do it without any special equipment (I use my yoga mat and 5lb weights, but one could substitute holding shoes or cans for the weights and forego the mat)
-there are several levels of intensity (I'm still on Level One. I'll kick myself out of Level One when my heart rate stops going insane during the workout.)

On the food front, did everyone go out and buy brussel sprouts or what? Ever since I posted about my current obsession for brussel sprouts, they've been sold out at the grocery store. My withdrawal symptoms include thinking about them approximately every four minutes. I hope to get my next dose before the weekend is over. Sheesh.

I hope the rest of you who made fitness pledges are sufficiently shaking your bootays.

So far my accomplices are:
Kelly
Tristan
GardenLily
egorman
Kate
Suzi

If anyone else wants to commit to taking steps to improve their health over the next thirty days, please dive in.

Life is now.

linky dinks #19

Greetings fellow inhabitants of the third rock from the sun,

Linky dinks #19 brinks yet another eclectic mix of portals to the great, weird, and disturbing is-ness that is our home planet. I hope you will enjoy your journey.

gorgeous portraits and the artful life
At one very artful point in my life, I had a lovely little corner apartment on the third/top floor of an old building in downtown Toronto. There were massive trees right outside the windows and, with the south and west facing views, it was very beautiful.

I was drawing up a storm in those days, creating portraits with oil pastels. I hung clothesline the whole way around the upper walls of the apartment and hung up my creations with clothes pegs. I was studying American Sign Language at the time and one of my teachers came by to drop something off. When he saw my drawings, he hired me to do illustrative drawings to use as teaching aids. He needed scenes with, quite simply, lots of things in them (anything I wanted, representing anything you might encounter in your day) so he could show them to students and teach them the corresponding ASL signs. He himself was deaf and did not speak, so the illustrations would relieve him of pantomiming everything. I kind of suspected he was hoping for a romance with me, which never blossomed, but in hindsight I often wished it had. He was very sweet. But in the mean time I got to actually earn a living (for a while anyway) as an artist, getting paid handsomely for something I really loved doing.

This memory came back when I saw this lovely portrait of nienie. With a few exceptions, I have not painted or drawn in a very long time. [nienie]

birth of a new ocean...in the middle of a dessert [NPR]

ridgewalker pete shows you how to tie up your food when camping in the wilderness. Unless of course you want that bear to eat your rations....[ridgewalker pete]

connecting the dots: blogging in Denmark
a wee dig through the archives will uncover some beautiful images [connecting the dots]

shark performs lifesaving c-section...on another shark
rather amazing and brilliant [nzherald]

Mona Lisa collage created from old motherboards and computer chips [wired.com]

What if it was illegal to be fat (or thick-waisted)?
Would North America slim down if our health coverage depended on it? Japan is leading the way. I'm curious if the pressure will trigger an increase in disordered eating. [globalpost.com]

The attack of GM veggies
Genetically modified foods bring concerns for many reasons. First of all, it's tampering with nature. That always has negative repercussions. It's difficult to find words for how serious this is. Nature is its own self-regulating and perfect system. Every time humans have messed around with the natural system of checks and balances, we've created a mess bigger than we can find out way out of. Think of the problems caused by relocating indigenous animals to other parts of the world where they have no known predators. Same goes for various plants that have been introduced to new lands with dire, invasive consequences.

Genetically modifying foods is the most distressing example of this underway today. Every food has characteristics that run it through a system of checks and balances not only within the food chain but the cycle of life. As soon as you eliminate 'undesirable' traits, you've skewed the system. There will be fallout. And we're eating it.

Second, companies that genetically modify foods, own the rights (patents) to those seeds. This means farmers who use these seeds for crops cannot save any seeds for future crops. And farmers who do not use these seeds but find them growing voluntarily on their land, are in violation of the law (patent infringement). Many farmers have been dragged through the courts until they are flat broke just trying to defend their rights to grow what they want without super powers like Monsanto controlling their every move. Be afraid.
"The gigantic bio-tech corporation Monsanto is threatening to destroy the agricultural biodiversity which has served mankind for thousands of years." Not only are they changing the basic structure of the foods that feed the world, but they are elbowing out diversity in favour of limited types of modified foods that defy weeds and diverse weather conditions. There used to be over a hundred types of corn, now we're down to just a few, and much of it is used to produce high fructose corn syrup, the oh-so-sweet killer found in numerous processed foods, and to feed cattle. Corn-fed cattle develop serious digestive problems. Grain fed ones do not. This may sound good on paper but our natural world came equipped with vast diversity for one very basic reason: SURVIVAL. Monsanto is on a mission to, basically, take over the ownership and control of all food seeds on earth. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Save your seeds. Insist on laws that demand labelling of GM'd foods. Boycott genetically modified foods. Support your local farmer and/or grow what you can. We're the unknowing guinea pigs in a corporate experiment to see what the long-term effects of these modified foods are. If the possible health concerns don't freak you out, consider the ramifications of corporate ownership of our entire food supply. Rebel, dear earthlings, rebel!
[the world according to Monsanto]
[genetically modified food - wikipedia]
[little homestead]
[king corn]
[food, inc.]
[will genetically modified foods make you sick?]

That said, I shall leave you with a smile nice wet tongue.

I'm guessing there was peanut butter on the lens.. Preferably from non-modified, organic peanuts...moo! [pixdaus.com]

glimpses #3

My current food festish? Brussel sprouts. How? Stems off, cut in half. Ten minutes in olive oil in the cast iron skillet, then add 1/2 cup water for another two minutes. Salt. Pepper. // While they are very good right away with a squeeze of lemon, the next day, after they have spent the night in the fridge, they. are. di. vine. DEE. VINE. I'm not a night time eater but I wake up in the night thinking about them. Counting the hours until I'll be hungry again so I can devour some more. Three meals a day. Me. And brussel sprouts.

Moderation Schmoderation.



I photograph this neighbor's garden a few times a year. I love the tall grasses. I've got winter photos of it somewhere in this blog....



Kazula says hi. Which also happens to be Guineapiggian for where's the parsley?

On the fitness front: Day #3 of being tortured by Jillian Michaels: completed! My soreness is a mere 5/10 today. Yesterday was a 8/10.

How's everyone else doing? Any new joiners? Suzi (no blog?) tossed her hat in the ring earlier today. She'll be walking or doing yoga, depending on the weather. Sounds like a plan, Stan.

can she do it? #2

I am very pleased to see that I will not be alone in my misery. Who knew this spider could spin such a sticky web? While I am letting Jillian Michaels kick my butt for 30 days, the following is also underway:

Kelly is giving up escalators and elevators for a month. I did this once years ago and lost 40lbs in two months. I worked on the 12th floor of an office tower and had to go back and forth to the basement many times a day. The first week was horrible. I wished for oxygen tanks by the fourth floor. By the end of the first month, I started wishing for more stairs. By the end of the second month, I could do the whole set several times in a row.

Tristan is planning to start eating a healthier diet and mentions drinking a lot of Dr. Pepper. I used to find pop very addicting. When I finally gave it up, I had three rough days (I swear it can be like a drug detox: sweats, headache, shakes....). I chose to drink only water and have no other beverages because I didn't want to replace one unhealthy habit with another. It worked. Now I only have clear tea and water and never crave pop.

I definitely think the road to success is built with small steps.

GardenLily jumped on the stationary bike and clocked in 5 km already.
You go, girl! When there was an opportunity for me to exercise or procrastinate this morning, I decided I'd dive right in to the exercise before my mind could think of 612 more important things to do. I hope there's some more stationary expeditions in GardenLily's near future too.

egorman (got a blog?) will get up early each morning (6:00 am) for the workout (25 minutes), and walking for 30 minutes every night after work.
Sounds like an excellent plan, egorman. I really like the Shred dvd because it's just a twenty minute commitment (and I already walk two hours a day by necessity as it is). Small, manageable steps that can fit into a tight schedule. Works for me. I hope you'll let us know how you're doing.

Kate would prefer to just eat French Fries for a month but I like this idea... so I will pledge to walk 2 miles, every day, 'til the end of November.
What are we going to do with Kate? Besides dangle fries on a stick in front of her as she walks her 2 miles a day. Good idea.

I chose 30 days because I believe it is true that it takes 30 days to create a new habit and break an old one. The first few days are always rough but it's amazing how forgiving the body is and how willing it is to change if you let it.

Today was just day two of my workout and I'm a little achy. I'm aching in places I didn't know I had muscles. Apparently they have been sound asleep.

If anyone else wants to join in, say the word. You just have to want to put conscious effort into something that will benefit your health for the next 3o days.

Suggestions:
daily exercise (sex counts, you know)
eliminating some poor food or drink choices
adding whole foods to your daily fare such as leafy greens, fruits, raw nuts, or seeds
yoga
meditation
mental fast: stop yourself from negative self-talk or bringing down someone else
brisk walking
dancing yourself into a sweat

Do whatever appeals to you and works. It's all good. And sore. But good.

can she do it? #1

This is a fact of my life: the busier things get, the less fit I am. The last two months have been pretty goofy. And I'm feeling rather unfit. The laryngitis and cold with severe flu-like aches I had a few weeks ago have left me feeling lethargic. The demands of home and work have been heavy. I'm feeling like a lump of jelly. It's time to turn this ship around, people. This is no way to live a life!

I've always made it a point not to mention plans or intentions on the blog because, quite frankly, that seems to invoke disaster. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Want to make God laugh? Tell her your plans. And so on.

But I am going to take a big chance and make a commitment.

I'm going to try and do The 30 Day Shred workout dvd with Jillian Michaels every day for the next month with the option to take one day off per week. I actually did Day One about two weeks ago, woke up the next day with ACHING muscles and then got called in to do reno (physically demanding) work for a bunch of shifts. Sheesh. Unfortunately, my body does not consider paid labour equal to intentional unpaid workouts. My body insists on some good, old-fashioned suffering for its fitness.

So today's workout is beginning #2. The Shred workouts are just 20 minutes long switching between cardio and strength training to leave you panting and begging for more a shower, massage and mercy. The small time commitment appeals to me and my endless To Do lists. It seems (cover your ears Almighty One) doable.

Any joiners? You just need to pick something you want to do every day for the next month that will benefit your health and DO IT.

Paging all jelly bellies. Don't make me do this all alone!

Life is now. Leave your name and commitment in the comment box, if you dare. Unless of course you're already a fit and lean leaping machine....

eli does the dead bunny flop

Some rabbits do this thing that is referred to as The Dead Bunny Flop. It's rather aptly named because when they do it, they do look like they are dying or having a seizure.

I know, it doesn't sound so pleasant but apparently it is a sign of contentment. Think of it like their version of flopping on the couch for a fine evening at home. Except it only lasts a few seconds. And it doesn't involve dominating the tv remote control or reading a good book.

I think every bunny owner has a wee freak-out the first time they see it. It looks like a move in entertainment wrestling: they do this little leap in the air, turning the body so they'll land with a THWAP on one side. The arms and legs contract and their eyes roll back. The only sign of life is breathing and a wiggling nose. It's weird.

The other day my girl was filming Eli doing his morning grooming when he happened to do The Flop. My girl was supposed to be practicing her piano (but instead was cooing over Eli) and happened to catch it on video. It happens around the 30 second mark:



If the embedded video doesn't work, you can see it here at YouTube.

Kinda creepy, no?

What we've been trying to capture is Eli stretching and yawning. I swear to you, it is ridiculously cute. But he doesn't do it after every nap so you never can tell when he'll give the big old stretch and open wide. Bunnies have very funny faces and it's double-funny when they yawn. Catching it on video has become a minor obsession. I may have to install surveillance cameras in his cage.

Or wait for my girl to sneak off from another piano practice and catch it then....

This is Eli's dreamy look: a nap is moment's away.

Sweet dreams.

linky dinks #18

Greetings dear Earthlings,

This week's topics include oppositional brains, slow money, our oceans of plastic, acting like a chimp, and more.

Favourite quote of the week:

"As soon as you open your mouth, you're going to lose half your audience."
-Joy Behar

Behar imparts these words of wisdom to help toughen the skins of up-and-coming comics who are feeling discouraged by the brutality of the gig, in essence telling them, if you take a position and run with it, basic math tells us that about half the people in the room will disagree with you and/or take offense.

Any time you give an opinion, there is risk of upsetting someone. With comics, the goal, of course, is to state common truths with humour. If they're really lucky, the brilliance of the observation is so acute that even the offended find themselves laughing at our common foibles. Worst case scenario, they boo, hiss, remain silent, walk out, or retaliate.

I think it's helpful to remember this in the rest of life too. Whether it's business or personal relationships or blogging: by taking a stand you will divide your audience. And this is not a bad thing. It's how civilizations progress. Think. Discuss. Listen. Act. Our collective moral health and success is determined by how we respond and react.

The most ironic and hypocritical behaviour is to attack someone's exercising of free speech with violence or death threats or hatred. When this is the reaction, it's very hard to believe that freedom is really what someone is protecting or fighting for. Last I heard, democracy is not achieved by beating someone into submission.

I thought of this a lot during the 2008 U.S. Presidential Election. That ceaseless gap between liberal and conservative brains brewed and spewed endless rhetorical stink bombs over the imaginary fence between us. And yet, when you drill down into the non-fringe brains of the core of both groups, we ultimately want the same things. Peace. Health. Education. Freedom.... But there are strongly opposing views on how to get there or who might be included in our plans.

My muddle was further muddled by a talk at TED.com that revealed recent research verifying the worst case scenario: the brains of the two groups are truly, physically, chemically, wired differently.

Oh boy. All this time I thought civilized debate and truly listening to one another with an aim to understand the underlying dreams and desires would advance us further. But when it turns out we're operating with opposing brains that don't have the basic wiring to actually empathize with one another, well, that's a bigger problem than good conversation and the aim to build bridges can solve.

Or is it? I grew up in a household where at any given election time you might find signs for three opposing political candidates on the front lawn. I was just a kid so I have no idea how much opposing views were discussed, debated or lamented, or how we ever came to a meeting of the minds, but I do not recall World War III ensuing from freely choosing to vote for opposing candidates and speak up about it. We did still (and do) manage to be a family which has stuck together despite some ideological, political and religious differences so I'm guessing there is hope for our bigger family of humanoids this mighty planet as well. If I figure out the secret, I'll be sure to add it all fresh water sources in the world and send word to Drink Up.

The moral roots of liberals and conservatives by Jonathan Haidt. [TED.com]

Slow down, you move too fast
Another idea gaining momentum is Slow Money. What if you invested in an up-and-coming small business (a thoughtful one that considers carbon footprint, produces a valuable product or service, but remains outside the stock market and big bank system) instead of the usual stocks, bonds, or retirement funds?

Many fine businesses can't even get their banks or angel investors to consider funding them because they not fast-moving or techy or sexy enough. What's left? Finding individual investors willing to put their money in something appealing to their morals and ethics that will grow slowly and make the world a better place, all at the same time. It's like investing in a CSA (community supported agriculture) only with more options.
[cbc.ca slow money movement] [September 2009 podcast: slow money]

I'm always amazed by people who believe that animals don't think, feel, love, hurt, or grieve. Is this a way of giving ourselves permission to use animals for meat and other products without consideration for their well being? Happily, scientific research is rapidly confirming what those of us who love and care for animals have known all along: we do indeed share all of these things in common. I thought of this when I saw this photo:
[sweet grief]

making informed choices about eating meat [huffington post]
Lest you think I'm a vegan preacher, please note that I married a carnivore (and love him) and I support free choice. I'm simply encouraging free, informed choice with eyes wide open.

Why David Suzuki doesn't call himself an Environmentalist
"We want to put people into boxes so we can easily dismiss them."
[globe and mail video]

Can I go more than a week without mentioning the perils of The Great Pacific Garbage Patch?
No, I cannot. Because first of all, there is an equal cesspool of plastics floating in each of the oceans, and, these plastic are breaking down into mini plastic bits. Why is that a problem? Because sea life ingests them. And if you're not concerned about sick sea life, be concerned about the fact that if it's in our water and animals (most sea birds have dozens of plastic scraps in their stomachs), it's in US. You and me. And our children. Plastics absorb toxins at an exponential rate and if you're eating food or drinking water, you're ingesting these toxins too.

What can be done? We need worldwide agreements on what types of plastics can be produced and why. We need worldwide agreements on conforming the production of plastics so that more products use the same containers and lids (and so on) to enable widespread common use and reuse. We have to give up the consumption of single use complex plastic products that go straight into our waste systems and hence into our oceans. In case you missed it, 80% of plastics clogging our oceans and choking our sea life originate from our own hands on land. They are carried by winds and rivers into the sea. The massive currents around the center of these bodies of water hold the plastics there.

Consume less plastic. Make other thoughtful choices. Think about the long term value of your purchase: how long it will be of value to you or someone else. When you discard it, make sure it will be recycled or reused. Make other thoughtful choices. Speak up.

Use cloth bags and refuse any additional plastic when you shop. Bring cloth or net bags to hold produce (instead of those flimsy plastic bags that the grocery stores provide). Our home use is just one small example of all the plastic waste that goes on. Contact your government representatives on all levels to express your concern about the effect of plastic waste on our planet. And then contact them again. Tell your friends. Tell your blog readers. The health of our oceans is not an abstract nicety. Our survival depends on them.

Read more:
Woman tackles Great Garbage Patch [CNN]
Ocean poison [RTSea Blog]
Great Pacific Garbage Patch [wikipedia]
The World is Blue by Sylvia A. Earle [amazon]

Phew! I feel better. Sort of. Ish. Ok: not at all. It's a huge problem and the alarm bells are on full blast.

Use it or don't use it
It is the rare and unusual people of the world who are here to tell us what our brains are really capable of. I mentioned previously that our brains immediately discard 90% of what we take in / see with our eyes. That haunts me. What is here that we never get to see? The same goes for the brain. Most of us use so little of it. Savants and others have unlocked brains, allowing them access to parts the rest of us know nothing of. Sometimes at the loss of something else, sometimes not.

Last year I read the book, The Woman Who Can't Forget by Jill Price and Bart Davis. Jill has complete recall of all her waking life since her early teenage years. While it sounds interesting and perhaps very useful, ultimately she has found it very painful. She can remember every word of every conversation she witnessed, every news story, every event. But it doesn't actually make one more intelligent or able to use the information in a beneficial way. It's more like a relentless wall of recall that taunts and tears away at the quest to have a good life in the present moment. It also makes you the go-to person when others are arguing about some earlier event and your mind happens to contain a perfect record of what was actually said. There's so much more to learn about our brains. And so much more real estate available for use in them. If only we knew how to access it.

The Woman Who Can't Forget by Jill Price and Bart Davis [amazon]
Drawing a panoramic view of New York City from memory [techeblog]

A while ago I blogged about a cat in the U.K. who has been taking a daily bus ride on his own for several years. Well, I think the raccoons heard about:
[sfist.com]

depression might be an evolutionary adaptation
because, amongst other reasons, depression and intense thought are inextricably linked [newsweek]

say it is so
south african president jacob zuma ends the era of AIDS denialism by the State. [ethan zohn]
and good thoughts to ethan who recently underwent some wicked cancer treatments.

I think we should wrap up this edition of Linky Dinks with a lighter note:

I like this Halloween costume:
low resolution[makezine]

spiffy chicken coups
I'd live in one: [designspongeonline]

when in doubt, act like a chimp
I've mentioned previously that I once had to write a psychology exam that I was completely unprepared for. Thinking I would put the research I was familiar with to good use, I decided to randomly tick off the multiple choice answers instead of reading the questions. (I initally tried reading the questions and actually thinking about the answers but I knew I was in way over my head.) When in doubt, do what a chimp would do. They do well picking good stock market investments when the experts fail, no? I got 53%. This person did better with the heavy metal approach: [facebookfails.com]

Life is now. Enjoy!

glimpses #2

The day brought snow, rain, sleet, hail, and globs of a combination of all of them, interspersed with brilliant sunshine. I love this time of year. It's nuts.



On the way to school we saw this woman and her dog in matching rain gear:



Not to be outdone, we then saw another woman and her dog in matching hoodies. This is one weird world. But funny sometimes. I couldn't get a photo of the second one. I like to be discreet with my photo taking, trying not to invade privacy but capture the glimpses of things that make my day.

Here's a head scratcher. On my way to the post office I noticed someone was directing traffic into the gas station which is very odd. I was just passing by but asked what was going on. There were at least 50 cars in line waiting for the pumps. I was told gas was "on sale" for 5 cents off per litre.



So, people are willing to wait in line (with engines idling) for 20 minutes to save, perhaps, $2.50 on their gas purchase (example: 50L x 5 cents each = $2.50 off). Yet, after buying said gas on sale, they pull into the StarBucks and spend $5+ on a cup of Double Triple Lava Java Whipped with Soy Froth.

The obsession with gas prices makes no sense to me. I see people throw money away all the time: not checking prices in the grocery store, buying bottles of water they could get from their taps, chasing designer labels and name brands, paying debit card fees, not to mention the zillions of big-time expenses like shiny new cars and giant houses and boats and trips and so on. And on and on and on.

Yet, damn it: they'll do anything to save a few bucks on the gas purchase. And the punchline was, gas was selling for 5 cents less per litre at regular price just down the road. Silly rabbits. Sometimes I feel like an alien in this funny, old world. They obsess over gas and I'm gulping at the rising price of broccoli (and all fruits and veggies...). Which of course is related to the rising price of gas...so maybe I'm not so alien to them after all. My obsession is just one step removed.

Gulp. If I don't watch it, Eli and I will be wearing matching outfits in no time.

light chaser

Some chase tornadoes, I chase good light. Today the sky was really dark and the light was so vivid. The contrast was gorgeous. When you see good light, there's nothing to be done but grab the camera and click away. Because often, it disappears quite suddenly.



This is the peach shed next to the infamous peach house:



The paddock continues to be surrounded by a new housing development. My heart, she breaks...



Someone told me the peach house is on the chopping block and a new road will run through there. I'm holding out hope that they were wrong. I choose only to believe rumours I like.



Fall is delicious.



Drive on.

True Confession #2

This is a story about kidnapping, theft, a three year-old girl, and addiction.

Before we go any further, it may surprise you to learn that the addiction was sugar and the kidnapper was the three year-old child. And that would be me.

For as long as I can remember, my life revolved around my personal quest for sugar. While cake, and more specifically, the icing on the cake, was high up on the list of best sugar fixes, chocolate bars were always the top favourite. My love of family holidays was rated according to which ones generated the most chocolate. Easter. Halloween. Christmas. All good. All chocolate. All mine. I remember feeling stunned years later when a friend had a half-eaten chocolate bunny in its original box on her dresser. In August! How could she not have eaten it all at Easter? I was baffled.

In those days my desire far exceeded the supply, which meant I was an average-sized kid with a very sweet tooth. I was always wanting just a little more than I could ever have. These were the days of free-range children, left to explore the great outdoors on non-school days, only to return home for meals. In our home we were not permitted to have sugary cereals and snacking was not common place. We might have dessert with dinner once a week or on special occasions. By the time I was school age, my weekly allowance was negotiated to match the current price of a chocolate bar, starting at ten cents and eventually bulking up to a quarter to keep in line with inflation. Nothing else mattered. But during my preschool years, I was at the mercy of anyone who might give me some sort of sugary treat.

I clearly remember certain moments on the day of the kidnapping. Other parts of the story have been retold to me.

I was three. It was our weekly grocery shopping day. We used to go mid morning and I looked forward to it immensely. Why? Because when the groceries were packed and paid for and we headed for the car, my mother would give me a penny for the gum machine on the way out. I'd only ride the toy pony if my dire need for sugar had first been met. If there was just one penny issued, gum was it.

In went the coin, around went the hand crank, and down plunked a perfectly round, hard-shelled, ridiculously sugary-coated gumball. Saliva would pool up in my mouth as the first bite released the crunchy gush of thick sugar coating and then gum. My jaw would ache from the shock of it. Then I would madly chew and chew and chew, hoping to recapture the zing of that first bite, which never did happen. By the time we were half way home, the flavour had faded out and it was all work and no pleasure to chew that gum. But that first burst of intense sugar was well worth it.

On the day of the kidnapping, my mother told me something had come up and we wouldn't be going to the grocery store until two in the afternoon. Do you know how slowly time moves when you are a child? Two o'clock was many, many hours away. I could not process this information. There I thought I was just moments from getting my beloved weekly gumball and then, without any warning, my world caved in on me. I would have to wait. Wait for sugar.

This. Could. Not. Be.

I've never been a person to ask for help. And it was not in my thinking to try and persuade my mother to change her plans. You just did not do that back then. I knew she had her reasons for changing plans and I was a quiet, congenial kid who never gave her any trouble. Until now. I immediately decided to take matters into my own hands. If she couldn't get me to that gumball machine, I would have to do it myself.

I located two pennies somewhere in the house and set out on my journey. For reasons I'm not sure of, I decided I needed to bring a friend. Perhaps because I had the extra penny and wanted to share my imminent good fortune. My favourite playmate was two year-old named Mary who lived about a block away. I took my brother's tricycle, because it had a trailer hitch and little wagon that attached to it, and set off for Mary's house.

Don't ask me how I managed to get Mary from her nap in her crib and secure her in the wagon without her parents noticing, but I did. Perhaps her parents thought I was simply taking her outside to play, which we often did. But instead, off we headed for the grocery store. The grocery store which was approximately 1.05 miles from our home. I've always been good with directions and apparently I was then too. Who needs a map when you're a very determined sugar-addicted three year-old who needs her fix? And needs it now.

After god knows how much pedaling, we made it to the store. How I wish I could time travel and see myself there now.

I do not personally recall the next part of the story, but you can bet that my mother has retold it to me many, many times with a mixture of shock and awe. Apparently the manager of the store recognized me with my young accomplice and, realizing that we were there unattended and quite far from home, called my mother.

Kiss. Of. Death.

My mother had a tiny car her mother had given her to help relieve the insanity of being a Trapped Mother On The Brink Of Insanity In A Small Suburban Town. Mary and I were placed in the car but my brother's tricycle and the wagon did not fit. We were taken home to face an assortment of lectures and punishments, but by the time anyone could go back later in the day for the bike and wagon, they were gone.

I remember my mother being upset. I remember spending a long time in my room. I remember wondering if Mary got in trouble too or her parents just credited me with the crime. Or perhaps we were back before nap time was over and they didn't realize she was gone until she was returned?

My brother was going to be a problem. He loved that red trike. The wagon was technically mine, but it was gone too. But none of this seemed like a really big problem. Why? Because we got the gum before the store manager found us. I got my sugar as planned and nothing else mattered. The girl had scored her fix. You know you're addicted when....

Epilogue
I don't think the punishment lasted long because, quite frankly, it made a great story for my parents to tell and retell. How many three year-olds do you know who could both pull off a kidnapping and pedal to a store a mile away without incident?

My brother went on and on (and on and on) about the lost bike for approximately the next 26 years. I think he finally dropped the claim when he saw that I was seriously going to buy him another tricycle to stop him from putting a lien on me. As I saw it, I was a girl on a mission and the getaway vehicle was simply a means to an end. The fact that my mother had to leave it at the store and some schmuck stole it was out of my hands. Or so my little brain thought.

My friend Mary and I continued to get into entertaining trouble. Not long after, we were spotted walking to the main drag in town wearing nothing but shirts (no other clothing), costume jewelery, white gloves, and high heels, carrying little handbags. As I recall we were on our way to the penny candy store. I also recall taking her to my Kindergarten Show and Tell but that time I received permission first. I just thought she was wonderful and loved showing her off.

My sugar addiction continued until my thirties. I was shocked into taking better care of myself when my father died of colon cancer and I started researching the causes of the disease that are within our control. I realized that you are indeed what you eat. Refined sugar offers no benefit to our health. (There's also a strong correlation between eating a lot of meat and colon cancer.) Through a vegan diet, I was able to transfer my fetish for sugar into a deep love for fresh vegetables and fruits. I can now happily say that sugar no longer owns me.

And, while it's not very interesting, my life of crime pretty much simmered down after my brief stint as a three year-old kidnapper. Though I have to say, when I see people addicted to drugs (or whatever), steal for their drug of choice, I understand where they're coming from. When you are controlled by something that way, nothing else matters. Nothing but that first bite into the gumball.

perennial harvest

I like the fall garden. There's nothing to do but enjoy it.