The story of Three Irish Girls… a fairy tale. Chapter Seven.

Read the previous chapter here.

The girl -- now a married woman -- wished hiding in the bathroom was an option. She had reached the pinnacle of mortification, and she now sat red-faced in a middle airplane seat, wishing to be invisible. Her beautiful cat, Isabel, sat in a carrier at her feet, looking -- and acting--  like the spawn of Satan.

As soon as their blissful European honeymoon ended, the couple put all of their belongings in a moving truck and set off for their newly-rented apartment in the San Francisco Bay area.  They decided not to drive together on their cross-country journey, and she knew her husband was relieved at this arrangement. Even though he loved her, without her presence he could sleep at rest stops, neglect his teeth, drink massive quantities of Pepsi, and not have to worry about catering to her needs.  The girl gave her husband a small head start, and slept on the floor of her former apartment in a sleeping bag loaned to her by her Roommate. She boarded a plane two days later.

Isabel the cat was beautiful. She was the girl's only cat, a cat inherited from someone who abandoned her. A cross between calico and Siamese, she had the splotchy markings of a calico with the pale peach and grey coloring of a Siamese cat. She had blue eyes, and she had neuroses. When Isabel went to the vet, he would often admire her and say he had never seen a cat quite like her before. Then, Isabel would bite him ferociously. "I've never seen a cat quite like her before," the vet repeated, tending to his puncture wounds.

Isabel was guilty of the following behaviors:

1. Jumping up to the top of the refrigerator to knock down anything  stored up there. Potatoes. Onions. Important papers. Crystal.

2. Obsessive licking of heating ducts and plastic bags. Presumably for their high nutritional content.

3. Biting and scratching. Everything.

4. Meowing an approximate 47,000 times per day.

5. Luring humans into her web of deceit by curling up on their laps and purring loudly. When the humans would scratch her ears or pet her back, she would bite and scratch them, and then laugh hysterically.

6. Awakening the girl by sitting on her head, chewing on her hair.

7. Clawing holes in the bottom webbing of her owner's box spring to make herself a hiding place. She would then disappear for long periods of time, causing her owner to worry that she somehow escaped and was laying dead in a ditch on the side of the freeway.  Days later, Isabel would emerge with fur askew from excessive sleeping, and laugh hysterically.

Now on the airplane, Isabel scratched at the door of her carrier maniacally. She yowled like she had a nail stuck in her paw. She hurled herself back and forth, causing the carrier to move several inches in either direction with each hurl. She was making a scene.  And there was nothing the girl could do but try to keep her feet on top of the carrier to prevent it from traveling down the aisle and speak in dulcet tones.  Apparently, the sedative she forced down Isabel's gagging throat before the flight caused possession by evil spirits and not sleepiness. The entire plane could hear her wails.

When the wheels  touched down after being in the air continuously for 92 hours and 37 minutes, the girl waited her turn in line to disembark while holding Evil Isabel's carrier. She had yowled, hissed, and clawed for 92 hours and 36 minutes. She had taken a one minute break to try and lure the girl into her web of deceit, but to no avail.

The girl saw her husband, scruffy from lack of sleep and lack of razorial contact with the facial area, waiting at the gate.  He recounted his tale of travel woe, which involved a broken air conditioner in the moving van in August in Utah with the three cats he adopted prior to their marriage. He had stopped at a gas station to purchase a block of ice, which all three cats had sat contentedly upon for the remainder of the long drive.  Add three wet cats to the list of items both delightsome and fragrant, thought the girl.

Their new apartment was smaller and more expensive than imagined. Add three cats and Evil Isabel to the mix, stir well, and voila, a recipe for happiness.

Their new jobs started in less than a week. The girl had secured a position teaching at a high school three miles from their apartment. She was excited at the prospect of working with students who were slightly more law abiding and slightly less dangerous than her previous charges.  Her husband, once a college professor and now the assistant director of a non-profit organization, also had many changes to both look forward to and dread.  His commute would be brutal, his travel schedule arduous, and his work hours long.

What would the girl, who knew no one in this unfamiliar place, do to fill her weekends and evenings? I wonder if there are any craft stores around here, she thought.

Continue reading here.

A scarf of the Irish persuasion.

My husband complained all winter about not having a scarf. "It's so cold out," he said. "Why don't you ever knit me anything," he said. "You knit yourself warm scarves but you never make me one."

"Will you actually wear what I make?" I asked. "I want my creation to be loved and not stored on a shelf somewhere."

Several years ago, I bought my husband a lovely dress coat. It fit him perfectly. It was dressy, but not too dressy. It was warm. It was just the ticket for wearing to work. He's worn it twice, and only because I made asked him nicely to. This, after saying, "It's so cold out." "Why don't I have a dress coat?" "You have a dress coat, but you never buy me one."

So you can understand my hesitation. I did not want the scarf to go the way of the dress coat.

"I will wear it if it's not all girly and ruffly and bright pink and purple," he promised.

I brought home four samples from the shop. One was a light dove grey. One was a rich chestnut brown. One was a dark brown kettle dyed yarn with slight variation. And the final selection was a dark gray/black/purple kettle dyed yarn with some variation. (If you're new to knitting, see my explanation of kettle dyeing at the end.)

He chose the last option, saying that it would go best with all of his coats, including the black dress coat I bought him that he swears he's going to begin wearing at any second.

Since he specifically requested no ruffles, I selected a pattern that would give me something to do other than knit and purl ad infinitum. But the project couldn't be too complicated, because I needed to be able to knit it in the car.

Here's my in-progress Irish Hiking Scarf. Perfect because my husband is both Irish and likes to hike. I'm almost done with the first ball of yarn, and am getting ready to join the second. Just in time for the warm weather, and just in time to see my scarf sit on the shelf for the next 10 months.



I knit this entirely in the car while stopped at stoplights. DC has horrible traffic, what can I tell you?

Project specs:

Pattern: Hello Yarn's Irish Hiking Scarf

Yarn: Yarn Love's Charlotte Bronte Organic Worsted

Colorway: Bella

Needle size: US 8

Quantity: Two skeins

*An explanation of kettle dyeing: this is a technique where the artist creates random color variation throughout the skein by putting the yarn in a receptacle of some kind (a kettle/pot/what have you), applying dyes and heating the yarn and dye mixture. This allows the colors to swirl around, mixing together, and randomly creating small patches of color. Some knitters prefer using yarns dyed with this method because it creates a lovely watercolor effect when knitting, rather than repeating patterns of color.

In the mood to shop?

You could snag this instock set tonight, if you were so inclined.



It will be available at 9pm Eastern here. 

This has never happened to me before.

I have never had a situation where I had so many new colorways I liked that I can't decide which to release for spring and which to save for fall! I have too many ideas!

Usually, I create a smaller number of colorways, and it's easy for me to include them or exclude them in the regular collection.

What should I do? And don't say release them all! I can't do that.  Some of them are very autumnal and really will go better in the fall. But some of them I love SO much I can't sit on them for six months!

But I have to save some of the creativity! She's taken up residence as of late, and I'm trying to bottle some of what she's brought.

Ohdearohdearohdear. Commence hand-wringing.

Help!

The story of Three Irish Girls… a fairy tale. Chapter Six.

Read the previous chapter here.

"You'll be sure to take good care of them, right? I showed you where the food and water was?" the girl asked her roommate.

"No, where was the water again?" the roommate asked. "Is that the liquid stuff that comes out of the faucet when I turn it on?"

"Thank you for doing this. We'll be back on the 19th."

"Can I get a number where I can reach you in case I forget where to obtain water for these animals?" The roommate pretended to rummage for a paper and pencil.

"You can reach me at 640-S-H-U-T-U-P. Come here and give me a hug.  Thank you again, I couldn't have done this without you."

"You couldn't have met the man of your dreams, planned a long-distance wedding and honeymoon, made plans to move to California, attended grad school, inherited many cats, knit two scarves, and designed your own floral bouqets all while teaching in an inner city school without me? I'm flattered."

"I'm going to miss you. A little." the girl answered.

"Good luck with the wedding and the international flights and all that."

"I'm sad you can't come to the wedding."

"Yes, well, if these cats didn't require so much of my time..." the roommate trailed off.

"Have fun teaching summer school. I'll see you when I get back. For like ten minutes while we're loading all my belongings in the U-Haul."

"Bye!" the roommate shouted, turning and jogging down the hall of their apartment. "The cats are calling!"

The teacher knew all the joking was avoidance behavior, designed to keep the roommate from having to display any kind of vulnerable emotion. She picked up her duffle bag and yelled one last time. "Bye! Thank you!" She shoved the bag into her car, wedging herself into the driver's seat, barely able to see outside the windows or move her arms more than required to operate the car.

She headed up the freeway and out of the city, where a wedding in her hometown awaited.

********************

The girl walked down the aisle to bagpipes, wearing her grandmother's veil.  Her fiance grinned like a Cheshire cat through much of the ceremony, while she cried through most of it.

Their almost-missed international flight to Sweden was exceedingly hot and crowded. The newly married couple played travel backgammon to pass the time.

Sweden was beautiful and friendly. Stockholm managed to combine the best of its Viking history, old European architecture, and modern amenities. The newlyweds found themselves to be compatible travel partners: they both loved history and culture, and neither was content to sit and do nothing when there was so much to see. The weather was beautiful. Warm sunshine and cool breezes. They walked all day and were exhausted by nightfall.

The held hands as they walked through Gamla Stan, the old city.









In Estonia, they walked arm in arm through the 13th century ruins. Who knew this was here? When was the last time someone we know visited Tallinn? they wondered.



Tallinn was surrounded by a thick wall with many towers. Inside the city, cobblestones, churches, and shops lay scattered about.





Knitting was everywhere in Tallinn. Clearly proud of this part of their history, many shops sold yarn and knit garments.




The knitting for sale in Tallinn was far beyond what the girl could ever hope to attempt.





She couldn't resist buying a gray, white, and red cardigan with a geometric pattern and some bright purple local yarn.  All very scratchy, but all very lovely.

The newlyweds fell in love with Helsinki. The city on the water captivated with its Western European and Russian influences.





Two cathedrals dominated Helsinki's waterfront. The Helsinki Lutheran cathedral -- spare and serene.






And the Uspenski Cathedral: Eastern Orthodox, ornate, and breathtaking.





St. Petersburg was in stark contrast to the other European cities the couple visited. It was as if the city lay dormant under an evil spell. A cold wind blew. Few people smiled. The city appeared to be crumbling.

Even beautiful palaces had peeling paint. No flowers could be seen anywhere.



The Hermitage Museum, one of the world's great treasure repositories, had worn carpet and missing glass in some windowpanes. Dust covered many surfaces.





Too soon, it was time for the couple's last stop, the magical island of Gotland, off the coast of Sweden. The little city of Visby seemed to glow with happiness and optimism. Roses proliferated. Medieval ruins were lovingly cared for. The sun shone brighter.





The city of Visby had 17 medieval churches within its walls. The couple was enchanted and wished they could purchase a small cottage to live in, never having to return to their frenetic lives.

Visby was too beautiful, and the couple's camera inadequate. Their experience is better detailed by the work of a professional photographer, here.  This virtual visit will not leave you disappointed -- the island was all it promised, and more.

Their honeymoon, the small niche of time carved out for them alone, had ended.  Waiting for them at home was a U-Haul moving van, four cats, an exasperated former roommate, new jobs, and a new apartment in an unfamiliar city.  The next leg of their journey loomed, imminent and immovable.

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