Pics from the Vacay

Daycation, All I Ever Wanted...

Amidst a hectic class schedule and proposal preparation, my friend Anne and I decided we needed a daycation this weekend. We jumped in the car and headed for Chicago, Illinois, partially to celebrate Anne's birthday with a walk through of the Harry Potter exhibit at the Museum of Science and Industry.

No road trip is complete without a dose of caffeine. We got on the road early and resorted to McDonald's, being unable to locate a Dunkin' Donuts on our route. Caffeinated = smiling.

We made a stop in Gary, Indiana at Michael Jackson's home. It's a small house in a town that rivals Detroit in terms of rust belt devastation, but it was fascinating how it was constructed into a shrine for someone who was able to move up and out of his situation. Sadly, those gathered were there to mourn Jackson's passing, leaving stuffed animals, writing messages on boards, and leaving poetry.

I love the aesthetics of the font here. Yeah, I'm one of those people.

The front of the Museum of Science and Industry. Note the large Hedwig banner - it was all Harry Potter, all the time. Interestingly enough, the exhibit was housed in a tent external to the building. It was a lovely day, albeit windy (hence, the Windy City), so the tent swayed to and fro, adding to the experience of walking through Harry's wizard world. Also of note: no matter how big of an HP geek I am, there will always be someone who eclipses me. This makes me happy.

Our tickets for the exhibit were timed, so we wandered through the exhibits for a bit. There were these huge Lego sculptures of famous buildings throughout the museum, totally feeding into my childhood love for the building blocks. I was tempted to purchase a Lego kit to build the Sears Tower in the gift shop, but resisted. The Lego Architecture series is pretty sweet, though.

Anne shows off her Nebraskan roots with her ease around the cows. We learned more than we could ever have hoped about the dairy industry in Illinois, including the way to milk a cow. Thankfully, there are no pictures of this.

Since this was our daycation, there were specific words we could not say: dissertation, research, pedagogy, framework, literature review, etc. Another one of those words? Foucault.

No photography is allowed in the HP exhibit itself, but the 1962 Ford Anglia used in Chamber of Secrets was on display in the main concourse. We took it as a definite photo opportunity.

After the museum, we drove into downtown to meet Colleen, AD, and their adorable twins. Did I mention the perfect weather?

Once parking was secured, we headed out to Taste of Chicago. I'd never been, but it was both tasty and fun. the ticket system was a little strange, but when in Chicago, do as the Chicagoans do. James, one of Colleen's little ones, eyes me as we walk back to our cars after a long day. A great daycation, exactly what was needed to push through the last two days of class (check) and this final paper (currently working on). So close to a small amount of summer freedom!

Knowledge Never Sleeps

... and, apparently, neither do I. After a quick four-hour nap, I'm back up and at-'em, attempting to make sense of Marx, neo-Marxist theory, and critical theory (little c, little l - it makes a difference, trust me). Ironically, I may have found my new favorite place to study: the Kroger. It has free wifi, a Dunkin' Donuts with free refills, plenty of electrical outlets, and plenty of opportunities for people watching.

Silver Linings

Great fountain, right? My classroom at IUPUI overlooks the square this fountain is in and, off in the distance, you can see Indy's downtown. I'm not overly thrilled with this second summer class: it's, essentially, six and a half hours of my day, every day, for the next week and a half. That doesn't include the reading time. It's a lot of review material, repackaged in pretty interesting ways. I'm on the fringes of burn out and pessimism is creeping in. In hopes of heading it off, there are lots of bright spots:

* Grad school is hard, but it is also a priviledge. I am so fortunate to be able to do what I do. I seriously read and write all day long and this is amazing.

* And it's made me smarter. The fact that I actually understand the content of this new class and can explain in the simplest terms possible the complexities that are theoretical frameworks is pretty awesome, despite lots of confusion around me. I like synthesis.

* I will have a two week break in July. It's coming. I need to hang in there. Harry Potter comes out that first weekof break and the Chihuly exhibit's at the Flint Institute of Arts. The second week will be spent with the aunt and the uncle, lounging about their lake house with non-required reading and plenty of knitting.

* The dissertation proposal is a bear; writing is difficult and the synthesis of ideas in a way that is clear and purposeful makes the process all the more murky. However, it's interesting to see my ideas come together in cohesive ways. As mentioned earlier, I've actually learned something these past two years.

So, yeah, all is not as blah as I sometimes allow it to be portrayed. Life is good.

Cereal-Covered Donuts

These are donuts with cereal on them. Apparently, they're a hit as these are the third incarnation I've seen at my local Kroger store. I can't help but find them hilarious, wondering what the marketing impetus was behind them: are they attempting to cater to those people who spend a good amount of time in the morning pondering, "Cereal or donut? Cereal or donut?" Are there many of those people? And why does the thought of a cereal-covered donut make me want to barf just a little?

Also: donut or doughnut? Oh, so many questions.

Amazon.com Bitterness

Bitterness
Originally uploaded by Klis

If Amazon.com and I were dating, this would be about the time we would be seeing lawyers behind the other's back and squirreling away assets.

Normally, I love Amazon with the pages upon pages of stuff - nowhere else on the Internet is it possible to engage in such random Internet shenanigans involving such a range of material. I tend to turn to Amazon for textbooks, primarily because the books are usually in stock and I'm able to situate them in relation to other books dealing with the same topic matter. Additionally, none of the independent bookstores in the area deal in textbooks and the IU campus bookstore is run by Barnes and Noble. So, yeah, I order my textbooks from Amazon.com.

I placed two orders this summer for books - dense, highly-priced textbooks about educational theory that would soon be filled with notes and tabs and thinkings as the summer's classes progress. In the first order, one of the books arrived with cracks in the spine, as though the book had been bent. I returned it easily enough and Amazon sent me a replacement within four days.

The second order, however, arrived two weeks after it was supposed to, despite being listed as "in stock." When it arrived yesterday, I hurriedly opened the package, the class having started earlier that week, only to discover that this book suffered a similar fate: not only was the spine cracked but there was a dent in it as well. I examined the box, which was devoid of dents, and came to the conclusion that this book was shipped out of their facility in this condition.

I have no issue with books that suffer from bangs and dents; what I have issue with is paying brand-spanking-new prices for a bang and dent book, especially when it's a textbook costing upwards of sixty dollars. Who was possessed with the thought that this book would be alright to send out as a brand new book? And, having received two shipments of books with cracks from Amazon, I have to wonder whether the quality control at Amazon is beginning to slip. Perhaps these two experiences were just outliers?

Come on, Bezos, get it together!

5T: June 19, 2009

5T: June 19, 2009
Originally uploaded by LimeGreenOctopi

I came across this idea in the Rearranged Design blog. Five Things is simple: once a week, you rid your life of five things you no longer need or use. Taking a photograph provides some validation: these are five things that are no longer taking up space in your life. The trick is not to throw said items away but rather find them places they would be happier; simply because they are not enhancing your life doesn't mean they won't enhance someone else's.

With a move looming on the horizon, I figured it would be a good time to start editing the collection of "stuff" I move with me, so here's where I'm starting: two Fiesta bowls in a color I don't actively collect (I remember them being on a really good sale - but what good are they if they don't fit in with anything else?) and a GRE prep book that I'm shipping to my friend Lee. Not only is she a collector of the shamrock Fiestaware but preparing for her own GRE. Nice. Vegetarian cookbook and Squirrel Nut Zippers CD are off to the Friends of the Library book store. I have the funniest feeling I will be making many more donations to that place before the summer is through.

The interesting thing is now that these items are out of my space, I'm actively looking for other things to get rid of. This could be addicting.

The Perils of Television

I blame my fear of sewing on Lifetime, Television for Women.

Back in the day, also known as the late-80's, early-90's, Lifetime was a fledgling channel airing reruns of made-for-television movies. Lots of them, spanning decades of stories of babies swapped at the hospital, terminal illness, and workplace drama. On a day home ill from school, I happened to catch just a snippet of one such movie. The plot went something like this: there's a sewing factory employing deaf women who spend a lot of time hunched over their machines, sewing while simultaneously working for workplace safety. The five minutes I happened to catch found one such woman sewing through her fingers; she stands up and begins screaming but - lo and behold - works in a factory that employs women who are deaf. No one notices her for a good three or four minutes, by which time both she and I are freaking out.

The image of that large, industrial-sized needle going through her fingers has stuck with me much longer than I imagine it sticking with any other rational person. It's the self-imposed bully that keeps me from sewing, at least until recently. I borrowed a friend's machine to attempt a quilt top for another friend's baby shower. It's something I've wanted to try for a while so I screwed my courage to the sticking place and attempted, the fruits of which is above. It's something of a hot mess, really. Adam, I am not. I think the pattern was a little much for a first time out; there are a few blocks that are not a standard size, hence some of the zigs do not match the zags. I'm debating whether I want to get batting for this top or buy new fabric and start over.

Regardless, I made it through an entire project. With all my fingers un-sewed. I almost wish I would have watched the end of the movie - perhaps the woman had a happy, sewing ending? It could have alleviated years of mental sewing anguish.

Revisiting the Habits of Summer

Don’t worry – I’m wearing a towel.

Summer has arrived. I’m knee-deep in summer classes – oh, Habermas, you wascally wabbit – and attempting to work through my dissertation proposal in the off-times. Spring semester ended and the summer semester picked up the very next week, leaving me little time for thought or reflection on coursework, personal positioning, or general events. All in all, spring semester was fine; in undergrad, spring semester was always my stronger semester. Not so much in graduate school. I struggled with balance, slogged my way through a dissertation pilot, and attempted not to lose my mind. I learned a lot and am constantly surprised by how much I know now versus what I knew when I first arrived two years ago. Regardless of the learning, this was a difficult semester – one of the tougher ones. I powered through, managed to finish everything by the end of the semester, and am attempting to take some time in the midst of diving into deep theory that I’m still not sure I understand three readings in.

Part of what made the last semester so difficult was what you see above: weighty-weight-weight-weight. In the fall, I managed to lose a ridiculous amount of weight, more weight than I think I’ve ever lost in my entire existence to date. I felt ridiculously good and actually looked decent in clothing. This semester, I wasn’t very good of taking care of myself. I stopped running, my morning trips to the gym dwindled to once every week or two, and food became, once again, a coping mechanism rather than about sustenance.

The moment summer comes along, it’s surprising how quickly my biology changes. It demands I run, ceases craving sugar. The number above represents a weight that, in the continuum of my life, is still near the low end. I weigh less now than I did at this time last summer but fifteen pounds more than I did in November. Those fifteen pounds make more of a difference than I would like them to but am hopeful the revisited habits of summer will take them off.

Also – note the pedicure. I need to make those a regular part of my existence.

What the Heck?!?

I haven't posted in about five weeks! Insanity! An update, in pictures:










In short: back from NYC (love the city), warmer weather has arrived in Indiana, I've managed to ingest much more ice cream than I should be allowed and my house will be ready for occupation by August! Excitement, I tell you! More substantial update soonish...

Florence And The Machine - Dog Days


I listened to this song about seven times this morning as I ran. Not my typical running music, but highly appropriate given the amount of insanity I need to accomplish this week. The dog days are, indeed, over.

NYC was amazing - still recovering, actually. I'm a but surprised at the difficulty I've experienced attempting to get back into my life after the weekend away. I think it's a combination of being in love with the City while not being in love with the piles of grading and writing I need to accomplish in the next few days. More on this later. I must go transcribe like a rockstar.

For the Love Of Metaphor

From (Mis)Adventures of a Neurotic Knitter

I drew this in my critical qualitative inquiry class. Our class was focusing on how to run focus groups and in order to move into our discussion, our professor passed out packs of crayons and two pieces of blank paper with the instructions to create two visual representations: one of our current state of mind and one of the state of mind we were working towards.

The above is mine, a sailboat in the midst of a turbulent storm. As a graduate student, particularly a doctoral student, I am constantly told I am the commander of my own course. Upon reflection, I find that to be wholly untrue; granted, I am studying concepts and phenomenon of my own interest but the channels and paths through which I encounter those topics are largely controlled by my institution of learning. There are many forces I must contend with as I navigate my way through this experience: Department expectations, the pressures of a research 1 institution, faculty opinions, and the ever-present Program of Studies. In this picture, I am not lost but neither do I fully see my way clear to where my boat will land; the emphasis is on the idea of graduate school as a place of suspension, a journey from one place to another the attempt to set one's own course.

Strangely enough, I connected the lightning and the fishing stick figure, me, as such: I am constantly amazed by the people who surround me in this program. They are constantly making connections across readings, experiences, and classes. I imagine their synapses firing much like lightning striking, brilliantly charged ideas illuminating the sky. My own thinking, however, feels much like fishing. I struggle to pull my ideas from the depths, straining and pulling against the weight of the water and often finding I have brought forth a tire rather than anything innovative or insightful.

In our group of seven, we shared these metaphors and lamented the lack of space for this type of dialogue within our graduate school experiences. It was amazing how similar the emotions behind these metaphors were for each of us, even though we each inscribed them on the paper in wax in different ways. Amazing and somewhat sad; our class ends in three weeks and this was the first time all academic year I felt as though I came close to knowing these people.

What Have I Been Up To?

I had to empty out my backpack in order to find a cord for my iPod and realized how representative of my life the pile of junk on my table actually was. School has been dominating the schedule as of late - I've been trying to fit in the knitting where I can, but it's been slim. The Lizard Ridge blanket square is ready to be cast off - always a good thing. If only I could read around to actually finding time to do it.

A Sleepy Man Walks Into His LYS...

I knew I shouldn't have stopped at the yarn store on the way home from school this afternoon, but I couldn't help it. My local yarn store, In a Yarn Basket, is celebrating a year of being in business. I, coincidently, am celebrating a year of being a knitter and thought I would be nice to myself and buy two more skeins of Noro for the Lizard Ridge.

Note to self: do not go to the yarn store when sleepy. I had lost two days at the beginning of the week to a head cold and had managed to still complete everything I needed to get done, but by the time the symposium I organized had finished this afternoon, I was exhausted again. Sleepiness + piles and piles of lovely, lovely yarn = Me, walking out of the store looking like a drug addict who had just gotten his fix. Not only did I walk out with the two skeins of Noro but also with six skeins of Cascade 220, the fixings for more Fiddlehead mittens.

I feel a little guilty: I had promised myself I would not buy more yarn until I had worked through a good portion of the yarn I already own. Must use the stash. However, I realized, all the yarn purchased today has a purpose, patterns already attached to them. I'm buying early holiday presents that will, eventually, get knit up. I'm buying entertainment on the random night I do actually have free. Rob from Threadbear had a post a day or two ago that got me thinking about the economics of knitting, particularly about the price knitters pay to create the garments and projects we make. True, it may cost more to make socks than actually buying socks, but there's something about the act of actually creating something with one's own hands that cannot be duplicated. The act of knitting, much like the act of writing, feeds me.

Walking out of the yarn store this evening, yarn in hand, I hoped for a similar scene a year from now: In a Yarn Basket's second anniversary. In a time of economic turbulence, local businesses need thoughtful support from community members. A few things I'm trying to do in my own yarn (and general product consumption):

• I try to pay with cash, particularly if I am shopping at a LYS. Credit and debit cards carry a small transaction fee with them that I would rather help my LYS avoid if possible. Every once in a while, I don't have cash and they happily accept my little plastic card; it's just something I try to keep in the back of my head.
  
• I try to limit my online yarn shopping. Chances are, aside from the lovely offerings on etsy.com, my LYS can order any yarn my little heart desires. I might as well order it through them since it tends to equal out after shipping and handling.
  
• I try remember to bring my own bag. Bags, like everything else, cost money and I own enough of them that I can easily bring one with me when I visit the LYS. It's better for the environment, helps the LYS conserve resources, and helps keep my closet clear of excess bags. (Side note: If you're ever in Bloomington, In a Yarn Basket has great bags. Seriously great bags.)

It will be a while until I need more yarn: the skeins purchased this afternoon join an over-flowing bin of wool that will soon become mittens, blankets and, maybe, even a sweater. When it's time to purchase yarn for a new project, however, I will be thoughtful about how I go about it. Long live the LYS.

Done with Entrelac!

I, somehow, managed to find the time to finish the Entrelac scarf I started back in December last weekend, blocking it this week. I am overly thrilled with how lovely this scarf turned out - yes, it took a while, and the eight stitch back-and-forth got a little old around skein three, but the end project, as modeled by the lovely Anne of my Thursday night knitting group, is gorgeous. And long. Long scarves are always good things.

The pattern comes from Freckles and Pearls and used four balls of Plymouth Yarn's Boku in colorway 12. I love the colorway - the self-striping yarn provides the basket weave pattern definition and really pops after being washed and blocked. It was also surprisingly soft once washed. I let the scarf soak for about twenty minutes in Brown's Top of the Sheep Shampoo before blocking and it came out silky soft.

What I didn't love about the yarn were the several breaks I experienced while knitting - the Boku would literally break while in the middle of picking up stitches or knitting through a row. Luckily, these tended to be in spaces in the pattern where I could easily fix the issue. I read that Noro's Silk Garden (with a similar composition to Boku) is less prone to break, but I can't help but be attracted to the pricetag of Boku. It sells for $6 a skein at my local LYS while Silk Garden normally runs $10+. I used four skeins (could probably get away with three), which sets the price point for this project at $24 versus $40+.

I remember now why I stopped knitting people scarves for holiday gifts around August: they simply take too long, but this entrelac scarf was definitely worth it. It's all packed up and ready to be mailed out, which officially ends my holiday 2008 knitting. Better late than never, right?

Fiber Voyeur: The Yarn Garden

Despite a growing pile of academic reading I should have been delving into, I started Kate Jacobs' Knit Two last night, her sequel to The Friday Night Knitting Club, revisiting the familiar characters and yarn-filled space of Walker and Daughter. Forty pages in, it's similar to that first novel: light reading peppered with characters I can't help but want to know and knit with. The novel picks up five years after the conclusion of The Friday Night Knitting Club and the circumstances the characters find themselves are not the only things to have changed. The very walls of Walker and Daughter have changed as well, which is a little hard to bear but totally expected. Five years have passed, it is only natural the store, so integral to the book and characters within it, should change as well. What makes it so difficult is Walker and Daughter is the store we all wish we gathered at on knit nights with friends - it embodies everything one could possibly want in a great yarn store: experienced, energetic service, a lovely selection of fiber, and space to sit, talk, and work the needles for a while.

The closest I've ever come to Walker and Daughter is the lovely Yarn Garden, located in Charlotte, Michigan. Charlotte is a small bedroom community outside of Lansing that continues to host small-town events like Frontier Days, always held the weekend after Labor Day, and has a small, yet sustainable downtown. The Yarn Garden is in an old building off a side street downtown, facing their historic courthouse. The facade is merely a hint at the personality awaiting inside the heavy, old wooden double doors.

The Yarn Garden is a cozy space but the soaring ceilings, low shelves packed with yarn, and staging make it a delight. Lindsay Harmon, the owner of the Yarn Garden and blogger over at Yarn Gnome, loves knitting and her selections in stock show. On the shelves, you will find classic yarns, Cascade 220 and Berroco, along with some lovely surprises, like Yak. It is a thoughtfully laid out space, with carefully selected yarns and brilliant ideas to go with them.

I happened to spend a day at the shop last weekend, taking a mitten class. The back of the shop has space for classes, a long table right next to the sale bins, which I think was strategic as I walked out of the shop with three skeins of yarn, totally destroying my goal of no yarn unless there is a project in mind. But when you see it, you gotta grab it, you know? The instructor for the class, Janeen Licatovich, designed a mitten called the Cathedral Window Mitten. I saw a sample of it when visiting the store last fall and was excited to get to finally take the class. Janeen teaches several classes at The Yarn Garden and her colorwork is amazing. I fumble through my colorwork projects with the hope I will, one day, be as good as she is. Anyway, I learned how to make the mitten, which is sitting in a basket next to my bed, having not been touched since. Grad school is definitely getting in the way of my knitting time.

I like to think of The Yarn Garden as something of a local yarn store away from my local yarn store. There's always plenty to look at, a delightful mix of standard yarns with specialty yarns, and great people.

It's the template upon which I build Walker and Daughter in my mind while reading: exposed brick walls, store samples that make me wish I had more skill, and lovely, lovely yarns just waiting to be made into something. Also: if you get a chance to visit (and I highly recommend you do), be sure to pet Noro, the shop pup, but don't bring any treats. He's on a diet.