Ballet Shrug

Akiko and I have been thinking about and planning this ballet shrug for a long time--here she is modeling the finished sweater. The yarn is a  wool and cotton blend that is extremely soft but knits up firmly, Spud and Chloe's "Sweater." The pattern is a modified version of Stefanie Japel's "Two-tone ribbed shrug," found in her book fitted knits.

We call this a ballet shrug, but of course it can also be worn over tank tops or sun dresses in the summer. It knits up quickly, so I am already planning another one or two, in light colors.

Alicia, Akiko's daughter, likes to wear the shrug as well. They both make my knitting look good!

Spring in Spokane

We here in the north wait a long time for color to come back into the landscape, but when finally does, it is stupendous! Flowering plums line our street:

And the rhododendrons are out in their full glory in our back yard:

Another huge spring event is the raging of the Spokane River due to the spring snow melt and heavy rains. Be sure to turn up the volume on the video to get the full effect.

Winter Books

The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier (1974), translated by William Rodarmor. Moitessier is perhaps the most famous sailor of modern times. A Frenchman born in Vietnam, he participated in the solo race around the world in 1968, but after circumnavigating the world once, decided to keep going. Thus, he dropped out of the race; no one knows for sure whether he would have won had he stayed in. He was more than a free spirit, it seems; he completely rebelled against societal constraints and devoted himself to sailing. This is a bit of a cult book, I suppose, and it is not particularly well-written, but I find these personal accounts of highly creative people spellbinding. I just read on Wikipedia that his boat, Joshua, has been restored and now sits in my birthplace, La Rochelle, France.

The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope (1872). Some of you may know that I’ve been a Trollope fan since first reading his The Eustace Diamonds back in the nineties, and I’ve actually read this novel once before. (If you think you’d like to read Trollope, start with The Eustace Diamonds.) Greg and I recently saw the PBS adaptation of The Way We Live Now, and it made me want to re-read the novel. Trollope is a sharp and witty observer of human nature (similar to Dickens), and here he satirizes the greed of the well-to-do in England, but he does it by telling a great story and by fostering our sympathy with his characters, in spite of their many flaws.

The Seven Laws of Spiritual Success: A Practical Guide to the Fulfillment of Your Dreams by Deepak Chopra (1994). Well, yes. Ahem. I am trying to figure things out these days, and this book was recommended to me as a place to start. There was a time I couldn’t read such “New Age hocus pocus,” but now I understand better where its proponents are coming from and what they are trying to say. This author has made a lot of money on books and speeches about finding inner peace and getting what you want out of life, which would seem that he is profiting on our angst with what is essentially his distillation and interpretation of Buddhist thought. So be it. I think he has some good and important things to say, but I do find the attempt to make complicated things seem simple rather annoying. Still, I liked the book.

Longitude: The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved the Greatest Scientific Problem of His Time by Dava Sobel (2007).  We saw the movie first, which made me want to read the book. Both the movie and the book are genuinely fascinating accounts of John Harrison, a carpenter and watchmaker, who figured out how to measure longitude, a problem that had stumped sailors for centuries and made sea voyages treacherous and even lethal. It was not uncommon that captains of ships miscalculated their positions at sea, because of their inability to calculate longitude, and crashed their boats into rocks, killing all aboard. This story is one of those that make you realize how much we take for granted with all our modern technology. How in the world did all those sailors make it home before they knew how to calculate longitude?

Thérèse Raquin by Emil Zola (1867), translated by Robin Buss. This was the first time I’ve read a book by Zola, and it blew me away. It is so modern that it’s eerie. I think it’s modern in that the story is full of raw human emotions—lust, guilt, hate, aggression—described by the author in painstaking, lurid detail. Zola goes on for pages about the nature of the various emotional states of the main characters, and you believe him.  I can just see the awful graphic, violent movie of this story. It is extremely absorbing, like a modern crime novel that you can’t put down and also very disturbing. I want to read more Zola, but I need some time first to come to terms with Thérèse Raquin.