A scarf for Shirin

I mentioned a couple of posts ago that I would put up some pictures of the first scarf that I ever finished, so here they are.  They're not the best pictures because I snapped them in a hurry before giving them away, but I hope they give a rough idea of what the scarf looks like.

I'm halfway through a couple of slightly more finicky personal projects but I really wanted to start making things for my friends and Shirin was first on the list.

The yarn is a soft, basic, grey yarn called Shiver from Moda Vera, which is Spotlight's resident yarn maker and I only needed two balls to make a 60 inch long scarf.

Each time I make a new scarf, I go for something slightly different to make it a little more challenging.  I'm not particularly daring, so I figure if I alter one variable each time, I'll slowly but surely get to making extremely complex things.

Prior to this yarn, I had only knitted with very neat five mm stock so it took a little while to get used to the 10mm needles (pictured with a pen for scale).  Twice as big, they can feel clumsy in the hands and the entire product becomes heavier.  The yarn itself is distractingly furry and splits easily if you're not paying attention.

Once I acclimatised though, the whole thing was a breeze.  I blazed through most of it while finishing the first season of Bunheads (Bailey Buntain ftw!).  Shirin likes things simple, so I kept them basic and chunky with your everyday two-by-two rib stitch.

Believe it or not, I weaved in the tails with a paperclip that I bent to my purpose.  Don't try this at home (SEE below). 

Because things like this amuse me, I thought I would put in a short list of the lessons that I learn with each scarf.  If anyone out there is a beginner knitter too (Amanda, my minion!), who knows, these tips might be some help!

Things Shirin's scarf taught me:

1)  With bigger needles and yarn, it's important to knit a bit more loosely so that the yarn transfers easily over the needles.

2)  Happily, it's also much easier to knit close to the needle tip because there's less danger of the wool just shooting off the slope and unravelling.

3)  Bamboo needles offer more traction, but for a very wispy yarn, can catch annoyingly.

4)  The looser and fluffier the yarn, the more important it is to pay attention so that it does not split.

5)  It is possible to perform a ribbed cast off.  (The very fact that I was unaware of this one is testament to what a n00b I am.)

6)  Do not, I repeat, do NOT weave in the ends with a bent paperclip.  Any yarn that has even a little hair coming off it will catch disgracefully as you pull the paperclip through and you risk tearing out chunks or even breaking the strand altogether.  I ran out and bought a yarn needle right after I finished.  

I've really grown to love knitting - the repetition is incredibly therapeutic and yet when I'm counting and troubleshooting, it keeps my mind working furiously.  I may never need to make anything more complex than long rectangles, but it's immensely satistfying.

I'm already halfway through the next scarf!  I can't wait to finish it.

#nofilter

This is it - my worst exercise bruise so far, complete with a nasty bit of swelling.

I'll be honest, I don't enjoy the pain one bit.  I don't look forward to it, and sometimes when I have to do something that I know is going to smart, I have to set my teeth and talk myself into it.  I remind myself of all the women around me, doing far more difficult things with aplomb, and I have to gird my loins.

But realising that my body can now do something it couldn't accomplish the week before or, as a matter of fact, ever?  That feeling, I live for.  

A life alone

When I first started this blog, I thought it would be a lot of venting and crying and moaning about singlehood.  Instead, while I talk about it now and then, there are also other things I want to share like stories or photos with friends or of places I've been, and I think it's because in some ways, I have been used to the idea of being "single" for a long time already.

It's been long enough after the breakup now that I have mixed feelings.  Sometimes I miss what I thought we had and what I thought it was going to be.  Other times though, I really appreciate my alone time.  More than anything, I've been trying to imagine how all this would translate to living alone in the long term, a thought that used to scare me.  

When I first got dumped, some kindly friends told me that I had to get used to the idea of being by myself, that I had to be comfortable with the person that I was in order to move on.  "Eating alone isn't so bad," one said sympathetically.  The thing is though, they didn't get my despair.  I've long been cool with all those things. 

If you enjoy writing at all, a part of you is naturally introverted.  And for the last two years, being in long distance relationships meant that I spend a great deal of time alone anyway.  When I was dating people who lived continents away, we would sometimes only have a few minutes of contact a day and it never bothered me as long as I felt our hearts were true.  

I have never come home in the quiet of the night and felt empty or lacking because of my solitude.  After all, I'm the girl who loves eating alone in restaurants, who leaves for work an hour early to spend time people watching in a cafe.  I've always gone to movies or concerts alone, travelled solo and I frequently go wandering by myself. 

The thing is, I've always enjoyed doing these things.  I like being in my head and I've never felt the need for a partner or for extra attention.  I've never been one of those people who feels awkward with or by myself.  

The pinch I was feeling, I realised, stemmed from a greater, much further away fear.  

I've always worried about dying unloved.   

My real desire for a special someone lies in the hope that someone will love me enough to want to undertake special adventures with me so that at the end of the day, when it is time to lay down my things, I can say that in soul, in spirit, I had a partner-in-crime.  

Maybe it is vanity.  Maybe it is ego.  Maybe I want this because I don't believe in the afterlife and so I want to grab all that I can in this one. 

Whatever it is, as much as I enjoy doing things by myself and want to continue doing so, I also want to be with someone so that we can be each other's rock when all other life has faded, when my mother is long gone, when my brothers have grown up and have their own priorities.  

At least, that's what I thought until most recently.  Now that some time has passed and I've had a chance to get some perspective, I've been asking myself if an entire life alone would really be so galling.  

Look at the bigger picture: if one enjoys spending days on one's own, then months, why not years?  Ultimately, what is the worst that could happen?  

I can still achieve all my dreams of owning my own house, travelling and learning lots of things.  No matter what I do, my parents and my family will still love me.  And I know I won't have a problem with time, or peace or quiet. 

Even my one big fear, that I will lie dead in an apartment for weeks, slowly being devoured by my dogs (or cats) has become almost comical with the realisation that while it is horrible, I won't be around to be horrified in hindsight.  

Suddenly, things don't look so bad.  I'm starting to think that I can imagine a life of solitude, not with defeat but with great optimism.  I'm even looking at the idea of moving away for a bit because of the tranquility that it promises.  

Long story short, I'm finally reaching that point that all broken-hearted people yearn to reach one day.  If I meet someone suitable, great.  Sound the trumpets!  I'm sure it'll be every bit as fulfilling as I imagine it to be.

But if I don't, cool.  I think I can totes handle it.  I'll be spending most of my time as I do now anyway, and that's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.  

In the meantime, I'll just keep all my pets well fed.

Monthly moments: May

It's the end of the month and I'm sitting at home nursing cramps and a hot mug of white tea.  I figured this time, I would let the photos speak for themselves.  I've included some extras from Tulipmania, bits and bobs from various outings, a couple of long lens test shots and some from home. 

I have some tea and dinner plans later in the afternoon; hopefully a hot shower between now and then will do me some good.  Happy Friday!

Wool

I finally finished my first ever knitting project (pictures to come) three weeks ago.  I made a scarf for my friend, Shirin, using a dead simple two-by-two rib stitch.  That gave me all the confidence I needed to start on a never-ending series of scarves for random people in my life until I realised that I was lacking the other essential component.  Yarn.

Technically, the best place that I know of is Golden Dragon Store in People's Park Centre, but it is so inaccessible that I decided to rush down to Spotlight on a lunch break instead.  Because Amanda came with me from work, she got caught up in the yarn buying frenzy and decided she wanted to learn to knit as well.

Now, I'm not the best of teachers and especially not for handicraft.  I've dropped more stitches and frogged things more times than I care to admit.  And I'm ashamed to say that I cried with frustration after my first knitting class because I couldn't even remember how to cast on.  But, despite all that, I'm quite pleased with how far I've come.

I only had the time to take one basic class and after making nothing but squares, I decided to man up and learn everything else from YouTube.  And I'm of the opinion that if someone like me can learn something like this by watching out-of-focus videos, anybody can.  So I said yes, and Amanda bought cheap needles and two balls of yarn.

I, on the other hand, totally went nuts.  As you can see above, there are five scarves in the offing.  I got a nubbly 7mm yarn with a seafoam green sparkle, some extremely odd 4mm black and white ringlets that I'm beginning to regret, two variations on pink for 10mm needles and the one I'm most excited to try out, variegated blue-green mesh.

I also got some hot pink 4mm needles, a set of fat wooden needles in 7, 9, 10 and 12mm and a wicker basket on sale for $13.  I think the basket looks quite sweet tucked next to the DVD collection in our living room.  (Any questionable DVDs don't belong to me.  Except Guys and Dolls.  Man, I own that shit.)    

We had our very first lesson in the middle of a quiet Burger King.  I practised making my instructions super clear and Amanda learned fast, so she was knitting in no time.  I went through how to cast on, knit and tink (Tinking is un-knitting.  Knitters are cute like that).  Along the way, we practised tension and subsequently, we had a purling lesson and a discussion about ribbing and stockinette.

For a beginner like a me, teaching a newer beginner can be a great way to gain information.  I've learned so many new things that I can't wait to try out.

Last week, we had our first "Stitch and Bitch" over breakfast in a cute cafe near work.

I can't believe I literally created a knitting buddy in two hours!  I feel like Dr Frankenstein with a loyal minion!  (Amanda is going to smack me at work when she reads this.)

She's working with some super pretty cotton candy yarn that has blue and yellow running through it.

La Ristrettos is a quaint nook made all the more cool by the fact that it's hidden on the eighth floor of Novena Medical Centre.  I love this idea... hospitals are such horrible places to be, so imagine you've just had your physiotherapy (or lipo) and you're stomping miserably down the corridor, and suddenly, coffee!  And wooden tables and brick walls and trees, oh my!

I first saw this cafe when I was in the sports medicine centre on assignment years ago.  The garden, replete with willows, ponds and wicker chairs, rose out in the middle of the building like a miracle.  Through the plate glass, I could see people enjoying coffee.  I wanted so badly to find it again, and now I have.

The food is all right and the coffee quite tasty, but I would keep coming back just because it feels so much like a magic garden.  For the two hours that we were there, I was completely at peace.

How could you not be zen?  I'm looking forward to many mornings of stitching and bitching to come.  Here's to being grandmas!

PS  As I sat down to write this earlier, I got a frantic call from the above-mentioned telling me that she had knit when she was supposed to purl and couldn't remember how to undo it.  After several instructions, whatsapp photos and a dropped stitch, she made an emergency drive to my house with Ben.  I unravelled and re-knit two rows while they chatted with my mom and it ended up being a very pleasant mishap.

Except when my mom saw me standing behind Amanda giving instructions, laughed uproariously and said, "I can't imagine you teaching anyone how to knit.  You're such a klutz."  Hmph.  I'll have you know she's quite a klutz too.

Burnt-out hearts

Last week I went to Gardens By the Bay with my family.  Tulipmania was winding down, and we wanted the chance to walk through a tulip garden.  I love tulips.  I have ever since a friend of my mother once sent her a breathtaking bouquet of pale white roses and waxy tulip buds wreathed in cool green.

I've heard lots of complaints about Gardens By the Bay but my father worked on the project for several years before he retired and I've come to trust that when they take on a big project, they generally do it right.  

Well, it was beautiful.

The temperature of the Flower Dome seemed to have dropped as well, to keep the masses of flowers perky.  My father and mother took a slow stroll with their friends while I went nuts with the camera.  (I brought my kit lens and though it did cross my mind that the primes might have produced better quality, the kit lens worked out for all the wide shots.)

The theme was Holland, obviously, right down to the languidly turning windmill at the heart of the garden.  They kept looping a faintly ridiculous track of some woman yodelling like in Charlie's Angels (anyone remember that scene?) which made things very festive.

The tulips were planted in barrows, baskets, pots and right down the middle of the dome, in swathes of colour.

Up close, a tulip is a thing of wonder; it looks like it was breathed into life.  My mother pointed out that right before a tulip dies, it blooms properly, flinging its petals wide, baring its whole heart.  That made me a little sad.

Of course, as always, there were other flowers.  I'm a big fan of these velvety kangaroo's paws.  Up close, they resemble a delicate furred forefoot.

As the afternoon sun crept up, the automated shades started drawing closer to keep the flowers cool.  It was impressive to finally watch them in action.

I wore what I call my "flappy pants".  I own three pairs of these, purchased from various seaside towns in Thailand.  They are loose, soft and invariably covered in elephants.  They are so comfortable that I feel like I'm wearing pajamas and if I could, I would wear them all day.  (As it is, I sometimes cheat by donning them for work with a more starched top.)

I made my mother sit and pose in tonnes of photos.  In this one, I told her to look pensively into the diatance.  She was actually laughing behind her hair.  How we suffer for our art!

Afterwards, my father went over to the office to meet his ex-colleagues for a cuppa and I was left to wander round the office.  I love the Gardens By the Bay office.  It's like nothing I've ever seen before, all the furniture is old, heavy wood and the walls are hung with Balinese scrolls.  The other thing I love is the surfeit of weird animals.  There are terrariums dripping with wet plants and plump, glutinous frogs.  The four fish tanks hold all manner of swiftly flicking breeds of fish.  This time, they were even rearing scorpions.  I stopped to watch one hold its barbed tail over its back like a lantern and shuddered. 

And in the lab room downstairs, the very silly Milo and Kopi-O.

After a lovely morning, we curved out of the Gardens and found a sign exhorting us to enjoy some satay.

So we did.

"The tulips make me want to paint,

Something about the way they drop

Their petals on the tabletop

And do not wilt so much as faint,

Something about their burnt-out hearts,

Something about their pallid stems

Wearing decay like diadems,

Parading finishes like starts..."

                         

                                                   -- A. E. Stallings