All my love and thanks for all the places we've been, crises we've survived, children and grandchildren we've loved...
...and your great patience in teaching me too many things to list...what I've learned from your pleasure in sharing with everyone who comes within your range.
All of us look forward to many more June tenths with you--
most especially yours truly ...
Alternative title for this post: It Takes a Village To Make a Sweater, or Can This Marriage Be Saved? This colorful cardigan for Eliana, our most recent grandchild, became a joint project by chance. I was having difficulty using size eleven needles to make Elizabeth Zimmerman's famous "Baby Surprise." At the height of the past year's shoulder discomfort, I could not manage 100+ stitches on a circular needle.
Why not encourage Ron, happily knitting hat after hat, to try an easier sweater pattern with the same yarn, a product of his own spinning. He was cautiously agreeable; pattern-reading has not been his thing. But I would help! Here's Eliana in a sweater I made for her mother forty years ago.
An added complication was that the blue and red yarns were spun very early in his learning this craft. That is, they are not too amenable to being knit. We got some great help from Betty Balcomb at Knitty City (wearing one of her own glorious productions). A bit of input from Close Knit in Portland when we were there this winter. But the project kept slowing down. Would we ever complete it in time for use before summer?
Biggest problem was the awful instructions for this medium-complex, cuff-to-cuff cardigan. I guess to keep the cost down, it was printed on both sides of one page--sort of a run-on style. Also, the designer is British and, though we speak the same language... knitters know what I mean. Finally, I had to give up certain knit niceties to accommodate Ron's distinctive style, although he was ready to rip and redo at several junctures.
With many stops and starts, we finally finished, sewed in our respective labels, and mailed it to Portland this week.
Handmade wood buttons down the front are from Russia via Peace Fleece. Even if you're not a yarn person, it's an inspiration to read about Peter Haggerty's successful experiment, started in 1985, to bridge cultures through commerce. From his farm in Maine where he and his wife raise sheep, he travels to connect and partner with shepherds in Russia, central Asia, and the Middle East.
The little yellow buttons at the collar points come from a trip to Toronto some years ago and are actually made in Canada. Rachel, Eliana's Mom, says there's still a chill in Portland, so our funky production should get a bit of use this season.
The brightly colored red, yellow, blue yarn that Ron's knits here was all spun on his wheel. He's making a simple pattern that I talked him into trying for our youngest grandchild, Elianna. He prefers producing more hats but agreed this time. Because the sweater I tried to make, Elizabeth Zimmerman's famous "Baby Surprise," proved too painful to my right arm. It required many, many stitches on a #11 circular needle.
Meanwhile I'm trying to finish a pink and black version of the little hen sweater knit for Roxie, our local grandchild last year. This one is for Zoe in Portland, the three year old.
I've completed all the pieces.
It's a little odd since I decided to carry the pink yarn across the back of the sweater rather than use a separate ball on each side as I did on Roxie's.
This has produced a puffy surface on the front. You can see how the pink knitting around the black hen has been stretched out. I'm not sure how cross-stitching a feather design on the front will work out on a not-flat surface. I'm trying to decide if each piece should be blocked before putting it all together. Time to visit Knitty City for more input from Aryn on the next step.
In the food department, we've focused over the past year on eating at home. Mostly this is about liking our own cooking better--except for two Vietnamese restaurants--one in the neighborhood, the other in Greenwich Village. Oh yes, and weight control is an excellent "excuse" for eating in our own space.
A very long time ago, I bought this packaged soup. Later realized it required coconut milk. Turned out quite well. Spring for Ron is about buying a box or two of Matzohs; this is a new one from Israel. Nothing religious here; we do not observe Passover. He has explained that this is when they are freshest. Matzohs went well with the coconut ginger soup. Definitely but would have tasted really good with the addition of real coconut from Hattie's Web in Hilo, Hawaii. A long trip.
Yes, that long winter visit in Portland, Oregon, even with its unseasonable snow, confirmed our decision. We'd gone with the idea of re-locating. Call it Second Stage Retirement. In the first one we were in our early sixties, had two unmarried children.
Fifteen years and one quadruple by-pass later, we're ready for a place slower than New York. The subway steps are more of a challenge these days. Both children are married, have their own kids. The idea of being with the three in Portland as they grow is very appealing. It is, we believe, our last move until the very final exit or Third Stage.
With the unstable real estate market we wondered, as we left in mid-December, whether we'd look to buy or rent an apartment as a temporary measure? Few days before we left, I Googled "retirement communities" in Portland. I'm still not sure how it escaped my eye before. It's been around for 50 years! Unlike most retirement places, this one is right in town--we could walk to the center city, take a bus to our family's neighborhood. Maybe a possibility?
January 10, was our first visit to Terwilliger Plaza. A non-profit CCRC (continuing care retirement community), it is designed for "healthy people looking for security. When I stepped toward the reception desk to sign in, the pleasant resident volunteer (I'd say she was a bit older than I, maybe early eighties), looked at my Obama button, smiled, said "Isn't it wonderful?"
That first surprise was followed by the second: it was much more affordable than Kendal on Hudson, another non-profit CCRC, that interested us earlier. Plus the apartments were attractively designed, most with a view of Mt. Hood. Most important was that Ron was very enthusiastic too. The postings on the bulletin boards on each floor indicated that we would be comfortable with the social environment. Of course we'll be a bit "different." Always a bit outside the line, I was amused when Ronni Bennett once described me as one of New York's "typical upper west siders." Yes and no.
Speaking of Ronni and selling our apartment, I called her last week to talk about the upcoming sale of our apartment. She left the City three years ago after an extended effort to sell her much-beloved place in Greenwich Village. Just like our visit with her in Maine two years ago, our free-flowing conversation surveyed everything from blogging to bagels. Great to hear her laughter again and get her input about financial stuff we'd face.
Leaving Roxie, our local granddaughter, is the sad part of this move (seen here with a pickle, one of her favorite foods). We rationalize by saying that our daughter and her spouse are permanently (or as much as anyone can be these days). Our son, Roxie's dad has the potential for more mobility as a young academic.
Many readers had much to add on my December post, "Housing Ourselves in Late Life." The dialogue continues today and in the months and weeks to come. In my effort to include a PDF file for the first time on A Little Red Hen, this is how the link offers itself-- Download Co-op flyer NEW color. If you know anyone who would be interested in our two-bedroom co-op in Morningside Gardens, that will give you the photo above plus two others and details. Our very special community with its six buildings around a beautifully landscaped central garden has a history of being unknown in New York. Thanks to Wikipedia we get our due in their description of the many sides of the upper westside neighborhood, Morningside Heights.
[Visit Marlys Styne's Never Too Late! for another Elderblogger experience on a recent move to a highrise CCRC in Chicago.]
We first noticed it earlier in the week...new guy named by Obama administration. A mention on the Yahoo news. "Who Is Ron Bloom?" the Wall Street Journal's blog queried on Monday.
Time magazine called him "Obama's Car Non-Czar." You see, this one is 20 years younger than mine, not from Brooklyn. Similarities? Both dress casually for meetings but my Ron Bloom likes to knit during his.
Yesterday there was more inside the front section of the ever-thinner New York Times.
I've always told him to be more formal about his name, really, it's Ronald.
People in academe would ask if he was the creator of "Bloom's Taxonomy" Not even close.
These are pictures of my Ron Bloom. Top photo, ten years ago in Mexico--the other two as he appeared recently, grandfathering in Portland, Oregon.
The knitter/weaver/spinner--formerly Chair of Home Economics (a very different sort of economy than the one in the news) at Morgan State University And my feminist spouse.
He is not, I repeat, the one who has been appointed to save the nation from its car sickness. He has been driving Toyotas for 20 years.
UPDATE: Thanks, Hattie, links now working.
You'd think it might be the other way around, that I'd be energized by returning to the Big Apple, its subway sounds and sights. No, been very slow--not reading blogs much, not writing here. In the week we've been back have been housebound mostly. Oh yes, to the doctor about persistent arm/shoulder pains...more later.
More serious medical stuff has been around Ron's lingering Northwest cough (see Marianna at Hattie's Web; visiting grandkids in Seattle was her source). He was helped by going to one of Providence Hospital's Urgent Care sites. Great views from the parking lot! But then a nasty side effect of leg pains. Turns out antibiotics depleted his potassium. He's fine now, vitamined-up.
We had such a good time with our grandkids. What a
treat to live right across the street from them. So much so that I will refrain from details of the challenges of the house where we stayed.
Instead, here's a view of some of their shell collection under a tub. Folks who own the place have spent many years working in southeast Asia, like us they have run out of places to store shells. There were gorgeous baskets too.
Back to my lethargy in the City. Finally have one idea: I was employed! Yes, life with our daughter, Rachel, means you are in her system. For seven weeks, we retired from retirement. Found this perfect button at a cute store in her Portland neighborhood, with its cute name, Noun. They take pages from discarded dictionaries and make $1.00 buttons. Wore mine pridefully, along with Obama buttons.
Though it had warmed in Portland the day we left--and did so periodically during our visit--it was very cold as we stepped off the plane in New York.
Our son was back to wearing his huge, fur-lined hat. The style he wore as an undergrad at Wisconsin, then again in grad school at Brandeis.
He finally got a Visiting Prof gig at Tulane in New Orleans (before Katrina); very hot summers. Ron tried the hat, then Roxie, of course!
Now all in our extended family in the City have colds--not restricted regionally.
Postscript: You wonder why button appears upside down? Me too!
The Grandmothers met again...this time in a less amiable climate than before. Marianna coughed. I sneezed. Hers-- the result of visiting her young grandchildren in Seattle. Mine, my entire Portland family has colds. I have a vision people all ages along a trail through the Northwest as a noisy and nosey cacaphoney, tissues in hand.
We talked about politics in this city where she once lived. Currently there's the sad story of Portland's new Mayor. Will his recent disclosure end his career? My knitting led to an explanation of the way needle-wielding women had emerged in a virtual explosion over the last 15 years. Groups, yarn shops everywhere. We want to make things with our own hands. An accomplished cook, surrounded by great fruits and vegetables in her current home in Hilo, Hawaii, she understood.
Elderblogging had brought us together. What would Ronni Bennett reveal from her time off from the practice? She thought I'd met Claude in her hometown, Paris. No, we had an in-person visit when she came to the U.S. Marianna knows a great deal about European cities unfamiliar to me like Barcelona. It's quite noisy I learned. Oh, Portland is wonderfully quiet after New York. I've only heard one car alarm in all these weeks.
Our spouses began their own conversations. That worked for us. Ron was the major cougher in our group. Terry, partner to Marianna, seemed to have escaped the popular illness. We envied him.
I realized afterwards that it would have been fascinating to hear what each of them would say about one of my recent Powell's purchases--she from a literary perspective, he from a scientific one. Our time together was too short! It's the green one pictured here I refer to. ( I've only just begun the one on dieting.) Still trying to figure out what fuels my robot interest.
Photo at top features two abandoned books outside Powell's. A friend suggested maybe the bookstore's secondhand desk would not buy them, so they were left for the taking. Very Portland.
My plan for this posting included a link to our first meeting last year shortly before Obama's election, once again I've been undermined by TypePad. Something else Marianna and I have in common is our shared struggle with TP and their unhingeing of our posts and comments. Too much innovating, I've told them.
They've lost the photos from that post, also rendered it unlinkable. So here reposted is my snapshot of her and Ron from that balmy day, outside Pearl Bakery in Portland.
This was quite different. Zach, six year old grandson, wanted us to go to his school tonight for a performance by Sunnyside Environmental School's third graders. He's very pumped about being a participant in something similar two years from now.
The idea is that all third graders in Multnomah County have parts in the same production at individual schools all over the county.
The auditorium was packed. We got seats in the last row of the balcony. Turned out to be good place to take pictures without getting in any parent's way. Gerrie Condon, who may be grandmother to one of the performers, had already blogged and posted about it a couple of hours before I found her in a Google search. (And she makes lovely art quilts.)
Franklin D. Roosevelt was played by a student in a wheelchair. Great staging to represent the eruption of Mt. St. Helens in 1980. We were impressed that there was no whitewashing the internment of Japanese citizens during WWII, an event more personal than on the East coast because it was about one's neighbors in Portland. The show moved faster than I'd expected. Only 90 minutes to travel from 1804 (Lewis and Clark) to 1996 (most recent flood) with a bit of narration and 19 songs.
The person behind this as composer and director--man at the piano-- is Ralph C. Nelson also director of the Bach Cantata Choir--all this in retirement. At the end, a charming note--all parent volunteers were called to the stage to be thanked and be handed a pencil with a paper rose attached.
Days here can begin with rain and cold... end milder, with blue sky and moon. It has to be a downpour for Zoe to use an umbrella.
Ron and I are getting into a more Northwest attitude, often only putting up a jacket hood, "Oh, it's just drizzling."
Finally finished the doll I started knitting for her last year. Think I loosened up on this one. Used sock yarn I had around for everything except the body. Hair nicely funky, added green earrings. Overcame fear of embroidering faces. Zoe's happy with it.
Contrast between my satisfying personal life here in Portland and the political raging around me have made blogging more of a challenge. Sometimes I'd like to shed my feminist sweater, shut out all but what is very close to me.
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