Well-traveled lace
While Barbara was cleaning out her stash, I was on the road—or rather in the air.
The one advantage of never finishing the lace scarf is that it’s always available to take on long airplane flights. This time it came with me to California for my Dearest Husband’s mumble, mumble-th birthday. (I’m not telling you how old HE is because that would date ME.) His life ambition was to play golf at Pebble Beach so being a dutiful wife, I forced myself to accompany him to the spectacular Monterey Peninsula.
Here the scarf sits overlooking the links at Spanish Bay and the Pacific Ocean. Any golfers on this blog? I consider golf the outdoor equivalent of chess which is sooo not my game, so while my D.H. was on the course on day one, I suffered through a morning at the spa.
The second day I went kayaking in Monterey Bay. If you want to read about my encounters with the wildlife there (and more on my California adventures), check out my non-knitting blog “From the Garret” here. Teaser: my new nickname is the Seal Whisperer.
Aprés golf, we drove down the coast to see William Randolph Hearst’s Castle on the hilltop. Here I am (still suffering—can’t you tell?) on the terrace of one of the guest houses.
Yes, those are zebras in the next photo. Ole William Randolph had the world’s largest private zoo at one time. When he closed it down, some of the inmates stuck around. Those are their descendents, grazing in the same field as the beef cattle which are still raised on the Hearst ranch.
Mostly though, my lace scarf and I just enjoyed the stunning views of the surf, rocks and sand. While I was taking this picture, a fellow knitter strolled by with her husband. She stopped and admired my scarf and asked how I’d gotten the needles through airport security. I explained that I always have my lifeline in but so far the X-ray scanners haven’t flinched at my bamboo Number 3s.
Once again knitting lace kept me calm while suspended 35,000 feet in thin air stuffed into an overcrowded aluminum tube. All that counting and concentration must engage the part of the brain that overrides a hyper-active imagination.
The one advantage of never finishing the lace scarf is that it’s always available to take on long airplane flights. This time it came with me to California for my Dearest Husband’s mumble, mumble-th birthday. (I’m not telling you how old HE is because that would date ME.) His life ambition was to play golf at Pebble Beach so being a dutiful wife, I forced myself to accompany him to the spectacular Monterey Peninsula.
Here the scarf sits overlooking the links at Spanish Bay and the Pacific Ocean. Any golfers on this blog? I consider golf the outdoor equivalent of chess which is sooo not my game, so while my D.H. was on the course on day one, I suffered through a morning at the spa.
The second day I went kayaking in Monterey Bay. If you want to read about my encounters with the wildlife there (and more on my California adventures), check out my non-knitting blog “From the Garret” here. Teaser: my new nickname is the Seal Whisperer.
Aprés golf, we drove down the coast to see William Randolph Hearst’s Castle on the hilltop. Here I am (still suffering—can’t you tell?) on the terrace of one of the guest houses.
Yes, those are zebras in the next photo. Ole William Randolph had the world’s largest private zoo at one time. When he closed it down, some of the inmates stuck around. Those are their descendents, grazing in the same field as the beef cattle which are still raised on the Hearst ranch.
Mostly though, my lace scarf and I just enjoyed the stunning views of the surf, rocks and sand. While I was taking this picture, a fellow knitter strolled by with her husband. She stopped and admired my scarf and asked how I’d gotten the needles through airport security. I explained that I always have my lifeline in but so far the X-ray scanners haven’t flinched at my bamboo Number 3s.
Once again knitting lace kept me calm while suspended 35,000 feet in thin air stuffed into an overcrowded aluminum tube. All that counting and concentration must engage the part of the brain that overrides a hyper-active imagination.
Who else here hates to fly?
posted by Nancy Herkness at 11:43 AM
4 Comments:
I used to love turbulence. Can you believe that? I loved every second of turbulence until the day the plane dropped 1500 feet in a half-second and I saw Chicago from a whole new angle. I learned my lesson.
Nancy, if I were you I'd make sure I never quite reached the end of the lace scarf. Clearly it has some kind of magical powers to 1) keep planes aloft; 2) bring them down say; and 3) spirit you off to new and wonderful destinations.
Think about it.
I hate to fly, Nancy. Knitting and audio books save me on long plane flights.
Jellydonut, I'm interested that your metal needles get through security without a problem too. I'm always afraid to try getting my Addi turbos past the scanners because I swear I'd break down and cry if I had to leave them behind.
Barbara, only you could love turbulence!!! I'm actually pretty calm as long as the flight is smooth as glass. Once we start bouncing, it's all over for me. My husband has the fingernail scars to prove it.
Maybe it's because I've had some really nasty close calls when flying and I'm afraid my luck will finally run out. Or maybe it's just because I'm a total control freak (hey, I'm a writer) and hate not having ANY say in my ultimate fate.
You're right: that darned scarf does seem magical, esp. since the skein of yarn never actually shrinks no matter how much I knit.
Cindi, join the Frequent Flying Haters Club! Welcome!
I'm violently allergic to perfume. I'm terrified frankly of being stuck in a plane (or an elevator) with someone who has been swimming in perfume. I won't make it out alive.
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