Both of my “bully gals” are gone now.  Gabby and Pinkie — mother and daughter.  They had very different personalities, but both were wonderful, sweet dogs and loyal friends.

Pinkie was born, along with her 9 brothers and sisters, in our back yard.  We hadn’t planned on breeding our dogs.  This was our first and only litter.  If we could have kept every puppy we would gladly have done so.  As it was, Pinkie was the puppy who stayed.  And her mom and dad both adored her and tended to their pup for the rest of her life.  Gabby loved to hold Pinkie down and clean her ears.  When Pinkie went out in the rain and came back inside all wet, I would grab a towel and Gabby would go to work with her tongue.

One day when Pinkie was no more than a year old, I found all three dogs huddled together in the back yard.  Mom and dad were clearly worried and wanted my help.    I found that Pinkie had stuck her head through a plastic Gatorade bottle which had both ends removed.  She was fine, but she looked like she was wearing a clear, plastic cervical collar.

I wish I’d thought to take a photograph at the time, but I was laughing too hard.  I had to find a pair of scissors and cut her out of her predicament, much to the relief of all three dogs.

Buster, her dad, taught her how to howl at sirens.  She would only start in if he initiated it, though.  One day he was off on a fishing trip with the Big Guy, and I could see that Pinkie desperately wanted to howl, but her dad wasn’t there, so she whimpered a little and then gave up.

Why did we call her Pinkie?  When we had 10 little black pups in our house and I was trying to keep track of them all, I found she was the only one who had a little bit of pink on her chin.  She also had different-colored pads — some were black, and some were pink.  I called her Pinkie then, thinking I’d change her name later.  She didn’t seem to mind having such a funny name.

Pinkie had a fat “otter tail” and a gorgeous thick coat; I called it a Rottweiler coat because her dad is half Rottweier and half Doberman.   She looked like a black dog — until the sunlight hit her just right.  Then you could see that hidden in between the  black hair was a red coat she’d inherited, maybe from her mom, a red-nose golden-eye pit bull, or maybe from her grandmother, Buster’s mom, who was a red Doberman.

Pinkie loved going to the lake and was a born swimmer, although she was usually reluctant to get in over her head.  She was splashing in her water dish at only a few weeks old; but at the lake she might decide to take one short swim and then stay on the shore to play with Gabby (who was afraid to go swimming).

One year on her birthday I took her for a walk down to Negro Bar.  She was on her leash as usual, but she suddenly spotted a few ducks swimming far out in the water, and she decided she was going after them.  She surprised me with her determination; she swam at least 100 yards into the water, aiming for the ducks, until she finally decided to turn around and come back.   That was the only time in her life that she tried to swim with the ducks.

Pinkie was diagnosed with diabetes about 10 months ago.  She lost a lot of weight, and her appetite changed completely.  She’d always been an eager and happy eater; she became so picky that we usually had to beg her to eat.  We tried so many different types of food to tempt her.  She did like to eat whatever fish the Big Guy brought home from his fishing trips.  When she finally stopped eating bass and striper, we knew we were in for a rough time

She was strong, and she was stubborn.  A few times in the last several months we thought we had come to the end, but she rallied and started eating again and gained some weight back.  She wasn’t ready to quit.

She lost her eyesight to cataracts about eight months ago.  She bumped into the walls a lot, but she kept on going.  She loved to go for walks with the Big Guy and Buster.  I missed seeing her beautiful brown eyes.

Goodbye, Pinkie!

We love you.

July 5th, 1995 – December 6th, 2009

I love autumn.  I’m just beginning to realize that this is probably my favorite time of the year, when the heat of the Northern California summer is reluctantly fading away, the mornings are crisp but the afternoons are still tee shirt weather.  I can sense the change in the earth’s position to the sun; the light has a different quality to it even before the leaves dry up and start falling from the trees.

I’ve had a few changes in my life this fall, and most of them are good, or at least potentially good.  We just finished painting the exterior of our house; I’ve started some new projects at work; I’ve got some new yarns and several WIPs (works in progress); and the Big Guy has bought me a new (to me) bike. So I should be feeling a lot happier than I do; but I’m still grieving for a very special member of my family.

My last photo of Gabby

After a few days of feeling that the pain was diminishing, I woke up one morning and it hit me all over again.  The house was chilly, but the morning sun was coming up over the tops of the trees in our back yard, and there was a big sunny area on the carpet in front of our sliding glass door.   At that moment it was probably the warmest spot in the house — and I suddenly remembered that every morning for as long as I could recall the winter months would find Gabby trudging from her bed of blankets out to the livingroom, searching for the heat in that very place.  This morning, that spot is empty.

Of course, it won’t be long until Gabby’s daughter, Pinkie, figures out were that sunny spot is.   Blind as she is, she’ll find it, and she’ll enjoy lying there just as much as Gabby used to.  Now she’ll have the spot all to herself.

Gabby’s sunny spot

Still, I can’t help but feel at least a little happy over my new bike.  It’s not really new — it’s a vintage Peugeot triathlon bike.

I’ve never owned, or even ridden, a road bike before in my life.  My current bike, which I’m still crazy about, is a Trek hybrid.  It’s sort of halfway between a road bike and a comfort bike.  It’s got flat handlebars like a mountain bike, and its tires are only a little fatter than road tires.  I tend to ride it like a road bike, and it’s pretty darn fast.

But this shiny red Peugeot is something else again.  It’s a couple of inches too big for me, so I was nervous getting on and off of it the first couple times.  I also need to get used to the different type of handlebars and the placement of the brake levers — not to mention the fact that the shifters are not where I’m used to finding them!

This is a completely different experience from any other bike I’ve ever ridden.   The Peugeot is a race horse, a real thoroughbred.  It doesn’t have all the fancy equipment of a brand new road bike, but it’s light as a feather and it goes fast.

I’m planning to do a bit of work on the bike.  It needs new tires and the brake levers are a bit stiff, and there are a few other minor changes I want to make.  But all I have to do is look at this red beauty and it’s all I can do to keep from dropping everything and going for a nice long ride.

Did I mention this fall weather is perfect for cycling?

Of course, I’m still knitting — I just haven’t got much to show for it at the moment.  Mostly what I have is a bunch of half-finished projects, including a bunch of squares for a blanket; a cotton blend tank top; a cotton shopping bag; a wool sweater of my own design; and some socks.   I’ll try to share more details in my next post.

Two blanket squares

I was a bit disappointed recently when two different pairs of socks came out of the laundry with damage.  My lucky bike socks (pictures to come) suffered a small hole near the side of the toe, which was easily fixed.  My beloved Koigus weren’t quite so lucky — I’m going to have to unravel part of one cuff and re-knit it.   I guess there’s a lesson for me to hang onto my yarn remnants in case I need them for repairs.

Until next time!

I haven’t been here in a long, long time.

There’s plenty to write about — I was especially looking forward to sharing my experiences at this year’s Ride for a Reason in early August.  I’ll get around to that eventually, but not today.

What’s been most on my mind lately is the loss of one of my three dogs.  Gabby died three weeks ago today, very suddenly.  She was an elderly dog, and she had been battling mast cell disease, a type of cancer, for the last three years — but she was doing very well, aside from some arthritis in her joints, and her love of life was as strong as ever.

It’s still a mystery to us exactly what happened.  Apparently she ate some foreign material that lodged in her stomach and would not pass.  She became more and more uncomfortable and finally completely lost her appetite.  By the time we realized what was going on, there was no other option but to let her go.  If she had been a younger dog, emergency surgery might have saved her.  But because she was at least 13 years old, the risk was too great.

Saying goodbye to her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

One small consolation is the fact that I have hundreds of photos and several videos of her in her healthier, happier days.  It’s still hard for me to look at them for very long, but I’m so glad that I have them.  And I want to share them here.

I’ve posted pictures of Gabby (and my other two dogs, equally well loved)  a few times before.  But now I’m going to be posting pictures and some video of Gabby on a regular basis for awhile, in the hope that it will help me through my loss — and for another reason, as well.

Gabby was what’s commonly called a pit bull — you know, those dogs that a lot of sadly misinformed people assume are a vicious, dangerous breed.  I hope to show Gabby as a breed representative that was the complete opposite of vicious and dangerous.  I could write all day about how wonderful she was (and at some point I probably will add a few words about her fun-loving antics), but I think that photos can sometimes say a lot more and a lot better than words.  Especially my words.

So this is for Gabby, one of the best dogs I’ve ever known.

Once again it’s the height of summer, that time when we crank up the A/C and spend much of every day inside, watching “Le Tour.”   It’s one of the highlights of my year, and for the second time I’m also taking part in Ravelry’s Tour de France Knit-along.  In 2008, I was assigned to Team Columbia-High Road; for 2009 it’s Team Liquigas.

Okay, so the Italian Liquigas team has no big GC men, no Lance Armstrong or Cadel Evans.  Their most familiar name, Ivan Basso, was forced to sit out the race for health reasons.  That’s okay — since they are not perceived as a threat to the podium contenders, we’re very likely to see our boys in the daily breakaways, riding far ahead of the peloton for many kilometers at a time.

And Czech rider Roman Kreuziger put in a courageous performance in the Stage 1 time trial in Monaco, coming in with the seventh best time, just behind Californian Levi Leipheimer, and earning the White Jersey as the Best Young Rider!  Not bad at all.

The “Let’s Go Shopping” Bag — knit in 100% cotton.  No more paper or plastic!

As for me, I’m aiming at a Green Jersey this year in the KAL.  I’m working on a number of projects including some cotton shopping bags for my trips to the supermarket and a few hats — specifically berets.  I’ve also got two pairs of socks in progress which I actually started in June.  I’d like to be able to wear them when I ride my own bike.

Work in progress:  A beret made of a cotton/acrylic blend from Romania

I haven’t done all that well at riding regularly.  In fact, I finally got back on the bike in early June after almost a year of neglecting it.  Since then I’ve tried to ride at least once a week (although I skipped the last week of June when we had temps in the 100-degree range), and on my second outing I surprised myself by riding to Beals Point and back  — nearly 12 miles, with the first half of the ride mostly uphill.  On that ride I finally got a look at the brand spanking new Folsom Crossing bridge.   And it never ceases to amaze me that I can climb into the bike saddle in my driveway and ride to Folsom Lake.  Even on a somewhat warm day, sitting at a picnic table in the shade and watching kids playing in the water at Beals Point feels awesome.  Especially when you know that you got there completely on your own power.

On the Fourth of July the Big Guy dragged our tandem out of the garage and we went for a 9-mile spin.  It got me thinking about the upcoming Ride For A Reason in August and hoping we can take part again this year.  The tandem is fun, and I enjoy being the Stoker on the back.  I get a workout for my legs, but I don’t have to work quite as hard as when I ride alone.

And for me there’s just something about getting out there alone on my bike; I’m free to go wherever I want at the pace I choose.  No compromising, and I’m in complete control.  The tandem is all about cooperation, but sometimes independence feels great.

Now, on a completely different “note”:

Do you ever get a song stuck in your head and go nuts trying to figure out what it is and where it came from?   It happens to me a lot; in fact, this morning I woke up with an old song in my head.  I could swear I’d seen it in some classic movie −− and I’ve been watching a lot of them in the past month −− but of course I couldn’t remember which one.  Thank goodness for the internet!!

One of my favorite web sites is the Internet Movie Database (IMDB).  It’s an incredible source of info for TV shows as well as feature films.  I used this site along with Google and began searching for a song called “To Know You Is To Love You.”  Well, I found a couple, but they weren’t the song I had in my mind.   Hmm — where did I hear this darned song?

Let’s see, Turner Classic Movies (TCM) had a Hitchcock marathon during June as part of their salute to great directors, and one of the films was Rear Window (which I’ve watched about 50 times now).  I don’t know, maybe the song was in that movie although I don’t really think so, I just might as well try it, nothing to lose.

Yep, that’s the song!

It’s hard for me to believe that the month of May is nearly over!

I’ve had a pretty busy holiday weekend, and I’m hoping that things will settle down a little bit once I get back into my regular work “schedule.”  (I used quotes there because my workdays never follow a set routine, and a lot of it depends on my mood or what seems most pressing at the moment.)

At any rate, I was at my mom’s house the other day and photographed some of the gorgeous flowers she has in her yard.   Not being much of a flower person, I can’t identify them for you — except for the roses — but no matter what you call them, they’re beautiful.  Enjoy!

I have no excuses for failing to blog. I have plenty of stuff to write about as well as some photos to share, I just never got around to posting. I’ll admit right now that I’m hoping to take part in this year’s Tour de France KAL, so in that case I’d better start getting back into the habit of blogging. So with that, I’m just going to pretend the past two months of nothing don’t exist and carry on where I left off.

Calavaras Big Trees Trip, Part II

Let’s see, we were hiking through the snow and craning our necks to see the redwoods. It may not sound very exciting, but standing among these giants and knowing how many hundreds of years they’ve been living and growing (and supporting the lives of countless insects, birds, and other creatures) is just amazing.

And there are the trees that are no longer standing. How’s this for a sense of scale?

Another fallen tree that caught our attention was hollow, with steps leading down into the interior. We weren’t able to explore it on this particular day because it had become a pool of ice-cold water. Here’s a view of the inside (taken with my Kodak).

And a view of the outside; it doesn’t seem to have changed too much since the picture on the sign.

Not all the trees look quite so majestic; there is some sad commentary on human nature here as well. In 1854 promoters decided the best way to show off these beautiful trees was to completely strip the bark from one of them and reassemble the pieces for public display. The crowds may have been duly impressed, but John Muir described it as a “ghastly, disfigured ruin.”

On a little brighter note, haven’t we all wished at one time that we could drive a car right through the trunk of a living tree?

Well, these guys did, anyway!

As we neared the end of the trail, we saw a grove of trees surrounded by a wooden viewing platform.

At this point, as much as we’d enjoyed our hike, the only thing we really wanted to view was the parking lot and our nice warm car. Especially when we noticed that the Warming Hut was all locked up and deserted. Darn!

Okay, now how about a little knitting content?

In February I wrote about the Magenta Buttony sweater (Ravelry link) — it’s now finished, complete with some cool buttons I found at Hancock’s Fabrics.

Remember ponchos?  They were very popular about four years ago, just before I got back into knitting (after a brief hiatus of about 30 years).  Back in 2006 I thought I might knit a poncho for myself, but even though I made a few starts at it, I never got very far . . . which is probably just as well since I was knitting with some stuff called Chunky USA.

Well, I’ve finally managed to jump on the poncho bandwagon.  Back in February/March when the weather was still pretty chilly (relatively speaking, of course) I decided that a poncho knit with Malabrigo Merino Worsted was just what I needed for lounging around the house.  I based my poncho on the Yarn Harlot’s A Very Harlot Poncho, but I left off the fringe and used a M1 increase instead of yarnovers.

And there’s more!  I’ve also completed two hats, a rectangular wrap, and a felted tote bag — pretty amazing, considering what a slow knitter I am.   Of course, I’ve still got a big pile of UFOs (unfinished objects) sitting around wondering when I’m going to stop casting on new stuff and finish the projects I started six months ago . . .

I’ll post more photos and info about my other recent projects next time.  But in the meantime, if you know anything about Ravelry, you’re aware that, although it’s primarily a fiber-oriented site, there are also groups for just about anything you might be interested in.  I belong to several, but there’s one called Malabrigo Junkies that I haven’t yet signed up for.  I probably should, though — considering that I recently bought this from a fellow Raveler:

The colorway is called Bobby Blue, and there is a total of 840 yards.  And let’s just say that it’s not my first Malabrigo purchase . . .

Well, that’s it for today.  I do plan to post again soon, as I still have plenty to write about.  The last couple months have been pretty busy; besides the yarn buying andn the knitting there’s also been several trips back and forth to our vet after one of our three dogs was diagnosed with diabetes.  Oh, and I got to spent a little bit of time in the Delta with The Big Guy’s family.

I’ll end with a glimpse or two of one of my rather shy neighbors.  We bumped into each other in my front yard the other day, and he happened to be in the right mood to pose for a few photos.  He isn’t very talkative, but he clearly had been up to some adventures, from which he was still recuperating.  After a few clicks of my Nikon, he went on his way.

And that’s the end of this week’s tail . . .

Two weekends ago the Big Guy and I decided to take a drive to go see some California Redwoods. We both love seeing these trees and it had been a long while since we’d taken the time for such a trip. So we got a rental car, checked our atlas, and hit the road to Calaveras County.

Our rental car

Since it’s barely March, we expected that we might find some snow when we got to the Calaveras Big Trees State Park. Luckily, we had a break in the winter weather and the roads were clear — at least as far as we were going.

We visited the park on a Friday, so I’m not sure what the place looks like on the weekends, but (besides ourselves) we encountered a mere handful of hearty folks prepared to wade through the snow. Naturally, the carefully marked trails were mostly buried, but we managed to find enough footprints to guide us along the trail without even using a map. I was ready for the snow — I had my comfy handknit wool socks, wool cap, and wool sweater to keep me cozy.

We followed the North Grove Trail. As I said, we were without a map and so just followed the tracks in the snow and watched for the numbered signs which indicated specific points of interest. The quiet solitude of the snow-filled forest, where we stood surrounded by some of the largest (and oldest) trees in the world, could only be described as awe inspiring. The grey clouds would periodically part, letting the sun shine on the snow-laden trees. As we stopped to examine the roots of this fallen tree, we had snow falling down upon us not from the sky, but from the tree branches above our heads.

We spent so much time gazing up at the tops of the giant redwoods that our necks were soon hurting. But it was impossible not to look — and once my eyes found the treetops, I could barely manage to tear them away.

Next time I’ll share more photos from this outing — and there’s lots more to share! I’ll leave you for now with a sign we spotted just up the road from the state park that seems to send a completely unintended message:

Well, it was windy and rainy and cold — but there was nowhere else I would have rather been yesterday but at the top of Howell Mountain watching the Tour of California go by.

Two days before the race, Friday, the Big Guy and I drove from Sacramento to Napa to scope everything out and pick a good place to watch. We drove past the first King of the Mountains checkpoint, near the Monticello Dam at Lake Berryessa.

After accidentally taking the wrong road, we passed through Angwin and came over Howell Mountain in the opposite direction of the race route, then down into Pope Valley.

We didn’t follow the route along the western shore of Berryessa, but we did see some pretty sites on our way back to Route 128. On Sunday, we knew exactly where we wanted to go. And despite the crazy weather we bundled up and made the trip back over to Napa.

Narrow bridge near Pope Valley

Somerston Vineyards

Not part of the peloton!

Actually, on race day the wind didn’t play much of a role for us among all the trees. It was a beautiful spot, and a popular one, too. We weren’t surprised to see an eager crowd show up to cheer on the riders. Not even a steady (and sometimes heavy) rain could dampen our spirits.

We parked on a side road near the KOM sign and then walked back down the slope to find ourselves a good viewing spot. Some volunteers handed out yellow chalk, and spectators were eager to mark up the road. The rain washed away a lot of the writing, but the sentiments remained.

I managed to shoot some great video of the riders as they crawled up Howell Mountain and passed within a foot of us, standing by/on the roadside. I was clever enough this year to let my video camera do the work while I did my best to search out faces, and I did pick out a few familiar ones (George Hincapie, Fast Freddie Rodriguez, possibly Davide Frattini). The trouble is, even fighting up a Category 2 climb, the riders flash by so that if I manage to identify them as they go by, at the end of the day I’m struggling to recall them all.

I chose to stick to video when the riders came through and stills for the rest of the time. I’m happy with the video, but I do miss having still shots of some of the pros. Last year I used my Nikon for stills, but I foolishly used the wrong setting and ended up with tiny images with not enough resolution — better than nothing at all, but I wasn’t satisfied. In the early days of this race I complained that my Kodak was no good for video because it couldn’t zoom, as my analog camcorder can. But for the last two years I’ve found that zoom isn’t always necessary and it’s sometimes best to put down the video camera and focus it on one spot. Last year I did this using a tripod; but this year I didn’t want to lug the heavy tripod with me. Just as well, since there simply wasn’t room for it where we were standing.

All in all, I’m satisfied with my choices for this year. But the other issue −− wishing to be able to see ourselves on the Tour coverage −− is something else. Usually we pick a spot without regard to TV cameras; we’re much more interested in having a great view of the race itself. We tend to move away from the more congested areas where people gather such as tight corners and KOM markers, but this year I decided to get as close to the KOM as possible while still finding a spot where the road was steep enough to slow the guys down a little bit. We were still close enough to the summit that I felt positive the TV coverage would include us.

But I didn’t reckon on two things −− the fact that we were in the middle of a rainforest (trees do a real number on picture transmission) and, well, the fact that it was raining (more bad news for transmitting video). So when we sat down to watch the race highlights we discovered that no one had received any video of Mancebo until he reached the lower western slopes of the coastal range; he was something like 10 miles outside of Santa Rosa before commentators could even get a look at him. So much for an exciting KOM moment.

Wet but happy at the Tour

If I’m truly serious about getting on TV I’m going to have to remember to stay away from heavy trees and pray for dry weather, then look for a spot at least one-third of the way to the finish line.

I was going to call this The Neverending Cardigan. I was going to write about how at the end of December 2008 I started knitting the Buttony Sweater using Cashmere Luxury Chunky in a beautiful Magenta shade. I had 10 balls (700 yds) and I had done some quick calculations and figured I had just enough yarn. And then, as work progressed, it became ever more clear that I actually didn’t have enough yarn, I was going to run out somewhere in the middle of a sleeve.

The true color is much darker than in this photo!

But now this story has a happy ending (well, almost an ending), and it’s all because of Ravelry and some of the wonderful people there. When I realized that my yarn of choice was nearly impossible to buy anywhere, I decided to peek into the stashes of some of my fellow Ravelers. I found a couple who had some in the Magenta colorway — but they werren’t offering it for sale or trade.

I contacted them anyway, explaining my predicament and asking that they might take mercy on me and allow me to buy any extra scraps they might have available. At this point I wasn’t even worried about details like dye lot; I just wanted to finish my sweater, even if it ended up looking oddly striped.

Well, I found an angel who calls herself Nearlywrong! She had just finished knitting the Little Blue Sweater (Ravelry link) from the Fall 2008 Interweave Knits, and she promised to send me her leftover yarn. Four days after she put it in the mail, I had two full balls plus a few shorter pieces of the yarn — in the same exact dye lot I had been using! AND my benefactor refused my offer to buy the yarn or even to pay the postage!

This is more like it!

Now work is once again proceeding on my Button sweater. I’ve finished the sleeves, and since I still have plenty of yarn leftover I decided to lengthen the body a little bit.

I’ve definitely learned to check and double check my yardage requirements before starting a project. And as far as Nearlywrong’s act of generosity, I’m looking for ways to “pay it forward” and make someone else’s life a little bit brighter.

Another wonderful benefit of Ravelry and the fact that people share info about their stash: I’ve now got a clue about the yardage of both my Colourmart DK angora/lambswool AND my Unger stash!

I’m really tickled about the Unger; I think I recall not too long ago writing in my journal something about how proud I am about having more Unger Cruise than anyone else on Ravelry (although I’m still not sure that’s something to brag about). But despite each and every ball of this yarn having an identical and very clear label, thanks to my atrocious math skills I could never figure out 1) how much yardage each ball contained and 2) what exactly 1.4/10 oz meant.

Well, because there are now three or four other people who own Unger Cruise and someone was clever enough to figure out the yardage of a single ball (210 yards), I now can add up my total yardage and record in my notebook.

And it’s a pretty mindblowing sum, I must say. I’ve got four different colors: pink, apricot, white, and mint. Here’s how it stacks up −− the mint green (6 skeins) = 1260 yds; the apricot (8 skeins) = 1680; the pink (11 skeins) = 2310; and the white (20 skeins) = 4200.

This means that I have a total of 9,240 yards of Unger Cruise yarn. I guess that’s a good reason to stop buying the stuff — especially since I still have no clue what to knit with it.