Hands-Free XLVI Neck Wrap

In my previous post, I showed a pic of what I came up with to wear to Indianapolis Super Bowl XLVI events.  The pic is a little deceiving, however, though not intentionally.  What I have around my neck isn’t exactly a scarf.  It can double as one when it is unwrapped, but that isn’t how I want to wear it.

I know that long winter scarves can be wrapped any number of ways, tucked here and there to make the ends stay in place, but mine all seem to eventually get blown in the wind or unwrapped to have loose ends.  I didn’t want loose ends in Indy.  I want to be warm outdoors, but keep my hands free for taking photos of Super Scarves and doing other things in Super Bowl Village that don’t involve holding onto a scarf end.

So . . . when wrapped properly, my hands-free neck wrap looks like this:

When unwrapped, it can still be a scarf, though a bit shorter than usual.

It’s not a tough piece to make.  It’s just 2 x 2 ribbing.  But, I wanted to have some fun with the pattern, so in honor of Super Bowl XLVI, I wrote my pattern, directions, dimensions etc.,  using Roman Numerals!   Don’t worry.  I added a link to a Roman Numeral Chart in case you’re a little rusty.  I called it XLVI Neck Wrap because that’s how many stitches I used.

If you would like to knit my Hands Free XLVI Neck WrapHands Free XLVI Neck Wrap, feel free to click the link.

Happy knitting!

Do These Stripes Make Me Look . . . . .

 

. . . . . SUPER???

I hope so, because this is what I’m wearing when I’m out and about in Indianapolis for Super Bowl Week activities!

I even found a polar fleece jacket AND a polar fleece vest in the approved Super Scarf Project colors.  Matchy matchy! 

I received an email from a Super Volunteer who told me that someone offered to buy her Super Scarf from her.  I think that means the Super Scarf Project is making a HUGE splash.  FYI, the volunteer declined the offer.

Super Scarf Thank-you Notes

I have received two thank you notes from people who received their Super Scarves as part of their volunteer uniform for the 2012 Indianapolis Super Bowl.  Gosh, the notes made my day bright!

The Super Scarf Project requested that each scarf be accompanied by a comment card/note to the volunteer who would receive the hand-crafted piece.  There was a space at the bottom of the comment card where the knitter/crocheter/weaver could leave an email address in case the volunteer wanted to thank the maker of their scarf.

One volunteer who wrote to me didn’t receive one of my scarves, but hadn’t gotten a comment card either.  Not having someone to thank, the volunteer thanked me.  That is so touching!  I understand the variety of reasons why a comment card might not have been included.  I think a couple of my scarves went in the mail without comment cards, too.  When I completed a scarf, I was so eager and happy to send it that I may have forgotten the paperwork, too.  I take no responsibility for my forgetfulness in this instance.  I blame the scarves.  They were just in a hurry to get to Indianapolis. 

I have been constantly blessed by the kindness and generosity of this entire project.  And now that the knitting is done, I can still enjoy it all as I sit back and hear from whomever takes the time to get in touch with me about the scarves they received.

Believe it or not, the Super Scarf total is up again from last week.  I checked the count today and the website shows 13,024 scarves have been collected.  Wow!  When I get to Indy, I am going on a Super Scarf scavenger hunt – with my camera!

Hidden Super Scarf Message – Read Between the Lines

I have twenty inches to go, but . . .

Entomology, Osteology, Botany and A Flashlight: A Date with Officer Friendly

It’s been six years since Officer Friendly passed away.  Though he had retired from the Police Department long before we met, he maintained a regular schedule of visiting the station.  I think it was mostly to throw in his share of cash for the group’s lottery tickets, but I know they always shared their stories, too.  He had to keep up with the department news, the citizens he served, and his career.

He loved being a cop.  It showed.  He maintained his affiliation with his professional organizations, too.  I remember when he got a brochure for an annual conference for detectives.

OF: Dear? Would you like to go to a conference with me?

Gram: Sure, Hon.  What kind of conference?

OF: Well . . . it’s for detectives, but I usually go.

Gram: That’s fine, Hon.  Is there a theme for your conference?

OF: Bugs, Bones and Botany.

Gram:  Ah!  Entomology, Osteology, and . . . plants.  Are you interested in those topics, Hon?

OF smiled his big grin at me.  He was, but he was probably more interested in seeing his buddies.

We went to the conference.  He told me I could go shopping if I wanted to, but since the detectives’ wives could sit in on the workshops, I attended all three sessions with him: the bugs, the bones, and the plants.

I took notes.

It’s not that I had any desire to change my career.  I’m just nerdy and OF knew I would find the conference interesting.  I fell from the science oak tree in the family forest.

As interesting as it was, what I enjoyed most was just watching OF as he greeted his former colleagues.  I enjoyed listening to their stories and laughter at the conference banquet.  It’s good medicine for all of us, I think: to get together with people who share our stories, nod in unison at implicit dangers or hazards without speaking them, and toast our good fortune at surviving our careers.  I loved sitting next to OF at the banquet table and watching eyes grow brighter with each tall tale.

Surviving a career and retiring from it doesn’t mean leaving it all behind.  I learned that lesson the first night in the hotel where the conference was held.  OF and I had gone to bed and were both sound asleep when a loud noise from the hall woke us both.

As a civilian, my first instinct would have been to turn on a light and wait to hear something that would help me determine what the noise was.  Not Officer Friendly, though.  Before I could reach for the pull-chain on the bedside lamp, he had hopped out of bed, grabbed his flashlight and dashed to the door to look through the peephole. 

I didn’t know he had packed his flashlight . . .

Officer Friendly’s flashlight was two feet long, metal, and heavy.  It served two purposes, I suppose: providing light when needed and protection if he used it as a billy club.

There I was, sitting up in bed in the dark, while OF stood at the hotel room peephole with his HUGE flashlight in hand, ready to protect and defend.  I loved him for that.

The noise ended up being nothing worthy of note.  When he was satisfied that he no longer needed to stand his post at the door, he came back to bed.  I had to ask . . .

Gram:  Dear?  Where did you pull that from?

OF: Under my pillow.

I decided I didn’t need to know any more.  I never saw him pack the thing and I never saw him put it under his pillow. 

Officer Friendly eventually went back to sleep.  I remained seated in the dark trying to understand the decision-making process he had while packing for our trip.  Did he actually ask himself if he would need it, or was it a matter of habit to bring the one remaining weapon he had from his career.  He could carry his flashlight without wearing a badge.

I never laughed aloud, but my soul still quakes with delight at the image of him standing in the dark with his flashlight.  It’s not a mocking laughter.  It’s a laughter of pure delight in someone with whom I had barely started a shared life when the incident occurred.

I loved our date to his forensic conference.  Though it was a surprise to me the first time it happened, thereafter, I knew his bag would always be a ‘little heavy’ when we traveled.

I still have OF’s flashlight.  I don’t keep it under my pillow.  I’ve retired it and it rests next to his official police department pins and the tri-cornered flag I was given when he was laid to rest.  I think I’m going to take the flashlight off the shelf and check the batteries today.  If I need to, I’ll replace them and let Officer Friendly’s light shine once more.

We’re a two-knitter household!

Goodnight has not been fond of knitting.  She’s young and that’s okay.  She should be interested in lots of things, but I wanted to teach her something that I know how to do.  She can always come back to it later in life and say, “My Gram taught me how to knit.”

Late last year, on a trip to Smalltownville, we passed through another town that had a yarn shop I had never seen before.  We went in and I started looking around.  Pretty soon GN skipped over to me and asked me if she could make a scarf for herself.  I told her she could if she was interested, but my rule is that she has to finish it if she starts it.

SHE FINISHED HER SCARF!!!!!

She’s been working on it as she had time between homework, basketball, Drama Club, and Student Council meetings.  She finished it last night and I asked her to pose for a photo.  She agreed and promptly wrapped herself up in her work.

I know . . . I didn’t show the entire scarf, but that’s because I was looking at the smile on her face.  Way to go, Honey! 

Knee-hab Continues

Since my fall to the concrete last summer, I have been trying to make as good a come-back as possible.  Until I returned to work being off for winter break, I had not been going up and down the stairs at the college because there are elevators and I wanted to save the painful movement for the stairs I have at home.

I have finally arrived at the point in my knee-habilitation where I feel comfortable trying the stairs at work.  I have a plan: one flight of stairs at a time per day until that goes well, then increase by one flight at a time until . . . . . well I may never get back to dashing up and down like I did when I began my career, but a steady pace up and down the stairs (with a terrified grip on the railing) is a reasonable goal for me.

I’m hoping to get over that ‘tin-woman’ feeling that  makes me feel like every twist and turn must be carefully thought out.  Or . . . . is that an age thing?   :-(

Flower Exchange

Unbeknownst to both of us, Goodnight and I each worked on separate flower projects as gifts to surprise the other.

She made me a paper flower.

I made her a wool knit flower.*

Both flowers brightened our day – in the making and then in the giving.

GN’s paper flower gift to me is hanging on the wall in the living room where I have reserved a frame for her art.  My wool knit flower gift to GN got attached to an ear warmer I made to match a scarf I made for her a few weeks ago.

   

Cheery flower gifts at a time when winter is rearing is frosty head!

*I found the knit flower pattern here, though I used five petals instead of six.  Thank you to Miss Crafty Fingers for posting the pattern.

Toasty Feet

For me, knitting can be a very practical skill sometimes.

I decided I wanted to add some warmth to the soles of my feet, so I knitted up some bulky wool (one skein each in three different colors) washed it, shrunk it, and made cheery inserts for my boots.  Since I only cut what I needed, I have a lot of felt left for when I need replacements.

 

 The felt is fairly thick, so there’s a nice warm layer between my feet and the pavement when I have to walk down the street to our annex this afternoon.

“. . . but what does that MEAN?”

Goodnight is a good kid.  Among the many things I appreciate about her is her ability to take an honest assessment of herself and to apologize sincerely when she thinks she needs to.

For a while now, when she’s apologized to me, she’s been saying, “I’m very sorry, Gram, but I’m trying.  Really, I am!”

My response has always been, “Very.”

She has consistently let it go, perhaps secretly blaming my senility or hearing loss.

Yesterday, she had an another occasion to apologize.  ”Sorry, Gram, but I’m really trying“ and I replied with my usual, ‘very’.   She threw her hands up in exasperation and said, “Oh, by the way, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?????”

I smiled, took a deep breath and said, “You have a full set of encyclopedias and an unabridged dictionary in the living room.  Why don’t you go on a scavenger hunt and come back when you can tell me what it means.”

I know frustration can bring us all to our knees, so I held my breath for a split second as I waited for her reaction.  She turned toward the living room.  As she walked away I reminded her to look up ‘trying’ and not ‘try.’

I had been working in the kitchen and went back to my chores.  It was quiet in the living room, but I always like to wait things out.  It’s a lesson in patience for me and it gives her some space.

Soon I heard some laughter.  At least, I thought it was laughter, but there’s a point in laughter that can also sound like crying.  “This could go either way,” I thought to myself.  She could either think the definition – and my intention - was either humorous or, very disheartening.

She was laughing.  It started out quietly, but turned into a full-bellied guffaw when she understood what I meant.

She walked into the kitchen, dictionary in hand, sporting a huge grin on her face.

Gram: Did you find the definition of ‘trying,’ Honey? 

GN: Yes, Gram.

Gram: What do I mean when I say ’very’?

GN: (with wide eyes) Upsetting? 

Gram: Not really.

GN: (grinning ear to ear) Annoying?

Gram: No, Honey.

GN: (with renewed laughter) Challenging?!!

Gram:  That’s the one!  When you say, “I’m sorry, Gram.  I’m trying.”  and I respond with ”Very”, I mean you are challenging.  I grew up with parents who said the same thing to me.  It’s not a response that’s meant to belittle you.  It’s a response that’s meant to teach you the meanings of words in a subtle way.  Are you going to tell me that you are ‘trying’ any more?

GN: Nope.

Gram: What will you say?

GN: Just, ‘I’m sorry’.

Gram:  But will you keep trying?

GN:  I get it!  Trying, verb.  Trying, adjective!

Gram:  Well done.

It’s the academic form of discipline (or consequences) by distraction.  My paternal grandmother sent me to the dictionary.  My folks sent me to the dictionary.  I sent Angel to the dictionary.  Goodnight goes to the dictionary, too.  It seems less like preaching that way.  And laughter is a wonderful outcome!