Funeral for a Friend

This was a rather draining week for me, and it would be easy to say that it was spent preparing for, attending, and contemplating the funeral of my friend Marsha. She was beloved by many, many people, and of everyone present at the farewell I may have had the shortest and slightest relationship with her. I’m grateful to have had even a brief acquaintance with such a lovely person, and one of my long-term projects will be to learn to play a song that she and I shared a love for. Marsha, this one’s for you — at least, it will be after I learn a few guitar chords.

The projects are starting to pile up again. In my daily freewriting sessions I have begun to refer to the two writing projects as the Primary Projects. Other interests, and their reference materials, are forming higher and higher stacks on the coffee table in the library. And just when I had finally knocked the old stacks down to a manageable level. But I’m gratified that these reference materials are ones that I already own. Over the years I have bought many books that caught my eye even though I wouldn’t actively use them at the time. “Someday,” I told myself, “these books will come in handy.” And now, some of them have shown themselves to be relevant — and connected to each other in ways I could not have even imagined at the time.

Regarding my typewriter collection, I’m going to plead the Fifth Amendment this week. (That will give me time to find the serial numbers and take some pictures. And to sneak the machines into the house when Eldest isn’t looking.)

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Knitwise, I’m thinking of starting another, slightly more colorful project. Spring is springing upon us rather violently at the moment, swinging between cold and gutsy to hot and humid and gusty. We’re almost able to keep a window cracked so we have a better chance of hearing the tornado siren (whether it’s a test or an actual emergency). So it might be nice to have a current project in a color other than grey, and whose progress is a bit easier to see.

Last weekend I found these materials already set up in a project bag while I was working on a different project of reorganizing my CD collection. I’m thinking of using the solid color yarn (“Robin Egg”) for the body of the shawl and using the variegated yarn (“Surf and Turf”) for the edging. It would be less risky to do things the other way around, of course, but I think this way will look better. And if it doesn’t look better, of course I can frog the whole project and knit it all over again in a different way. Doesn’t that sound great?

I know this is all very exciting, but my writing time has run out for the evening. I must excuse myself to do some reading that will restore my soul and, possibly, ready me for the week-to-come.

The wicked wind to the west

A few nights ago, I took shelter as a first-ever February tornado made landfall about 45 miles away and blew its way into Wisconsin’s weather history. In a state where almost any weather can happen at any time — I have heard that July and August are the only two months which have never seen snow — it’s getting even more ecumenical here with regard to weather events.

That’s not snow in my back yard: it’s hail. I remember one July in Ohio when I was equally startled to see hail. (Is hail expected in any season?)

It felt like a long week full of stress building up to the day the tornadoes came. I helped to put together a campus forum, and I stayed a few extra minutes to make sure it got off to a safe start. Then it was time to head back to my department, lock up for the night, and head for home. As soon as I got out of town I could see the strong flashes of lightning to the west.

When I got home I was still thinking that I would head out again to a show to which I had a ticket. But it wasn’t long before I decided that it might be wiser to put the car in the driveway and hunker down with my boys. Eldest leashed up the dog and Youngest baked up some snacks that we took with us to the basement. Two rounds of hail pounded against the house before it was calm again and we felt it was safe to return to the ground floor.

When I wasn’t hiding from tornadoes, planning campus events, or setting up writing retreats this week, I was preparing to clean the next typewriter on my list: my mother’s 1966 Smith-Corona Galaxie II. I did get some of the dust blown out of it, but one of the critical screws — to the ribbon cover — wouldn’t budge. So I put almost everything back together. I’ll take the screw’s twin to the hardware store this week to see if I can buy a better screwdriver (and perhaps pick up some extra screws in case I destroy this one in order to save it).

After I get the cover off and have better access for cleaning the hammers, I can work on repeated gentle cleaning of the keys themselves. Mom wasn’t particularly rough on the typewriter, but time in storage did take its toll.

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Knitwise, the only thing I did with yarn this week was to completely frog a finished object (my apologies to the Noro triangle I knitted up a few years ago just to be making something). Oh, and move some project bags into a different space, and move some unallocated yarn to yet another different space.

Well, that’s not quite all. I did — finally — wash out the Leroy Cowl I made from Laurenspun and “block” it out to dry. This was one of the side effects of deciding to de-clutter my bedroom this afternoon instead of doing, well, just about anything else.

It will be resting and air-drying for about the next 24 hours, after which it may be cold enough again to give it a real-life test. Who knows? It’s frosty in the mornings, windy all day, and occasionally warm enough to spawn tornadoes.

While I was sorting through the boxes and bins of clutter in my bedroom, I found a steno pad (remember those?) in which I briefly started a journal in 1986. Those were college years for me, and I used it to take notes during campus visits by novelist Tom Wolfe, Poet Laureate Rita Dove, and legend Kurt Vonnegut. I also used it to write drafts of a fiction workshop response and an article for the honors program newsletter, and brainstorm directions for two fiction pieces I was working on at the time. One ultimately wound up in my creative writing portfolio, and I have no idea what became of the other one. But how glad I am to discover the thinking behind those two stories!

During the time I spent in the basement, though, I peeked into several boxes of old notebooks, journals, and folders; the answer to the background of the forgotten story might lie in one of those cardboard moving boxes.

Hard driving

Last week’s weather presented some challenging driving conditions. By the end of the week I was tempted to create a bingo card that included Construction, Earthquake, Terrible Flood, and Locusts.

Though we didn’t actually endure those particular events, we did have snow, sleet, freezing rain, regular rain, and dense fog. Many of us suffered from being on the road in the wrong order: timid drivers in front, driving no faster than 30 miles an hour and keeping their hazard lights on; sensible drivers in the middle, with headlights properly on, sure that they could stay on the road at a slightly swifter 40-45 miles an hour; aggressive Jeep owners in the rear, headlights off (unless they were tailgating, in which case they were using the high beams).

On the last day that I drove my loaner car, everything seemed to come unraveled. While Youngest and I were trying to get through town in the rain, one windshield wiper ripped the other one from its mounting. I stopped the car, retrieved the separated wiper, and drove to the nearest auto parts store (fortunately, it was just a quarter of a mile away) to have it replaced. We continued on until we were three miles from home, when a rather overstuffed raccoon was wandering across the road. One mile later we were almost struck by two large low-flying birds. I wasn’t sure that I would get home safely until I was in the driveway, putting the car in Park.

Bah! There’s not even any snow or ice!

On Friday morning I was at last able to pick up my new used car, the 2011 Subaru Forester that my mechanic has been rebuilding for me sine sometime in November. I seemed to spend all of Friday figuring out how to drive it — I accidentally put it into a “sport” mode that depended upon me to do the shifts, then eventually figured out how to put it in full automatic mode again — but at last I was home with my “new” car and new license plates.

Eldest and I spent much of Saturday vacuuming the upholstery and detailing the interior in mid-30s weather, since it wasn’t raining, or hailing, or snowing at the time. We found some items that the previous owners had left behind: five pennies, two stainless steel coffee mugs, and a fork. (I cleaned them up and will return them via my mechanic.) I flipped through the owner’s manual and put Post-It flags on the pages where information was particularly important to learn in a hurry. Illumination Brightness Controls? Now I get it!

Here’s Kinga. Kinga Forester. Get it?

She’s so much fun to drive, and she seems to enjoy k.d. lang albums as much as I do.

Typewriter Time

I’m getting ready to give a cleaning to another typewriter in my collection. It will be my mother’s 1966 Smith-Corona Galaxie II, which she gave me at Thanksgiving. I remember this machine as the one she used when she went back to college in the early 80s to earn a Master’s degree in Education from THE Ohio State University. (There’s a tiny splotch of Wite-Out on the ribbon cover; I’m thinking of leaving it there to honor all the pages she typed — and retyped — on it while sitting at the end of the dining room table.)

Eldest and I took a careful look at it this afternoon, flipping it over to see how we might get it out of its shell, but I don’t want to barge in without looking at the repairs manuals, and maybe a few YouTube videos, first. So the real work probably won’t start until next weekend.

Impossible Read checkpoint: The Once and Future King, Book One, Chapter 17. I have been doing a little reading because I so desperately want to do any reading at all. I am not caught up on my notes.

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Knitwise, I gifted the Thrift Stripe Cowl to its new owner. I also completely frogged the shawl I was making with that soft and beautiful lavender yarn (Järbo Garn Duo in purple/grey) and wound it up again to prepare for a fresh start. I have 200 g (312 m) of it; what could I make? I’m leaning towards something stole-ish in a simple stitch pattern.

The Stripe Scarf is still waiting for a perfect box, which I might have in my office at work.

So much yarn in the stash, but nothing is calling out to me right now. Eldest is requesting one of the dickeys from Elizabeth Zimmerman’s wonderful book Knitting Around, so I will try to get started on that. Casting on with some Shetland wool might be just the thing to ensure that the cold weather will fade away until next winter.

The Write Type

It’s been a long week of bearing the bitter cold and snow, checking various tasks off my list, and finding peace and relaxation where I can. The spring semester begins tomorrow and I may not be able to take a deep breath until Friday afternoon.

This weekend I finished reading Uncommon Type, a collection of short stories written by Tom Hanks. Yes, that Tom Hanks. Each story refers to or features a typewriter in some way, but other than that the stories are quite diverse. They’re all very well done. I’d be proud of myself had I written any one of them.

Hanks’s work gives me encouragement to allow myself to work on a variety of writing projects. My head is full of story ideas, but sometimes I limit myself by worrying about what kind of stories I “ought” to be writing. (Finished ones, self. Finished stories are what you should write.)

I have book after book after book about how other writers write: what their libraries and writing areas look like, which computer or typewriter or fountain pen they use, when they sit down to write and when they rise up. I suspect that my attraction to these books was the hope that whatever routine and process worked so well for, say, Ursula LeGuin, would be the process that worked for me — if only I could copy it.

Of course, I am not Ursula LeGuin. I have led a different life and have a different mind and very different circumstances and resources. The lesson that I wish I had absorbed decades ago was to keep writing, try everything, and keep doing the things that work for me. So I guess I’ll have to take it to heart now, start writing, try everything, and find out what works.

Impossible Read checkpoint: The Once and Future King, Book 1, Chapter 16 of 24.

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Knitwise, I have found a recipient for the finished Thrift Stripe Scarf. Eldest told me to take it to work and find out who it belonged to, so I did.

MUSIC: SAX SOLO

I was alone in my office that day. The ownerless scarf was draped over a chair. That’s when SHE walked in — the dame who needed a scarf.

MUSIC: FADES OUT

Anyway, they’re such a good match for each other. I’m now in the process of using the rest of the yarn to create a coordinating cowl for her.

In person, it doesn’t actually look like a terrified Muppet.

The Stripe Scarf is waiting, with a few other items, for the Perfect Shipping Box to come along so that it can be sent to its recipient.

I’m thinking of frogging the very narrow shawl — or whatever I had named it — made from the wonderfully soft lavender yarn I found at a thrift store. I now think that a traditional prayer shawl or wrap shape would suit the yarn (and me) better. If the events of the coming week make me want to tear something apart, I’ll do the frogging then to settle my mind.

And then I’ll be thinking about casting on for a new project: whatever works.

Smart new world

Quite some time ago, I came across a Keurig machine at a thrift store. I had been looking for such an item for a while, and had come to believe that I would never find it. But lo and behold, there it was — for just $9.99. It didn’t look exactly like the model that my mother had recently purchased; hers had a tall water reservoir and this one had, well, a little well at the back of the machine. Evidently it was intended to make just one cup at a time, which was fine.

Anyway, I brought it home, cleaned the outside, and descaled the inside (after finding a copy of the manual online). Then I took it to work and set it up next to the K-pod drawer that I had purchased for the department (also at a thrift store) a few years before. It’s also next to three other coffee makers; we have a large department and we do go through a lot of coffee. We’re not permitted to spend department funds on anything food-related, though, so everything we use is either crowdfunded or scrounged from the thrift stores.

We soon found out that this Keurig was, shall I say, a little particular about how it preferred to receive user input. There was a definite order to the steps involved — and if you missed a step or pushed a button out of sequence, you would be arguing with it for a while before you received your cup of coffee.

Pour water, set mug under spout, raise lever, inset pod, lower lever, and lean on the giant “K” button. That should have been simple, but the process often felt complicated. The machine would make some noise, then just sit. And sit. Sometimes you would get a cup of coffee and sometimes you wouldn’t. We did learn that when the big “K” button double-flashed every 30 seconds or so, the machine was actually going to make coffee. To paraphrase part of a rhyme my father used to tell me about a curly-headed little girl, when it was good it was very very good, but when it was bad it was horrid.

In the back of my mind, I wished there were something I could do about it. Lo and behold, just after Thanksgiving I found another Keurig in another thrift store, for $19.99. This one looked sort of like my mother’s, with a large reservoir off to one side. It was called a SmartBrew. I took it back to her house, cleaned it up, and promptly made two mugs of Earl Grey tea (hot) using K-pods she had on hand. Perfect! No issues.

I brought the new machine back to Wisconsin and took it to work as soon as I could. Out with the old, I thought, unplugging the single-cup model and taking it back to my office, and in with the new, hauling the new machine to the kitchen and plugging it in.

The SmartBrew had a lot more buttons — and a video panel. It started up right away. Then it asked to be connected to the wi-fi. And suggested that I download the Keurig app. And wouldn’t make any beverages for me until it had that wi-fi.

Uh-oh.

For context, I need my smartphone to complete the multi-factor authentication process for every piece of software that I use in the course of my job — and I don’t even put my own phone on the university’s wi-fi system. I didn’t want to answer to a network administrator (hi, Matt!) who detected a coffee maker on our network. I did download the app, though, thinking that I would need it later.

Back with the old, I thought, hauling the finicky single-cupper back to the kitchen and plugging it in again, and home with the new, taking the bandwidth-hungry new machine to my car so I could take it home.

For a few weeks I didn’t know where to put it. Then I moved it to my writing desk, next to my iMac, but I couldn’t plug it in there because its cord was too short. For a moment I considered mounting the power strip on the back of my desk so that the cord would reach, but it seemed like a ridiculous amount of work.

Then, while I was in the midst of reorganizing my kitchen this weekend, I suddenly saw the perfect place for the new machine. It meant moving eight glass jars filled with various flours and sugars to the dining room. The best place to put those jars was on the sideboard where the books for the Impossible Read were set up. So I squeezed some items together and created shelf space for the (currently) thirty-two books of the Impossible Read. Then I set up the glass jars on the sideboard. And then I was able to plug in the new coffee maker. Huzzah!

Add water, said a message on the screen. So I filled the reservoir.

Connect to wi-fi, the screen now read. Follow instructions on app.

I would like to say that this was a simple process. I scanned the QR code on the back of the machine three times, checked my Spectrum records for the network password, and entered the password at least two times before it “took.” But in the end, after about half an hour, I had the machine all hooked up with the home network — and I clicked on the “BREW” button in my Keurig app to make my first mug of Green Mountain Nantucket Blend Medium Roast coffee.

Then the SmartBrew registered itself and extended my warranty by an extra twelve months.

It was a good cup of coffee. But then I noticed a new message on the screen.

Software update detected, it read. Machine will restart after installation. And it did.

In fact, if I put my coffee mug in place and insert a k-pod before I go to bed tonight… I can press that “BREW” button in the app and start my next cup before I even get out of bed.

When I haven’t been wrestling with technology, I have been immersing myself in a book I picked up on the university bookstore’s discount shelf on Friday morning. Its title, Morning Altars, intrigued me, and the photography was stunning.

It turns out to be an amazing book that connects Zen and art and creativity as a spiritual practice. And the author has a series of short videos that sum up each chapter of the book. Here’s a video that gives a good overview of the concept. As he mentions, it’s an exercise that allows you to build up a certain tolerance for impermanence.

At first, I told myself that I could read the introduction on the first day and then go through the rest of the book at one chapter per day. After I started getting into the book, my plan began to sound like nonsense. It was a holiday weekend, why couldn’t I just dive in and read the whole book? Why was I being so strict with myself, metering out the book in such tiny portions? So I have been reading a chapter and thinking about it, then watching the corresponding video. Tonight I’m almost through the entire text.

This morning when I walked Monty, I saw a little “fairy ring” in the grass. So I decided to try my hand at making my first altar. I didn’t follow all of the steps, because I didn’t know about them yet, but it was really satisfying just to do the little that I did with arranging the leaves and blossoms that I found.

One of the steps of the altar-making process is to share the altar that you make. So I used this image as my first-ever Instagram post, with the hashtag MorningAltars. I am still trying to figure out how to use Instagram, but when it asked who else I wanted to share the post with, I typed in MorningAltars — and lo and behold, the author did have an account. I shared the photo, and a short while later he put a little heart on my post. So that’s a heartening little human-to-human connection made possible by, of all things, Instagram.

I wonder what natural objects I’ll find tomorrow morning, and what I might make from them?

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Knitwise, I added a few more repeats on the Thrifted Stripe scarf; I’m at 41 repeats now and will measure it at 45 to see if that will be enough.

I went through a lot of my stash to see if I could find any little scraps or partial skeins of Plymouth Encore in color 151, but I came up empty. However, I did decide to pull out some nice-looking yarn and match it with patterns.

I have one skein of Trekking Pro Natural in a pale grey (color 1511, oddly enough), and after searching through Ravellry for a while I decided to knit it up in a shawl pattern named Reyna. One Ravelrer who made the shawl added some modifications to use up the entire skein, so I’ll have to go on Rav at some point and make a note of the changes she made.

The other yarn consists of two balls of Sublime (get this) Cashmere Merino Silk Aran. In black. The pattern I really liked was “Cosy knitted hand/wrist warmers” by Joelle Hoverson, but the yarn is worked on two 8-inch circular needles, a technique I have never used. I had better look for a new pattern or commit to learning something entirely new. The wristwarmers do look so nice….

To Read the Impossible Read

Over the past few days I’ve taken a look at my overflowing bookshelves and devised an utterly ridiculous plan for doing something about it. In honor of Miguel de Cervantes’s hero I have dubbed this plan “The Impossible Read.”

The idea is to start reading the greatest works of literature, almost all of which I have not read before. (I was an English major, but I had a lazy habit of re-reading what I liked — Jane Eyre, anyone? — rather than excessively broadening my horizons.)

I posted my initial list on Facebook on Saturday morning and my revised (i.e., more chronological) list on Sunday, and I’m currently in conversation with everyone from high school classmates and fellow knitters to English professors about which books should be on the list and in what order. At this time, four more books have been proposed: Voltaire’s Candide paired with George Bernard Shaw’s Candida, and Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey paired with The Martian by Andy Weir. (Maybe it should have been paired with Homer’s Odyssey.)

The stories will start with the legend of King Arthur and end, eventually, with contemporary science fiction. The book list itself is so extensive that my attitude towards adding more books can be described as, “Sure! Why not?” I’m making a deal with myself not to count any pages until I’ve finished a book, and I’m planning to end each book-grouping (since most of them paired off with another book) with the film of the story. In most cases, it should be easy to decide on the film.

Group One: The Once and Future King by T. H. White and The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Feature film: “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” (1975).

And so on.

This May I finished reading a book about (and by) a fellow who challenged himself to read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica. Another book on my shelves is about (and by) someone who read the entire Oxford English Dictionary in a year. Perhaps these accounts were in the back of my mind as I started to develop my colossal reading plan. The purpose of my reading project isn’t to show off; it’s to finally read those “must read” books that have influenced or changed the course of literature. The main idea is to get started.

I’m still trying to figure out the best way for me to take notes and keep track of my progress through the reading list. My Facebook friends have voted for me to just make postings on my personal Facebook account rather than create a special Facebook group. But I could just as easily create a Facebook group or a new blog on WordPress; I’ve certainly created many other groups and blogs over the years, and I enjoy the process.

What do you think? Would you want to see those posts collected in a separate blog, or is this the place for them? Would you be willing to travel to Facebook to read those posts or would you rather not? Let me know. And what books do you think I should read? I can post my Impossible Reading List next week.

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This weekend we rescued another typewriter, from the surviving nephew of the original owner. It’s a 1952 Smith-Corona Clipper and it will need — and receive — a lot of TLC. I made arrangements early in the week to pick it up on Saturday afternoon; by the time we arrived to pick it up, the nephew had also found the original manual. Its front cover humbly states, “Congratulations! YOU NOW OWN THE WORLD’S FINEST PORTABLE TYPEWRITER.”

I will clean this up.

For some reason, out of all of the typewriters I now own this is the one that I want to get started on cleaning up and using. I do have another Smith-Corona Clipper, one from 1956, that I can either use to compare parts or to work on at the same time. Typewriter repair manuals won’t be included in the Impossible Read, but I’ll be working my way through those as well.

I have already cleaned this up.

Fortunately, this particular typewriter seems not to need more than a thorough cleaning and a fresh ribbon. I hope to be writing on it soon; I promised the seller that if I sold it, it would only be to another writer.

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Knitwise, this week I’ve added a few more repeats to the Thrift Stripe Scarf. (How many different names have I given this project?) I have now done 33 repeats of the color pattern, and I’ll measure it again at 45 repeats. I’ll probably stop there, since that will give me more yarn left over to turn into a cowl, a hat, a brooch, or a pterodactyl.

Oh, I can make a lot of things!

I haven’t been able to locate any more Plymouth Encore yet; if you know a source, I’d love to find out soon. I did sew in most of the remaining ends on Stripe Scarf project, so after I add a few more stripes I’ll be nearly done with it and it will be a quick finish to give as a Christmas gift.

There has been no further progress on the Skinny Shawl — alas.

In gratitude

I now have a reliable source of water again, and for this I am truly grateful. I also have a temporary car that I can use for the next couple of weeks until my new car has had its engine installed and is ready to pick up. I’m very grateful for that, too.

This weekend I created an ambitious plan of cleaning and reorganizing that gave me a new look (and more functionality) to my laundry room, made the bathroom look brighter and more coordinated, and gave me a place to organize the typewriters in my collection that have cases.

Trust me: much better!

During a break in the action, I went out to the loaner car and wiped down all of the hard interior surfaces with some Armor-All wipes that came to light during the cleaning of the laundry room. At the same time, I tested its cassette player and sang along with the Bangles (“If she knew what she wants….”).

I’m not sure if all the heavy lifting (and dragging) involved in those projects is the reason that I can barely move without pain today, but I like the way things look. I can also see some of the places that need to be included in the next round of makeovers.

On Saturday morning I spotted a typewriter on Marketplace that I picked up later the same morning. When I arrived to get it, I discovered that other inquiries had been made; one caller’s only question was whether or not it needed a ribbon. My goodness, that’s like backing out of a car sale because the gas tank wasn’t full.

It had a ribbon and the original spools from (as far as I can determine) late 1962. The ribbon had been twisted and put back in incorrectly, but that was easy enough to fix. The ribbon itself was dry, but a fresh one can be purchased and spooled on. And one key’s linkage has become disconnected, but that’s something I want to learn how to do anyway. She’s a beauty.

Meet sweet Adeline!

The seller was the only child of the previous owner, and he and his wife seemed relieved to know that the machine would go to a good home (though they did give me permission to flip it). As a bonus, Adeline-the-owner had kept the manual, the warranty certificate, and a small unopened plastic pouch that contained the key to the case. Sixty years later, that little pouch is still fastened to the paperwork.

Princess Peach has taken up residence in a sunny window at my workplace, and I hope that she will thrive there. I’ll report on her next week.

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Knitwise, I can finally report some Actual Progress™ on my projects, though the Stripe Scarf has come to a standstill until I find more dark heather grey in my stash or at a store. I only need an ounce or two, so I hope I do run across enough to make one or two more stripes.

The yarn I’m looking for is Plymouth Encore, which I failed to find in two different Jo-Ann’s stores. I picked up three skeins of Patons Classic Worsted 100% wool in an almost identical color before I realized my mistake. (No worries; they were having a good sale.) I’ll have to think of something else to do with that yarn; Ravelry may have some suggestions but I will entertain yours as well. And if you know where I can purchase Plymouth Encore in person, I’d appreciate knowing that, too.

For the thrifted acrylic striped scarf, I switched from 14-inch aluminum single points to these odd Clover “Flex” needles that are like circulars cut into two needles, with a stopper on the end of each short cable. (The ex bought them many years ago, at a craft store that was going out of business.) They work really well, but whenever I use them I’m constantly worried that this will be the time that the whole project suddenly slides off. So on my second Jo-Ann’s visit I picked up their last pair of US11 Clover cable needles and then moved the project over to those.

Making my way through the rainbow…

Now that I’m on circular needles, the project is moving along much more quickly. And it’s not likely to slide off of anything. I hope it will block out its own unevenness in the wash.

I have also added a few rows to the really wide scarf. It had been so long since I knitted on it that I forgot the exact pattern I was using for the first few stitches, but you know what? That’s not super important and nobody is going to notice. My bigger problem is likely to be that I’ll need to switch to needles with an impossibly long cable. But we’re not there yet.

You made me say under where?

At this point it should come to no one’s surprise that I have added another typewriter to my collection. And no one should be sitting down to hear the news that I decided to create a set of Google Sheets to inventory my typewriters and give myself a space to record their condition and any maintenance or repair work that I do on them.

Despite the fact that my price range for new old typewriters is in the $0-20 range, I have come across a lot of potential acquisitions in the last month. The easiest ones to get for $20 are the ones which have been posted on Facebook Marketplace for a few weeks at $50-75. When I make contact with the seller, both of us are happy with the results.

The new addition is an Underwood Model 11 from late 1950. It types perfectly. (See below for proof.)

I don’t know how much it weighs, but I suspected that it wasn’t a lightweight when the seller carried it to my car himself. He threw in a new universal typewriter ribbon and a copy of College Typewriting: Intensive Course, 4th edition, 1948, to sweeten the deal. How could I resist?

As I set up my typewriter-collection spreadsheets, it occurred to me to check on each typewriter so I knew what its actual condition was. I was surprised to discover that the Smith Corona Galaxie from 1959 has an alignment problem between capital letters and lower-case letters. The capital letters strike on the ribbons, but when I type lower-case letters only the tops of the letters are visible. As I learn more about typewriter repair (be patient; I’m only on page 14 of a 464-page manual) I may find that this is a simple adjustment to make with literally the turn of a screw. Then again, I may not (not that there’s anything wrong with that).

Two typewriters in my collection reside in the student work room across the hallway from my office, and I should be able to test them tomorrow.

The second line is a short story of my father’s; I don’t know its source. I used to tell it to my littles when they wanted a bedtime story and I was exhausted.

I am so delighted with the new Underwood that I forget that not everyone shares my joy. When I brought the latest machine into the house and set it on the dining room table, Youngest started to comment. Their first two words were, “How many—” and then for some reason they didn’t finish their sentence.

In other news, the Forester may or may not be on its last legs; we’ll see what my mechanic has to say about that tomorrow morning, knowing that we were hoping to make a long trip in the near future.

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Knitwise, I’ve made some good progress on the Stripe Scarf. One morning last week I got to work early and wove in more than a dozen ends, keeping the initial tail and the four or so most recent ends so that I would still know at which end I should be starting the next stripe. It felt good to literally “tie off loose ends” so I had a cleaner project on my lap.

I’m now in the 10th stripe and starting to wonder how long the scarf will ultimately be. At almost 38 inches it looks like halfway, but it’s hard to tell how much yardage I still have left in each skein of yarn. After I finish this stripe I will weigh the project and the yarn, then do some math that will allow me to make reasonable estimates.

I put only a few more rows on the Skinny Shawl this week. It’s a good project to pick up when Eldest is using my phone after I get home from work to do his share of the puzzle games that we like to do together.

Royal Canadian

The typewriter collection has grown to ten specimens, not counting what might be lurking in the basement, and it’s time to learn more about how to repair and maintain the various typewriters. I’ll start with the one that will be offered for use during the Creative Writing Festival that takes place the week after Thanksgiving. Just getting that one model ready for a full day’s use should be enough of a project for now.

The latest acquisition is another Royal HHE, manufactured at the end of the production year in 1955. That may have been in early December so that everyone was off for the holidays, so an exact date of manufacture may be impossible to pin down. However, rough estimates of typewriter “birthdays” are possible because serial numbers were typically noted on January 1, July 1, and December 1.

Seller’s photo (with stuck keys).

This particular typewriter was manufactured in Canada, and that’s almost all that I know about it. Unfortunately, after I moved the carriage all the way to the left so that I could locate the serial number, I was unable to get it to return to the right. Oh, dear, it looks like I shall have to learn more about typewriters in order to fix that. Whatever shall I do?

Buyer’s photo (harsh interior lighting).

In other news, Princess has been slowly growing along (though she doesn’t look much taller this week). My standards for horticulture are not particularly high; I’m looking for benchmarks like “didn’t turn black and shrivel up.” Still, perhaps she could use a bit more exposure to sunlight now that Wisconsin has entered the Lean Light Months.

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Knitwise, I have continued to work on the Stripe Scarf, which now measures over 34 inches long, and the Very Narrow Shawl.

It’s been a busy weekend and now it’s a late night — so here is a short post, with hopes that next week’s will be longer and feature more photos.

The worth of water

Tucked away somewhere in my house is a powder blue t-shirt that was screen-printed in the middlish 1980s with a sketch of the Oxford, Ohio, water tower and the text “ANNUAL WATER EMERGENCY.” The combination of an aging water tower and the arrival of thousands of students to the Miami University campus had precipitated (sorry) a crisis that eventually resulted in timed showers and the distribution of one gallon of water per student for other personal use. (I know that George Z. and Stephanie T. remember this; does Mary W.?) I seem to recall that the Ohio National Guard was called up to organize the water distribution. Time passed, we managed our water use the best we could, and eventually Oxford updated its water processing facilities and — sadly — tore down the uptown water tower that had become a symbol of the town.

In the scrapbook I kept of these years, back when scrapbooks were made from three-ring binders and plastic-covered adhesive cardboard sheets, which is just about as awful an environment as you could possibly think of for photos, ticket stubs, and newspaper clippings, there is a tag from a teabag that reads “When the well is dry, we know the worth of water.” I preserved it because I made that cup of tea during the Water Emergency we were enduring at the time.

Fast forward to last week, when I found myself in a different water emergency at my house. All seemed well on Thursday morning, but when I turned the handle of the kitchen sink faucet that evening there was almost no water pressure. I called the landlord to investigate, and the news wasn’t good — the water pump was failing. I filled some containers with water we could use for personal hygiene until the situation was remedied.

After some work on Friday, I thought that the problem had been solved. After using one stock-pot of water to make penne for dinner, we poured out the rest of the saved water. As it happens, that wasn’t really the best idea.

On Saturday morning I dropped off Youngest at the mall and went to watch Austin Kleba, the son of my high school (and Miami!) classmate Stephanie, skate in the National Speedskating Championships at the Pettit Center in Milwaukee (okay, actually West Allis). He eventually qualified for the World Cup Team for the 500m.

After those heats were done, and while the Zamboni freshened up the ice for the next event, I picked up Youngest and did some more shopping before returning home. There was my landlord in my front yard, sealing a concrete piece that I had never realized was the cap for our well. (I have lived here since 2007? 2008?) It turns out that the pump wasn’t the only problem: the well was running dry. (That explained why the water had slowed to a trickle during my morning shower; unfortunately, that was after I had thoroughly wetted my hair.)

It probably looked a little something like this.

We don’t know who might be able to drill a new well, or when that might happen. This morning I packed up my laundry and went to my friend Carol’s house to wash and dry it. I picked up some jugs of spring water on the way home. I’m not sure how we will do what needs to be done until we have dependable running water again, but we will do our best. We definitely appreciate the things that we took for granted last week.

Last week I did not buy another typewriter, though I did read a few more pages in a maintenance-and-repair manual for Smith-Coronas. You never know when that kind of information will come in handy.

In horticultural news, Princess is now almost two inches tall. I’m so proud!

I also received a Level 1 accordion instruction book in the mail and downloaded an accordion app to my iPad. Look out, world!

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Knitwise, I made progress on all three of my active projects. I have been pushing myself to knit in situations where I would otherwise be sitting and staring at a screen, so a certain amount of forward progress seemed inevitable.

Stripe Scarf is now several stripes long. Interestingly, the black sections take 9 ridges (18 rows) and the grey sections take 10 ridges (20 rows) to complete.

The striped scarf made from the thrift store yarns is longer now, too. I still have the work on the huge aluminum needles, so I get a forearm workout whenever I add a few rows.

Finally, I also worked on the Skinny Shawl made from the purple thrift store yarn. It’s hard to tell how wide it is, so I’ll just keep working on it until it’s done. This light is bad and doesn’t show the true colors of the yarn.

So we knit on….