Mean Mr. Mustard Seed Scarf

Fourteen long months ago, I wrote about designing a stick shift cozy for my Beetle. I was able to use the leftover red and black yarn to make my first ever granny square lap-ghan.

Kitties love blankets... especially ones used by their doggies.

"What am I going to do with this interesting mustard-yellow yarn?" I asked myself.

My first instinct was to just crochet it into a scarf which I could then gift or donate. Then I remembered a desire I had once to knit the Mustard Scarf by Jane Richmond. This pattern can be found various places (such as ravelry.com) as a free download.

Having frogged the sad little scarf that will never be -- don't feel too sad -- I will cast on the mustard scarf.

To Make Up For Not Posting...

I am reposting this quilt tutorial courtesy of Fancy Tiger Crafts. I am very interested in quilting, and I may take it up, one day... for now, here is Jaime's Feather Quilt.

A Very Socky Xmas

Many moons have risen and fallen without a post on this blog. One can hope that where will be more time next year.

Last night, my knitting group (Long Beach Stitch N Beach) had our annual holiday party. There was much food and drink and merriment and knitting. And of course gifts.

The gift I received was a beautiful blue skein of Malabrigo sock yarn in Caribeno (474). Having never knitted with anything smaller than worsted weight, my first stop this morning was ravelry.com to search for the right sock pattern. After several near hits and total misses, I visited knitty.com, but couldn't find anything that tickled my fancy.

The next and last stop: TheAntiCraft.com. There, I found the sock pattern for the newly acquired Malabrigo. Los Pequenos Relojes de Arena (the little hourglasses).

This lovely sock pattern had been sitting in my Ravelry favorites for longer than I care to admit. While I am excited to start these little sweeties, I must get through my final finals, a 1250-mile road trip, and finish three Minion hats for my nephews in time for Christmas.

What a wonderful project to look forward to in the new year. I wish you all a safe and happy holiday season.

A Short And Sweet Try

I've knit many scarves, hats, baby blankets and booties, even a skirt. This will be my first sweater, so I decided to try a new technique. After seven years of knitting adventures, from cables to double pointed needles, yarn overs and dropped stitches, I decided to give short rows a try. I was gifted four skeins of Rauma Finullgarn in a lush green. After searching through the many pages of sweaters listed on ravelry -- mostly cardigans or pullovers -- I came across a charming littly pattern from PurlBee.com called the Short Row Sweater. Stay tuned for further developments, and any tips to clarify misunderstandings in terminology.

Nalebinding - The Ancient Craft

For those following up on the post on the nalbinding research, there were not many resources to be found. The paper turned out to be a study in the history of Northern European knitting. What this means, anyone could say.

With an impending cross-country move, posts with be scarce, but there will be more to follow. Tune in around 10 June for a trial in the ancient art of nalbinding!

Stay crafty.

Nalebinding

I am researching nalebinding for a paper for an anthropology class. I have come across some interesting things. For example, this "one needle knitting" practice still exists in parts of the world outside the hippest of Western circles. Come back 16 May for the whole story.

Knitting for Spring

The Vernal Equinox occurs this Wednesday. The day and the night will be equal lengths in time, and Winter is no more.

An icon of the season – the Easter Bunny – can be found in a myriad of forms. There are two options for the transitioning knitter/crocheter… Easter Bunny (Osterhasen) by Christine Manitz and Best Bunny from Lion Brand Yarn.

Lion Brand’s bunny is the more traditional, floppy-eared rabbit associated with the American Easter Bunny. Crocheted in the amigurumi style, Best Bunny will be a fun addition to any Easter basket.

The Best Bunny as made by Ravelry member doremush

Manitz’s German-language pattern – fear not, Google will offer to translate – is more whimsical than the Lion Brand bunny. By creating this tall and slender rabbit, novice knitters can move to the next step of using double-pointed needles.

Påskeharer - Two Osterhasen by ravelry user "Pritt"

For crafty celebrators of the Jewish holiday of Passover, a hand-made crochet yarmulke can be worn for many high holy days and Sabbath dinners for years to come. The Passover Yarmulke from PurlBee.com is a meaningful way to learn to crochet in the round.

PurlBee.com

For those simply looking for a way to protect themselves against chilly spring mornings, a simple shawl should suffice. Clapotis by Kate Gilbert was published nearly a decade ago, and is still considered a fun intro to intermediate knitting, and a great project to learn about dropping stitches.

Clapotis by Kate Gilbert - knitty.com

Whatever type of project is next on your knit list, it is sure to become a treasured staple in your collection.

Feiern! ("Celebrate!")

To celebrate ravelry.com – the online community of international folks who knit and crochet – reaching 3 million members, as well as the personal acquisition of a 1973 VW camper, this week's post combines knitting with automotive accessories.

Before cars had automatic transmissions, all cars had manual gear shifts.

To create a seamless stick-shift cozy, a worsted-weight yarn knit on double-pointed needles in desired colors are needed.

Before crafting, chose your desired colors and organize your needles!

This cozy was made for a German car – a vintage 1971 Volkswagen Super Beetle – so colors chosen closely coordinating with the German flag (black, red, gold) will do.

To create a tight fit for a vintage Volkswagen stick shift, cast on 20 stitches in the first color (in this case, the gold) yarn onto 4mm double-pointed needles.

Casting on using DPNs - not as scary as it looks.

Knit in a 2x2 rib for about 2 inches. Switch to the second color (red) in pattern for about another 2 inches.

Switching from Color A (Beware around kitties!)...
...To Color B...

...Ending with Color C.

Switch to the final color (black) and knit in pattern for 1 inch.

To create a pocket for the gear shift knob: In stockinet stitch, (Knit 2, increase 1), repeat to end of round.

On next round: knit all.

On next round: (knit 3, increase 1), repeat to end of round.

On next two rounds: knit all.

On next round: (knit 2, knit 2 together), repeat to end of round.

On next round: (knit 1, knit 2 together), repeat to end of round.

On next round: (knit 2 together), repeat to end of round.

Weave in tails through stitches.

Slip the cozy on the stick shift.

The Stick Shift Cozy as modeled by a 1971 Super Beetle.

Enjoy.

Another will soon be made for this VW Bus.

Knitwear Is Not Exclusive to Christmas

When thinking of hand-knit items, images of people wearing cabled sweaters, mittens, scarves, and hats drinking a steamy beverage in front of the fire are likely to come to mind.

Knit and crochet wear can also be some of the most versatile, useful accessories to make for women during the late winter/early spring season, particularly in Southern California.

With the weather transitioning from winter to summer, wardrobes are in a sort of limbo: too hot for down jackets and boots, too cold for shorts and tank tops. While knitting or crocheting a sweater for this time of year in a weekend is impractical, crafting a scarf or a pair of legwarmers is feasible and functional.

Hand-knit scarf, perfect for spring weather, based on pattern. (Photo by Alison Keiser, 2007, all rights reserved)

The ability to create such items is not merely practical, but may also have personal significance. For special events, people who DIY (“do it yourself”) often use the occasion to challenge themselves and commemorate an event.

During the Olympic Games, members of the crafting website ravelry.com have the option of joining a group called the Ravellenic Games (formerly known as the Ravelympics). Ravelympians attempt to finish a project between the opening and closing ceremonies, documenting their successes or failures.

Whether crafting legwarmers from a complex pattern or a simple scarf from the yarn lover’s own imaginings, spring is the perfect time to fill one’s wardrobe with transitional items.

This will also quickly decrease the dreaded “stash” that plagues many a yarn devotee’s home.

Knitting Enriches TV Viewing Experience

There is a thrill knitters get when settling down with a cup of tea/coffee/wine/beer and their most recent project to watch their favorite show on TV. What is even more thrilling is when, on that show, they witness a character in knitwear. The project they had been working on goes to the back-burner as the knitter hunts for a pattern that resembles as closely as possible what they saw their favorite character wearing.

BBC’s Sherlock has garnered the most recent following of devoted knitters. Dr. John Watson’s inspiring sweaters not only have their own wikia.com page, there is a knit-along group on the popular knitting website, Ravelry.com, for Dr. Watson’s Christmas sweater. The jumper (the British term equivalent to the American word “sweater”), which was worn in the episode “A Scandal In Belgravia,” is a hand-knit navy blue with red and white fair isle, knit top-down "using pattern 7806A from ‘Reynolds New Icelandic patterns’ (vol. 78)" (wearsherlock.tumblr.com).

While fans without the ability to knit can easily go online and buy a replica of what they have seen, such as the infamous knit Jayne hat of Joss Whedon’s Firefly, knitters are able put their skill to use to accentuate the viewing experience.

Dr. John Watson wearing his Christmas jumper. (Photo from KnitYorkCity.com)

Yeah... so

I think I've outgrown this blog. Maybe it was too random, so I'm going to create another blog that's more, I don't know, focused. Thanks for checking this out!

Open Letter To The Guy That Ran Into My Parked VW

What, did you think I wouldn't notice?
Why didn't you bother leaving a note or something?
That's what I would have done!
What are you, the world's most colossal jerk?
What are you driving around a parking lot that fast for, anyway?
That could have been a cat or a child.
Would you have kept going if you'd run over a bunny?
Ass face!

If you're gay and want to get married, go too Iowa.

Unbelievable. Iowa can even figure out that same-sex marriage bans are unconstitutional, but we (California, I mean) just don't know... *SIGH!*

Other states where everyone has the right to get married: Massachusetts, Connecticut.

I saw this photo online and thought it was adorable... I can't remember where, though.



Speaking of marriage, I can't believe mine is less than six weeks away! Sure, Micah & I have been living together about three and a half years, so not much is going to change, but it's going to be a fun party!!

Holy crap, it's halfway through March and I haven't posted anything!!

Well, not a lot has happened, but I'll think of something.

Micah turned 29 twelve days ago. So I baked (at least, I tried to) a black forest cake a la Portal, and it tasted fantastic. We went out for Peruvian with his sister, Heather, and her hubby, Karl, and had an awesome time. Went to breakfast with his mom Sunday, which wasn't so terrible.



Last Friday (3-13-09) we went with Jen & Dan to see The Watchmen. Aside from it being ten hours long, not being a thing like 300, and so much blue, glowing, atomic dong, it was a really good movie. I would not recommend going to a showing anytime after 9:00pm, lest you want to be completely useless the next day. (We would have made the 9pm showing, if we hadn't been sat at the back of a Greek restaurant that used to rock, but now isn't the best.)

Anything else? Oh, yes, I bowled an average of 108.67 in class last Tuesday. Not super, I know, but it's much better than my average two weeks before that: 77. Watch out, Bowling Reception, I'll be a force to be reckoned with! I'm also having ridiculous issues with a certain national postal service. First, I got one invite back two weeks after mailing it, saying it needed more postage. So I put it in a new envelope, put that in a textbook overnight, then mailed it the next day. It was delivered within two days. Then, I got an email from Micah's aunt asking if she'd been uninvited to the wedding. I told her, of course they're still invited and I sent the invites over a month ago. So I'm all, "Am I supposed to call all invitees who haven't responded to see if they even GOT their bloody invites?" Stupid generic national postal service. I suppose having a tiny wedding has it's blessing though. I've only had five freak outs. 1: Micah wanted to wear a tan bowling shirt instead of grey, because it isn't in our color scheme. (Why the hell did I use that word?) 2: The bowling alley we were going to have our reception at CLOSED!! 3: The return addresses were wrong. 4: Micah's mom AND my uncle invited mystery people. (Space is limited. We can only have 40 people total.) 5: Our hotel didn't put the order through for room blocks. Can you imagine if we were having The Big White Wedding? I faint at the thought.

Hope your lives have been eventful.

Alie K

Damn those Canadians and their awesome toys...

Not really. It's just not fair, though, that Canadians get awesome hockey toys in their happy meals or whatever and we get dinosaurs...

It is a really cute commercial, though. I love the tiny hockey players. "Oh, look! It's Holey the Goalie!" Haha!

My (current) new favorite thing

Target: Women

It's been for freaking EVER!

So, I'm sorry I haven't posted. i know I said I'd be better about it, and I haven't.

School: I'm getting used to having a three day school week (and a four day weekend). I am really enjoying all my classes, but I am worried about the fact that I haven't had a homework assignment yet.

Wedding: I'm just so over it. The planning, not the I'm getting married part. I have sent out all my invites and now it's just an RSVP waiting game... that, and I'm trying to not freak out over everything. Mainly my fiance's mother.

Crafting: I am working on a sweater from my brother and I'm over that, too. Knit, knit, knit, knit, purl, purl, all in the round, rinse, repeat. So I'm trying to teach myself to crochet. It's a slow process, but I just started half an hour ago. Give a girl a break! I'm also trying my hand at making jewelry. I figure, if I have enough desirable talents I can sell my stuff and support myself through college. Haha. Yeah, right.



Et cetera: I really miss writing. Going through English class reminds me how much I enjoy writing. Maybe I should take a class (eventually) about how to write poetry and short stories. Or I can just start writing online reviews for things no one cares about. We also bought a printer. Since I'm in school, we figured a laser printer would be a good investment. That, and Circuit City's going out of business, which sucks major monkey butt! They have excellent customer service and they go out of business?! What about B*** B**?! Their C.S. is shit! And they're doing fine?

Anything else? Hm... I think I've made a new friend, so that should cover (whatever number that is) in my 101.

Stay safe and have a lovely Valentines Day. (I'm hoping I get lots of chocolate!)

Alie K

Now I am REALLY never flying anywhere ever again!

This is unbelievable. I found an article that is just such an astounding abuse of our civil liberties I can't even put it into words. I can't even sum up how insane this man and his wife's account is. (Just in case the link ever stops working, I am posting the post below. This is just evil. God Bless America!)

Coffee, Tea, or Should We Feel Your Pregnant Wife’s Breasts Before Throwing You in a Cell at the Airport and Then Lying About Why We Put You There?

by Nicholas Monahan

This morning I’ll be escorting my wife to the hospital, where the doctors will perform a caesarean section to remove our first child. She didn’t want to do it this way – neither of us did – but sometimes the Fates decide otherwise. The Fates or, in our case, government employees.

On the morning of October 26th Mary and I entered Portland International Airport, en route to the Las Vegas wedding of one of my best friends. Although we live in Los Angeles, we’d been in Oregon working on a film, and up to that point had had nothing but praise to shower on the city of Portland, a refreshing change of pace from our own suffocating metropolis.

At the security checkpoint I was led aside for the "inspection" that’s all the rage at airports these days. My shoes were removed. I was told to take off my sweater, then to fold over the waistband of my pants. My baseball hat, hastily jammed on my head at 5 AM, was removed and assiduously examined ("Anything could be in here, sir," I was told, after I asked what I could hide in a baseball hat. Yeah. Anything.) Soon I was standing on one foot, my arms stretched out, the other leg sticking out in front of me àla a DUI test. I began to get pissed off, as most normal people would. My anger increased when I realized that the newly knighted federal employees weren’t just examining me, but my 7½ months pregnant wife as well. I’d originally thought that I’d simply been randomly selected for the more excessive than normal search. You know, Number 50 or whatever. Apparently not though – it was both of us. These are your new threats, America: pregnant accountants and their sleepy husbands flying to weddings.

After some more grumbling on my part they eventually finished with me and I went to retrieve our luggage from the x-ray machine. Upon returning I found my wife sitting in a chair, crying. Mary rarely cries, and certainly not in public. When I asked her what was the matter, she tried to quell her tears and sobbed, "I’m sorry...it’s...they touched my breasts...and..." That’s all I heard. I marched up to the woman who’d been examining her and shouted, "What did you do to her?" Later I found out that in addition to touching her swollen breasts – to protect the American citizenry – the employee had asked that she lift up her shirt. Not behind a screen, not off to the side – no, right there, directly in front of the hundred or so passengers standing in line. And for you women who’ve been pregnant and worn maternity pants, you know how ridiculous those things look. "I felt like a clown," my wife told me later. "On display for all these people, with the cotton panel on my pants and my stomach sticking out. When I sat down I just lost my composure and began to cry. That’s when you walked up."

Of course when I say she "told me later," it’s because she wasn’t able to tell me at the time, because as soon as I demanded to know what the federal employee had done to make her cry, I was swarmed by Portland police officers. Instantly. Three of them, cinching my arms, locking me in handcuffs, and telling me I was under arrest. Now my wife really began to cry. As they led me away and she ran alongside, I implored her to calm down, to think of the baby, promising her that everything would turn out all right. She faded into the distance and I was shoved into an elevator, a cop holding each arm. After making me face the corner, the head honcho told that I was under arrest and that I wouldn’t be flying that day – that I was in fact a "menace."

It took me a while to regain my composure. I felt like I was one of those guys in The Gulag Archipelago who, because the proceedings all seem so unreal, doesn’t fully realize that he is in fact being arrested in a public place in front of crowds of people for...for what? I didn’t know what the crime was. Didn’t matter. Once upstairs, the officers made me remove my shoes and my hat and tossed me into a cell. Yes, your airports have prison cells, just like your amusement parks, train stations, universities, and national forests. Let freedom reign.

After a short time I received a visit from the arresting officer. "Mr. Monahan," he started, "Are you on drugs?"

Was this even real? "No, I’m not on drugs."

"Should you be?"

"What do you mean?"

"Should you be on any type of medication?"

"No."

"Then why’d you react that way back there?"

You see the thinking? You see what passes for reasoning among your domestic shock troops these days? Only "whackos" get angry over seeing the woman they’ve been with for ten years in tears because someone has touched her breasts. That kind of reaction – love, protection – it’s mind-boggling! "Mr. Monahan, are you on drugs?" His snide words rang inside my head. This is my wife, finally pregnant with our first child after months of failed attempts, after the depressing shock of the miscarriage last year, my wife who’d been walking on a cloud over having the opportunity to be a mother...and my anger is simply unfathomable to the guy standing in front of me, the guy who earns a living thanks to my taxes, the guy whose family I feed through my labor. What I did wasn’t normal. No, I reacted like a drug addict would’ve. I was so disgusted I felt like vomiting. But that was just the beginning.

An hour later, after I’d been gallantly assured by the officer that I wouldn’t be attending my friend’s wedding that day, I heard Mary’s voice outside my cell. The officer was speaking loudly, letting her know that he was planning on doing me a favor... which everyone knows is never a real favor. He wasn’t going to come over and help me work on my car or move some furniture. No, his "favor" was this: He’d decided not to charge me with a felony.

Think about that for a second. Rapes, car-jackings, murders, arsons – those are felonies. So is yelling in an airport now, apparently. I hadn’t realized, though I should have. Luckily, I was getting a favor, though. I was merely going to be slapped with a misdemeanor.

"Here’s your court date," he said as I was released from my cell. In addition, I was banned from Portland International for 90 days, and just in case I was thinking of coming over and hanging out around its perimeter, the officer gave me a map with the boundaries highlighted, sternly warning me against trespassing. Then he and a second officer escorted us off the grounds. Mary and I hurriedly drove two and a half hours in the rain to Seattle, where we eventually caught a flight to Vegas. But the officer was true to his word – we missed my friend’s wedding. The fact that he’d been in my own wedding party, the fact that a once in a lifetime event was stolen from us – well, who cares, right?

Upon our return to Portland (I’d had to fly into Seattle and drive back down), we immediately began contacting attorneys. We aren’t litigious people – we wanted no money. I’m not even sure what we fully wanted. An apology? A reprimand? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter though, because we couldn’t afford a lawyer, it turned out. $4,000 was the average figure bandied about as a retaining fee. Sorry, but I’ve got a new baby on the way. So we called the ACLU, figuring they existed for just such incidents as these. And they do apparently...but only if we were minorities. That’s what they told us.

In the meantime, I’d appealed my suspension from PDX. A week or so later I got a response from the Director of Aviation. After telling me how, in the aftermath of 9/11, most passengers not only accept additional airport screening but welcome it, he cut to the chase:

"After a review of the police report and my discussions with police staff, as well as a review of the TSA’s report on this incident, I concur with the officer’s decision to take you into custody and to issue a citation to you for disorderly conduct. That being said, because I also understand that you were upset and acted on your emotions, I am willing to lift the Airport Exclusion Order...."

Attached to this letter was the report the officer had filled out. I’d like to say I couldn’t believe it, but in a way, I could. It’s seemingly becoming the norm in America – lies and deliberate distortions on the part of those in power, no matter how much or how little power they actually wield.

The gist of his report was this: From the get go I wasn’t following the screener’s directions. I was "squinting my eyes" and talking to my wife in a "low, forced voice" while "excitedly swinging my arms." Twice I began to walk away from the screener, inhaling and exhaling forcefully. When I’d completed the physical exam, I walked to the luggage screening area, where a second screener took a pair of scissors from my suitcase. At this point I yelled, "What the %*&$% is going on? This is &*#&$%!" The officer, who’d already been called over by one of the screeners, became afraid for the TSA staff and the many travelers. He required the assistance of a second officer as he "struggled" to get me into handcuffs, then for "cover" called over a third as well. It was only at this point that my wife began to cry hysterically.

There was nothing poetic in my reaction to the arrest report. I didn’t crumple it in my fist and swear that justice would be served, promising to sacrifice my resources and time to see that it would. I simply stared. Clearly the officer didn’t have the guts to write down what had really happened. It might not look too good to see that stuff about the pregnant woman in tears because she’d been humiliated. Instead this was the official scenario being presented for the permanent record. It doesn’t even matter that it’s the most implausible sounding situation you can think of. "Hey, what the...godammit, they’re taking our scissors, honey!" Why didn’t he write in anything about a monkey wearing a fez?

True, the TSA staff had expropriated a pair of scissors from our toiletries kit – the story wasn’t entirely made up. Except that I’d been locked in airport jail at the time. I didn’t know anything about any scissors until Mary told me on our drive up to Seattle. They’d questioned her about them while I was in the bowels of the airport sitting in my cell.

So I wrote back, indignation and disgust flooding my brain.

"[W]hile I’m not sure, I’d guess that the entire incident is captured on video. Memory is imperfect on everyone’s part, but the footage won’t lie. I realize it might be procedurally difficult for you to view this, but if you could, I’d appreciate it. There’s no willful disregard of screening directions. No explosion over the discovery of a pair of scissors in a suitcase. No struggle to put handcuffs on. There’s a tired man, early in the morning, unhappily going through a rigorous procedure and then reacting to the tears of his pregnant wife."

Eventually we heard back from a different person, the guy in charge of the TSA airport screeners. One of his employees had made the damning statement about me exploding over her scissor discovery, and the officer had deftly incorporated that statement into his report. We asked the guy if he could find out why she’d said this – couldn’t she possibly be mistaken? "Oh, can’t do that, my hands are tied. It’s kind of like leading a witness – I could get in trouble, heh heh." Then what about the videotape? Why not watch that? That would exonerate me. "Oh, we destroy all video after three days."

Sure you do.

A few days later we heard from him again. He just wanted to inform us that he’d received corroboration of the officer’s report from the officer’s superior, a name we didn’t recognize. "But...he wasn’t even there," my wife said.

"Yeah, well, uh, he’s corroborated it though."

That’s how it works.

"Oh, and we did look at the videotape. Inconclusive."

But I thought it was destroyed?

On and on it went. Due to the tenacity of my wife in making phone calls and speaking with relevant persons, the "crime" was eventually lowered to a mere citation. Only she could have done that. I would’ve simply accepted what was being thrown at me, trumped up charges and all, simply because I’m wholly inadequate at performing the kowtow. There’s no way I could have contacted all the people Mary did and somehow pretend to be contrite. Besides, I speak in a low, forced voice, which doesn’t elicit sympathy. Just police suspicion.

Weeks later at the courthouse I listened to a young DA awkwardly read the charges against me – "Mr. Monahan...umm...shouted obscenities at the airport staff...umm... umm...oh, they took some scissors from his suitcase and he became...umm...abusive at this point." If I was reading about it in Kafka I might have found something vaguely amusing in all of it. But I wasn’t. I was there. Living it.

I entered a plea of nolo contendere, explaining to the judge that if I’d been a resident of Oregon, I would have definitely pled "Not Guilty." However, when that happens, your case automatically goes to a jury trial, and since I lived a thousand miles away, and was slated to return home in seven days, with a newborn due in a matter of weeks...you get the picture. "No Contest" it was. Judgment: $250 fine.

Did I feel happy? Only $250, right? No, I wasn’t happy. I don’t care if it’s twelve cents, that’s money pulled right out of my baby’s mouth and fed to a disgusting legal system that will use it to propagate more incidents like this. But at the very least it was over, right? Wrong.

When we returned to Los Angeles there was an envelope waiting for me from the court. Inside wasn’t a receipt for the money we’d paid. No, it was a letter telling me that what I actually owed was $309 – state assessed court costs, you know. Wouldn’t you think your taxes pay for that – the state putting you on trial? No, taxes are used to hire more cops like the officer, because with our rising criminal population – people like me – hey, your average citizen demands more and more "security."

Finally I reach the piece de resistance. The week before we’d gone to the airport my wife had had her regular pre-natal checkup. The child had settled into the proper head down position for birth, continuing the remarkable pregnancy she’d been having. We returned to Portland on Sunday. On Mary’s Monday appointment she was suddenly told, "Looks like your baby’s gone breech." When she later spoke with her midwives in Los Angeles, they wanted to know if she’d experienced any type of trauma recently, as this often makes a child flip. "As a matter of fact..." she began, recounting the story, explaining how the child inside of her was going absolutely crazy when she was crying as the police were leading me away through the crowd.

My wife had been planning a natural childbirth. She’d read dozens of books, meticulously researched everything, and had finally decided that this was the way for her. No drugs, no numbing of sensations – just that ultimate combination of brute pain and sheer joy that belongs exclusively to mothers. But my wife is also a first-time mother, so she has what is called an "untested" pelvis. Essentially this means that a breech birth is too dangerous to attempt, for both mother and child. Therefore, she’s now relegated to a c-section – hospital stay, epidural, catheter, fetal monitoring, stitches – everything she didn’t want. Her natural birth has become a surgery.

We’ve tried everything to turn that baby. Acupuncture, chiropractic techniques, underwater handstands, elephant walking, moxibustion, bending backwards over pillows, herbs, external manipulation – all to no avail. When I walked into the living room the other night and saw her plaintively cooing with a flashlight turned onto her stomach, yet another suggested technique, my heart almost broke. It’s breaking now as I write these words.

I can never prove that my child went breech because of what happened to us at the airport. But I’ll always believe it. Wrongly or rightly, I’ll forever think of how this man, the personification of this system, has affected the lives of my family and me. When my wife is sliced open, I’ll be thinking of him. When they remove her uterus from her abdomen and lay it on her stomach, I’ll be thinking of him. When I visit her and my child in the hospital instead of having them with me here in our home, I’ll be thinking of him. When I assist her to the bathroom while the incision heals internally, I’ll be thinking of him.

There are plenty of stories like this these days. I don’t know how many I’ve read where the writer describes some breach of civil liberties by employees of the state, then wraps it all up with a dire warning about what we as a nation are becoming, and how if we don’t put an end to it now, then we’re in for heaps of trouble. Well you know what? Nothing’s going to stop the inevitable. There’s no policy change that’s going to save us. There’s no election that’s going to put a halt to the onslaught of tyranny. It’s here already – this country has changed for the worse and will continue to change for the worse. There is now a division between the citizenry and the state. When that state is used as a tool against me, there is no longer any reason why I should owe any allegiance to that state.

And that’s the first thing that child of ours is going to learn.

December 21, 2002

Nick Monahan works in the film industry. He writes out of Los Angeles where he lives with his wife and as of December 18th, his beautiful new son.

New Year's Resolutions

For the Montreal Canadiens. One of mine? I need to learn French...



Others of mine...

Use up all my stashed yarn that isn't in a tub.
Pass Statistics.
Pass Logic.
Get back to my 101 in 1001.
Eat more fruit.
Exercise more.

Winter Classic 2009

Wow, it's been 2009 for only 14 hours and already we've seen a parade and the second Winter Classic. While I was watching said Winter Classic (at the amazing Wrigley Field) today, I thought to myself,
"Self, wouldn't it be a fantastic idea to have a Winter Classic Party the way people have Super Bowl and Stanley Cup Parties?"
"Yes, Self, that does sound like an amazing idea!"

So next year I shall have to have a Winter Classic Party at my home.

In other hockey news, Jason LaBarbara has been sent off to Vancouver. With both primary goaltenders on the Injured Reserve list, Vancouver has a minor league goalie and a goalie who hasn't been utilized much this season. Obviously, once Vancouver gets Luongo back in net, Cory Schneider will go back to Manitoba, but what will happen when Sanford returns? Will Vancouver do like the Kings did and demote LaBarbara to the AHL? I really like Jason LaBarbara and I think he could be a good goalie, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Also, this is the first I've ever seen a team having four goaltenders.

30 - Jason LaBarbera - 6' 3" - 225 - 18 Jan 1980 - 28 - Burnaby, BC, CAN
1 - Roberto Luongo - "C" - ** - 6' 3" - 205 - 4 Apr 1979 - 29 - Montreal, QC, CAN
41 - Curtis Sanford - ** - 5' 10" - 187 - 5 Oct 1979 - 29 - Owen Sound, ON, CAN
35 - Cory Schneider - 6' 2" - 195 - 18 Mar 1986 - 22 - Salem, MA, USA

**Injured Reserve

Last weekend, Micah & I were talking about how we wished Lego would bring back Pirate & Viking Legos, and low-and-behold, we found Pirate Legos when we went to the Lego store in Downtown Disney!! See?


I need to find me some Molson Canadian... and hockey commercials are the best.