Hog wild

After many frustrating starts, I’ve finally finished my first Moebius cowl.


I have to say, I’m a little disappointed with it. I think the stockinette pattern is beautiful but I don’t care for the garter half (as I’ve mentioned here ad nauseum).


Obviously, the ‘correct’ way to wear it is folded in half but then it’s very narrow.


Plus, the edges curl up and it winds up being a tube. The alpaca is deliciously warm and soft but I think the next one I make – which will be for my Mom’s birthday next week – will be twice as big. While googling ‘moebius cowl’, I did run across the blog of a lady who’d tweaked Cat’s pattern to eliminate the garter half but she didn’t say how she did it. I’ve emailed her but haven’t heard back. Does anyone have an idea how to do this? Maybe I’ll just try a different stitch pattern…

On to a different subject.

Yesterday I was thinking fondly of one of my “I’m actually pretty cool” moments. We all have moments in our lives that stick with us forever but would be meaningless to anyone else. One of them happened for me in college when all the freshmen had to watch the 1980 film Tess (based on Tess of the d’Ubervilles). Imagine an auditorium full of twitchy 18-year-olds – who just want to get back to their dorm room and pound a few brewskies – having to sit through an interminable 3+ hour historic epic. Boooorrrinnngggg. At one point in the film, a man on horseback (I don’t even have a clue who he was, that’s how interested I was) calls out as Tess is walking away. There was a pregnant pause as the music and (supposedly) emotions swell. It was at that moment I said, quite loudly and in a skanky man voice, “Wanna RIIIIIDE?” The place erupted in laughter and applause. One of my prouder moments.

But that wasn’t the moment I was remembering fondly yesterday. No, this one happened at an Arco gas station in Portland when I was about 23. I was waiting for the attendant to fill the tank (you can’t pump your own gas in Oregon) and caught myself staring at a very handsome, leather-clad biker dude. He wasn’t a Hell’s Angel , nor was he a Wild Hog. He was just this cool dude. Unfortunately, the reason I caught myself staring was because he caught me starting.

Prior to that moment in my life, I would have blushed, averted my eyes and sped away as quick as a bunny. This time, though, I held his gaze and smiled a slow, little smile. And he smiled back. I paid the attendant and drove off with a feeling of complete happiness. It made us both feel good that someone else thought we were attractive. I have no idea who the guy was and, furthermore, I don’t care. All I know is that moment is forever burned into my memory banks as a favorite.


1 Comment

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One response to “Hog wild

  1. Congratulations! You’re on get stitchy!

    Thanks so much for submitting your blog.

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