Once Upon A Staircase (Part 1)

Back when I posted about my staircase adventure, many of you asked me to tell you the story in more detail. In between that time and now, I remodeled my kitchen, so you could say I got a BIT sidetracked (DIY Mania, anyone?).

But I got the kitchen situation mostly buttoned up (more on that later), so now it’s time to backtrack and tell you all about the adventure I have come to call “The time a staircase ate my life”. Fair warning: This post contains graphic photos of desolated subfloor. It’s GROSS, so proceed at your own risk, Gentle Readers.

It was complete desperation that drove me to learn how to build a staircase. Disclaimer: I’m in no way confident that I did learn how. Like all my adventures, there’s a fine line between actual understanding and totally just making stuff up as I go.

My upstairs hall, post-carpet and pad removal.

You may recall that I moved out of my house for a year, from October 2019 to October 2020. After that, I returned and my children’s father moved out. During my absence, our beloved Bailey dog aged into what can only be described as total incontinence. I’m not sure what Phillip’s level of engagement or even realization of Bailey’s situation was, but the evidence was profound that something had gone badly wrong.

Which is, I hope, a polite way of saying that the 20-year old builder-grade (read: cheap n’ crappy) carpet in my upstairs hall and staircase was completely saturated with dog urine. The subfloor (again, cheap n’ crappy) beneath it had acted as a sponge, which in turn mildewed. So between the carpet, the pad, and the subfloor, my welcome back home was clouded by the literal stench of neglect. My eyes watered, my throat hurt, and my heart broke under the weight of the potential agony and expense of repairing it all.

Removing unspeakable nastiness, one tread at a time. That lump toward the back of the naked lower step is disintegrated carpet pad, seized to the tread by, um, moisture, and awaiting hand-scraping. Rusted nails and staples imbedded at no extra charge!

The great thing about total disasters is that once you get over the shock of them, you can see that there’s nowhere to go but up. Particularly when starting at the literal bottom, as I was in this photo.

The smell of my staircase was so appalling that I had to address it before I even finished unpacking. Armed with goggles, gloves and face mask, I tore out the carpet, pad, staples, tack strips and nails, inch by revolting inch. It turns out that carpet pad which has disintegrated and then soaked in urine will fuse to the subfloor in what can only be described as “foam-crete”. I’ll spare you any further description, but it was certainly a borderline hazmat situation.

Ruby surveys the damage on the landing.

Having narrowly survived the demolition of the upper layers, I retreated to my knitting chair while I waited for the subfloor to dry. There may also have been a recovery period for my hands, knees and back. The stench created by the carpet and pad abated immediately, leaving only the unfortunate visuals you see here, and the residual terror over what to do next. It was satisfying, though, to have proved again that there is no substitute in such situations for just doing something, even if it’s wrong.

Dangling by my toenails, two stories up. Can you tell by my expression that I was terrified?

The Something that I did next was to paint the upstairs hall and stairway a fresh and becoming shade of pale shell pink. Never one to exercise restraint, I went on to cover every wall of the interior with it over the course of the next weeks while I investigated options for how to address my ruined stairs and hall.

The Pinkwashing of all 1500 square feet of my house, while exhausting, was cathartic. I came to see it as a giant eraser taken to the scene of profound sadness. As a creature painfully sensitive to physical space, I desperately needed the immediate comfort fresh paint provides. Why pink? Well, why not? I love it. Pink is my new white. And it doesn’t hurt that my ex would have vetoed it, had he been consulted.

Next time: I address the simultaneous lack of budget and flooring material. Hilarity ensues.

Brave New World

Well it’s an ill wind that doesn’t blow some good.

For ten years I’ve been travelling, teaching, writing, knitting, knitting, knitting, and through it all one constant remains: My Gentle Readers, those of you who have kept up with me, asked me questions, played games with me, and sometimes even met me have a common refrain “I wish I could come to class!” How kind and generous you are with your interest and enthusiasm. And I do understand. The limits of time, space and budget have kept a fair few of us from sitting together and holding each others’ string. And the essence of knitting is community. Without one another to bounce ideas, intrigues and sometimes beach balls off of, we wither on the vine.

Enter the Pandemic and the isolation our need for safety imposes. We’ve hunkered down, rotated our stashes, started a new project, and generally gone feral. We are extroverted introverts, with no next gathering to look forward to.

And it’s been no different for us knitting teachers. With no class to fly to, no group to meet with, no face time with our cohort, the stagnation slowly creeps up on us. And as independent artists, our unpaid bills mount in direct proportion to the event cancellations.

But all is not gloom and doom, Dear Friends! Take heart, for a new chapter is beginning. We knitters are an agile and recourceful folk, and if I’ve learned anything on my adventures playing with string, its that knitting finds a way.

Which brings me to the good news: I, and many other fiber artists I know are reinventing the wheel. If I can’t meet you for class in person, why not use all that swell IT experience from my past (Shhhh…we try not to speak of it) life to create a new way to be with you?

You guessed it, O Clever Kittens: I’m teaching online.

And since I know you’d expect nothing less of me, my version of the digital classroom comes complete with Jinks that are High, Laughs that are Loud, and loads of Sexy Party Tricks. All of which is to say that I finally will get to meet you, my long lost knitting friends on the other coast, country, and all over in between.

Won’t you join me the for the maiden voyage? I’ve joined forces with some very clever knitters in Port Townsend, WA, who helped me hatch a cunning plan to drag you further into my cozy knitting lair. And of course, all my repeat offenders are welcome to join in the fun as well.

What it Is TWO STRINGS=NOT SCARY One of my favorite classes! An introduction to stranded colorwork knitting. That’s right; I’m gonna make stranded colorworkers of you all in three short hours, during which I share the only two things you need to know to make beautiful knitted fabric, using two colors of yarn. Just like I do.

Bazaar Girls Exclusive; featuring Elemental Effects yarn

What You Get Exclusive Pattern and Yarn Kit! That’s right! You know how I love a beautiful yarn kit. I got to work with the Bazaar Girls and none other than Elemental Effects to create this event-specific version of my Forest for the Trees pattern and all the yarn you need to create your very own stranded colorwork hat. And that’s on TOP of an afternoon with yours truly, where we will use practice yarn and needles to work a technical exercise that will prepare you to complete the project. And of course, my ongoing support and undying gratitude.

Who doesn’t love a perfectly shaped hat crown?

When it’s Happening 11-01-20, 11:00 AM to 3:00 PM PST

Venue The comfort of your home

What it Costs A mere $75 USD. Total bargain by any measure. CLICK HERE to register, and let us know where to send your kit. There are only 24 seats for this one, so I can give you each the personal attention you so richly deserve. But don’t dillydally; reservations and kits are going fast.

And, if all that doesn’t get you excited, there’s one last thing: After the first of the year, I’m offering my intensive soup-to-nuts stranded colorwork sweater workshop with this venue, which will include an exclusive design, available only to class members. This 2 strings=Not Scary introduction will prepare you to attend it.

If you’ve ever dreamed of knitting a your own stranded, steeked, magical masterpiece with your teacher and classmates holding your hand, this is the place to start! I’m actually knitting the exclusive design right now, and you’re in for a treat, if I do say so myself.

Yarn Porn. Safe For Work.

So It's Been a Minute

Greetings, Gentle Readers,

For those of you who are still subscribed, first let me thank you for your readership. To those who sent me words of kindness and care while I’ve been sub-radar, thank you also, from the bottom of my heart.

By way of explanation for my absence, I’ll offer this: Within a three week period, my daughter left home for college, My mother died, and my husband of 25 years announced that he wanted a divorce.

The trifecta of loss sent me into a pretty dark place, from which I am still gradually resurfacing. To say that my heart broke is an understatement of preposterous proportion. It was more like a complete throttling of the spirit, and a smoking crater was left where everything I cherished used to be. I was reduced to survival-only mode, and just didn’t have the heart to blog while it was too hard to find anything positive to say.

Through all that though, I managed to continue teaching, find gainful employment, and while not really designing or writing anything, I did knit. Always I do knit.

So now I’m reinventing, and putting my arms around a new normal. Over the next little while, I plan to find my footing again here on the blog. This has always been my happy place, and I’m privileged to share it with you. Please bear with my while my posts are all over the map; I have a lot to process and share. If you see posts that are under the Not Exactly Knitting category for a while, it’s because I’m basically rebuilding my house. More on the why of that will come.

For now, I’m delighted to show you what I’ve been up to since Pandemic Stay-At-Home rules have been in place. To begin with, I built a staircase:

Yeah, that was a big job. I had no experience, little guidance, hardly any money, and a fierce drive to succeed. Not unlike when I taught myself to knit. Never underestimate the power of a woman with tools, be they needles or nailgun.

I’ll talk more about the process of how I got it done, but for now I’m doing the big reveal first for once.

And yes, I still have a thing for bees. I think it’s because they don’t know they can’t fly.