]]>]]>[David] Henderson's method of constructing a hyperbolic plane involved taping together thin, circular strips of paper … Twenty years later, Taimina remembers, Henderson was still using the same tattered model. When she was assigned to teach his class on hyperbolic geometry at Cornell, where she had an appointment as a visiting professor, she was forced to confront it.
[David] Henderson's method of constructing a hyperbolic plane involved taping together thin, circular strips of paper … Twenty years later, Taimina remembers, Henderson was still using the same tattered model. When she was assigned to teach his class on hyperbolic geometry at Cornell, where she had an appointment as a visiting professor, she was forced to confront it.
"It was disgusting," Taimina recalls with a playful shake of her head. "So I spent the summer crocheting a classroom set of hyperbolic forms. We were sitting at the swimming pool with David's family, my girls were learning to speak English and swimming, and I was sitting and crocheting. People walked by, and they asked me, 'What are you doing?' And I answered, 'Oh, I'm crocheting the hyperbolic plane.' "
Side note: if you read for content, you eventually catch on that they're married. This article just adds more weight to my hypothesis that geeks really are marriage material, if they can just find someone who groks what they're interested in.
Oh yeah, and that you can do damn near anything with a good skein of yarn.
]]>Despite what Matthew will tell you, I'm generally a nice and polite person, especially in public. I let my hair down on this site more than I often do in face-to-face conversations, and every now and then I have to learn to live with the little lump in my throat that comes with speaking my mind.
]]>Despite what Matthew will tell you, I'm generally a nice and polite person, especially in public. I let my hair down on this site more than I often do in face-to-face conversations, and every now and then I have to learn to live with the little lump in my throat that comes with speaking my mind.
I went to this morning's variable-percentage-off sale at Yarn Expressions this morning, and found out that the owner knew about this site. I was pretty sure I knew what she'd seen, and even though I stood (and still stand) by my criticism, I had the irrational urge to apologize for it anyway.
"Think you're the only knitter in northeast Alabama? Think again, bucko, because every grandmother with a knitting fetish gets the little announcement postcards and they all show up, garbage bags in hand, ready to loot and kill at the slightest provocation.
Think marauding herds of knitting grandmothers, all with the scent of Sale Yarn in their nostrils, stalking the perfect skein. God help you if you get in their way.
Did I mention the checkout line?
One person. One keyboard. One skein of yarn, laboriously keyed in at a time. One machine to process credit card orders. Large numbers of women standing around with garbage bags full of purchases, many of them filled with multiple hundreds of dollars worth of yarn.
You don't want to know how long the wait was in the checkout line."
- 'Attention shoppers' (5 December 2004)
I have a love-hate relationship with Yarn Expressions' semi-annual percentage-off sales. Truly good yarn is not cheap, and it very rarely goes on sale. That's why an untold number of north Alabama knitters descend on Yarn Expressions for the sale. It's a rare opportunity to pick up excellent-quality yarn for a bit less than retail.
I am cognizant of the inherent value of the sale, but I loathe the crowds. Loathe them. When I have to stand in line for over an hour just to pay for my purchases, I'm going to gripe. That's not good customer service. I can love that store, and love having in-town access to a good crack dealer … er, good yarn, but there comes a point when the value of my time exceeds the value of the [x]% discount on the yarn I want to buy.
I got smart this year. I planned ahead. I knew what I needed—a certain yardage of good-quality burgundy yarn for a little project I'm about to start on—and I figured my only reasonable option was to arrive just a few minutes after Yarn Expressions opened, find an acceptable yarn, and then run run run to the checkout line and get out before things [read: the checkout line] got bad.
That's exactly what I did. I even drew a 35% off ticket, which is higher than the standard 20%, and the highest I've ever drawn at this sale. I clocked out right around 10:05, five minutes after they opened, and there was no wait at the register. None. I was stunned.
One of my failings as a person is that I am neither good at leveling, nor taking, criticism, even if it is constructive. My love for peace is at odds with my sharp tongue. Don't mistake me for a nice, genteel person; I learned well from the women in my family how to present a charitable and pleasant exterior even if internally, I am seething with frustration or annoyance. Yet if someone actually hears my criticisms, no matter how well-founded or amusingly stated, I flinch and [wonder|obsess] over the effects of what I said. Did I wound unintentionally? Was the shop owner insulted that I said less-than-positive things about her store, even if they were true? Will I always be remembered as "that bitch"?
Hopefully not. I spoke my mind, and that's that. My continued patronage hopefully tells the rest of the story.
* * * * *
Amusingly enough, though, I was up late last night talking with friends, one of whom pitched the idea of a Harry Potter costuming group for dragon*con 2006. I'm amused by the idea, and wouldn't mind doing my own take on it (the simple gray school sweater plus an appropriate skirt would work well for me). Ever since reading the books I'd entertained idle thoughts which house suited me best. I've always been accused (rightfully, I fear) of having more 'book smarts' than common sense, so what little thought I'd given it had made me think, "Oh, perhaps Ravenclaw."
I asked several friends about it last night, and was surprised to hear them all voice the idea of Hufflepuff: loyal, quiet, hard-working, home-loving, but stubborn and courageous in times of need.
I'm likely to stick with my original decision, but perhaps my friends have a point, after all.
]]>(Rule one: always make sure that the little black dress is within reach and ironed. Faking adulthood is little more complicated than an understated splash of makeup, a little black dress, and a good pair of shoes. Don't let anyone tell you differently.)Meanwhile, I kept talking to the yarn, and curling up with my pattern stitch books at night. Something would come to me. It had to be openwork, to let those lovely nonmetallic threads catch the light. Lacy and stretchy wouldn't be bad, and a pattern simple enough for memorization wouldn't hurt. I ended up with a version of a vertical drop stitch, and ended up agreeing with the writer—(tune out if you don't knit) this stitch looked much better and cleaner if, on the rows where stitches were dropped, the knit stitches were knit twisted. (Tune back in, non-knitters.) I got halfway through the project before I realized I had unwittingly chosen a pattern and a gauge that meant I was essentially knitting peacock eyes for motifs. Wait, no, I didn't say that—it was planned! Planned from the start, I tell you! I saw the color and thought "peacocks!" and searched the web tirelessly until I found a stitch pattern that could bring my visions to life! Since none of you are buying even a word of this twaddle, I'll stop. I can't really blame you. I'm not buying it either. But, as coincidences and luck and yarn addictions go, it's not half bad. I even have a skein left over. I think I need a hat. :D ]]>
(Rule two has something to do with never starting a land war in Asia, and is irrelevant to this discussion.)
]]>"Ah, yes. That ball of green yarn you bought yesterday afternoon is sitting here on the counter. You can pick it up at any time."
"I tore my car apart yesterday after I got home, looking for that yarn."
"Yeah, you probably wouldn't have found it in your car… If you hadn't called by noon we were going to call you."
"It's been sort of a long week."
"We all have those."
]]>"Ah, yes. That ball of green yarn you bought yesterday afternoon is sitting here on the counter. You can pick it up at any time."
"I tore my car apart yesterday after I got home, looking for that yarn."
"Yeah, you probably wouldn't have found it in your car… If you hadn't called by noon we were going to call you."
"It's been sort of a long week."
"We all have those."
Seven days until I leave for dragon*con. Here's hoping I remember to pack my brain. Current likelihood: 30% and dropping.
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