Headlamp Hat

For my 23.25-inch head, I should have a hat that's about 21-inches in
 circumference. Blocked, this hat measures 20-inches, but fits nicely.

HEAD LAMP HAT
Toque with integrated USB Rechargeable LED.

Size Shown: Men's Large (23-inch head circumference)

Yarn Weight: DK

Yarn Used: Into the Whirled Dresden DK, "Captain Tightpants"

Needles: US 4 (one size smaller for brim)

Gauge: 24 stitches to 4-inches/10cm

Supplies: USB Rechargeable Light with Rubber Frame

Knit a gauge swatch using your preferred yarn/needles.  Measure the circumference of your head at the top of your ears. Subtract about 10% for negative ease, multiply that by your gauge, and cast-on. (I cast on 115 sts.)

Knit in the round for 2 inches. Increase 5 stitches (about 5%) in next round, then knit 2 rounds. Purl a round to create turning edge.

Knit 3/4 inch. Bind off 1.25-inches of stitches (see TechKnitter's buttonhole instructions for a neater edge). Work flat for 1. inch, then cast-on across the gap the number of stitches you had previously bound off. Place marker, and resume working in the round until you have the same number of rounds above and below the purl ridge. This creates a hole in the brim sized for the light I purchased; you may have a different sized light which may require a larger or smaller hole. I recommend making the hole so the rubber gasket fits snuggly—my rubber gasket is sized for a 1.5 x 1.25 inch hole, so I subtracted 1/4 inch from the length and width.

Fold the brim along the purl turning ridge, with the cast-on edge behind your live stitches. Close the hem by working cast-on edge together with your live stitches. (Again, see TechKnitter's instructions.) Leave about 1 inch of the "hem" unclosed, so you have a gap to insert and remove rechargeable lamp.

Knit plain to desired depth. I like a bit of height to my hats, so I worked about 10.5-inches plain before starting the crown. 

Decrease 8 stitches per round on alternate rounds for crown. (I worked *SSK, k13* around, then a plain round, *SSK, k12*,  knit plain, etc.) For more info on crown shaping, see Woolly Wormhead's Crown Shaping Master Class.

Bald Men Need Hats

For years, Greg had been cutting my hair every three weeks. I'd long wondered if I was fooling myself, but friends and colleagues told me not to shave my head. "I don't think of you as a bald person; my mental picture of you has hair," said a children's librarian I worked with.

Then one day I snapped a selfie backstage, and the backlighting and blur effect resulted in this startling portrait.

Backstage during "Tuck Everlasting," preparing to
step on as "Old Hugo" in the final dance number.

It was time to face facts. "I think our time together is coming to an end soon," I said to Greg. He gave me my usual trim, and then I gave him the go-ahead to keep going, as he buzzed all my hair down to a fine stubble. I was afraid, but once it was done I really liked the look. 

Good thing too, because when the pandemic hit and hair salons were closed, it was great not to have to worry about my hair.

I already was used to wearing caps in the summer to keep my bald spot from burning, but I was lackadaisical about hats in the winter. It's been a struggle finding hat styles that I look good in, though. What seems to work best is close-fitting beanie or toque, knit slightly long so the top sits an inch above my skull.

I don't need a thick hat: my bald head puts out a lot of heat, and in fact, I've found in the summer that I prefer a coating of sunscreen on the scalp, as I tend to overheat in a cap. Last fall, I bought a Night Scope Beanie to wear on my dark morning walks; looks good and works great, but it's too thick and hot. So I'm experimenting: I found these rechargeable LED beanie lights on Amazon, and I'm working on a simple beanie, leaving a hole in the hemmed brim to insert the light.

Finished picture with yarn and pattern details soon.

PS: While I don't miss my hair at all, I do miss seeing Greg.

Facelift

Very slow day at work (winter storm on a Friday before Christmas weekend has closed every library in the state and left our inboxes empty and our to-do lists moribund), so I decided, "Hey, why not dust off your blog?"

Competition, principally from Ravelry and then from Facebook, had pretty much killed this blog as on online outlet, but times have changed. Ravelry underwent a redesign that permanently damaged its place at the heart of the online knitting community. (The last two knitting books I've looked at don't even have their patterns listed there, which would have been unthinkable five years ago.) Facebook had me in its grip until October of last year, when I found it was possible to take control of my timeline with Unfollow Everything. I still scan Facebook occasionally to check in on my friends' lives, but I update less frequently, and that's true of many of them as well.

When Twitter began melting down when Elon Musk took the reins two months ago, I had hopes that we'd see blogs come back. Sadly, that's unlikely. Perhaps if there was a tool as handy and easy to use as the old Google Reader there would be a chance. But few people care about the power and flexibility of RSS anymore. (For the record, I still do, and pay a subscription fee for Newsblur to keep my feed collection available.)

Will I keep this up? Unlikely. I'm a fairly busy guy. (And frankly, I kind of hate writing.) Nevertheless, I've occupied a few hours today selecting a new template for the blog, making it behave better on mobile devices, cleaning up the side widget, and replacing my old, blocky cartoon avatar with a current Bitmoji.

For those of you, like me, who still have a collection of RSS feeds and you've seen my blog suddenly show up again after a five year silence: "Hi there. Here's hoping your holidays are satisfying, and the new year brings you some joy."

SM - Wrap Up

Life got too busy to stick to my blogging plan.

Ultimately, I generally liked stage managing, but the satisfaction it returned wasn't worth the time invested. Once we got into tech week, I would commonly spend up to 8 hours at the theater.

My dedication was appreciated, though. The director claims exclusivity with me for all future productions (I declined to sign that pre-nup). Although I initially butted heads with the sound designer -- she's an experienced theater tech who felt that this show didn't require separate light and sound board operators as well as an in-booth SM calling cues -- I won her over by my eagerness to learn, and to do what I could to insure a smooth, perfect run. Towards the end of the run, she began lobbying me to SM a production for her at a different theater.

Initially, I declared that I wouldn't SM again until I'd retired. But I might consider doing it again, perhaps once a year, under certain conditions:

1. A maximum of 2 acts. The 3+ hour run-time of this show was brutal.
2. Inside the loop. The 40 minute commute to the theater easily doubled during rush hour.
3. Get Michael involved. Rehearsal and performance reduced my interactions with my husband to short, sleepy conversations as I arrived home late and settled into bed, where he already had been dozing.
4. A technical director runs strike, and I don't have to be involved. That was long, hard work, and made a bitter, unpleasant end to the experience. I don't want to do that again.

I enjoyed the satisfaction of learning something new and doing it well. It was fun running the sound board for pickup rehearsals during the run of the play, and one afternoon I ran the light board so the tech could go see a different show. (It was easier, I found, to actually hit the "Go" button myself than to tell someone else to do it.)

Now that it's all over, I expect I'll get a bit restless, but for now, I'm very much enjoying the old routine of meals with Mike and quiet evenings at home in front of the TV.

SM - Rehearsal Space I

I suspect this has been one of the easiest SM gigs out there. Weeks have gone by, and I haven't had anything to blog about. My only job has been to find rehearsal space, and for this show, it's been easy. They're starting rehearsals with "beat work," intensely working short vignettes within the play's act-long scenes to determine each character's objective at the moment, what obstacles are in the way, and what the character is doing to overcome them. It's interesting analytical work, but there's not much for a stage manager to do. They're not up on their feet moving, so my primary responsibility -- record the blocking -- is delayed. The stage manager's opinion of a character motivation and portrayal is irrelevant. Knowing that I'll have opinions that are unwanted and unwelcome, I reasoned that it's best for all involved if I don't attend beat work.

So where are they doing this work? There's no need to book a theater or big rehearsal space, so I've been finding conference rooms in public libraries. Most of the libraries in the county have online reservation systems, so I can quickly find out if a room is available and reserve it for the cast.

Rehearsal is called for Monday, Labor Day, and the libraries won't be open, so I'm abusing my employee privileges to get us into one of my libraries that evening. I'm looking forward to seeing their progress.

SM - Audition Chuckle

I mentioned last post that I enjoyed all the actors' work in auditions. That's true. Not that I'd put anything negative about it here, but I really don't have anything negative to say.

But there is something that struck me as funny.

Some of the actors auditioning for "George" have obviously been influenced by Richard Burton's performance, and would try on the accent. It came through most strongly when addressing Martha.

"Mah-tha."

Late in the evening, my brain flipped it to "Mothra."

I thought it was fitting, Mothra.
Well, why don't you choose, Mothra?
Mothra's going to run things...
Mothra's going to put on some rhythm she understands...

George and Mothra. Interesting premise for a kaiju production of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" I wonder if the Albee estate would object?

SM - Phoning disappointment

The duty fell to me to call the people who were not cast. I wasn't expecting that -- neither of the SM books I read mentioned it.

It suuuuuucked.

If I was lucky, I could leave a voicemail, and rattle off my short message. "This is Don, the stage manager for 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf.'" I want to thank you for auditioning for the show. As you saw, there was a small but very talented group of people vying for the parts, and I'm afraid that you weren't selected. I want to let you know how much I enjoyed watching you audition..." [and I was sincere here: I did enjoy everyone, and I tried to say something quick about an individual, like their character choices, their timing, their instinct for balance in blocking and movement] "...and I wish the best in future auditions and shows."

Of course, this was derailed when anyone actually answered their phone, and I had to stumble through this as a dialogue.

After I'd started calling, I was given some good suggestions for delivering this message. Basically, it was a longer version of what I'd been saying, but with more information about the company, upcoming shows in the season, etc. Too much for a voicemail or a quick phone call. It was good info, but I bet little of it will be retained, given that the thesis of the conversation is "Bad News: You Didn't Get It." Probably even my sympathy and praise got lost in the disappointment. I'd much rather send an email. Not only do I have more careful editorial control of the message, but I can pack extra info. Sure, the recipient gets hit with the rejection and disappointment, but the things I say to try to offset that, which probably get ignored verbally, can be read again later, and the good information can be saved and consulted again.

It seems it's this company's practice to always call. I get it: there's a personal touch. And I seem to have inadvertently rocked a boat by suggesting to a board member that, if I keep with this SM gig, in the future I'll push back on the "call" requirement and insist on emailing. At the very least, I'll do both.