Earlier in the day, we’d taken photos of our little Mia napping in our T@bitha trailer that’s decorated in my Bee My Honey Moda fabric collection that will be in quilt stores next January. Moki jumped onto the desk and snuggled up next to Mia for a little … cat nap.

Have you ever wondered what your brain waves would look like …

if they were knit, as in k2, p2?

No, I didn’t think so.

I’d never considered it either, until I heard about Knitic.

While it sounds like an invention concocted by the likes of Jane Jetson,

Image courtesy of www.scarlet.nl/~ivo/photo_JUDY.html

“NeuroKnitting” is not a figment of space-age fiction.

It’s a nifty experiment that has been designed to translate the brain’s reactions to music into a unique scarf pattern by way of a modified knitting machine.

Photo by Mar Canet via Flickr www.flickr.com/photos/mcanet/8752517057/in/set-72157633528626109/

Photo by Mar Canet via Flickr www.flickr.com/photos/mcanet/9110787760/in/set-72157633528626109/

I’m not sure how this will affect old-fashioned knitters like you and me in years to come,

but “space age” is not as far off as we’d once imagined it.

MaryJane meets Jane Jetson—who knows?

For now, take a sneak peek at the dawn of NeuroKnitting:

Photographer Nick Olson and fashion designer Lilah Horwitz left their daily jobs and hoofed it into the gorgeous mountains of West Virginia. When they arrived, they began to build a house …

Published in Milwaukee Journal Sentinel on September 4, 2013, the following obituary is full of wise tidings from “Pink.”

Mullaney, Mary A. “Pink”

If you’re about to throw away an old pair of pantyhose, stop. Consider: Mary Agnes Mullaney (you probably knew her as “Pink”), who entered eternal life on Sunday, September 1, 2013.

Her spirit is carried on by her six children, 17 grandchildren, three surviving siblings in New “Joisey,” and an extended family of relations and friends from every walk of life. We were blessed to learn many valuable lessons from Pink during her 85 years, among them: Never throw away old pantyhose. Use the old ones to tie gutters, child-proof cabinets, tie toilet flappers, or hang Christmas ornaments.

Also: If a possum takes up residence in your shed, grab a barbecue brush to coax him out. If he doesn’t leave, brush him for twenty minutes and let him stay.

Let a dog (or two or three) share your bed. Say the rosary while you walk them.

Go to church with a chicken sandwich in your purse. Cry at the consecration, every time. Give the chicken sandwich to your homeless friend after mass.

Go to a nursing home and kiss everyone. When you learn someone’s name, share their patron saint’s story, and their feast day, so they can celebrate. Invite new friends to Thanksgiving dinner. If they are from another country and you have trouble understanding them, learn to “listen with an accent.”

Never say mean things about anybody; they are “poor souls to pray for.”

Put picky-eating children in the box at the bottom of the laundry chute, tell them they are hungry lions in a cage, and feed them veggies through the slats.

Correspond with the imprisoned and have lunch with the cognitively challenged.

Do the Jumble every morning.

Keep the car keys under the front seat so they don’t get lost.

Make the car dance by lightly tapping the brakes to the beat of songs on the radio.

Offer rides to people carrying a big load or caught in the rain or summer heat. Believe the hitchhiker you pick up who says he is a landscaper and his name is “Peat Moss.”

Help anyone struggling to get their kids into a car or shopping cart or across a parking lot.

Give to every charity that asks. Choose to believe the best about what they do with your money, no matter what your children say they discovered online.

Allow the homeless to keep warm in your car while you are at Mass.

Take magazines you’ve already read to your doctors’ office for others to enjoy. Do not tear off the mailing label, “Because if someone wants to contact me, that would be nice.”

In her lifetime, Pink made contact time after time. Those who’ve taken her lessons to heart will continue to ensure that a cold drink will be left for the overheated garbage collector and mail carrier, every baby will be kissed, every nursing home resident will be visited, the hungry will have a sandwich, the guest will have a warm bed and soft nightlight, and the encroaching possum will know the soothing sensation of a barbecue brush upon its back.

Above all, Pink wrote—to everyone, about everything. You may read this and recall a letter from her that touched your heart, tickled your funny bone, or maybe made you say “huh?”

She is survived by her children and grandchildren, whose photos she would share with prospective friends in the checkout line: Tim (wife Janice, children Timmy, Joey, T.J., Miki and Danny); Kevin (wife Kathy, children Kacey, Ryan, Jordan and Kevin); Jerry (wife Gita, children Nisha and Cathan); MaryAnne; Peter (wife Maria Jose, children Rodrigo and Paulo); and Meg (husband David Vartanian, children Peter, Lily, Jerry and Blase); siblings Anne, Helen, and Robert; and many in-laws, nieces, nephews, friends, and family too numerous to list but not forgotten.

Pink is reunited with her husband and favorite dance and political debate partner, Dr. Gerald L. Mullaney, and is predeceased by six siblings.

I had one of those weekends spent at home organizing and cooking. They sometimes feel rare and far between but they sure make for a good week!

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When I say “yarn painting,” what do you envision?

Photo by Pixelverve.com via Wikimedia Commons

Yarn strands dipped in paint and swirled on canvas?

Nice idea, popular with the kiddos, but that’s not quite what I meant.

Painting skeins of yarn?

Gorgeous …

Photos courtesy of Poppy Gall Design Studio

But, I’m thinking along a different thread.

Yarn painting doesn’t actually have anything to do with paint, per say, but the end result could be confused with a painting,

Photo of traditional Huichol string art by Jebulon via Wikipedia

until you look at it up close …

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Tree Dreams.

I love the idea of it. But what does it mean?

Photo by Steve Swayne via Wikimedia Commons

When I saw the site called Tree-Dreams.org, I had to know—what is it?

Well, it turns out to be a lovely project launched by author (and avid tree hugger) Kristin Kaye. Inspired by our silently branching neighbors, Kristin wants to encourage the scattering of “tree dreams” around the globe.

“I get this rush of wisdom,” she says of her time with trees, “and want to lie down like a lazy cat and hear their stories.”

When she isn’t listening, Kristin is beckoning others to share stories and ideas with the world by way of Tree Tags.

“A stealthy and merry band of Tree Taggers is already at work spreading the ideas that sustain us all, like love, kindness, generosity, giving, and interconnectedness … anyone can be a Tree Tagger.”

How?

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Usually, it’s an “X” that marks the spot …

So what would you think if you ran across one of these big ol’ arrows?

Courtesy of Craig; AAIR, Aviation Archaeological Investigation and Research;
http://www.aviationarchaeology.com

Perhaps a large-scale geocaching symbol?

Wacky art piece?

Landing beacon for aliens?

Or a treasure hunt for the giants of Jack and the Beanstalk …

Actually, the last one isn’t far off.

These arrows were, in fact, a treasure map of sorts.

Though ixnay on the giants-ay … think aeronautics instead.

The treasure?

U.S. mail.

Prior to 1924, mail could take upwards of a month to arrive at its destination. The Pony Express, which solely delivered mail, was disbanded in 1861 as the Transcontinental Railroad took up the yoke and continued to improve the speed of mail delivery.

The railroad was completed from sea to shining sea in 1869, and until 1903, was the main means of mail delivery. That is, until the Wright Brothers completed their first successful flight and initiated the age of air travel.

U.S. Post Office Department map of the First Transcontinental Air Mail Route involving both day and night flying over the entire route opened July 1, 1924. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons; PD-USGOV.

The Transcontinental Air Mail Route was 2,629-miles long, stretching between San Francisco, California, to New York, New York.

Needing no roads, train tracks, or animals, the advancement of air travel had just one hurdle to overcome: night.

Without high-tech navigation systems, a pilot could only fly during the day.

The solution?

Like breadcrumbs for a pilot, a series of beacons was built and lit—one every 10 miles.

Here is one of those “breadcrumbs,” a 51-foot steel tower.

Revolving light beacon towner being built, Omaha, 1920s. Courtesy of Postal Museum.http://www.postalmuseum.si.edu/museum/1d_Airmail_Beacon.html

Below is a drawing of the structure. Each was lit by a million-candlepower rotating beacon. As long as pilots could see the concrete “yellow brick road,” they could fly by night.

Airway beacon. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons; U.S. DOT FAA

This allowed mail to cross the country in 30 hours or so, depending on conditions.

As fast as technology grows, the beacons were rendered obsolete by the ’40s. Most of the towers were torn down and the steel was used for the war effort, but hundreds of the yellow arrows remain.

The Western New Mexico Aviation Heritage Museum is in the process of restoring an airway beacon tower and its electric generator for visitors. More on that here.