handstories

knitting memories

    Today this hat was traded in partial payment for Blue's senior photos.  She is a friend through a friend, and so talented (see here).  This is a photo of the photo (complete with glass reflection, sorry, MG) that she took of us all thirteen years ago . . . (I know I don't usually show our faces, but it was so long ago, and none of us really look like this anymore . . . more hair, less hair, gray hair, more pounds, more wrinkles, and many more inches onto the boys)

    It's amazing how many memories a photo can hold.  

    The sweaters we're wearing . . .  

    Knit back in the days when I could concentrate on patterns.  (These were designed by Alice Starmore).  

    Some of Blue's was knitted while nursing Moon.  

    The night before the photo shoot, I realized that Moon didn't have a sweater, so I quickly knit one up, round and round, without a pattern.  There was a button band on the shoulder, to allow for his big baby head.  I didn't have any buttons, so he was sewn into the sweater.

    Mine has a story, too.  It's actually a chapter in this book.  Following the late miscarriage of the first pregnancy, I headed to the yarn store, determined to knit the most complicated involved thing I could, hoping it would distract me.  A friend thought it would be depressing to have a reminder of such a sad time.  I told her I planned on wearing it the next winter, during the next pregnancy . . . and I did.

    "Knit on, with confidence and hope, through all crisis."   -Elizabeth Zimmerman (she had SO many good things to say about knitting and life.)

    I hope your new year is full of hope and many wonderful memories.

measuring the blur of time

    The road to Oregon is two mittens long.  

    Family gatherings were what they were. Thank goodness for the newest member, a two & a half year old constant blur of a floor show. He kept us all entertained, just like his dad, my nephew, did thirty years ago. (Thirty years, how did that happen?)  As we sat around the edge of the room, I tried to see who was there, to see them with honest eyes, not the view through memory.  There was aging and sadness . . . more than expected.  

    Back at the hotel, the guys went swimming . . . I began another pair of mittens.

    "What? You can't knit in the dark? Stuff and nonsense; anybody can. Shut your eyes. Knit one stitch."   Elizabeth Zimmerman (from Knitter's Almanac).

flowers & dreams & cloth

    "It's time," I said on Christmas morning, and throughout the day, to the paperwhite a friend had gifted a few weeks ago, and just before midnight, it listened and popped out the first peak of flowers.

    And then came dreams of the "2015" cloth.  Of writing the word "more" and then "incandescent" on top of it.  So, this morning, I did.

    We are off to see famly in Oregon tomorrow.  Back in a couple of days.

last minute making (& conversations with Moon)

    In a shop yesterday, Moon was pondering a couple of carved stones, one said "relax" and the other "hope".  

    "I'm wondering which one I need more?"  He settled on "hope," thinking that if he had it, relaxation would follow.

    I hope he will like this homemade version, of stitch and felted stone, holding both words.

    Today's chat began with him answering the question, "What is the most inspirational movie quote?"  He settled on this line from "Joe Vs the Volcano" . . . 

    "…almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement." 

    Moon went on, saying that an awake person would take in everything, and would see things for more than what they seem to be.  Then he added,  "I've been in a total snoozefest."  

    I laughed, "You are one of the most awake people I know!  The fact that you remember that quote, and are thinking about it, says that you are plenty awake."  (Did I mention that he's thirteen?)

    I hope that this season finds you awake, full of hope, relaxed, and experiencing "total amazement."

signs of the season

    This hangs on my mom's wall every year.  One of the aunts made one for each family back in the seventies.  Costume jewelry, black velvet and lights.  I have always thought it is absolutely Crazy Awesome.  On Christmas Eve, when the relatives came, my cousin and I would stare at it, each choosing our favorite blingy broaches and earrings, as if we were dividing up the crown jewels.  

    And the Spritz cookies, always the spritz.  This year I even made them seventies-green, complete with the inedible silver balls ("Dragees Accents:  FOR DECORATION ONLY…Makes Deserts (yes, it's misspelled on the jar) GLISTEN; Sugar, Corn Starch, Gelatin, Silver.)  Does anyone not eat them?

in the midst . . .

    . . . of holiday bustling, band concert, piano recital, last minute knitting for gifts, the crazy days of school before it breaks for vacation, and everyone in the family catching some bug or other . . . I have been spinning this wool . . . and loving it.   

    Its gray-brown oatmeal like color is soothing, as is the squashy softness of the finished yarn.  It's a mix Targhee and Clun Forest wool (doesn't that bring up thoughts of ancient woodland creatures wandering through the woods?), bought at some local fiber gathering a while back.  Even the need to pick out bits of vegetation along the way is making me happy, connections to the real sheep who wore this coat in some nearby meadow.

    I've said this before, that spinning feels like coming home.  

    I'm grateful that there are so many ways to make- spinning, knitting, stitching, etc.  I couldn't pick a favorite, they all fill some need for expression and/or self-care.

    I'm thinking a lot about the word "share", what all it means, and how it could build deeper connections.   

    The conversation around it is just beginning in my head, still quite blurry and fuzzy.  Hopefully, it can be twisted and plied for strength, knit or woven into shape, and used to take care of some things, to keep them safe and warm.

we can take a hint

    A cork bulletin board is on Moon's Christmas Wish list.  Just in case we didn't think he was serious, he duct-taped a shoe box lid to the wall as a temporary substitute.  K's in charge of the cork board.  I'm handling the scarf at the bottom of the list.

    When he first mentioned it, purple was the wished for color.  I'm not a big fan of purple, but ok.  Bulky purple yarn was purchased to make it go faster.  Half-way done, he commented that he could really use a scarf, and if it could be purple AND black, that would be great.  Hard on my eyes, but alrighty, I switched to black.  It was bound off yesterday.  This evening he talked about really hoping he was going to get that purple, black AND hot pink scarf.

    Fourteen days until Christmas . . . I wonder if that will equal a rainbow scarf?

in a fever

    Well, this week did not go as planned . . . 

    Growing more and more tired each day, until Thursday when I crawled into bed with fever, chills, and everything hurting from toes to finger tips.  After being in bed for fourteen hours, I spent yesterday on the couch dozing and knitting.  Finished the socks, dipped them into the tea, meaning to come back in a few minutes . . .

    An hour later, I woke up and remembered them.  Good thing I like brown.

solutions?

    It's been that kind of a week, and it's only Tuesday.  

    On Sunday I dropped a whole cup of tea onto my knitting, pile of embroidery floss, library books, etc…  There was an attempt at rinsing (not easy to do with the needles still in), but the stains remain.  I'm carrying on with the knitting, and then will follow my sister's suggestion of dunking both socks completely into tea.

  On the way to school this morning, there was a thought, "I just want to feel like I'm making a difference, that it matters if I show up or not."  I've been trying to notice the moments, rather than trying to tackle the big picture all of the time.  It seems much more manageable, and surely there can be moments of success, of really seeing, of being seen, of connection.

    Later, during reading group, two students were all over the place with their attention, had nothing to contribute, did NOT want to be there.  Afterwards, trying to get through to them . . . how to make them WANT to try?  "What do you need?"  

    "The rolling chairs."

    There are two of them in the room, they roll, they twirl, they don't seem conducive to focussing on reading, and have been off-limits as a choice.  Their eyes opened wide when I said, "O.K," they started to go, "BUT, people who sit in those chairs do not roll around or twirl during group.  People who sit in those chairs pay attention and share ideas and answers.  Those are the Thinking and Trying chairs.  Deal?"  They said yes.  

    We'll see . . . I hope they are magic chairs.

textures on a sock

    The ribbing on the leg.  (Knit two, purl two, round and round.)

    The heel flap.  (Right side:  Knit all stitches.)

    The Other side:  purl 1, slip one with yarn in back.

    Bottom of foot.  (Knit all stitches across bottom side.  Top side:  Knit two, purl two.  Round and round.)

    The ankle, where they all meet.