Sunday, December 30, 2012

Adieu, 2012


"The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry."
~English idiom, paraphrased from a line in Robert Burns' poem "To a Mouse", and referenced in the title of a famous John Steinbeck novel.

This will perhaps be my last blog entry of the year.  It's going to have a little of everything: a little knitting, a little travel, a little storytelling, a little yarn porn, and a few surprises.  Life has been kind of heavy lately, so I'm going to do my best to stick with the good stuff.

I had every good intention when writing my last post.  I was going to set to work on completing everything I started.  The rest of my year, two and a half months, was dedicated.  I'd send 2012 out with a bang, clean up my slate, and have a few nice finished projects to show for it.

I started off pretty strong.  I finished the techno hat:


And then things started happening.

We lost our cat Buddy for two excruciatingly long days, just before I left on a trip to Florida for my cousin's wedding:


He came home at 11pm the night before my early morning flight.


I had a lovely stay in sunny Boca Grande, Florida ... 


...and came home to a considerable surprise:


So, do you know, in the Interwebs, they call this a BFP?  That stands for "Big Fat Positive." This one was hardly big and fat, but after I took this picture the results got significantly darker.

After five months of trying, and after getting a BFN before the FL trip, I had resigned myself to Mr. Pi and I taking some time off from the baby-making game and maybe trying again come Christmas-January.  After all, September birthdays are, in my opinion, the best kinds of birthdays.

I had exactly 2 weeks to enjoy my results.  I did a lot of daydreaming about baby knitting.  I ate the absolute best foods I could, loaded up my diet with spinach and eggs and sweet potatoes and yogurt and all sorts of super pregnancy foods.  I walked on the treadmill.  I researched daycares and doctors and did some Pinterest-perusing and blog-diving on nursery design.  I felt great, pregnancy suited me just fine, and I was going to be Super Mom!

I also snuck in a trip to the New England Fiber Festival with my Mom - it was a consolation prize for missing Rhinebeck this year.  They had it in one of the big buildings on the Big E fairgrounds (a.k.a. the Eastern States Exposition).  It was a good size, with a variety of wares.

I came home with some nice mittens for myself, some alpaca socks for Mr. Pi, a tummy full of delicious shepherd's pie, and this:


The most perfect project bag!


I just love the zipper pull!

Just the right size for my other new purchase (I'd stopped at Creative Fibers LLC on my way home from the airport the week before):


Madelinetosh Sock yarn, in the color Tart*

*I couldn't resist getting this color, because one of my most favorite knitter-friends goes by the alias tartdarling.  It's much more red in real life; my iPhone didn't do the color justice.

At Creative Fibers, I also splurged on some square, yes square double pointed needles:


Ok, not a great picture, but imagine longer, thicker, redder, toothpicks.

What a lovely, cozy pair of Christmas socks that yarn was going to turn out to be (after all my other projects were finished, of course).

Alas, it was not to be.  Maybe Christmas 2013.

About two weeks after my BFP, I started feeling carsick.  All the time.  It started off as a dull unsettled feeling in my stomach.  Eating helped keep it at bay, but it would return shortly after I was done.  And it quickly progressed to constant, overwhelming nausea.

Whoever coined the phrase "morning sickness" was either deliberately misleading all of us, or terribly and tragically misinformed.  Sure, it started in the morning, but it continued throughout the day, coloring the world in a sickly green hue for me.  Focusing on work was exhausting.  Coming home to home smells was unbearable.  Most of the time I'd get in, run upstairs, and put myself straight to bed.

I couldn't put anything I was going to eat in plastic bags, because it would make my stomach turn.  

I couldn't plan meals in advance, because I'd open my lunch, take one look, and decide nothing inside was edible.  

I developed a super-spidey sense of smell. I could smell things from across a room; the tiniest odors were rank, foul, oppressive.  

I could hardly stay in the house when Mr. Pi cooked peppers & onions for his breakfast sandwiches, or home fries.

There was one pair of (new) work pants that were made of a certain material that had a funny smell to it.  I couldn't wear them, or wash them along with anything I was going to wear, because I could smell that chemical or whatever it was all. bloody. day.

I only vomited once, the day I finished 12 weeks.  But I assure you, the rest of the time was nothing short of pure suffering.

I took to wearing these:


Sea bands.  Sexy, aren't they?

The sea bands actually worked to dull the intensity of the nausea.  Which was good, because since I wasn't vomiting, my doctor wouldn't prescribe me any nausea medication.

I lost nearly two full months.  I couldn't knit.  I couldn't do anything, except sleep and survive.  I'm sorry, I know it sounds melodramatic, and I'm spending a lot of time here telling you about it, but it was truly, for me, an ordeal.  A sort of Gauntlet to be beaten.  My sister had gone through the same thing, and I can remember scoffing (inside) at her complaints.  I can't tell you how many times in the past few weeks I apologized to her, and was grateful for someone who understood.

Around about Christmas, I started feeling better.  I'm officially into the second trimester, and I've really felt like myself again.  And good thing, too.  My house is a disaster.  Mr. Pi, God bless him, does many things wonderfully well, but housekeeping is sort of my arena.  I have a lot of catching up to do.

Speaking of catching up, something I wanted to do so badly but could never get up the motivation the past month was to make some ornaments for our tree.  Today, I finally started:


I found this Granny Square Stocking Ornament pattern on Ravelry, by designer Colleen Hoke

I worked on it while running load after load of laundry.  All the nap blankets from the couch ... the spare bathroom handtowels ... the duvet cover ... the kitchen towels ... all those items that, I'm convinced, men would never wash if they didn't have wives/girlfriends.

So tomorrow night I will be celebrating the end of a year that had its fair share of rough spots, and look with hopeful expectancy (pun intended) to 2013.

Happy New Year, dear readers.  May it be filled with joy and blissful contentment.

Mrs. Pi


Sunday, October 14, 2012

2012 Finished Objects

This year I did something different than I have in prior years: I set knitting goals.

Two and a half months left to the year, and I realize that my knitting goals were, well, rather ambitious.

Knit More
1.  At least 36 FOs (3 per month)
2.  1 pair of socks a month
3.  Finish WIPs, use stash yarn
4.  Knit for myself
5.  Knit for Mr. Pi
6.  Knit for our house
7.  Give away 1 item per month
8.  Knit 1 teddy bear or lovey
9.  Knit for non-profit

I am sad to report that I am only at 8 FOs for the year:

Debra's mittens


Missie's wrist warmers


Danielle's mitts


Yellow mitts


Mom's cowl


Schmendrick socks


Leah's legwarmers


KAL shawl


So I think it would behoove me restate my goals.  You could say it's a 9x3 reforecast of plan.  (I know - no one but me, a finance nerd, would say that)  

All former goals are hereby restated to one goal, Finish Started Objects:

Skyp to Oz Socks

One done, one started.

Hedgerow Socks

One nearly finished; too big but maybe I can give the pair away.

Socks for The Other Kelly

Nearly down to the heel

Crochet Baby Blanket

This one is so close to done, I just need to figure out a nice border.

Knit Baby Blanket

This one is about halfway done.

Cream Zippy Cardigan

Old news: needs a zipper and a snap sewed in.

Ugly Vest

Needs neck and armhole borders.

Sock Sweater

Need to finish the second sleeve, attach, and finish the neckline.

Techno Hat

Pretty obvious: do another row of smocking, then finish the top.

Gryffindor Scarves (2)

Not sure how long these will be, five feet each, maybe?

Mauve Afghan

These squares need to be connected somehow, and a few more crocheted.

If I succeed in my new goal by the end of December, I will be 55.6% to original total plan and 33% to original sock plan.  I will also be 100% to original "give away" goal.  I will have knit items for myself, finished WIPs, and used stash yarn.  So really, that's 5/9 of the items on my original list.

Think I can do it?

My biggest lesson of 2012, so far, is to finish what I start.  What did you learn this year?

Mrs. Pi

Monday, October 8, 2012

It's Been Awhile

Life just gets in the way sometimes, y'know?  Take the past month.  I couldn't really tell you one way or the other what has consumed my life so completely that I couldn't sit down in front of the laptop and type.  Something.  Anything.  But the time passed - swiftly - and here I am, a good ways into October.

I turned 30.  The milestone came and passed without much of a blip.  Except for the nice celebration Mr. Pi threw me, just the two of us:


I don't care how old you are, you just can't look at a pile of presents and not smile like a fool.  Especially ones wrapped in purple sparkley "Birthday Girl" paper.

And before presents, Birthday Girl had to finish her dinner:


He spoils me rotten, Mr. Pi does.

One present I got for my birthday, from a dear non-knitter friend who knows me so well:


It looks and reads like a textbook, but I confess: I skimmed nearly the entire thing the night it came in the mail.  I read enough to discover that my Grandma's book, Twice Knit Knitting, is referenced in the bibliography.  I can't tell you the little thrill I got seeing that.  I suppose it's rather like being related to royalty or celebrity.

Speaking of knitting.  I should catch you up on what I've been working on.  I have a pair of commuter mitts nearly finished, requested by a friend.  I do believe that this marks the first time I've ever completed the same pattern twice.  I just have to sew on a few buttons and weave in some ends.  But you know me - I'm not really good at the "finishing."

They've been in this state of nearly finished for weeks now.  They travel with me everywhere I go, along with my yarn needle, the buttons, and a little sewing kit, however ... still not completed.


(sorry, terrible picture)

Here's what they'll look like when they're done:


... only with different buttons.

I also put quite a bit of work into my brown sock sweater - so named because it started off as my first sock, but morphed into the sleeve of a sweater, and the project just sort of grew from there.  




I started two identical Harry Potter scarves for my nephews, on the same circular needle.  I don't know why I never thought of it before - it's really quite brilliant.  Ensures that they will be perfectly identical.  This is important because the two nephews are 5 and nearly 3 and they're the two youngest in their family, and they're just close enough in age so that what one gets, the other immediately wants.


I am experimenting with a technique for knitting two socks at once as well - on one circular - from this book:


which is a bit trickier than simply knitting back and forth like the scarves.  I haven't gotten to the heels yet; I have a feeling that will be a challenge.  This is the first time I've knit socks with actual sock yarn, on a size 2 circ, and it feels like it's taking forever.  

FOREVER. 

(Spoken like whats-his-name from the Sand Lot. What's his name?  With the glasses.  Marries Wendy Peffercorn.  Oh for crying out loud, I can remember Wendy Peffercorn's name but I can't remember his???  Thirty's hit me pretty hard, apparently.)


This self-striping yarn is super-pretty, but it's not as soft or stretchy as I would have liked for a pair of socks.  It's a bamboo blend from Jo-Ann, Etc.  Note to self: Don't knit with wood, then expect it to feel like wool.

I still have to finish the green baby blanket, and I haven't even started my Teal Deer.  Did I tell you about the Teal Deer, yet?  It's still going to be epic, it's just ... on hiatus.

Let's see...

I made it to two fairs this fair season, which makes me happy.  It's fall in New England, which means it's colorful and blustery and absolutely heaven on earth.  The air smells like leaves, and it's so peaceful and calm, if you close your eyes, you can almost feel the drowsy trees falling asleep.  Two teenage deer walked through my backyard early this morning, tiptoeing among the yellowing ferns.  Is there anything more peaceful than a fall morning?

Softball is drawing to a close for the year, which makes me sad, but also happy because lately I've been banished to right field.  I'm not an outfielder.  I'm a second-baseman who could also fill in the position of third base in a pinch.  But that's the reality of playing on a team, I guess.  You go where the team needs you.

Dave Matthews Band is coming to Connecticut in December, so I might actually fulfill my lifelong desire to see them in concert.  I had the chance once.  I had the tickets in hand, but I stood on principle and gave them away.  They were a gift from a manipulative ex who was trying to win me back.  He knew it was my lifelong desire to see them, and he used them as a means to an end.  I would not be bought!  As it turns out, I really REALLY shot myself in the foot with that one because it was before LeRoi Moore passed away (RIP).  Sigh.

You live, you learn. (Thanks, Alanis)

I have a new little mini-me in my youngest niece, Leah.  Everyone says she looks just like me, which gives me a little boost of pride in my heart.


I mean, gosh.  She's just so darn cute!  Here she is, singing to the musical giraffe I got her older sister when she was a baby.  It plays "You Are My Sunshine", I think.

I actually got to drive down to see my youngest nieces, recently.  It was the weekend after my birthday, and my cousin had a wedding shower in the same general vicinity where my sister lives, so my Mom and I drove down and stayed over to see the girls get dedicated at church the next day.

I carried Leah into the restaurant where my sister had arranged a brunch after the service, and while we were waiting for our table, the little darling fell asleep right on my shoulder.  It actually aches to remember it, because - I don't know if you feel the same way, but in my opinion having a sleeping child in your arms is actually one of the best feelings in the world.  Couple that with the pangs I've been feeling for motherhood lately, and I just can't even... tears, just remembering it.

Needless to say, I'm yearning.  I might as well tell you, dear readers, that Mr. Pi and I have been making baby plans.  Beyond just the pre-natals I showed you a few months ago.  And all the while, reading baby books and browsing baby articles on baby websites, and looking for baby ideas on Pinterest, and window-shopping baby stuff on Etsy, looking at 4-bd, 2.5 ba houses on Realtor.com ... I still have this fear, behind it all, hiding somewhere behind my solar plexus, that wonders if I can do this.  

For one, quite literally, if I can even conceive.  I had major surgery (appendectomy) when I was very young (two) that left that area of my body pretty scarred and messy.  And, if I can conceive, can I put away my selfishness and immaturity and care for another human being?  And beyond basic necessities, can I do it right?  Will I be stifling?  Will I mess up?  Will I buckle under the pressure and end up a terrible mother? Will I be one of those mothers who pushes their children away after a long day at work?  Will I be one of those mothers who can't juggle, so everything falls to the ground?  Will I find it too difficult to leave my child in daycare, and have to quit my job?

It's scary and what's weird is - I never really had these fears before.  It's like the older I get the more I realize what could go wrong.  And the more I doubt if I'm mom material.  And I wonder if it's too late, if I've missed my window of opportunity to be the best mom I could have been.

Sometimes I need someone - a strong, intelligent woman, ideally - to sit me down and tell me that I'm going to be just fine.  That it's ok to think the thoughts that are running through my head - What if I can't go back to work after maternity leave?  What if I decide to leave my career and the path I've been treading and the ladder I've been climbing?  What if I take time away, will I be able to return?  Will I regret it when my children are in school and I'm trying to get back in?  Will I regret it when we are clipping coupons or worse just to make ends meet?  When we are fighting about money in front of the kids?  Will I regret it if I stay in my job but realize later the kids needed me at home?

How does anyone do it?  Mr. Pi and I don't even have a family yet, and already we're living on two incomes, and couldn't imagine not living on two incomes.  I can't see how it would even be possible to stay home with the kids, but I also can't see how it would even be possible to say goodbye to them every day.  

There's so much I want to be able to do, and I need to be home to do them.  I want to keep a neat and orderly house.  I want to create and maintain a healthy and nutritious meal schedule for my family.  I want to sew clothes and curtains and crib sheets.  I want to knit layettes and crochet toys and hook a rug and stitch a beautiful saying and design a sweet nursery.  I want to make up fun games and activities to stimulate my child's development.  I want to teach my kids as much as they can possibly learn, so that they're full to overflowing.  I want to play music and dance and laugh and give them 100% because they only have one childhood.

But the truth is, I already feel spread thin.  I already live for the weekends.  I can't do all the things I love and want to do, because I couldn't possibly find time to do them all.  So how in the world could I think I can add something like Motherhood to the mix?  I have this feeling like I'm going to have to choose, and it's not going to be an easy choice.  What will happen to the things I love, to the things that make me ME, when my life is work-kids-sleep-work-kids-sleep-work-kids-sleep ...

I have no answers, but the words of George Harrison are lingering in my mind:

"And to see you're really only very small
and life flows on, within you and without you."

Did he mean that life flows on inside of me and outside of me, like an energy, or without me, like a train leaving the station?

Mrs. Pi

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Hand-Me-Downs or Inheritance?


It was short-lived.

Like Summer, my nice clean, relaxing Three Season Room was gone too soon after it came.

I cannot complain, though, either about Summer coming to a close or the room getting filled up.  First of all, I'm a big Fall person.  Fairs, and apples, and pumpkins, and mums, and changing leaves, and sweater weather, and crisp air, and that Most Delicious of all Sam Adams brews: Octoberfest.  We New Englanders sure know how to do Fall.

And the room, well, it's full, yes.  But so's my heart.

I told you that I inherited my Grandma's rigid heddle weaving loom. 

[This loom, she needs a name.  Hmm.  I'll have to think on that. Yes, it's a she.]  

I've been fortunate enough to come into a lot of inheritance lately - not monetarily, but things.  And ... purpose.

There are people who would consider most of my newly acquired things "Hand-Me-Downs".  I'm not sure I like that.  There's a negative connotation with "Hand-Me-Downs".  I used to wear my sisters' "Hand-Me-Downs" which usually meant clothes that were slightly out of date and too short (I'm tall in my family).  So that term is sort of uncomfortable and itchy to me.  I like the word "Inheritance" because there's an air of formality and responsibility about it; something of value being passed down for a new generation to steward.

And dear readers, in the past few weeks I've gained a growing sense that it's time for me to pick up where those that came before me left off.

I won't go into the heavy emotion of the situation, but this past weekend I helped my aunts and uncles and parents and cousins sort through my Grandparents' house.

I'm going to pause for a moment and tell you a little about my Grandparents' house.


Photos of photos aren't wonderful, I know.

But there it is, Grampa and Gramma's house.  It was built rather recently - my Grampa (and father, and uncles) built it to look old and colonial.  It's not their only home - not even the family home where my Dad grew up - but it's the only place I remember Grampa and Gramma living.  To me, that house is them.  
...
I used to play in the yard with my sisters and cousins - Cops and Robbers - and pump water out of that old-fashioned pump out front.  
...
There used to be a huge tree in the backyard, with a positively ginormous wooden swing hanging from a big limb, and I can just barely remember Grampa pushing us - more than one at a time? was the swing THAT big?  
...
And further back, in the woods, there are maybe three or four wild blueberry bushes.  When we'd come up to visit in July, Gramma would send us down to pick blueberries, wearing a small metal bucket on a long string like a necklace.  Wild blueberries are the  teeny-tiniest blueberries you'll ever see, but they're so very sweet and flavorful.
...
And Grampa would cook up these wonderful thin crepes for breakfast, and stew the blueberries up into a sauce in a pan to the side, and he served them on special metal plates that he'd heated up so the crepes stayed warm while you were eating them.  Not that they really lasted long enough to get cold anyway - they were delicious.
...
Sigh.

And here's a photo of my Grampa, when he was young:



Wasn't he dashing?

But ... I digress.


This desk, now my desk, was made for my Grandma by my Grandpa ... I don't know how long ago, but my dad told me that he remembers helping Grandpa with it, and I assume he meant he was young.

When I was asked what, if anything, I'd like from Gramma and Grampa's house, even before I thought of the loom, it was Gramma's desk that came to mind.  It's not something they purchased because they liked it.  It's not an impersonal antique.  It's one-of-a-kind.  It's a symbol of their love and commitment.

I didn't know my Gramma well - that side of the family isn't exactly a talkative bunch - but I'm learning that I am a lot like her.  Not only in our knitting, but our tastes, habits ... 

I helped my Aunt Nancy sort through Gramma's stash of yarn, needles, books, and supplies this weekend, and I had the overwhelming sense that it was exactly what my own would look like in 50 years.  The WIPs, sitting on the needles for who-knows-how-long.  The baskets and bins with this-and-that tucked away ... swatches, bobbins of leftover yarn, patterns copied by hand on the backs of scratch paper ... 

Then there was the task of cleaning out the desk: photos mixed in with kid-drawings and little prayer/devotional books and greeting cards and newspaper clippings and the top-left corners torn from envelopes to get the addresses (I do that, too) ...

Having such an intimate look into Gramma's life, sorting through the things shut up in drawers or behind a cupboard door, made me realize that all those years I felt different from her, like a black sheep because our family moved away from the rest, because we were Yankee fans among Red Sox Nation, because we saw each other every few months instead of daily or weekly like my cousins saw her ... none of that mattered.  We were kindred spirits.  We could have been very good friends, Gramma and I.

But without further ado, I give you: My Inheritance:


Yarn.  Oh, there was yarn.  This isn't the half of it - my Grandma had a stash to rival all stashes.  Unfortunately, most of the yarn couldn't be saved.  It had sat for too long locked up in a crawl-space and was just too musty.  I took mental notes to put more effort into preserving and properly storing my stash.



What could be in this odd little container?  (see the hole at the top?  Yep, it's a yarn holder.  Ancient.  Who knew this style of keeping yarn was as old as time?)

However, there's no yarn inside:


Knitting needles!  A cache of knitting needles!  All sizes!  Long, short, DPN's, circulars, and not just needles but crochet hooks, Tunisian crochet hooks, tatting hooks ... I won't need to buy another set of needles or a single hook the rest of my life!  

(Don't tell Mr. Pi I said that)

Can you guess what's in this fun box?  I mean, besides the darning egg on top, and MOAR YARNs.



A bag of granny squares (a little cliche, yes, but Gramma was nothing if not authentic):



I'm not going to lie - the thought of completing this afghan for my family gives me a little thrill.

And the discovery of the day, the hidden treasure:


Heddles, in three different sizes, for the loom!

Let's see ... we've also got ... pattern books: 



This is a very, very small pile, compared to Gramma's collection.  She had three-decades'-worth of issues of The Workbasket, but I just couldn't justify taking them home.  It was heart-wrenching.  I couldn't spend all day sorting and deciding, either.  I had to pick the books or patterns that spoke to me at-a-glance and move on.  

Sigh.

But what could be in that little ancient pouch, all tied up?  



MORE needles and hooks!


I also got some pillow forms (sort of afraid I won't be able to salvage them - they've got that musty smell).  

And then there was a big tupperware bin:


Looks unassuming, but ... lo and behold ... 


YARN.  I'm guessing this was the weaving stash, judging by the fact that the yarn is on spools ... and there are the shuttles ... oh, and this:


A weaving book, which I am SO uber-excited about!

So these are my treasures.  I'm a lucky girl, I'm a very lucky girl.  For one, I am one of two knitters in the family, so I got nearly all of Gramma's knitting supplies uncontested, save a few sizes of needles that Aunt Nancy needed.

But more than that ... much, much more than that ... I discovered this incredibly special connection that Gramma and I share.  When I visit her, she may not recognize me, and she may not be able to tell me stories about the past, but what matters is that she lived it, and in a small way ... I feel like I'm bringing it forward into the future.

Mrs. Pi