Weaving in Loose Ends

There have been a few topics I promised in prior posts but neglected to expand upon.  Here they are:


1.  Twice-Knit Knitting, or How Mom and Dad Got Together

Ok, so that's a strong way of putting it.  There were many other chapters in my parents' love story before they got married.  But I guess Twice-Knit Knitting could easily have been Chapter One. It's a sweet story, one that I will probably butcher, since I didn't get the amazing story-telling gene from my Grampa (but that's a topic for another day).


The story starts with my Mom's Mom.  Grandma Murphy is one of the most creative women I know, blessed with the entrepreneurial spirit, the drive to make things happen, and the sass/savvy of a Southern businesswoman.  Off the top of my head, her ventures include selling stoves, owning a plant store & caring for the plants of local businesses, creating and selling appliqued (insert accent aigu) shirts, and designing, making, and selling western wear under her business, Lee Wearable Art.  She also patented two knitting techniques:  knitting in a circle with two straight needles, and double-knitting.  And as if that weren't enough, she also published a knitting book, Twice-Knit Knitting.


It's out of print (sigh), but I have a copy on order through Amazon.  I'll have to scan and post some of the pictures here in a future blog; my Mom, Aunts, and Grampa all modeled her designs.  


See that lovely skimpy number on the right?  The blue bikini?  Yep, my Mom (then-15? 16?) modeled it on a beach (ordinary).  On a beach in winter (out of the ordinary).  To further put in in perspective, there was snow on the beach that day.  They had to hunt around and finally found a spot on the rocks where you couldn't see the snow!  My poor Mom ... by the end of the shoot her nipples were probably as blue as the bikini itself.


So the story continues that my other Grandma, Dad's Mom, bought a copy of Grandma Murphy's book.  Somehow my Dad got his eye on that picture of my Mom, and he cut it out of his Mom's knitting book, and stuck it in the side of his mirror in his room.  All together now:  Awwwwwah!  


And life went on ... and their paths diverged, then converged, and six years after Grandma's book was published, they were married.  Next month marks their 36th anniversary :)


2.  In January I mentioned a "new knitting venture" that I have been considering.

Last post, I showed you the hats I knit for my baby niece while I was down in Virginia.  My sister told me that at one of Leah's doctor's appointments, the nurses and other ladies loved Leah's hat.  She said if I knit up a bunch, she thought I could sell them at $8 - $10 apiece.  


The next week, I found the yarn I used for the hats on Joann.com at a nice discount.  So I bought up a dozen skeins.  I could make 24 hats in different sizes out of that dozen.  I thought maybe I could sell them to friends or referrals.


But the winter has been mild (to say the least) and other projects distracted me from my venture.  So I still might knit up those hats, but maybe I'll give them to charity.  This article particularly moved me to consider it:


http://www.cleveland.com/opinion/index.ssf/2012/01/knitters_warm-hearted_bequest.html 


I have a friend near Cleveland, OH who knits, too.  We talked about setting up a non-profit knitting club ... maybe coordinating with our knitting friends around the country to donate one item a month.  It's not much, but a nice pair of mittens or a scarf or a hat could mean the world to one child walking to school in the winter.


3.  Why Pictures Are So Essential To The Success of Blogs

"How can one possibly pay attention to a book with no pictures in it?" 
~Alice, from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll


I confess.  I'm as guilty as any of that most offensive of all offenses: Not reading a blog post, just looking at the pictures.  As I said before, we live in the age of Google Images and Pinterest, where we can visually gorge our appetite for knitting inspiration at the strike of a few keys.  Search for "knit" or "yarn" and you have a smorgasbord of tactile delights.  


Don't deny it: it's human nature that our five senses tend to overpower our intelligence or imagination.  In fact, it is usually for the lack of the former that the latter wins out.


I'm not sure what more I can say on that topic except that, knowing this to be true, I've tried to use more photos in my blogs.  


As an aside, for some reason I like taking up-close pictures of my projects.  I never took a photography class - maybe I should.  It just seems to break up the monotony of the standard project-shot-from-above angle.


So there you have it.  If your curiosity was burning, I hope that was enough to quell the flame.  Now I must leave you, to seam up the cream zippy cardigan!  My sister threw down the gauntlet when I told her about it and she said "Oh, so when will she be getting it?  Next year?  The year after?"  


Apparently I have a reputation for unfinished projects that I need to repair.


(Darnit, it was ok when only I knew it, but now everyone else has noticed too)


Mrs. Pi   

Gifts Come In All Forms

It is a supreme delight for knitters to be surrounded by people who accept us and our craft (read: obsession).  But let me tell you, it is indescribable when my loved ones actively spur me on.  It's like the difference between a parent telling their children they sing well, and requesting them to perform "Ave Maria" for the family and friends.  For whatever reason (human nature), no matter how genuine and heartfelt, words alone do not suffice to convince.  This is a truth well-established (and demonstrated in adage) since long before our time.

I've been lucky enough to have actions speaking louder than words all around me lately, concerning my knitting:  

1. Two friends recently commissioned me to knit for them.  The first completed request was a shining success: Debra's mittens were delivered to Friend 1, who beamed at them, then insisted upon paying for them.  And more than just enough cover the price of the yarn.  

This demonstration was considerably poignant for me.  I've had plenty of people request knitted items, and I never charge friends for my work, above and beyond the price of the fiber, and sometimes not even then.  I am not exaggerating when I say that the satisfaction of meeting a desire when "store-bought just didn't cut it" is ... euphoric.  

But often the requests I get from loved ones come with no acknowledgement (likely because of a lack of knowledge) of how much time and work it takes to deliver on those requests.  And that's fine.  I'm 100% okay with knitting being taken for granted.  The craft and my fellow crafters are taken for granted every day.  But the request itself; it acknowledges that someone likes what I do, likes it enough for that someone to want to own something I made.

I probably don't need to tell you it takes me hours to finish a pair of hand-knit mittens.  It's likely choir-preaching to emphasize that the work isn't limited to the act itself, but also the yarn selection, pattern research, gauging, and any number of "false starts"  - knitting a number of rows before deciding it's just not "right" and having to rip it all out and start over.  What can I say, like many in my craft, I'm a perfectionist.

I admit it, I also love compliments and recognition.  But either of those - I know you know what I'm saying here - either compliments or recognition mean so much more when unprompted.  I honestly wouldn't mention the work and time that goes into a project here if this blog weren't nearly anonymous (I've shared the url with a couple friends. Two. Literally 2 friends.).  Like many of my fellow fibre-freaks, anonymity is part of the rush.  Ask a knit-bomber.  We know why the elves helped the shoemaker.  I concur with the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus.  If it paid enough to subsist on, I'd want to be the Knitting Faerie (it's so much more fantastical spelled that way).


So you see why being paid - my first item sold - tickled me.  I imagine it's the same feeling parents get when, years later, they're hugged and thanked for that special gift - the Cabbage Patch doll they waited for hours to secure, or the bicycle they scrimped and saved for, the myriad other items for which they went uncredited at the time.

My other requestor insisted on bartering with me for the wrist warmers she wanted.  She said she'd order me some heirloom vegetable seeds in exchange for me designing and knitting her some wrist warmers.  Again, the offer touched me.  I'm not even sure she realizes that what she proposed was extraordinary.


2.  Christmas was another demonstration of love and acceptance for me and my knitting:

My husband and my Mom both contributed to my arsenal of tools, reference materials, and media.  From the left:
- Four skeins of KnitPicks Imagination Hand Painted Sock Yarn, in Ruby Slippers and Munchkin,
- A gorgeous hand-thrown yarn bowl (regrettably I don't have the artist information yet - to be credited!),
- A subscription to Interweave Knits magazine,
- The Knitter's Book of Finishing Techniques by Nancy M. Wiseman
 

(I already wound the hanks of yarn into lovely usable cakes and couldn't resist starting a sock with the Munchkin colorway.  By the way, my still-to-be-named alpaca friend wasn't a Christmas present but he needed to make an appearance)

- A darning egg to maintain my hand-knit sock collection
- A lovely print, Balancing Act, from Sheep Incognito: The Art of Conni Togel

- A KnitPicks Corrie Vest kit

- A new project tote from Vera Bradley (in Very Berry Paisley)

(I got the matching needle case during a post-Christmas sale for $7.50!! Oh, how I love me a good deal!)

 

(The tote has plenty of room for a few small projects like Mel's Wrist Warmers, my nook, and a book I'm reading for book club, as well as convenient inside pockets to hold my nook charger, a small sewing kit, a snack, and a tube of my favorite handcream - L'Occitane en Provence lavender creme a mains.  Yes, you're right - next Christmas I definitely need to ask for a dpn holder.)

- and, Sock Blockers (in large) from KnitPicks

How did two non-knitters know with such precision how to buy such perfect gifts for a seasoned knitter?  Well firstly, they love, care, and listen to me.  And two other reasons.  

Back in the fall, my Mom was so kind as to accompany me on my first trip to the famous Duchess County Sheep & Wool Festival a.k.a. Rhinebeck.  By the way, this trip is definitely worth documenting in my next blog post - remind me to follow up.  She (unbeknownst to me) diligently took mental notes and business cards at each stand where I ooh'd and aah'd the most.  Oh, how I love my Momma!


Secondly, I have been maintaining an active WishList on KnitPicks.  I simply forwarded the wishlist link to my husband, and he chose a few items all on his own!  I love wishlists.  That way, the gifts are still incredibly thoughtful, but also perfectly tailored to my tastes :)


As for the Vera Bradley tote, he knew my favorite pattern and chose the style completely all his own, in a stroke of extraordinary brilliance and thoughtfulness.  When I asked how he knew I would love it, he simply replied that he thought it would be good for carrying projects.  Reader, I struck gold in the husband-department.


Blessed with support and love from friends and family.  I'm a lucky, lucky girl!


Mrs. Pi

In any other scenario, I'd kill to be Jennifer Connolly.

This photo is a metaphor for my life.

My ultimate goal has always been: be a Mom.  

When I was in first grade, when my teacher asked us to draw a picture of what we would be in the future, to make the world a better place, I drew a picture of me getting married (implication: make the world a better place by having kids and being a good Mom).  She said I did it wrong, made me cross it out, and instead draw a picture of recycling or being president or something like that on the other side.


When I was in elementary and middle school, I went to visit my aunt with the sole purpose of playing Mother's Helper and taking care of my baby cousins.


My first job was babysitting.  I did it for years, until my sister, D, had a baby and I could play the role of dutiful aunt and change diapers and play with my niece (and nephews, and more nieces from M in the years to come).


When I was in high school, we had to research and write a paper on our chosen career path.  I suffered complete writer's block, because I knew my English teacher was looking for more than "Stay At Home Mom".  I landed on "Kindergarten Teacher" because, well, it's the closest thing to SAHM I could think of.  My friend suggested "Actuary" because I was really good at Math, but I politely declined.  This fact would turn out to be poetic ... or perhaps ironic? ... about 10 years later when I sat for my first Actuarial exam.  And in my own defense, it was my last.


I went to college, because I genuinely wanted a degree and a career.  After all, I loved learning and French and Math, and English, too, in fact, and higher learning and a career was important to me.  It also sat at the back of my mind that I could always put this career on hold while I became a stay-at-home mom and return to it once the kids were in school.  And since I didn't have a high school sweetheart, I obviously needed to meet a college sweetheart.

I had a college sweetheart, but he turned out to be a Stage 4 Clinger.  Not really, but that's a fun phrase.  He was actually a codepedent, depressed intellectual who was so intellectual he dropped out of college.  Twice.  And apparently I have a soft spot for men who need fixing because I can't tell you how many times I called to wake him up for class or chapel or prayed for him to be the man I wished he was, until, five years later, I realized he wasn't.  That sounds terrible, and this is worse: I was looking for the father of my children.

I'm really making myself sound neurotic and crazy.  It's not like I obsessed over kids or purchased maternity clothes or "forgot" a pill every now and again.  Or even ever.  For crying out loud, I was 20 years old!  But the plan was always there, delicately lingering at the back of my mind: get married, be a good wife, have kids, be a good mom.  It was my Calling.

And life continued to happen, and I continued to meet men who were not the father of my children.  But I didn't let that stop me.  I made decisions in my life that I thought would prepare me for my ultimate, stable, predictable goal: I continued to advance in my career, and I bought a house.  As it turns out, the latter was the worst decision I ever made in my entire life.  I'm not kidding.  It was like a version of me trying to "live up to my potential," as Ms. Penelope Truck put it.  I am still recovering from that one, really, really, bad decision, and though the house sold a few months ago, the end is nowhere in sight.

Only now, at long last, later in life than I ever intended, now I've finally met the father of my children.  And reader, I married him.  (sigh. Jane did it so much less cheesy than I did)

But now I wonder.  As my career has taken front and center stage, and I am the breadwinner of the family, and I'm enjoying spending every available waking minute with the love of my life, dreaming of finally making it into the black and traveling around the world, but all the while the economy is tanking more than anyone ever thought it would, and like I said, my financial recovery is nowhere in sight ... 


I wonder if all along I've just been Jennifer Connolly.  Racing up and down crazy Escher-esque stairs, through beautiful stone archways, following that ever-elusive baby.  I'm going to finally fall through space and time, verbally duke it out with David Bowie, and return to accept the harsh reality of being a perma-babysitter.  I've extended the metaphor too far.  


The point is, while I've been scheming and dreaming, life has been happening and for better or worse, I'm childless.  Am I missing the point?