Absolution, Remedial Knitting and New Traditions
Thank you so much for the absolution everyone. That dishcloth yarn is so hard on the hands that an 8″ square feels like some bizarre torture test. Instead, I put it aside for a few days while my arm recouperates.
I turned my attention, not to something exciting and new, but to a project that has been burning a hole in my psyche for some time. Purple Haze - the purple tweed sweater with the multicolored pompom yarn sleeves I finished about this time last year. This sweater defines remedial knitting (according to webster’s -> Intended to correct or improve deficient skills in a specific subject). The while my the problem wasn’t with my skills, per se, the problem was with the subject - the pattern was designed to be a pull over, with directions for only the back written up. When I went back to get the directions for the front, I was 6 weeks pregnant and hoping to breastfeed, which meant no pull overs for me in the next , oh two to three years. So we modified the pattern to make it a cardigan, but somehow, it didn’t hold up nearly as well as I imagined it in my mind.
As I wrote here earlier this fall, I ripped the front of the sweater back, put it in with my yarn stash and vowed to return to it. I started Sunday night and have been making small progress ever since. Small progress because it is boring, I’ve already knit this sweater once and it makes my arm hurt!! Is my body communicating what my brain can’t verbalize? Specifically, no gift knitting, no remedial knitting, just fun, new knitting projects now and forever?
(That reminds me of a story about President & Mrs. Coolidge -> “Learning that a cockerel could have sex dozens of times a day, Mrs. Coolidge said: “Please tell that to the president.” On being told, Mr. Coolidge asked, “Same hen every time?” “Oh, no, Mr. President. A different one each time.” The president continued: “Tell that to Mrs. Coolidge.”) I think the same goes for me with yarn.
I’m off of prepare for tomorrow’s feast. We’ve ditched tradition this year and are going with a menu of foods we are thankful for. Dinner will be Lobster & Squash Risotto with Roast Leg of Lamb and french green beans - dessert will be pumpkin cheesecake.
I hope you enjoy your traditions, new or old!
To Gift Knit or not to gift knit?
Are you suddenly aware of the date and how close it is to gift giving time? I pretty much have a policy against giving knit gifts. I don’t really appreciate other people’s crafty crap and guess other people feel the same way about mine. However, I’ve started to think about a few little gifts - a dishcloth in candy cane colors with a few balls of colored soap for the wonderful lady who runs the daycare center at the gym or a bucket hat made from black bulky wool with trendsetter fluff for my babysitter. Are these appropriate gifts or are they just more crap to clutter up their house?
Do you give knitted gifts? Do you actually think the people you give them to appreciate them? Can I get an absolution and start something cool for myself instead?
warm and fuzzy
I can’t imagine a more perfect piece of woolen goodness for a day like today. I’ve been waiting for six months for the skies to open up and deliver the snowy goods. I skipped the my yoga class this morning and spent the time shoveling the driveway and making snow angels with Cate, followed by a shower, a nap and now a quite house. I am cocooned in wool and mohair. Does life get better than this?
I made one tea cup from the fiesta tea set, it needs a handle, a saucer and some friends like a tea pot and creamer/sugar bowl, but not a bad start. I used Sugar & Creame from Michaels in candy cane. I know, Sugar & Creame, but @ $1.50 a pop, it can’t be beat.
Thanks for the wonderful comments on my last post. My path from Reagan Youth to Radical Feminist to my current state of a complex mixture of libertarianism & pragmatism has been a fun journey. The one consistant was that from the time I was able to vote, there never has been a candidate who actually represented me, I’ve always felt I was the marginalized minority so I never got my hopes up about actually seeing my world vision put into play. While I think politics are serious, I find taking them too seriously prevented me from seeing other sides of the issues.
click click click
I’ve started clicking through my favorite blogs lately. Who knew all the bloated leftist propoganda would actually turn me off?
Me, the girl who banged peace drums in front of the White House during the first Gulf war. Me, the girl who actually danced naked in the streets of Madison Wisconsin when George H W conceeded the White House to Clinton (in the snow!) Me, the girl who got bit on the legs by little children trying to keep me from protecting a Planned Parenthood office on an anniversary of Roe v. Wade. Me, the girl who married the most arrogant man I could find because I like the debate. Me, the proud atheist who believes that people who invoke religious arguments are akin to my daughter claiming the path to enlightenment is reached by following Dora’s map.
When the left believes they have become the holier than everyone else, the catch phrase “celebrate diversity” will necessarily be shoved back down their throats with alarming force.
I know people who voted for the winner and I know people who voted for the loser, although I am in neither camp (my candidate came in with less than 1% of the state vote). If you think the election was won by “Bushitler” then you’re past the point of reasoned dialogue. I stand in awe and amazement that we continue to choose our rulers peacefully, all else is but a footnote.
Knitting content will return when I come back from the archives with photos for the cover of my book, (you know, the one about 1960s radicals.)
Elizabeth Blackwell
We’re clearly soldiers in petticoats
And dauntless crusaders for woman’s votes
Though we adore men individually
We agree that as a group they’re rather stupid!
Cast off the shackles of yesterday!
Shoulder to shoulder into the fray!
Our daughters’ daughters will adore us
And they’ll sign in grateful chorus
“Well done, Sister Suffragette!”
From Kensington to Billingsgate
One hears the restless cries!
From ev’ry corner of the land:
“Womankind, arise!”
Political equality and equal rights with men!
Take heart! For Missus Pankhurst has been clapped in irons again!
No more the meek and mild subservients we!
We’re fighting for our rights, militantly!
Never you fear!
So, cast off the shackles of yesterday!
Shoulder to shoulder into the fray!
Our daughters’ daughters will adore us
And they’ll sign in grateful chorus
“Well done! Well done!
Well done Sister Suffragette!”
Blackwell was the first American woman to graduate from medical school (Geneva College). There are many rumors about how she was admitted, but the story that was told in my college was that the admission decision was left up to the students, none of whom wanted her blackballed and each threw her their vote, thinking that would be the only one she got. The joke was on them when she was accepted unanimously and went on to graduate first in her class (although she was never allowed to practice medicine in the United States.) Blackwell graduated from Geneva College, a now defuct college on the shores of Seneca Lake in Geneva, New York (now home to Hobart and William Smith College).
I love this story and think of it every election season as a reminder of just how powerful one person’s vote can be.
So vote early and often if you can (just kidding) and when you do, think of the women before you who fought for generations to win you the right to pull that lever for the candidate of your - not your husband’s or your father’s - chosing. Thank you Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, Alice Paul and Lucy Burns. I do adore you!