I seem to have lost my knitting mojo. This is bad for a number of reasons, first and foremost being the fact that I have a cardigan for Julie on the needles that is 90% finished. I have let so much time go by now since I last worked on it that I am certain I will make a huge mistake as soon as I start up with it again. So it sits reproachfully in my knitting bag next to the couch, waiting for me to pick it up and fuck it up.
The second reason this is a bad thing is that I have literally thousands of dollars tied up in yarn and needles and patterns and just stuff that is necessary to have if one is going to knit on a regular basis - which I did for some years. I knit every day for years. Winter, spring, summer, fall, I had at least two or three projects I was actively working on. Now, I have, just, you know, that one.
You might not think so, but knitting is good mental exercise. It keeps my brain and my fingers nimble and quick. I like the challenge of puzzling out a new pattern - if it's not too difficult - and I like the feeling of pride that accompanies the completion of a successful project. I managed two Christmas presents this year, but that was more out of necessity than anything else. Since I didn't have much extra money, I used what I did have - time and yarn - to knit some gifts. Knitting has provided me with a wonderful creative outlet for the past five years, but that's gone, and I miss it.
Why did I lose my mojo? I have given that a great deal of thought, needless to say, and I think there are multiple reasons. But the most compelling reason, I believe, is that I don't have a knitting group anymore, and haven't since I moved here three years ago. I knew that I really enjoyed my knitting groups, and that I loved spending time with the warm, funny, intelligent women who comprised those groups. What I didn't realize was that the exchange - the give-and-take of yarns and patterns and ideas - was crucial to my continued enjoyment of knitting. But it turns out it was.
I am fortunate to have a yarn shop right here in the town where I live. I have gone in there countless times looking for, I don't know, some fellowship, I guess, or the spark of a kindred spirit. I have yet to find it there, and now don't believe I will. (Also, all the yarn I have is better than all the yarn they have.)
So, what to do? What to do? I don't know, frankly. I am open to suggestions.
Showing posts with label knitting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label knitting. Show all posts
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Friday, January 18, 2013
because I need a new project, part 2
I love to knit socks. More than scarves or hats or mitts - of which I have knit many - I love to knit socks. I am hard-pressed to explain why. Sock yarn is the most beautiful yarn, it's true, but it is what I think of as the architectural nature of socks that appeals to me the most. I mean, I understand how a scarf progresses from a line of stitches to a very long rectangle. I understand how the tube shape that is the beginning of a hat gets pinched off at one end to form the hat. But the sock-in-progess is like a miracle to me.
I will try to explain. I am knitting along on this small tube, which is the leg of the sock. When the leg has reached the length I desire, I start the heel. After following a series of specific instructions, my sock has totally changed direction, and is now heading down the foot towards the toe. It's magical. Every single time. And that is a lot of times because I have knit a lot of socks.
I have knit socks for Tom and Julie and Kristen and Ben's dad and my dad. I have knit multiple pairs for Ben, who rarely wears them, and Andrew, who always does. But, mostly, I knit socks for myself. I have probably knit ten or twelve pairs of socks for myself. For the most part they sat in my top dresser drawer. I would get them out and wear them for "special" occasions, but mostly I admired them each time I opened my drawer.
That changed this year. "I'm wearing these socks," I thought to myself, and I did. Almost immediately, my beautiful, hand-knit socks started sprouting holes in the heels. Huge holes. In both heels. I probably have four pairs right now with blown-out heels. The socks are perfect other than that, and I just can't throw them out for that reason alone. So I'm going to do the only other thing I can do. I'm going to learn how to darn socks. Women have been darning socks for generations, and I can do it, too. No, I don't know how to do it. Yes, I hate to sew. Still, that is what I am going to do.
I enlisted Ben's help in a very crucial part of my plan. "Find me a darning egg, will you, please?" I asked him. If there is one challenge Ben loves, it is searching out just the perfect thing on line. In no time at all, he had a selection of darning eggs available as buy it now on ebay for me to chose from. You might think a darning egg looks like an egg, and some of them do. But they also can look like mushrooms or maracas, and I knew it was the maraca-shape that I wanted. Most of those available were wooden, but the one I selected was plastic, half red and half cream-colored. The red half will show up through light-colored socks, while the cream half will be perfect for dark socks. Ben agreed with my selection.
The darning egg now sits on my desk, waiting for me to learn how to use it. And I will. I'm sure there are dozens of tutorials on YouTube detailing how to darn socks. So just as soon as I finish this pair of socks I'm working on, I'll get right to it.
I will try to explain. I am knitting along on this small tube, which is the leg of the sock. When the leg has reached the length I desire, I start the heel. After following a series of specific instructions, my sock has totally changed direction, and is now heading down the foot towards the toe. It's magical. Every single time. And that is a lot of times because I have knit a lot of socks.
I have knit socks for Tom and Julie and Kristen and Ben's dad and my dad. I have knit multiple pairs for Ben, who rarely wears them, and Andrew, who always does. But, mostly, I knit socks for myself. I have probably knit ten or twelve pairs of socks for myself. For the most part they sat in my top dresser drawer. I would get them out and wear them for "special" occasions, but mostly I admired them each time I opened my drawer.
That changed this year. "I'm wearing these socks," I thought to myself, and I did. Almost immediately, my beautiful, hand-knit socks started sprouting holes in the heels. Huge holes. In both heels. I probably have four pairs right now with blown-out heels. The socks are perfect other than that, and I just can't throw them out for that reason alone. So I'm going to do the only other thing I can do. I'm going to learn how to darn socks. Women have been darning socks for generations, and I can do it, too. No, I don't know how to do it. Yes, I hate to sew. Still, that is what I am going to do.
I enlisted Ben's help in a very crucial part of my plan. "Find me a darning egg, will you, please?" I asked him. If there is one challenge Ben loves, it is searching out just the perfect thing on line. In no time at all, he had a selection of darning eggs available as buy it now on ebay for me to chose from. You might think a darning egg looks like an egg, and some of them do. But they also can look like mushrooms or maracas, and I knew it was the maraca-shape that I wanted. Most of those available were wooden, but the one I selected was plastic, half red and half cream-colored. The red half will show up through light-colored socks, while the cream half will be perfect for dark socks. Ben agreed with my selection.
The darning egg now sits on my desk, waiting for me to learn how to use it. And I will. I'm sure there are dozens of tutorials on YouTube detailing how to darn socks. So just as soon as I finish this pair of socks I'm working on, I'll get right to it.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
how cool is this? my knitting pattern in Polish
As some of you know, in addition to being an avid knitter, I have designed a few knitting patterns of my own. I offer them at no cost through Ravelry.com and also on my other blog, amancine hand-knits . Yesterday I was contacted by a woman in Poland who was seeking my permission to translate one of my patterns into Polish and post it on her knitting blog. Of course I said yes, and here it is. The world wide web. It's an amazing thing.
Friday, July 16, 2010
I may live to regret this...
Yesterday morning a little lady came into the shop. When I asked if I could help her, she replied, "I sure hope so because I'm in a pickle." She went on to explain that she would be attending a baby shower for her first great-grandchild next month - a little girl to be named after her. "Isn't that wonderful?" she asked me. I agreed that it was wonderful indeed, but wondered what the "pickle' could be. Vivian, for that is her name, went on to tell me that she saw a pattern online for a wonderful knitted baby blanket with owls on it. Did I think I could find the pattern? Well, probably, as I know of several owl-patterned items on Ravelry. I found the pattern easily enough, but we still weren't at the root of the problem, as it turned out. I should have anticipated her next question, really.
"Do you know of anyone who could knit it for me? I can't knit at all," she said. "And, in fact, I have a degenerative eye disease." Oh man, I thought, oh man. Vivian had picked out some yarn. The pattern wasn't difficult. But I didn't want to commit to knitting it for her. We talked around the issue for a bit, and finally I said, "Look, here's why I'm hesitating on this. It's going to be expensive. I design patterns. I sell my own work. I value my work. It doesn't come cheap." "Oh, I wouldn't expect it to," Vivian assured me. "If that's the only thing that's stopping you, don't let it."
I thought of the joy of living to see a great-grandchild. I thought of a granddaughter who loves her grandma enough to name her first child after her. And, honestly, I thought of a bit of extra money in my pocket. Yeah, you know I said yes. I'm not regretting it too much yet. It's good karma, right? That's what I'm telling myself, anyway.
"Do you know of anyone who could knit it for me? I can't knit at all," she said. "And, in fact, I have a degenerative eye disease." Oh man, I thought, oh man. Vivian had picked out some yarn. The pattern wasn't difficult. But I didn't want to commit to knitting it for her. We talked around the issue for a bit, and finally I said, "Look, here's why I'm hesitating on this. It's going to be expensive. I design patterns. I sell my own work. I value my work. It doesn't come cheap." "Oh, I wouldn't expect it to," Vivian assured me. "If that's the only thing that's stopping you, don't let it."
I thought of the joy of living to see a great-grandchild. I thought of a granddaughter who loves her grandma enough to name her first child after her. And, honestly, I thought of a bit of extra money in my pocket. Yeah, you know I said yes. I'm not regretting it too much yet. It's good karma, right? That's what I'm telling myself, anyway.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
there'll be a change in me
It's no secret that I am pretty into knitting. Okay, yes, that I have been obsessed with knitting for more than two years, and pretty much spend every spare moment (and some that I can't spare) with a pair of knitting needles in my hands. Knitting has tapped a wellspring of creativity in me that I didn't even know I had, and I find it deeply satisfying. But lately, I am, well, not as satisfied. I still love to knit, you understand, but I am restless. I cast about for something more. When I received a couple of comments last week on some of my blog posts from a blogger whom I greatly admire, I felt embarrassed that more than a month had passed since the last time I posted. I realized I missed posting on my blog. Well, that is easily remedied, and here I am.
Still, something is missing, and I think I know what it is - my lifelong passion for reading. Up until I started knitting, I believe I would have defined myself first and foremost as a reader. From the time I learned to read - more than fifty years ago - I could generally be found with a book in my hand. We didn't own a lot of books when I was a kid, but I loved the public library, and it is one of the first places, other than school, that I remember walking to without my parents. My friend, Judy, and I used to read books together on our front porch swing. I am a quick reader, and used to wait impatiently for her to finish each page, especially when we were reading The Pink Dress or the racy Forever Amber.
After we were married, it took Ben some time to adjust to the fact that his new wife spent most of her spare time with her nose buried in a book. When we moved, our new apartment was next door to the public library. Talk about a great location! I read throughout both of my pregnancies, and, looking back, I believe reading helped me to maintain my equanimity during those early childraising years. Something even more important was happening then, as well. My kids were learning by my example about the pleasures of reading a book. When they needed Mom, I was almost certainly sitting in the flowered chair by the bookcase, with a book in my hands. Need I say they are both avid readers?
I worked at the library for eleven years, and belonged to two book discussion groups. When we moved again, I joined an online community of readers and book collectors, and began seriously collecting books. I read all the time. Then I started knitting, and all I wanted to do was knit. I bemoaned the fact that I couldn't knit and read at the same time, so Ben bought me an iPod player so that I could listen to books that way. He even put some short stories and books on my iPod. But, you know, it wasn't the same as reading, and I never really took to it. I like to hold a book in my hands. I like to turn the pages. I like to linger over passages and re-read them - or skip them altogether.
So the past couple of years have gone by without me even picking up a book - something I could never have anticipated. I still read the book reviews in the Plain Dealer every week, and frequently thought, now that sounds like a book I would have read. A couple of times, I even got the small wire-bound notebook out of my purse and wrote down a promising title and author. But that was where it ended.
Yesterday, however, I went to the library. I headed for the new book section, right in the center of the first floor, and - it wasn't there. The shelves weren't even there. It was a big empty space. I couldn't believe it. It was like one of those dreams where you think you know where you are, but things keep shifting and changing, and suddenly you're not sure. I looked to the familiar stacks on my left, then looked back to see if everything had returned to normal, but it hadn't. I couldn't find the new books. I was reduced to asking the reference librarian where they had gone. When she told me, I asked her when they had been moved there. "Like a year ago" was her reply. After that much time, I guessed it was pointless for me to tell her that I don't like change in general, and didn't like that change in particular.
After a great deal more browsing than I thought I would need, I did manage to find two books that I had read reviews of - one of which I even located through my little notebook. They are small books, and I should be able to read them pretty quickly. I feel the need to start small, and work my way back to the contemporary literature that had become my favorite reading material. I have decided to bring you along on this journey, and will be posting my book reviews here on my blog, at first. If this reading thing catches on, I may create a new blog just for reviews. Who knows? I'll keep you "posted".
Still, something is missing, and I think I know what it is - my lifelong passion for reading. Up until I started knitting, I believe I would have defined myself first and foremost as a reader. From the time I learned to read - more than fifty years ago - I could generally be found with a book in my hand. We didn't own a lot of books when I was a kid, but I loved the public library, and it is one of the first places, other than school, that I remember walking to without my parents. My friend, Judy, and I used to read books together on our front porch swing. I am a quick reader, and used to wait impatiently for her to finish each page, especially when we were reading The Pink Dress or the racy Forever Amber.
After we were married, it took Ben some time to adjust to the fact that his new wife spent most of her spare time with her nose buried in a book. When we moved, our new apartment was next door to the public library. Talk about a great location! I read throughout both of my pregnancies, and, looking back, I believe reading helped me to maintain my equanimity during those early childraising years. Something even more important was happening then, as well. My kids were learning by my example about the pleasures of reading a book. When they needed Mom, I was almost certainly sitting in the flowered chair by the bookcase, with a book in my hands. Need I say they are both avid readers?
I worked at the library for eleven years, and belonged to two book discussion groups. When we moved again, I joined an online community of readers and book collectors, and began seriously collecting books. I read all the time. Then I started knitting, and all I wanted to do was knit. I bemoaned the fact that I couldn't knit and read at the same time, so Ben bought me an iPod player so that I could listen to books that way. He even put some short stories and books on my iPod. But, you know, it wasn't the same as reading, and I never really took to it. I like to hold a book in my hands. I like to turn the pages. I like to linger over passages and re-read them - or skip them altogether.
So the past couple of years have gone by without me even picking up a book - something I could never have anticipated. I still read the book reviews in the Plain Dealer every week, and frequently thought, now that sounds like a book I would have read. A couple of times, I even got the small wire-bound notebook out of my purse and wrote down a promising title and author. But that was where it ended.
Yesterday, however, I went to the library. I headed for the new book section, right in the center of the first floor, and - it wasn't there. The shelves weren't even there. It was a big empty space. I couldn't believe it. It was like one of those dreams where you think you know where you are, but things keep shifting and changing, and suddenly you're not sure. I looked to the familiar stacks on my left, then looked back to see if everything had returned to normal, but it hadn't. I couldn't find the new books. I was reduced to asking the reference librarian where they had gone. When she told me, I asked her when they had been moved there. "Like a year ago" was her reply. After that much time, I guessed it was pointless for me to tell her that I don't like change in general, and didn't like that change in particular.
After a great deal more browsing than I thought I would need, I did manage to find two books that I had read reviews of - one of which I even located through my little notebook. They are small books, and I should be able to read them pretty quickly. I feel the need to start small, and work my way back to the contemporary literature that had become my favorite reading material. I have decided to bring you along on this journey, and will be posting my book reviews here on my blog, at first. If this reading thing catches on, I may create a new blog just for reviews. Who knows? I'll keep you "posted".
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
knitter's block?
If writers can have writer's block, then I guess knitters can have knitter's block. That would explain my recent dry spell, anyway. I have finished all the projects I was working on, and I just can't think of anything new that I want to knit. It's not that I don't have enough yarn - I don't think you can imagine how much yarn I have. Oh, I haven't reached SABLE (Stash Acquired Beyond Life Expectancy) yet, but I can knit with what I've got for a long time. And it's not that I don't have patterns I am interested in. I have almost seven hundred (!) patterns saved on Ravelry, the amazing online knitting community, and most of them are free, so it's not a lack of funds, either.
I am just not inspired, I guess. Working at the yarn shop was so inspiring. We were always getting new knitting magazines or books, and our customers were always coming in with new ideas they had picked up somewhere else. Most exciting of all, twice a year the sales reps came in with new yarn from all the leading yarn companies. We would come in even if we weren't scheduled to work on those days. Creativity was always in the air in our shop. At my house, not so much.
I have been working on fingerless mitts lately, almost to the exclusion of everything else. That is because I have found a market for them, and can turn a little profit on each pair that I make. Since I am still unemployed, this constitutes a little pocket money for me. And, no, I don't spend it all on more yarn. It might be that I am just sick of working on mitts, I guess, but there are dozens of patterns for them, so it is not like I am knitting the same thing over and over. (Although I find, to my dismay, that is what people seem to want : "Oh, I want a pair just like hers!")
I belong to two knitting groups that meet on a monthly basis, and those are very important to me. So much so, in fact, that I went to one earlier this month in the midst of a "major snow event," as winter weather is now called. Not everyone was there, but I was not the only one who drove in, either. I'm going to the other group on Thursday. Maybe they will inspire me. I don't know. I know for sure they will admire my work and be glad to see me. And that's a good thing.
I am just not inspired, I guess. Working at the yarn shop was so inspiring. We were always getting new knitting magazines or books, and our customers were always coming in with new ideas they had picked up somewhere else. Most exciting of all, twice a year the sales reps came in with new yarn from all the leading yarn companies. We would come in even if we weren't scheduled to work on those days. Creativity was always in the air in our shop. At my house, not so much.
I have been working on fingerless mitts lately, almost to the exclusion of everything else. That is because I have found a market for them, and can turn a little profit on each pair that I make. Since I am still unemployed, this constitutes a little pocket money for me. And, no, I don't spend it all on more yarn. It might be that I am just sick of working on mitts, I guess, but there are dozens of patterns for them, so it is not like I am knitting the same thing over and over. (Although I find, to my dismay, that is what people seem to want : "Oh, I want a pair just like hers!")
I belong to two knitting groups that meet on a monthly basis, and those are very important to me. So much so, in fact, that I went to one earlier this month in the midst of a "major snow event," as winter weather is now called. Not everyone was there, but I was not the only one who drove in, either. I'm going to the other group on Thursday. Maybe they will inspire me. I don't know. I know for sure they will admire my work and be glad to see me. And that's a good thing.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Norwegian wool
(Okay, Ben was the first to use the title for this post, but, come on, it's a natural.)
I got two skeins of beautiful red yarn in the mail yesterday from Bergen, Norway. I received them in exchange for a skein of yarn I sent to a knitter whom I "met" on Ravelry. Ravelry is a community of knitters and crocheters from all over the world who share patterns and tips and ideas. I would need to devote a whole post to rave about how much I love Ravelry - and maybe I will. (You can find a link at: http://www.ravelry.com/tour/peek)
Are you surprised that I would be interested in something like this? Don't be - I am coming out of the closet with my latest obsession, knitting. Maybe you think "obsession" is too strong a word for it. Trust me, it's not. I feel like Hermey (that's what IMDb says his name is) in the "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" television special: "Molars and bicuspids! You've no idea!" How does one explain something like that without sounding, well, a little crazy, a little - obsessed?
I have always had enthusiasms, I would say. Some of you may remember all the way back to my button collection (since passed on to Julie.) I think I got in pretty much on the ground floor with my toaster collection. If we even see toasters as nice as the ones I have, they cost way more than I would pay for them. Then there was the postcard-collecting phase. How exciting it was to drive to a postcard show in Wooster or Columbus and find fifteen or twenty postcards we had never seen before! We would probably still be in that phase, actually, if there were any Elyria postcards left that we don't already have.
With knitting, however, I have finally found the creative outlet I have lacked for years. I am absolutely fascinated by the idea that if you gave ten different knitters the same yarn, they would come up with ten different and unique projects. I am thrilled by the potential of new yarn. With each project that I work on, I feel like I am uncovering a new treasure - how will this look when I add a new color? I am absurdly proud of my finished objects and want to show them off to everyone. (If you want to, you can see them at my Flickr account at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/23003429@N06/)
See what I mean? I just can't help it. I think this one is going to last.
I got two skeins of beautiful red yarn in the mail yesterday from Bergen, Norway. I received them in exchange for a skein of yarn I sent to a knitter whom I "met" on Ravelry. Ravelry is a community of knitters and crocheters from all over the world who share patterns and tips and ideas. I would need to devote a whole post to rave about how much I love Ravelry - and maybe I will. (You can find a link at: http://www.ravelry.com/tour/peek)
Are you surprised that I would be interested in something like this? Don't be - I am coming out of the closet with my latest obsession, knitting. Maybe you think "obsession" is too strong a word for it. Trust me, it's not. I feel like Hermey (that's what IMDb says his name is) in the "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" television special: "Molars and bicuspids! You've no idea!" How does one explain something like that without sounding, well, a little crazy, a little - obsessed?
I have always had enthusiasms, I would say. Some of you may remember all the way back to my button collection (since passed on to Julie.) I think I got in pretty much on the ground floor with my toaster collection. If we even see toasters as nice as the ones I have, they cost way more than I would pay for them. Then there was the postcard-collecting phase. How exciting it was to drive to a postcard show in Wooster or Columbus and find fifteen or twenty postcards we had never seen before! We would probably still be in that phase, actually, if there were any Elyria postcards left that we don't already have.
With knitting, however, I have finally found the creative outlet I have lacked for years. I am absolutely fascinated by the idea that if you gave ten different knitters the same yarn, they would come up with ten different and unique projects. I am thrilled by the potential of new yarn. With each project that I work on, I feel like I am uncovering a new treasure - how will this look when I add a new color? I am absurdly proud of my finished objects and want to show them off to everyone. (If you want to, you can see them at my Flickr account at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/23003429@N06/)
See what I mean? I just can't help it. I think this one is going to last.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
been knittin'
Everyone is familiar with the cultural trope of the shop that is unexpectedly shuttered and closed on a beautiful summer day. A hand-lettered sign hangs crookedly on the door, explaining, "gone fishin". Lately, those who come to "If this isn't nice...", expecting a bit of nonsense or profundity have found instead an empty shop, lacking even a sign on the door. I apologize for that. The fact of the matter is that I am deep in the clutches of my newest obsession, knitting. I can't begin to tell you how much I am enjoying it.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, my daughter-in-law, Kristy, gave me a refresher course in knitting when she and my son were here over Christmas. I don't remember anymore when I first learned to knit, but I know that by the time I was in college, I had knit a couple of sweaters. I only did the actual knitting and perling, you understand. My mother would cast on the stitches, bind off the sections as I completed them and sew the pieces together. But, hey, I did the knitting.
My brother, Bill, who has always been good with his hands, learned at the same time I did, even though he was still just a kid. He would knit the rows together so tightly that every once in a while he would hand his knitting over to me so that I could knit a row in to loosen it. When I read about the pregnant character in one of Louise Erdrich's books who knit the little onesies for her baby so tightly that they stood on their own and resembled little suits of armor, I understood exactly what she meant.
So, anyway, I have been knitting. I started by making a scarf for myself with the beautiful Malabrigo yarn that Kristy gave me as part of my Christmas present. I made a scarf for Ben with some yarn that he selected, and I have most recently been working on a scarf for Julie with some yarn that she picked out for herself. Nothing too complicated yet, in other words, but I did cast on my own stitches and bind off my completed work. I have even learned to fix my own mistakes - if they aren't too serious.
I have missed posting on my blog, and I hope a few of my readers have missed my posts, as well. (If you are still out there. Are you out there?) At least now I have hung a sign in the window so you will understand where I have gone. I will be back, though. Stay with me.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, my daughter-in-law, Kristy, gave me a refresher course in knitting when she and my son were here over Christmas. I don't remember anymore when I first learned to knit, but I know that by the time I was in college, I had knit a couple of sweaters. I only did the actual knitting and perling, you understand. My mother would cast on the stitches, bind off the sections as I completed them and sew the pieces together. But, hey, I did the knitting.
My brother, Bill, who has always been good with his hands, learned at the same time I did, even though he was still just a kid. He would knit the rows together so tightly that every once in a while he would hand his knitting over to me so that I could knit a row in to loosen it. When I read about the pregnant character in one of Louise Erdrich's books who knit the little onesies for her baby so tightly that they stood on their own and resembled little suits of armor, I understood exactly what she meant.
So, anyway, I have been knitting. I started by making a scarf for myself with the beautiful Malabrigo yarn that Kristy gave me as part of my Christmas present. I made a scarf for Ben with some yarn that he selected, and I have most recently been working on a scarf for Julie with some yarn that she picked out for herself. Nothing too complicated yet, in other words, but I did cast on my own stitches and bind off my completed work. I have even learned to fix my own mistakes - if they aren't too serious.
I have missed posting on my blog, and I hope a few of my readers have missed my posts, as well. (If you are still out there. Are you out there?) At least now I have hung a sign in the window so you will understand where I have gone. I will be back, though. Stay with me.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
In the spirit of beginning the way I mean to go, I wanted to be sure and make my first post of 2008 today. I am delighted to say good-bye to December and to realize that I won't have to worry about Christmas again for about, oh, eleven months. That is not to say that I didn't have a wonderful Christmas, because I did. Julie was home, of course, and Tom and Kristy and the girls were here for almost a week. I was once again overwhelmed and humbled by the loving generosity of my family.
One of the presents I requested - and received - from Kristy was a knitting tutorial, along with a whole knitting kit that she put together for me and some really beautiful wool yarn. Those of you who have known me for a long time - say thirty years or so - know that I used to knit. I have had the urge for a while to take it up again, and so asked Kristy, who is a skilled and creative knitter, if she would help me do that. I had my first lesson a week ago on Christmas afternoon, and am delighted with my progress.
I managed to lose four pounds last month, for a total of twenty pounds over the last three months. I would not ordinarily be thrilled with that, but when I think that two of those three months were November and December, I will admit to being pleased. I feel like I have a head start on the usual January weight loss panic. It's a good feeling.
I hope you loyal readers have been hanging in there during this month-long hiatus. I don't make resolutions, but I will be posting more in the coming year - you can count on it.
One of the presents I requested - and received - from Kristy was a knitting tutorial, along with a whole knitting kit that she put together for me and some really beautiful wool yarn. Those of you who have known me for a long time - say thirty years or so - know that I used to knit. I have had the urge for a while to take it up again, and so asked Kristy, who is a skilled and creative knitter, if she would help me do that. I had my first lesson a week ago on Christmas afternoon, and am delighted with my progress.
I managed to lose four pounds last month, for a total of twenty pounds over the last three months. I would not ordinarily be thrilled with that, but when I think that two of those three months were November and December, I will admit to being pleased. I feel like I have a head start on the usual January weight loss panic. It's a good feeling.
I hope you loyal readers have been hanging in there during this month-long hiatus. I don't make resolutions, but I will be posting more in the coming year - you can count on it.
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