Lucky

I'm not sure if this is the right format for this, it's totally off topic, but I need to get it out.

I'm really lucky. I'm lucky because I have seen a lot of hard times, in my few years here I have been through the stress and trauma that it takes some people a lifetime to build up. I have watched loved ones die and seen the effects on those around them, I have been faced with the random tragic nature of life itself, I have watched people beat the odds in the worst way possible, I have been privy to a lot of pain. Why then, you ask, would I consider myself lucky?

Here's why: I appreciate everyday because I know there might not be a tomorrow, I live my life being grateful for every hearty laugh and great character I encounter, I always tell those I love that I love them, and when tragedy happens I accept it as part of the inevitable and grieve, but continue to be in awe at the world around me. Life is hard and painful and there is no escaping that.

There is a line from a Mason Jennings song that has always stuck with me as a metaphor for life.
"Beautiful, like the darkness between the fireflies"

Light and dark, the combination is what makes life beautiful.

Yarn and Needles

Reconstructing my sweater, in the right size this time, made me think of how yarn and needles must match. If the yarn is too big for the needles you can make something but it will hurt you to do it and what you get will be stiff and inflexible. You can use needles that are too big for the yarn and sometimes you get something you want but your work will be loose and flimsy.

Needles and yarn have a relationship that can resemble the relationships of people. Some people work well together and just understand each other from hello, while others just can't seem to hit it off. It's not necessarily true that one or the other is bad, it's just that they need a different needle to be beautiful. The right pair together is capable of making something lasting and valuable.

Rrripping

I am not afraid of ripping out my sweaters, in fact, I actually kind of like it. This is a shocking statement to many, I know, But with each stitch pulled out comes the possibility of something better; something more closely matching the vision in my head; something more perfect.

I rip frequently, and I am not proud of this fact but I feel that it is much like editing a written work or revising ideas for a project. You start with an idea; you toss it around a little in your head; you try it out; you realize you've done something utterly horrible; you rip it out and try again. I have various reasons for ripping: sometimes I am too arrogant and make the cardinal mistake of lazy knitters everywhere and don't make a gauge swatch, or sometimes I realize I will never wear something I made earlier with its sub-standard construction, and sometimes I just realize I don't like whatever it is and it needs to be something else.

I think ripping comes naturally to me. My first experience with knitting was actually ripping. When I was a small child, perhaps 3 years old, my mother was knitting a beautiful Aran afghan (I don't remember what follows very clearly but this is my best guess). She left this handsome work in progress sitting on the couch in our living room where it should be safe. I must have toddled up to the blanket while she was in another room, seen it there so soft and inviting with a lovely string hanging off. The string must have been too much for me because I pulled it, and I pulled and I pulled. To my mother's horror I ripped the whole blanket out. She must have come into the room and seen the huge pile of squiggly yarn that was recently her nearly complete afghan and asked me what happened. In my infinite childhood wisdom I told her the dog did it. She believed me until she realized that the yarn was whole, with no torn pieces or rips, and free of doggy slobber. She knew that only tiny little fingers could have done the damage. She eventually remade the afghan, and I think she forgave me although she likes to tell the story when I am within earshot. Maybe it was that initial experience that helped to form my current love of yarn and knitting, I think I'll tell her that next time she tries to make me feel guilty about it.

Product and Process

My mom always says that knitting is like breathing, and through the years and many life mistakes I have learned that my mom is always right about pretty much everything. I was thinking about this as I read a column in Interweave Knits by Amy R. Singer the editor of Knitty.com. In this column she discusses the raging debate over process versus product knitting, process knitting being knitting for the simple act of knitting and product knitting being knitting just to get wonderful woolly items, and I concluded that this debate was silly because a person handknits for the process AND the product. No one really knits just for the product. Why would you when you can buy a billion really nice woolen goods for cheap that have been made in china? And no one really knits just for the process, why would you want to spend hours and hours of your time working on something that you don't really like? Because you like hand cramps? That doesn't make sense. I knit because I like the act of knitting and because I like it that my hands can make something functional and beautiful.

Back to knitting and breathing. Knitting is like breathing. Sometimes we take a deep breath to relax and recharge (process) but mostly we just breath to keep our brains fueled with oxygen (product). Either way breathing (and knitting) keeps us alive.

Hmm...

I returned successfully from knitting weekend with my aunties and have a winter's worth of new projects.
I started a mitten over the weekend that is my first attempt at two handed color knitting. It is the left half of a lovely blue and white kit that I got at Stitches from Arnhild's Knitting Studio. I waited a very long time to start them because, although I have been very adventurous, it is always good to have backup and a practiced eye. Thankfully my Mom and my Aunties approved of my work and helped me get through the messy parts.
My beloved was pleased when I got home as well because I picked out yarn for a sweater he wanted me to make for him. He actually likes the yarn too! I didn't think I would ever be able to please him. I think it will be really fun to make something for him because he has been so resistant to wool for such a long time. I finally got to him!

As the weather cools I find I want to do more homey things like reading and knitting and baking. I am beginning to think about making bread again. My bread baking book sat on the shelf completely untouched since the frost came out and now I find my thoughts returning to the yeasty smell of fresh loaves. Mmmm...delicious.

Stitches

Here is what I made at Stitches. Apparently I have very good tension, a boon for any knitter.

Projects

Projects, projects, projects. I have projects coming out of my ears. I counted recently and the grand total of projects in progress, or ones that I have all of the materials for was eleven. Eleven is a lot! Because of this large number I am trying to finish the ones I have started. I have made this a goal for myself before and have been rather unsuccessful. It is after all much more fun to start projects than to finish them and before in-process projects are done there is always another to spark my interest. This time however, I am determined. I will finish at least one project before starting a new one.