I'll Take Predictable for $200, Alex.

* Warning: Superfluous Usage of Italics Ahead*

When I read the intro to Sandra's awesome new La-La-Love-You Cowl (go here for the goodness) I was dismayed. She made hers in green so as to not be predictable in red or pink. I had a momentary crisis of self. I thought, Oh no! I have this kettle dyed bordeaux hued yarn that would look fabulous against my gray wool coat. But Oh! I don't want to be predictable. I don't want to seem uncool. I don't want Others to scoff at the scratchy inexpensive wool in the pinkish purple shade I've chosen when They will all be knitting with uber nice Malabrigo in hip tones. I had an absolute breakdown in my knitterly self confidence. I felt like screaming, Oh! am I to feel an outsider even to my beloved hobby? Am I always to be relegated to the fringe?

Then I remembered that if you choose to do what you think you should do in order to please Everyone Else, you really have chosen the predictable action, the result of which will leave you unhappy. I've operated under the assumption that my place in the world is always a bit on the fringe, uncool or not, and I can confidently say I am proud of my accomplishments because they are uniquely mine. So, if I choose the predictable palette with maverick intention, does this then qualify as an unpredictable act or possibly even ironic? Whatever. I'm knitting the cowl in fuchsia and I may not be hip, but I will be happy.

Logwood Socks

Yarn: Madeline Tosh in logwood

Needles: US#1 DPN's

Oh the colors. Oh the softness. Oh the thousands of ways I am smitten. I can't quit them. Please, Fall, please come early.

Dread Pirate Virus, Arrrgh

My home has been attacked by illness the past couple of days. We were all taken prisoner by the Back To School Sickness and it landed me on my back. Which is a fantastic position to finish a sock in the most yummy purple and take mental note of how much dust has collected on the ceiling fan blades. I am on the mend, but yesterday, if it had been the 15th century, someone would surely have leeched me.

My Little Prince

Grown-ups never understand anything for themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.

Antoine de Saint -Exupery

We had a neighbor, Mr. Gary, who through a series of illnesses, became home bound at the age of 59. Over the course of a few months, we went from having a glass of wine and a cigar on his patio to wondering if he would come home from the hospital this time. He came home several times, he also technically died a few times too. He met me as a newlywed, he said goodbye to me as a mother of two small children, in his living room, on Halloween, his favorite holiday.Once, he had an hosta delivered to my door with a note from his dog Bill, asking for forgiveness for peeing on and killing the one by our shared fence. Shortly after our last visit, Mr. Gary's organs began to fail. He held out until January.

Mr. Gary was kind and funny. He had gone to seminary to be a priest but when he was sent to work in the "outside world" he decided to stay in it. He taught English and religion to immigrants on the Texas border. He eventually went into banking and became very wealthy. He never married. In his eulogy, which he wrote himself, among many beautiful and wise things, he said his only regret was never having a child and his favorite book was The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint- Exupery. Sometimes, I look at my children and wonder over their imaginations. I also hear Mr. Gary laughing in delight. I miss you, dear friend.

Stacked Eyelet Cowl

hello sunrise, pleased to meet you

Stacked Eyelet Cowl by Ami Madison

US # 4 circular needles

brown Silk Twist by Pigeonroof Studios courtesy of the Lady Knits

There is nothing more satisfying than a weekend project. Even when you realize half way through that you have been forgetting the second purl row after the eyelet row. Three cheers for continuing on an erroneous path that ends in a thing of beauty. The important life lesson of letting go of your pride to reap the rewards apparently applies to knitting as well. Huzzah.

You Put the Fun in Fungus

These spectacularly hued mushrooms popped up after a rainstorm only to vanish by the next day. One of the many fabulous traits I have in common with my handsome, brilliant, humorous brother-in-law, Geoff, is my dislike of mushrooms. In order to eat a mushroom, it has to be diced to near impossible proportions, drowned in soy sauce, and so expertly combined in my take out from Lucky China, that I pretend it is an exotic bit of cabbage. I am not sure how Geoff survived living in Paris for so long with his distaste for mushrooms and blue cheese.
Yes, I can see you shaking your head at me, Irene. I apologize for my lack of fungi sense.

Despite my epicurean aversion, I researched mushrooms. Here it the short version: they are the fruit of an underlying fungus colony. The mushrooms only last a day or so, but the colony can live for thousands of years across as many miles underground. Remember that X-Files episode? Creepy. The verbiage used to describe the short lived shrooms ranges from the sensual, fleshy fruiting bodies, to the obvious, puffball, stinkhorn, and morel. I used to date the last three.

Anyway, this is all just my way of saying thanks to Frances for passing this award on to me. She is right in feeling relationships in this community of crafty types are important and meaningful. We are friends whether we have met in person or not. We rely on the blogging colony for support and it relies on us to bear the fruits of collective creativity. Symbolically speaking, we may only survive for a day, but our efforts will live on. Brava to each and everyone of you reading this. Consider yourself awarded.


The Rules:

- Only 5 people are allowed to receive this award.

- 4 of them followers of your blog.

- One has to be new to your blog and live in another part of the world.

- You must link back to whoever gave you the award

Cyfarchion

or "Greetings" in Welsh. Let me introduce the newest love of my life, my Welsh Country Stockings. I loved these instantly when I saw Mustaa Villaa's version. I do not have the pattern book so I just improvised a knee high version. This is my first stranded knitting project (be kind)which is a skill I am anxious to learn now. Any pattern suggestions for beginner stranding/ color work/ fair isle would be appreciated.

I have the strongest urge to go for a ramble on a misty morning, my loyal border collie Llywellyn at my side, The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp by W.H. Davies in the leather satchel slung round my back. Care to join me?