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.
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 hostadelivered 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.
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.
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.
- 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
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-Trampby W.H. Davies in the leather satchel slung round my back. Care to join me?
I am currently experiencing all of the watery emotions associated with sending my first off to full time school and accepting that once again my life as I know it has irrevocably changed. My daughter and I are both nervous and excited and when I mentioned I was jealous of her new adventure, she reassured me by saying, " don't worry Mom, I'll be back."
I don't feel much like analyzing this too much. Some emotions and rites are best served by silence. Don't think though that I am idle. I am always analytical and apparently pale turquoise. Ridiculous personality quiz to the rescue. This one is pretty darn accurate.
Your dominant hues are green and blue. You're smart and you know it, and want to use your power to help people and relate to others. Even though you tend to battle with yourself, you solve other people's conflicts well.
Your saturation level is low - You stay out of stressful situations and advise others to do the same. You may not be the go-to person when something really needs done, but you know never to blow things out of proportion.
Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.
My daughter has a small picture of a door, complete with lantern and steps, taped to her wall. This is a fairy door and every so often when she wishes for something with the best of intentions or is worried over the newest change in her routine, the fairies peek out of the door at night and leave her a token. These little gifts lift her spirits and make her feel secure in this otherwise wildly insecure world. Sometimes, they leave a sign for me. I delight in their little gifts as much as my girl.
tiny galaxy in the bread flour nebula
Here is my little gift to you dear reader. Come and delight with me over a cup of tea and the newest knitting 'zine in town. Trust me, you will want to knit every single garment they offer.