welcome to our world

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On Thursday we made a pseudo impulse buy that will forever change our lives once again.

Introducing Salem!  She’s a 7 week old tabby kitten … born on … (chuckling madly) April 1st.  And I wonder if we are the fools?   mischievous girl at the ready

She’s been here for a few days … and has already settled in quite unlike any other cat/kitten we have ever had. She’s feisty yet smart, she can handle stairs no problem and has somehow found a way to climb onto basement recessed shelving that sits about 7 feet high. Interestingly enough, she’s not even afraid of Niekah, our just-turned-10-month-old Shepherd Husky puppy. Hey Salem! Those are Mom's knitting project notes under your claws! Niekah is loving every minute of this new playmate. There are moments when Niekah is a bit too energetic and rambunctious … but all things considered it’s working out really well.

So once again our lives are full of animal jesters and the follies commence/ continue.

’tis the season

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Hide indoors, armed with sprays and lotions, Hoover at the ready … for it’s here …. BUG SEASON.

Seriously … it has begun … the time of year when any semblance of normalcy flies out the window. They have arrived …. hatched and emerged and are on the prowl, feeding voraciously on any living being or creature … be it human, animal companion or fauna.

Day-to-day living changes as this commences … starting with BLACK FLY season. These tiny buggers, almost invisible to the eye, attack in swarms or singularly, and inflict a tremendous amount of damage for something so small. If unfortunate enough to be highly attractive to them, even after having taking myriad precautionary tactics, like using specially formulated deterrent shampoos and body washes, using sprays that contain the toxic but somewhat effective DEET and even using bug net apparel … well the itch and scratch season starts. Small and seemingly endlessly itchy angry welts are the result of the frenzied feeding sessions. MOSQUITO season follows black fly, although there is overlap of course, and it all ends with DEER or HORSE FLY season. All in all a nasty business this. Each variety adds its own spice to the mix, particularly Deer/Horse flies, as they are big and seem to take literal chunks of flesh away when they feed.

It’s strange to see people trying to go about “normal business” … like working outdoors or walking their pets, which inevitably leads to what I amusingly refer to as “the swat it down dance.” This action begins calmly enough, with some mild swatting at the air, and then escalates to the swinging of the arms around and about the head in semi-circles, which then leads to the brisk stop and turn and slashing at the air, followed by the inevitable jumping around as if counter-attacking an aggressor, followed by the conclusive maniacally whirling about, ducking down and bobbing up, while cursing a stream of expletives loudly, culminating with the inevitable screech of “OW!” Normally this cardiovascular challenge is swiftly followed by a running away from the spot, wildly waving ones arms like a drunken human windmill.

Of course, as amusing as this all appears, especially from a distance, it is indeed non-effective. Human nature and folly being what it is though, means that this exercise will be repeated for the duration. I suppose the only beneficial thing about it all is this: one gets a good cardiovascular work out many times a day, but in the end, the itch and scratch is mightier than the energetic swat …. please pass the Calamine lotion and the Benadryl.

dirty weekend

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This past weekend there was an event that I unfortunately was privy to, and in most ways a very unwilling participant. It involved a “community” meeting and the turn of events went BEYOND nasty. Instead of people behaving in a courteous manner, respectfully and politely, seething resentment boiled over to open anger; there were moments when I seriously believed that violence was the inevitable outcome.

The most appalling aspect of this affair was how evident it was that hypocrisy was masquerading as “democracy.” Personal feelings, antagonism and open dislike and hate were the manner in which more than half present voiced their thoughts, ideas, questions and opinions. Very few “cooler heads and detached minds” prevailed, meaning that most “business” was never satisfactorily discussed or properly addressed, but was voted on and “passed” nonetheless; the “mob majority mentality” ruled.

All in all, this meeting made the McCarthy era and Salem Witch Trials look like an altogether pleasant afternoon social tea party. I was so disturbed by the open and truly reprehensible actions that people wished to take, literally fueling already smouldering blazes. It stopped short of public lynching and I admit to being surprised at not finding effigies hanging about after the meeting. It was a barbaric affair that truly made me stop and think about how life in a small community can really be exceedingly difficult at times. Revenge and a sense of self-righteousness were the order of the day. A deep-rooted bitterness and vindictiveness infects our community spirit, and it is frightening. Clearly if one is not in agreement with the “mob mentality” then one is treated with open hostility and disdain. I suspect the “gossip” is spreading like wildfire, as events are manipulated and twisted to suit; it is far easier to manipulate when one needs to feel justified in one’s actions and behavior.

Venomous day poisoned my weekend to a degree that meant my not being able to really function calmly. My anxiety and outrage and disgust at this turn of events was paralyzing. I admit to being surprised by the totality and complexity of my reaction to this – and it has only been days later that I’m beginning to find calm. I suppose I “have let the bastards win” by my inability to “disengage” and distance myself, but perhaps the “gift” is that I am now more “lucid” in understanding all of this … and now I can proceed with caution.

knitting approach

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I used to have many projects on the needles and in the works. It was a crazy bundle of passion and energy that I would rather mindlessly tackle with zest. I’d jump from one to the other, in happy but frenzied knitting. Then something changed.

I’m not sure what triggered it all, but the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment after the fact was not long-lasting. I realized that I was knitting to fill a void … to distract and distance myself from what was happening “just below the surface” in my life. Certainly it was a “fun” way to fill the spaces … dynamic, creative, I’d barrel along delighting in the wools and yarn options. I’d trip the light fantastic over color-ways. New stitches to learn and try, techniques to figure out were all mind-occupying, but at the end of the day, my personal dissatisfaction still lingered.

I realized that this newly re-discovered interest in knitting was a band-aid, and if I continued along the same path, I would lose interest and shelve all of it. Hiding my pain and problems in a mountain of wool was no better than choosing to become an alcoholic or drug addict, or otherwise engaging in some other type of self-destructive behavior. A choice had to be made. And so I did …

I recognized that if I was to continue knitting, I would have to be more mindful and thoughtful in my approach and decision-making. I wanted to feel fulfilled, accomplished and satisfied, but truthfully. I realized that my interest and planning had to reach deeper … that I had to think more about what was inspiring and driving my interest in a particular yarn or technique. I needed to find a jumping off point and explore creative possibilities and avenues instead of just grabbing the wool and needles and casting on.

In the end, for most of my projects (I refer almost exclusively to socks), I now feel, dream, explore and allow the wool to inspire me. I gather images, ideas, bits and pieces of all things … words, quotes, swatches, and combine them in numerous ways, eventually sorting and sifting, until I make final decisions, and then collage it all together into a design story-board. This project then becomes a starting point, where I allow myself the learning process and curve of possibilities after actually casting on and working. Somehow, this feels more “real” and “authentic” to me. It is more satisfying and pleasing, and I’ve realized that I’m actually learning more about this craft, techniques, as well as myself along the way. It’s not always an easy process … I still have my fair share of failures and disappointments, but I think I’d rather have less on the go, and more quality knitting time, than the hurly-burly craziness that just filled my void.

It’s all a work in progress.

at peace – Car 54

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Short-lived life. Miss you.

Short-lived life. Miss you.

Last week brought an unexpected and sudden end to Car 54′s life. All seemed normal last Sunday, but as the week progressed he became quieter and listless. We couldn’t figure out what was wrong, and finally, as Wednesday evening progressed into Thursday, we just knew that his end was near. Thursday morning brought an emergency visit to the vet’s, and so the end had come.

Car 54 – mercilessly dumped with presumed litter and mother just over a year ago. The wanderer who decided to frequent our house, which at the time had two cats. After weeks of appearing and disappearing I caved, and began feeding you. The slow process of earning your trust and companionship, watching and unable to intercede too much when you returned bloodied from fights. Bit by bit we nursed you back to health and you finally decided to make this your “permanent” home. Even after the loss of our other cats, one of whom you shadowed constantly, you chose to stay. We welcomed you with open arms and learned to “let you be” – respecting the slightly wild aspect of your nature. Surprisingly, you were extremely affectionate, as you too learned to unconditionally trust us, believing we would not endanger or restrain you. Even when we welcomed the puppy into our home, you stayed, although not altogether too pleased with the overly energetic and exuberant Mademoiselle. A general amnesty was forged and we all lived well together.

I can’t understand what happened or why. I am saddened by your sudden loss. It was difficult to let you go, but in my heart I realized that I had the chance to offer you peace and rest. Car 54, you have presented me with many lessons this past year, a year filled with so many tumultuous changes in my life. I have loved and learned from you, grown and discovered, accepted some painful truths … but this is okay. I’m sorry you are gone. You are deeply missed, by all; you will not be forgotten. “Rest in peace little budbud, you are our tuxie cat, handsome and elegant in spirit and action.”

projects update

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I finished the two projects I had on the needles. It took a few days longer than I hoped due to a family crisis, but such is life. So my Peapod socks are done and done – happily green and lovely, waiting for a pre-wear wash and then it’s all good to go. I also managed to finish the Bear’s socks, but the day after he left. A bit disappointing this, well on my end, but he didn’t mind. From what he had seen and tested of the first, he seems to like them, and so in a few weeks time he’ll have them as he journeys. And so now I sit contemplating the new projects I wish to try and tackle.

strange sock conversation

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A few weeks ago, when out on the road, my other half, whom I call Bear, asked what I had been doing that particular day. It was a day of odds and ends and knitting. As usual, I was knitting socks … my PeaPod socks and had in fact, pulled out some other wool and had just swatched it, contemplating another pair for myself, because I’ve been falling behind on my personal sock knitting. And so the conversation ensued:

Bear: Ahh knitting socks for you. That’s good.

Me: Yup. It’s going well. (as my brain is thinking about the pattern I’ll use for the new socks)

Bear: So when are you going to knit me a pair of socks?

Me: What?

Bear: Well you’ve been knitting socks for your Mom, and now for yourself, what about me? When do I get a pair of socks?

Me: What?!? (thinking I’m not hearing correctly … wondering if there is interference or loss of signal on his end)

Bear: I was looking for those socks you knit for me, you know those green ones, but I couldn’t find them and figured they had made their way back to your sock drawer, and I really want a pair of socks.

Me: What?!?

Silence for a few moments.

Me: Are you saying you want me to hand-knit you a pair of socks???

Bear: Yes! I want a pair of hand-knit socks.

Me: Socks??? Seriously??? (as my brain thought-processes have come to a screeching halt)

Bear: Are you deaf?! Yes. I want a damn pair of socks knit for me, by you.

Me: Uhhh… seriously?

Silence for a few moments as I hear a sharp intake of breath on the other end.

Me: Okay. It’s just that you NEVER wear the socks I knit you all those years ago. And there is nothing wrong with them. They are STILL in YOUR heavier sock drawer. And how do you figure I could wear YOUR socks?! …. But NOW you’re saying you want NEW socks.

Bear: Oh… I didn’t see them.

As I sit thinking … if you opened your eyes you would see them …

Me: They stand out in the sea of grey store-bought socks … good god man, if they had teeth they would jump out and bite ya in the willie. Okay … so what is it you want me to knit for you ….

And so the conversation continued, and I got all the specifics necessary.

It seems that after all this time, (about 7 years) the Bear has decided he wants hand-knit socks of fingering weight, from me, so that (1) he feels a little less lonely when he’s 3000 miles from home and (2) has something better for his feet to wear, because it’s hard on the tootsies when your feet are way too hot in a truck.

Fair enough. But I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this. And long-story short, I’m now frantically knitting him a pair of fingering weight socks, using the wool that I had planned for myself, with the hopes that he will actually wear them in good health. Hope against hope I’m trying to get them done before he leaves on his next trip … but with only one sock done, who knows? It would take a miracle of epic proportions for my sore and swollen fingers to be able to whip the second one out, but I’ll try, even if I only have a few days to do it.

Will he wear them once finished?

Will he wear them once finished?

Bear’s Socks
Regia 4-ply Avenue Color
75% Superwash wool, 25% Polyamid
Straight up pattern using Twin Rib, straight knit, plain French Heel with German Chain Selvage Edge and standard toe shaping.

Men … god only knows I can’t figure the one I’ve got out … mind-boggling.