November, 2013: Prayer Shawls

While I sat in the hospital in November, 2011, watching plasma and
saline and toxic chemicals drip into my mother, I needed something to keep my fingers busy.  I needed the quiet rhythm of wooden needles marking time against each other while I learned to sit quietly, in the moment, with my family.  I wanted to make her something comforting; although hats were an obvious choice, I was cold in the hospital, and I thought about how it would feel in a hospital gown, in a cold, sterile bed that overlooked the construction of the new hospital wing.  I picked the softest yarn I could find in my stash and held it up to my cheek; I imagined it wrapped around her shoulders.  I picked a pattern that would require little thought and cast on a simple shawl.  It began with just three stitches and grew reassuringly by two stitches at the beginning and end of each row so that it didn't only grow longer but also wider as I worried it, stitch by stitch, into being.  Afterward, I found it in a box of things that had come home with her from the hospital that December.  I don't think she ever wore it, but I wear it now, and it brings me great comfort.  

Two years later, the air was cold and dry as I curled in the chair in the hallway, wrapped in my father's worn sweatshirt.  However I tried, I could not warm myself.  My knitting needles clicked as I knit row after row of soft blue alpaca, stopping periodically to hold it against my cheek and test how well it would comfort me afterward.  Weeks before I had chosen the blues and grays because they resembled the ocean, where she had wanted to go for her birthday in November, 2011, the birthday she spent in the cold hospital room.  When I packed hastily for my trip to the hospital, I needed something to knit, but I couldn't take any of the projects I had already cast on.  They were to be Christmas gifts, and I couldn't knit all that sadness into gifts for other people.  Instead, hour after hour I knit my mother's comfort into a shawl I could wrap around myself in the months to come when the cold and the loss and emptiness would be impenetrable.  Although it makes my heart clench when I hold it against my cheek, that basic shawl, slightly too large because I was reluctant to let it end, helps me to remember that my mother would want me to live my life.  She would want me to start my life over if I wanted to, to go to the beach, to take a nap, or read a good book.  And so I have done these things; I take more risks, I step out of my comfort zone, I tell my son how much I love him.  I wrap that shawl around me and revel in its comfort; I know she is with me.

Prayer shawls have long been part of many religious affiliations.  The Tallit in Judaism, the Mantilla in the Roman Catholic tradition, and Pentecostal prayer cloths are just a few examples of special clothing people have worn during prayer.  Among fiber artists, the prayer shawl embodies the creator's thoughts and prayers for the receiver.  Prayer ministries have formed for the sole purpose of knitting and crocheting prayers into comforting shawls for those in need physical or spiritual comfort. Shawls are begun, crafted, and given in prayer.  In prayer ministries, the shawl may be passed around a prayer circle so that each person can add their own prayers, or stitches, to each shawl.  


Although I didn't realize it at the time, and it certainly wouldn't be traditional to knit one's own, I see now that these shawls, knit at the beginning and end of my mother's illness, were prayer shawls.  With each stitch, I connected with my family, shared thoughts of my mother, imagined how we would rearrange the stitches of our life without her  I wear them now for comfort; always cold, I have been even colder as I have reknit the void left behind by her passing.  I receive a lot of compliments on these simple shawls; for now, I tell the sad story of how they came to be, but I hope that in the near future I will share stories about how my mother taught me to knit, about her aunt Rose who always made the most beautiful baby clothes, about the times that my mother and I shopped for yarn, or about her faith in my ability to knit socks.  I think of my son, teaching himself to knit by watching YouTube, trying out double pointed needles, and becoming entranced by weaving.  We are tied together, stitch by stitch, row by row, threads spun and plied from the past to the present, our future an infinity of combinations of colors and textures made from two simple stitches.  Knit. Purl.  

Enter the New

Some time ago, when I began this blog, I was obsessed with knitting blogs.  I fantasized that I would become the sort of talented knitter (like The Yarn Harlot) who would achieve a degree of fame and (much less degree of) fortune through writing.  Nevertheless, I wanted to write, and I called my blog Knits and Nuts.  I liked to knit and was a tad...um...unique.  Quirky.  Maybe even nuts.  In subsequent years, when I found myself writing about any number of things, ranging from greener living, gardening, and travel, to parenting, teaching, dyslexia, ADHD, and reading, my sister-in-law pointed out to me that although she enjoyed my blog, I didn't write that much about knitting.  Or nuts.

It was a valid point.  And then it was a moot point because my life upheaved, and I didn't really write much about anything for at least 4 years during which Things Happened.

So this year, when I took on the 30 Day Writing Challenge (which I didn't finish, by the way), I realized how much I missed writing.  I decided that I needed a fresh start, and I might as well fix that whole Knits and Nuts business altogether.  In my non writing time, I spent a lot of time examining just what the common thread was; what were the common themes that compelled me to commit them to writing?  I realized that they all had to do with my stepping out of the safety and security of my comfort zone and trying new things, some more radical than others.  And so, about a year after turning 50, I took stock in how much newness I had brought into my life and how it had changed me.  I may be older, but I'm learning to try new things, and that changing perspective has had profound effects on my outlook, my little family, and our life together.  I hope you will join me as I continue to write about any number of things, ranging from greener living, gardening, and travel, to parenting, teaching, learning differences, dyslexia, ADHD, and reading.  And knitting.  And maybe even nuts.  Welcome to Older Dog; Newer Tricks.  Stick with me to learn more about where I've been and where I'm going.

What's in Your Stash?

(I apologize for the mediocre camera photo.  The weather has been so gloomy lately that I can't take a decent picture anyway.)

Lately, I’ve been finding that I have things to say...things to say...to knitters.  I spend a lot of my Facebook time talking about knitting, posting my works in progress, and apologizing to the nonknitters, who take it in stride and enjoy the quirkiness of knitterly language.  Then I remembered.  I have a blog for that!

When I first started this blog, I honestly believed that I would write about knitting.  I was a novice knitter at the time, but I enjoyed reading a lot of knitting blogs.  It made sense to me that I would want to write about knitting too.  In a fashion that I would call typical, my interest in knitting waxed and waned over the years, and the number of posts about knitting was minuscule.  I have enjoyed writing about myriad other things, such as my parenting experiences and my attempts to live a more ecological, sustainable lifestyle.  Lately, I haven’t written much of anything (even though I wanted to), and I hadn’t knit much of anything either.  Then, at New Year’s, I resolved to “knit the stash.”  

If you are not a knitter, you are probably in the wrong place...then again...you may have landed here to read about my adventures with kohlrabi or life without paper towels.  “The stash” refers to a knitter’s library of lovely yarn purchased over the years.  Sometimes, it is yarn purchased for a particular purpose - that hat that I plan to knit Aunt Bertha.  Sometimes, it is yarn that has been donated or given to the knitter.  Sometimes, it is souvenir yarn; the hank of Berrocco I bought on vacation in Cape Cod; whatever I bought because I couldn’t afford the Swan’s Island when I was in Camden, ME.  Some knitters, the kind who have REAL knitting blogs, and podcasts, and vlogs, have garages full of yarn; odd balls for scarves, 20 skeins for sweaters, 20 for an afghan.  I probably have about 2 large storage bins of yarn that is “stashed” (see...sometimes word origins are so obvious) in various places throughout the house (and not in storage bins, obviously, that would be too orderly).  It doesn’t matter how much yarn is in a knitter’s stash, however; it is always simultaneously too little and too much.  It takes up space, we are not actually knitting it, and it evokes feelings of guilt.  But we enter a yarn store, see something lovely online, run into some locally sourced homespun at the farmer’s market, and suddenly we don’t have enough yarn.  We. Need. More.  It is a knitter’s Murphy’s Law that s/he will find the perfect pattern but lack both the yarn and needles necessary to knit that pattern.  Patterns for the yarns in the stash, obviously, are impossible to find.

My resolution to knit the stash involves several goals.  One of them relates to Christmas gifts that may or may not happen, but so far, it’s happening!  The others are more transparent.  I enjoy knitting; it calms my brain, it can challenge me or reassure me, and it keeps my hands busy so I don’t eat as many Goldfish crackers.  Therefore, I should do more of it.  My third goal for knitting the stash is to reduce the amount of yarn in the house, which leads, naturally, to goal number four, which is to save money by knitting the yarn that is already in the house.  

So far, I’m about 1 for 4 with these goals.  I have been KNITTING!  I have not only begun projects but FINISHED THEM!  Some of them will stay close to home (an ear flap hat for the boy, bright orange fingerless mitts for me) and others (Sh!) have gone straight into “The Christmas Box.”  As I completed projects, I got some of my knitting mojo back.  I’m a little more comfortable challenging myself and trying new things.  That little bit of lace at the top of the fingerless mitts?  LOVED it!  The hole-y, messy thumb gussets in my orange mitts?  Learned from!  Now I think the thumb gusset is one of the most beautiful, ingenious inventions in the knitting world.  (Knitters are saying “You should try socks again...”  I know.  I will feel exactly the same way about turning a heel).  Knitting makes me happy; I like to do it, look at pictures of it, read about it, and listen to podcasts about it.  I’m so happy to have it back in my life.  If you are a nonknitter, you are probably thinking that I am making wild progress in working through the stash.  Well, no.  The more I knit, the more the stash grows.  A new pattern needs new needles and new yarn.  The yarn I have?  Not right for anything.  Will I give it up?  NO WAY!  It’s perfect!  Knitting things for people?  Score.  Getting yarn out of the house?  Not so much.  Saving money?  Ha ha ha ha ha.  Um.  No.

Stripes

Duncan asked me to knit him a new scarf to go with his new coat. I know the days of my son requesting knitted goods are numbered so I tackled it enthusiastically (well, up until the very end).  We made a special trip to the yarn store, where he picked out red and black Polar Fleece, and one week later, voila.

Last year, one of my New Year's resolutions was to "make more stuff." I didn't do as well with that resolution as I would have liked, but I did okay. I did manage to knit scarves for each of Duncan's 4 teachers, and I knitted a hat for Duncan. I knitted a belated scarf for one of my former students.  I knitted coasters that I forgot about until I unearthed them from my project bag. I also started a number of things I didn't finish (hush...), including one sock (I did finish the sock - I just didn't finish its mate), and worked on a large project that isn't yet finished (hush...). I will try again this year; all I can do is try. As soon as my size 13, 14" circular needles come in, I'm all ready to try a cowl.

In the meantime, we have this cozy scarf that a little boy showed off proudly to his teacher, and for the boy, the scarf, the pride, and the appreciative teacher, I am truly thankful.

Duncan's Hat (Still Making Stuff)

Duncan asked me to knit him a hat "with stripes." One day after school we went together to the yarn store, where he picked out three colors of Polar Fleece yarn.  He watched with keen interest as the hat grew each day, and two mornings ago he awoke to find his new hat at the breakfast table. "I love you Mama for knitting this hat for me," he gushed. I sent him off to school in his new hat. When I picked him up, Miss Anne said "Duncan LOVES that hat. He wore it all day. He wore it at lunch. He wore it during his nap." I was touched; I didn't really start the project looking for that kind of response. I just wanted to knit the kid a hat, since I'm working so hard to knit things for other people. I was more than touched; I was thrilled.

And then I looked at Duncan, who was wearing a paper bowl, painted green, upside down on his 

head - his leprechaun hat. I grabbed the Polar Fleece and his lunch box out of his cubby and drove the leprechaun home.

Resolutions

Last year, I didn't make any New Year's resolutions because I had already spent a good year or so making one, green, environmentally friendly resolution at a time until I incorporated it into my lifestyle. I still have a similar feeling. There are some things in my life I'm always working on (or trying to work on), and it seems trite to make them New Year's Resolutions:  exercise more; be more patient with Duncan; floss every day; keep recycling paper; stop procrastinating. This is hardly the stuff of a REAL resolution. And now, here we are, fifty-some-odd days out from New Year's...and it's a little late. I can't call them birthday resolutions because it's too late; I can't chalk them up to Lent because that would by hypocritical; but there are a couple of things I want to work on, and writing them down and publishing them will help me focus.  So here they are, with you as my witnesses.  The Great Snowpocalypse Resolutions of 2010. There are only two, but they are complex and and tightly intertwined...tangled...if you will.

1.  Make Stuff

I love creating things. I like to knit, I'm obsessed with textiles, I love to read craft blogs, and I own way too many craft books. Although I have limitations when it comes to finishing things, I like the idea of making things for my friends and family. I like putting the time into making something unique, and I like the creative outlet. Crafting makes me feel relaxed and useful, and it calms my brain. It benefits the earth as well. Knitting a gift for someone is more ecologically friendly than driving to the mall and throwing down money for a product that is made of materials that don't biodegrade, that are packaged in excessive paper and plastic, that have often been produced in ways that are not friendly to people or the environment, and that have acquired a large carbon footprint in their production and delivery.

You may mock me now, if you know me, because you know I have not picked up my knitting needles in a year except to make a stab at Baby Ben's baby sweater, which I never finished.  Baby Ben is nearly 2, and I started that sweater before he was born. That sweater is a mark of my failure, but I'm too stubborn to rip it out and too incapable of finish the second sleeve.  Anywho...

I think I can make a stab at this. I have already started a storage bin in the basement to collect completed projects for next Christmas. I started with the ubiquitous scarf:  easy to start, quick to knit, easy to finish. I'm knitting scarves for each of Duncan's teachers. He has four teachers, and I'm working on my third scarf. It seems like a reasonable goal. I'm also working on the infamous gift I started for Lorna eons ago. I have ideas for knitting projects and other crafts for everyone in my family. If I approach this resolution one project at a time, I can make serious progress. (Well, I need to have two projects going at any one time so I don't get bored, but NO MORE THAN TWO!  ANY more than two is a recipe for disaster)

It's simple really. Make stuff...for myself, my family, and the earth. Our ancestors did it. I can do it.

2.  Buy Less Stuff

I live in the middle of nowhere. It is an hour drive to a shopping mall or a decent department store. Whatever. I chose this life, and I need to live it without whining. The problem is that it has become my excuse to buy whatever I need or want on the internet. The ease with which I can justify ordering things is terrifying, and it's causing a lot of problems. Let's start with how far my stuff travels, eating up nonrenewable fossil fuels. What am I thinking? I need to learn to plan better, to do without, or to think about a purchase before committing to its carbon footprint. Secondly, we have too much stuff. You can see it with the naked eye. We're out of space, and our house is full of things that will ultimately end up in a landfill. All my efforts to live, clean, and eat in a sustainable way are being undone by the boxes that arrive daily from Amazon.com. Finally, there is the little matter of how I have been paying with those purchases, often with a credit card, for its pure convenience. We want to buy a house; we have too much credit card debt; we have too much stuff; we care about the earth. It's a pretty simple equation. Solve for x. X = Buy Less Stuff.

The easiest way for me to tackle this resolution is to revisit Shawn Achor's twenty-one day plan to making a life change. Beginning on March 1, for 21 days, I'm only allowing myself to make online purchases if I use my debit card. I think it will be difficult for the first week and will grow progressively easier. The debit card has a much lower limit (ha ha) so I will need to stop and think about my purchases. Imagine.  Stop. And. Think.  Stop. And. Think. = Buy. Less. Stuff.

3.  Make Stuff/Buy Less Stuff

Do you see how they are intertwined? Maybe not; perhaps it's not as obvious I think it is. If I make stuff, I won't need to buy as much stuff. That's pretty simple, right? If I make stuff, I will also reclaim the kind of creativity that will encourage me to repurpose what I already have. I will slow down my need to acquire as I relearn the patience it requires to stick with a project through its completion. Maybe, I'll be too busy knitting to have time to shop. Maybe I'll develop such an appreciation for hand-crafted, eco-friendly stuff that I'll lose my taste for the mass produced, just as I have lost the ability to eat Kraft processed cheese slices. If I make stuff, I will buy less stuff. I will consume fewer resources and return less to the landfill.

It may be a fantasy, but it's my fantasy. I firmly believe that these changes are the most logical next steps in my attempts to lead a greener and more sustainable lifestyle, and they're essential if we want to be ready to buy our own house (with some fantasy solar panels...). Wish me luck. I have some scarves to finish.

(And Jay, if you're reading this, sometimes it's okay to use the word "stuff" - as long as you have thought it out and used it for effect.)

Love, Five

Yarn Love

Alert the media. Or at least Melissa. This here is a knitting post. It's not much, but I promised this scarf to one of my students last year and never came through. I was wearing a fun fur scarf, and Filipa said "I want a scarf." Fool that I am, I said "I'll knit you one. What color do you want?" "Pink," she insisted. I started it, knit like crazy, made a lot of mistakes, abandoned the project, and ordered her a fair trade bracelet instead. Last week, in a fit of knitting atonement, I ripped it out and started over. And finished it. I've made three scarves since January first and picked up another project that I had started and abandoned. That one's a secret. I'm on a roll. More on my "make stuff" resolutions later; for now, the post is for Melissa, and the pink fun fur is for Filipa. 

Tearin' It Up In Amenia

We know how to party here in Amenia. We spent yesterday engaged in some long overdue house cleaning, which was, again, no fun for anyone. The dust bunnies threatened to grow into Easter bunnies, and much of our yard had moved indoors. I was questioning whether the bathroom was sanitary enough for my child. Everything is clean and lemony now.

Furthermore, high on our success with purging Duncan's space, I gathered the fortitude to deal with our own book avalanche. Again, I neglected to document visually the state of our books, but it much resembled Duncan's pile of 12 month clothes and the book overflow under the coffee table. There were stacks and stacks of books posted around our bedroom - Christmas and birthday books I hadn't had the time to make space for. This kind of situation is fine if you're single, or even if you're married to someone who can overlook your quirks; a toddler, however, finds towers of books to be excellent climbing material. Many have been the falls and near misses, not to mention my annoyance at having to stack the books AGAIN. It finally occurred to me that: a) we will not be buying any more bookcases until we buy a house - there is literally nowhere else to put them; b) no one in our house will be reading Aristotle, Ralph Waldo Emerson, or the 20 year old copy of Gleitman's Introduction to Psychology that launched me into fame and fortune; so c) something had to give. It was amazing how much bookshelf space was freed simply by filling a small U-Haul moving box with books we literally never open. I'm sure the movers will be taking that box to our next house, but for now, THE BOOKS HAVE BREATHING ROOM! Everything is on the shelf. It's like a breath of fresh air, which is a good thing, because...

Today is spring! Even though it was dreary, cold, and windy, and we had to wait until 4:15 p.m. to see the sun, it is unequivocally spring. I have faith, which is probably why Easter tends to arrive with spring. Even if you don't believe in the whole Christian tradition, how can you not believe in the power of spring to bring rebirth?

As for the knitting...could I be more of a novice? First, there is nothing more painful than ripping out 1/2 inch of knitting because you weren't paying attention and went too far. Then, not once, not twice, but three times I knit and ripped out the three rows involving the first button hole. I keep losing a stitch. Either I don't remember how to knit the yarn over, or I am supposed to lose the stitch (somehow, I suspect the former). How much will it matter if I lose that stitch twice on the right and left sides? Perhaps the Yarn Harlot can live with such ambiguity, but I cannot. I can, however, read so I guess I'll research the yarn over before I try again. The Yarn Harlot probably knit at my level when she was 2. Can you be more novice than novice? On the bright side, I'm incredibly proud of my sister Lorna who ALSO set out to knit something other than scarves and was FINISHING (I know - it's a word foreign to me these days) a bag when I saw her this weekend. I'm jealous. The only things I have finished in ages are the gauge swatches for this sage green thing without button holes.

But it's spring! Breathe it, think it, feel it (even in Amenia).

104 / 3

It's a strange situation for me.  Having knit these 104 stitches (with no stretch, on needles made of plastic, which has been a tactile nightmare for me) for 5 inches, I now have to divide them into three sections and leave them hanging, live, on what approximates large safety pins.  (When I reached this stage, I was secretly thrilled that I had not gained or lost any stitches!)  I know that for veteran knitters (even probably most novice knitters), this is no big deal; for me, it is a leap of faith.  This enterprise could unravel in seconds under the right (wrong) circumstances.  I am reminded of the Yarn Harlot's recent experience with the grape socks and listening to the needle gently hit the floor as hours of delicate sock knitting simply disappeared (although that is probably an obscure allusion to anyone who might happen upon my blog).  I imagine that soon this stealth project will become more recognizable.

I set out to challenge myself and break out of the world of scarves, hats, and mittens, so I am going to trust that this will just work out; may the yarn gods look upon me with favor.  

This blog experience is also new to me.  I am an inchoate blogger, but I am glad that I shared my blog.  Courtney is now thinking of a travel blog; Andrea is thinking her life is too boring to blog (but as a new dog mother with a baby of her own on the way, I disagree); Janine is intimidated by the blog (but sounding intrigued); Marcie and Roger are my idols as novice bloggers who are documenting Baby Ben so beautifully.  As for me, I'm enjoying the writing, having a place to post some pictures, and the sharing.  Thanks to my tiny little audience for reading so far!  Maybe soon I'll figure out how to add some links so you can check out the blogs I'm reading!

Cotton: The Fabric of Our Lives

This yarn has been kicking me in the teeth for at least a week now - longer if you count the 3 separate internet orders to accumulate the yarn (plus extra to replace what I used in numerous gauge swatches), stitch holders, and long enough needles. It has required two gauge swatches, neither of which actually "GOT GAUGE," though one came closer to the other. This is a secret project for a secret person; its identity will gradually become apparent, however, and if you know me, you'll be able to guess the recipient. I decided to make a bold foray into the land of knitted garments, leaving the scarves, hats, and mittens far behind. I am doubting whether I have the fortitude for this project.

The yarn is nothing fancy: Lion Bran Organic Cotton in Sage. It needs to be wash and wear, and the recipient's mother (too many hints) will appreciate its organic nature. I've never knit cotton before and am struggling with its lack of stretch. It's taken me 4 inches to achieve a tension that is almost comfortable. I'm also not fond of the feel of this cotton on these plastic needles. Next time (I aim to make three more of these babies), I'll knit it on metal circulars (probably Turbo Addi's). I'm glad that it's beginning to feel better because I need to get some better karma into this piece!

Today is a day for rain, vanilla cupcakes, meatloaf, painting with Duncan, and the long wait for more pictures of baby Ben. In short, hibernation is the name of the game.