Ah wel. If my mother-in-law can doggedly persevere through my feeble attempts at a crochet lesson (All I know is the chain stitch. And she's left handed and I'm right handed. yeesh. I did get practice at becoming ambidextrous in that lesson tho!) then I guess I could persevere through teaching myself knitting lace. We'll see. Still conundrum-ifying about it.
A friend gave me this sweater a couple of months ago, and as I was switching my winter clothes and my summer clothes in and out of closet and storage bins, I came across it. A lovely light blue cashmere with delicate lace around the neck and cuffs. There is just one problem. The moths went after it. There's a large hole in one shoulder. I'm having a conundrum because its not really something I can mend and maintain the original elegance of the piece, and cashmere is too gorgeous a fiber to not be elegant. So I'm considering ripping it all out and knitting it into something nice again. But that means ripping out the lace on the cuffs and neck, which - even though its clearly machine-made, is still beautiful. On the flip side I've wanted to be able to knit lace forever... and here is a wonderful opportunity to learn. On the flip side, I have a feeling it will take a while to master the art of lace-knitting... if I ever can.
Ah wel. If my mother-in-law can doggedly persevere through my feeble attempts at a crochet lesson (All I know is the chain stitch. And she's left handed and I'm right handed. yeesh. I did get practice at becoming ambidextrous in that lesson tho!) then I guess I could persevere through teaching myself knitting lace. We'll see. Still conundrum-ifying about it.
0 Comments
I will freely admit that I'm weird, so brace yourself for the following. I like the smell of fresh sweat pouring down my face as the oils from my herbs are crushed on my hands while I pull weeds in the morning; the dew still making the clover slippery. I like the smell of my husband sweating while he hand saws old wood found in our garage to make me another raised bed. I inhale deeply the smell of lavender and oregano while I coax the tea roses to hang on to life, despite the opposition Mother Nature keeps throwing at them. I like the smell of satisfying, hard work. I also like the smell of my cooking baking in the oven, of my in-laws fabric softener as I lean in close to show them my latest creations or try to show my mother-in-law how to crochet. (she's left handed, I'm right handed. It took us about a half hour to get the basics of a chain stitch down). I love the smell of honeysuckle as i sit in the backyard with my husband, knitting something creative while he relaxes after a long day at work. I like the smell of cut grass when the breeze shifts from the honeysuckle and the birds sing their hearts out. I like the smells of water running quickly over hot pavement or stones while I water the thirsty sugar peas. I like the smells of spring. One of the girls from the church's Wednesday night program has decided that we will take some time each Wed. to "talk." About anything, really. About what kind of pet animal we wanted when we were kids (I was informed that for me that would be a long time ago, but for her it was right now), what our dream house looked like, why Frozen is (in her opinion) the BEST movie EVAH. She and I are also friends on facebook, and she has discovered my 'cool things I've made" album, which led to a discussion on knitting. I showed her Ravelry, and she saw the pattern for the 'Egg to Turtle' softie. That was more awesome than the Frozen flip dolls even. Ever since then she's been asking me WHEN am I going to make her that turtle?! This has led to interesting discussions between her and I (and later Kyle and I as I relate all that happened to him) about fairness (if I make you one I have to make all the kids one) honesty (no you cannot lie to your friends and say that you bought this at a store and I didn't make it for you) and lifestyle (yes I honestly do believe one can get through life without lying, and you should adopt that lifestyle too!) But its also caused me to REALLY REALLY want to make her a turtle as we get closer and she listens and grows. Kyle keeps saying that I have done a good job not having favorites despite the hooligans and angels in the crowd and to not start now. BUT I did find a way to possibly maintain that standard AND still make the girl a turtle. She's going to camp with me along with (hopefully 6 but right now its looking like 1) other girls. That's a more reasonable amount of turtles to knit! They only take a few hours each. The ladybug is from the same pattern, except I didn't give her a tail, she has icords for bug legs instead of fins, her shell is flatter and her head is bigger - and she has antennae. I'm very proud of her. She was inspired by the youth minister's daughter, who has had a ladybug farm and is now in love with all ladybugs she finds. Since she's four she of course believes that she is the worthy caretaker of all found ladybugs, and is distressed to tears when she accidentally drops and steps on them. Since this causes her new baby brother distress and therefore her parents distress, I thought I could help out by giving her an unkillable and uncrushable ladybug. Cause I'm just an awesome neighbor like that. Speaking of ladybugs, I wish I had some. The aphids have discovered my tea roses, and I'm not happy about it. They also have some black rust or mold all over the leaves, so altogether they aren't happy. Doesn't stop me from enjoying the blooms, however. But I need to get on the ball and figure out how to stop the aphids and the mold or I won't be enjoying anymore blooms!!! The in-laws are having Memorial-Day-Supper with us tonight, so I combined two pink and a yellow roses with lavender blossoms and if I do say so myself it looks and smells awesome! When you get up close that is. Its a rather tiny arrangement. Happy Memorial Day, and may your spring continue to be sunny and creative! I have loved the thought of growing lavender since I read about it in the American Girls Felicity book series. For those of you who don't know, they were about a 10 year old growing up in Williamsburg, Virginia, during the Revolutionary War. In the back of each book was a brief appendix with pictures describing details of daily life during the Colonial era. One of the things that caught my attention was the fact that colonial girls would make sachets of herbs and flowers, or would put bundles of lavender in their drawers to keep moths away things smelling sweet. Mom bought a couple of lavender plants, but the arid New Mexican climate was not to their liking. They never bloomed, but I loved picking the leaves off and putting them in my pillow. Once I put them in my suitcase and forgot about them until my Grandma did laundry and a bunch of 'weeds' fell into her washing machine. Woops. (That and hiding dissected cow eyes in the laundry basket so they couldn't be thrown away until I showed my very pregnant mother the awesomeness of anatomy were two laundry surprises that got me in trouble during Florida trips) When I first moved to my current house, I bought a lavender plant in the fall and stuck it somewhere, doubtful it would make it. To my surprise it did, and was very happy the following spring and summer. So I bought three more. Miraculously (at least to my mind) they made it through our very rought-for-the-area winter, and this spring all four of them are sending tiny shoots of blossoms to wave at me when I walk by! So this morning I went out with some scissors and, remembering what I had read in my old Felicity books, looked for blossoms that hadn't completely opened yet - as apparently they are the best for drying and the most fragrant. The robin had a conniption and tried every trick in the book to get me away from its nest and when that didn't work started dive-bombing my head. (It had better watch out because my husband owns guns.) Despite the obnoxious bird, I was able to collect a decent handful of lavender flowers. Then in I went to my craft room to pull out some little decorative bottles my husband found at the Seminary free store, and which I have wanted to put on my kitchen windowsill but haven't yet gotten around to. The lavender spikes went in one and the rest went marching across the sill like obedient little sentries of decoration. My apologies for not getting this posted sooner. I've had it written and in my drafts box for a week. However the internet hasn't been cooperating. I don't know if its the weather, or Memorial Day Weekend, or just our internet is being a twerp. Growing up, I can't begin to count how many shows, fairs, conventions, and festivals my mom took my siblings and I to. Sometimes we went just as spectators, but usually we went to Home school conventions and we had a booth ourselves. When I wasn't helping mom to sell one of the many different curriculum's we used ourselves, I loved wandering the various booths - meeting more people, observing the differences in their booth layouts, watching how they interacted with customers. Craft fairs were another big thing we went to, although after a few tries we weren't vendors anymore and just went and watched. While we made a few small purchases, the main fun was entering our names into ever drawing, sweepstakes, and goodie basket we could find, sampling the samples, and gleaning as much information from the vendors without actually committing to buying anything. We'd always leave exhausted but thoroughly satisfied.
I finished another outfit, but this time I decided to add something on a whim. I made a little fairy doll to match the dress. Her skin is a little odd colored as the pink yarn I had seemed too peachy, and white was too stark. So I mixed the two. Well... Fairy's are supposed to be original looking, right? Anyway. This gift is for my friend who, as a child, nicknamed me "Dryad" and I nick-named her "Pixie." The endearing names ended, however, when my family bought a goat and named her pixie, and my friend never let me call her that again. Ahh well. We were probably getting too old for such things anyway. But this is the friend whose older sister collected vintage hats, and whose mother owned a yarn shop, and whose family owned 2 alpaca, 2 sheep, a hairy dog they could spin off of, and 18 angora rabbits. So when I think of this friend, fiber and fairies and vintage come to mind. Therefore it is only fitting that her daughter be blessed with the love of such things. But, as my previous post explained, I am a kid at heart too, so I had to make one for myself. I'm not sure I LOVE how she turned out, so she's going into the box of "Possibly saving this for when I have kids but may possibly give it away if struck with sudden generosity" items. She's in the slideshow, along with a few more photo's of the outfit, because this time it didn't kick my butt and I'm quite pleased and proud of how it turned out. I have about 8 friends who have given birth this year - some of them were not their first child. Those sort of life changes didn't really bother me before now. But they do now because people have started asking my advice on said children! Hunh?! I don't KNOW!! Beat your children and feed them vegetables, make them say grace and read the Bible to them out loud while they draw pictures of the story. Thats the limit to my sage advice. There's a woman in my church who is approaching 40, but her firstborn is 4 and she has a 1 year old. Today she was asking me advice in the church parking lot about how to tell if the 4 year old was throwing fits because of emotional trauma at daycare, or because of her passionate personality. Quite frankly I didn't give a flip as to the diagnosis. I just knew if I had consistently thrown a fit like that child was - and does every time its time to leave anywhere - my existence would have ceased altogether! It was one of those situations where I was like, 'Can I borrow your child for two hours? I won't be too drastic; I'm just going to sign them up for a chain gang that chants catholic confessions in Latin as they march." But I don't know how to communicate such sentiments without being completely offensive, and so I hemmed and hawed and dashed off to the youth minister's house as soon as I could politely excuse myself to ask his wife what she thought I should have said. "I dunno but that girl needs spanked." was the sage reply. *sigh* I had a friend tell me earlier this year after she gave birth that she couldn't WAIT til I had kids, because she knew I was gonna be an expert at it and she wanted to watch me to take notes for her own child-rearing skills. Hunh?! See, I didn't realize that we had passed Graduation for being adults to the point where we were the ones actually swapping personal birth stories and becoming discouraged over our OWN kids. For some reason my mind hasn't made the leap that I'm no longer listening to my mother and her generation discuss such topics; now its my turn. I thought I was still studying for the final exam for the class of Able to Speak Intelligently on Adult Matters. Shoot, I gripe about gas prices and taxes and discuss world politics with people! Ugh, when did I become an adult?! I know I ought to be complimented that there are those who want to engage in such discussions, and seek advice from me, and watch and learn from me. I ought to be thrilled. But while I smile outwardly and give the facade of confidence and mastered ability, I'm terrified inside. I don't like leading, I'm tired of counseling people, I don't like making decisions that effect masses, and quite frankly I have no tolerance for bratty kids. There is no excuse for rudeness from your spawn - and if that makes me mean I'm ok with it. BUT if your child is well behaved, then I am far more interested in discussing the finer points of fairy dust with them than how they ought to comply to your model of behavior better. I give the appearance of liking children and being skilled in teaching them but its a lie. I'm really still a kid deep down inside. Just ask the church secretary. When my office is quiet its not because I'm studying lesson plans; its because I am glitter-gluing the lesson plans together. I'm sorry if this topic isn't one of my more eloquently expressed ones. Its just something I've been grappling with a lot the last two weeks and I'm trying to make sense of it in my own mind. I like kids but they terrify me - because while I'm taller than them I haven't quite computed that I'm not one of them anymore. I like talking with my peers but they terrify me - they may discover that I just grew taller but if given half the chance i will abandon their mature conversation in pursuit of ladybugs and fireflies. And I feel the need to find whatever reconciliation with the topic I require quickly, because people keep wishing a baby upon me. And while there are things that modern medicine can do to halt such blessings, eventually Jesus may pay attention to their prayers and overrule technology. So in the meantime, while I'm making sense of my own internal Peter-Pan complex: Please spank your kids. Spank them well, spank them joyfully. Don't tell them it hurts you more than it hurts them. We all know its a lie. Don't abuse them, but do put the fear of disobedience in them. You are the parent, they are the child. Please be the parent so that I don't have to become one and show you how its done. Because I'm too busy playing with glitter glue and fireflies. |
AuthorA normal woman learning to serve an Extraordinary Lord in Ordinary ways, and watching Him turn it into Amazing Grace! © 2014-2015 Rachel Hester. All rights reserved. Archives
February 2016
Categories
All
|