Eventual Knitting

Yet another blog entry about 9/11/01

2006-09-11T06:37:00.000-07:00

I'm sure there must be thousands of blogs today about 9/11. People's remembrances and tributes, thoughts and suppositions. I remember that day, not because it was so tragic, but because of the changes it brought in my life. We were bustling to get my middle child and (then) husband out the door for work and school. I had just started homeschooling our oldest child. I was scrambling to get a shirt ironed when Dan yelled at me to get in here now. He did that often when there was an "interesting to him" news story on the radio. I was annoyed because I was trying to get them ready for school. I came storming into the living room to see one of the WTC towers smoking and then this other airplane out of nowhere flew into the other tower. I was in shock. Why would someone do something like that? I had just witnessed hundreds of people die on live TV. I thought for a moment that I should keep my daughter home to protect her, but decided that she would be safer at school.

Boy was I wrong. The teacher, not wanting to miss anything, had kept CNN running the entire day. These little kindergarten babies were subjected to that awful day just so the teacher could be kept informed. I tried to go about my day as normally as I could. I took my son to swim lessons and ran to the grocery store for a few items we were needing. Did laundry and ironed shirts. I spoke on the phone to several people, but I just couldn't escape the tragedy. My older daughter was glued to the TV as well. She couldn't believe that people could do something so horrible. She watched all the news reports as the Pentagon was crashed into and when the plane went down in Pennsylvania. That afternoon I remembered that I had friends whose husbands worked at those towers and made calls to them. One husband had the flu and hadn't gone to work. The other husband had gone to work. He was missing and never found. I couldn't imagine the emptiness and pain that she felt that day. She watched in live TV as the second plane went into the building where her husband worked.

I remember feeling anger that day. Anger at the president for not making a response sooner. Anger at the school for not protecting my baby from that kind of media. Anger at the terrorists for causing this whole tragedy. Anger at myself for watching it all day for 3 days. Anger at the media for portraying the tragedy so vividly.

I also felt sadness. Sadness that we lost so many people in a jihad's act of war. Sadness that my baby girl wasn't as innocent as when she left for school. Sadness at the changes that our world was thrown into because of the actions of a few people. Sadness at feeling helpless.

The one thing that made it all seem real, though, was the absence of air traffic over our house. We were along one of the main landing patterns for the airport and were used to planes flying overhead all day. For 4 days we had no noise at all. No planes, nothing. Just silence all day. This sound that had been annoying when we first moved in had suddenly become missed after a year and a half of hearing the roar of jet engines.

And here we are 5 years later. How our world has changed. We are in a war that has no relationship to 9/11 even though our president told us it did. We still have soldiers in Afghanistan who were supposed to be home years ago. We still haven't been able to capture the ringleader of this organisation despite the fact that he is on kidney dialysis! We still have fears of flying and still don't feel safe in our own country. We still shudder when a plane flies over us. And, for some really weird reason, we are still being led by one of the most dishonest and shady presidents this country has ever had. He has an approval rating that is as low as Hoover's yet he was re-elected!

I've heard commentators say that "at least al-qaeda didn't succeed." Oh but they did. They accomplished exactly what they wanted. They threw this country into a state of fear, chaos, war, and unable to trust our fellow man. They made us question every person with dark skin and hair who even looks remotely Middle Eastern. If that wasn't the success of an act of terror I don't know what is.

I caught myself this morning flipping channels and getting stuck on one channel's rebroadcast of 9/11. And then it struck me. I was living in that fear that these terrorists died to create and I turned the TV over to my son so he could watch cartoons. I've decided not to watch TV today. To make this my last post about that fateful day and to live this day joyfully in honor and respect of those that can't.

Peace y'all!

One of those "ding ding ding" moments

2006-09-10T20:07:00.000-07:00

You know what kind of moment I'm talking about. When you've seen something or heard something that sounds familiar. It nags at you all day, maybe even for a few days or weeks and then suddenly in the middle of the night the "ding ding ding" goes off when you remember what it was that was so familiar. I had one of those moments this weekend. When I went to the bookstore on Friday to fill out all my paperwork to start working I was met by a man who looked eerily familiar. His name even fit. But the connection was totally missing. Where did I know him? How could his voice, name and image be so familiar? Then it dawned on me "ding ding ding." I knew this guy in college. We only went to college together for one year, but we were fairly good friends. He was/is(?) gay and we hung out together. We would go shopping together and point out cute guys and gals to each other. We would go to the bar together and drink vodka Collins and talk about loves gained and lost. We would spend hours listening to music and singing along with Linda Ronstadt on her Lush Life album (if that doesn't date me!) And then whoosh there he is. Haven't seen him in 20 years. I've changed a lot. He hasn't changed that much. We were both in theatre together and both hung out with the same crowd. It will be interesting to see where conversations lead.

I hate moments like that though. When something is just so familiar but you can't put your finger on why. They are almost like deja vu moments but not. They aren't memories that have yet to happen, they are absences of being able to remember something from your past correctly. Deja vu would be if I had remembered walking with him down the aisles to the back of the store. But just not remembering where you knew someone is different. Sometimes makes you feel senile! And I feel way too young for that. :)

I start work tomorrow. Not sure if I will see this guy or not. Not even sure who I am supposed to check in with or where I am supposed to go or even where I am supposed to put my purse! I guess I'll figure it all out tomorrow. Training will commence. I wonder after a few days if my friend from the past will look at me and have one of those "ding ding ding" moments. I'll be sure to report.

May I help you?

2006-09-07T07:12:00.000-07:00

I guess I'm going to be saying that a lot from now on. I've just accepted a job at a bookstore and I suppose I will be doing a lot of smiling and helping. That's a good thing. I like helping people and I like books. People keep telling me that I am not going to make any money working in a bookstore, but I don't see where that is going to be a problem. I need the money, so I'm certainly not going to spend it!

I have to say that was the second easiest job I have ever gotten. (The first being when my mom begged me to come work for her.) The interviewer didn't ask me one question about my work history. She just looked at my resume and said, "Oh you were a librarian. OK, go home and fill out the information for the background check and I'll call you when it comes back about when you would like to start." Yesterday I went to the store and got set up with payroll and got my cashier code and password. I should hear today or tomorrow when I can actually start.

It's only part time. Something to help bring in a bit more money and at the same time give me a few "free" hours away from my kids. I haven't given up on my Pampered Chef business, but it just isn't as lucrative as I had hoped. I do great shows, but I suck at getting bookings. For some reason I lack some quality that is needed to book shows. As much as I like cooking and being "on stage" I just can't seem to sell myself. So now I am going to sell books. Should be much easier. When people come to a PC show they usually come because they were invited and I truly have to sell them cookware. But when someone comes to a bookstore, they are coming after reading material. They made the initiative to come to the store to buy something. I just have to help them find the right book. It's a different approach to sales. They know they want something. I just have to find the right something.

The Joy of Sox!

2006-09-05T08:32:00.000-07:00

Yes; overused and tired pun, but it is so true. Yesterday I finished yet another pair of knit socks. They are scrumptuously delicious in both feel and looks! My kids say that they look like a bowl of Fruit Loops because they are all "Lemon Yellow, Lime Green, Orange Orange, Cherry Red, and Grape Purple" I used KnitPicks' Dancing in Tap and made the Caruso socks at Knitty. They feel so comfy on my feet. They snug them like a warm soft hug from a long lost friend.

Maybe that is what I like about socks. They are these nice warm hugs to your feet. I've always loved socks. I've always collected odd socks, groovy socks, decorative socks, funky socks, pretty socks. But now that I've started knitting my own socks I have an even deeper relationship with this garment. They are something that I have made. Something that I have labored over and created. These beautiful unique socks which no one else will have the same. They are MINE and fit ME and only ME! When I put them on there is a certain happiness and fullfillment that I never got from putting on a pair of socks bought at Target. They bring me joy, so I keep knitting socks.

Now I am making some for Emily. They are soft basic footy socks in KP's Merino Style in Cornflower. The yarn is so soft. I'm hoping to get her to enjoy the luxury of a nice hand knit sock. Mary Elayne already has a pair so I suppose the next person will be Keon. I have some funky sock yarn I bought somewhere that will make him a nice pair of rainbow socks. Hopefully he won't lose them or wear them outside without shoes or go stomping in mudpuddles. Oh who cares, as long as he is joyful about sox!

Math or Living in the world without a "math education"

2006-09-02T07:12:00.000-07:00

The topic for the October Unschooling Voices Carnival is about math. How does one "live math?" I would counter that in how could one not live math? I use math every day. I use it to see if I have enough money in my checking account for all the things that my budget needs to pay for. I use math when I make a card for a friend and am cutting layers so they will stack nicely. I use math when I am cooking or baking to make sure that the ingredients will all come together to be tasty - proportions. I use math when I am driving and am wondering if I am going to make it to the next gas station if the "estimated miles" says that I have 12 miles left until I am empty. I do math when I am sewing. I do math when I am knitting. I do math when I'm building Legos with my son.

So how does one comprehend math if one doesn't have lessons? I'm not quite sure. LOL!! Seriously, I have never given my son a math lesson. We've talked about numbers. We've counted his money from his piggy bank together. We've calculated whether he has enough money to purchase a new toy or deck of Magic Cards. We've grown a garden together and figured out how many plants we can grow per square foot. We've wrapped gifts for family members and friends together and had to come up with creative ways to wrap a gift when it was an odd size or we had a limited amount of paper. We've cooked together and doubled or tripled recipes because we knew we had a huge gathering to attend and wanted to make plenty. We didn't do any of those things in order to use math. I didn't set out to teach a lesson by counting his money. The purpose (the sole purpose) or counting his money was to find out how much he had. In the process he probably learned a bit about math. So here is this kid who has never had a single math lesson in his life yet he understands the concept of manipulating numbers because he has seen them in action. He walked up to me about a year ago when he was just seven and said, "Mommy, if I have 8 groups of 4 things then I would have 32 things, right?" A bit later that same day he came to me and said, "Mommy, if I have 33 quarters and they are 25¢ each then I would have $8.25 since." After doing a bit of math myself I realized he was correct. So then he says, "But I need 40 quarters to make a roll so I'm going to need another 7 quarters." Ah-ha, now I know what he is talking about. He had seen me rolling quarters from our change jar earlier that week (which we do as our Disney shopping money) and realized that he, too, wanted rolls of quarters. Here he was joyfully collecting quarters, using math, not knowing it, but totally understanding it.

My grandfather never graduated from high school. He did go to Emory University (for dentistry) when he was a young man, but preferred railroads, honky tonks and carpentry to teeth, so quit that as well. Here was this "undereducated man" who really was quite brilliant. He understood math because it was something he used everyday. He could figure out an angle and complimentary angle in his head. I'd see him doodling numbers when building things as he worked through how much plywood he needed for a certain project. He could almost instantly figure out what a cut was from a measurement if he had a board that was 3/4 of an inch thick and there would be 3 pieces butting up against each other in a corner. He could stretch a sheet of particle board until there were pieces of no bigger than my hand leftover. And he could figure out how much concrete he would need to build a house that was 900 square feet if it needed a foundation that was at least 15" and was on a grade that was 9°. This wasn't stuff he learned in school. This was what he learned through living his life in a world where math was important.

Very few of us will ever need "upper mathematics." I can't think of a time in my life when I have needed to know the cosine of a number or the co-efficiency of something. I feel I have learned more about numbers and using them since leaving school and dealing with real life. Why shouldn't we think that our children will learn those things as well? There is a great scene in the movie "Freaky Friday" where the mom (who is in the body of her daughter) is taking a test for her and reads a question that deals with pi. She's thinking to herself, "Pi? I don't need pi. I've never used pi. Anna is never going to use pi." Math is taught in school in such a way that it is accessible to every child just in case one child might need that upper math for a degree in electrical engineering. In the end, does it really matter if you make an A+ in trigonometry as long as you can cut a pie into 8 equal pieces? That's the kind of pi(e) I like!

Birthday Day

2006-08-31T06:43:00.000-07:00

Today is my "Boo's" eleventh birthday. I look at the tall willowy graceful child and wonder what happened to the roly poly little baby that I once had. Her baby fine "sticky-up" downy soft blonde hair is now dyed black with purple overtones. The little girl who would only wear pink and purple now lives in black and fantasizes about the day she can pierce her belly button. Her birthday wish list consisted of skull necklaces, a grunge/punk band's CD, and a gift certificate to Hot Topic. Despite her gothness she is still my ever-optimistic Boo. She wears this gothness like a persona and delights in how it sets people off when they see her mother supporting her need for more black velvet in her life.

She makes me feel old, though. Somehow Emily turning 14 in November doesn't impact me as much as Mary Elayne turning 11 today. I still am amazed that she is ELEVEN and wonder where the time went. I want to hit a rewind button and go watch or live it again. I feel like I missed something while she was busy growing up. I watch her do cartwheels all over the place and wonder when I missed the transition point from doing "baby cartwheels" to "real cartwheels." Somewhere I missed a growth spurt because it seemes like one day she was quite short and now she is looming closer and closer to my height.

So happy birthday, Boo. Happy birthday to my bouncing baby girl that I swore was going to be a boy and proved me all wrong. Happy birthday to the sweetest velvet goth in the world (but don't worry I won't tell the world and hardly anyone reads my blog anyway!)

Fritz and Chesster

2006-08-29T16:24:00.000-07:00

My son has expressed an interest in learning to play chess. Cool! I was in the chess club in junior high. OK, I was in the chess club in junior high because I hung out with the geeky guys and they thought it was cool that a girl wanted to be in the chess club. It had nothing with my ability to actually play chess. So after setting up the board and teaching the primary moves of each player I drew a blank. Thanks to another homeschooling friend, I found Fritz and Chesster learn to play chess.

It finally arrived yesterday. This "game" is so cool that Keon played with it for 5 hours straight. Now he is teaching his sister using it. And I'm learning chess again sort of by the fact that I'm in the same room where the game is being played. It actually teaches strategy and move combinations. I'm really impressed. Not only is it fun to play (at least for the kids) but also good in helping the kids understand many of the nuances that I never picked up on while hanging out with the geeky guys.

I highly recommend it!

Thoughts while hennaing

2006-08-28T10:35:00.000-07:00

I'm coloring my hair today with henna. It's a long process - usually takes 3-4 hours. (But it is SO much healthier for your hair than chemical dyes!) There isn't much you can do (aside from housework - and who really wants to do that?) as you wait for your hair to color. You sit there with your hair all gloopy (that's a technical term) wrapped in saran wrap smelling of henna, lemon juice, nutmeg, paprika and spiced tea (although mostly henna). You are subconscious of drips and you get horrid itches that are probably more phantom itches than true itches. There is always a tad of anxiety of what color your hair will turn out since it can be anywhere from sunny yellowy strawberry blonde to indigo depending on how the nutmeg reacts or how old the henna is or whether you put in too much lemon juice or not enough paprika or where the particular henna plant that your henna came from or how well you actually covered your hair (if you didn't have a friend to come over and do it for you.)

So you try to find simple things to do (like updating your neglected blog). You might knit (if you aren't afraid of the henna dripping on your wool) or sew (ditto on your fabric) or stamp (ditto on your cards, although come to think of it I wonder how henna would react to paper and what you could do with it. Hmmmmm) You might read a book or do some laundry. You don't dare run to the store (afterall the cashiers already think I'm weird enough as I am always there with my kids) or other outside errands (not because wearing saran wrapped henna is weird, it just takes forever to explain to people over and over.)

And then you get philosophical and start thinking about things like whether hurricanes are worse than blizzards or if you would trade earthquakes for tornados. Why none of your children's feet look like yours (do I have recessive toe genes?) Why did cnn.com feel it necessary to change the look of their website again? Do chocolate graham crackers count as a cracker or a cookie? Why does the kitten have to dig a hole to China when using the litter box? Why does the kitten do any of the things he does?

And speaking of Jack (that would be the kitten), he is just the funniest thing to have around. Besides being a gorgeous cat with the softest bunny fur coat in pure white (except for his orange striped tail) and the clearest blue eyes, he is hilarious. He has the ability to leap over things and attack his "prey" (usually his "big brother" Prince Charming - the bandied legged ginger cat) spread eagle. I swear he leaves the ground in that position and can fly like a flying squirrel. He will chase anything. By anything I mean his a piece of paper, a roaming dust bunny (although in our house they are more like dust cows), a mysterious nothing that only he can see, small little jumping bugs and even his tail (particularly if there is tape stuck to the end - and no; I did not purposely put the tape on his tail, but I didn't work too fast helping him get it off either) :) I wonder what he would look like if I did henna designs on his fur.

Money makes the world go around

2006-08-23T21:10:00.000-07:00

This month's question for unschooling voices was about money/allowance/payment to kids for jobs done. Laurie wanted to know how we handled the issue of money. It was a slowly evolving thing for us and how we approached money with the kids. In the days when we were rigid and trying to be part of the mainstream world our children had to earn their money by doing chores, keeping their rooms clean, being nice. Money was a very controlling thing. It could be taken away or given back at the slightest of whims. Good=money. Bad=poverty.

Then as we started approaching unschooling we gave money haphazardly as either we had it or we remembered that they might like some money. That didn't seem to work to well with every one either. Finally it dawned on me that the adults in the family had a regular salary that we got for doing our jobs. It wasn't tied to keeping our rooms clean, doing "chores" or being nice. It came from doing the job that was assigned to us. So why shouldn't the children also get money for doing their jobs? What were their jobs? Gosh, their responsibility is to be a kid! To grow, engage, pursue passions, explore their world, and live joyfully (even if that meant having a dirty room). So each pay period, they get money as well. We give them money based on their age, not because it really means anything, but it just seems to fit with their spending needs. My teenage daughter wants CD's, earrings, the ability to save to go to anime conventions. My tween daughter is a saver and enjoys saving up for big purchases like televisions (I wouldn't doubt if a car is in her big scheme of things). And my pre-teen son wants pocket money for candy bars, Legos and Magic cards.

The nice thing is that they aren't limited by that money. If there is something that they have really been wanting and just don't have enough for it they know that they can come to us and ask for help in reaching their goal. Sometimes we can and we joyfully give them the extra money. Sometimes we just can't and we work with them to think of creative ways to get what it is that they want. Perhaps it is a bit more saving time, maybe doing an odd job for a neighbor, or maybe mom has a check hanging around the house from a survey company or one she forgot to deposit after a show.

There are just so many more important things than money. Relationships, self esteem, and spirit. I can't put a price tag on those things. I'd prefer to "work to live" than "live to work." I hope my children grow up with that belief as well!

Denim Jumpers

2006-08-21T13:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday there was a homeschool curriculum fair that our eclectic homeschool group was involved in. Let me just say right here that I do not, have never and probably won't ever own a denim jumper. Somehow through the ages the denim jumper became identified with the homeschooling mom. I know why now. I was surprised at the number of people who showed up to this fair in their denim jumpers. Now I'll admit that there were plenty of other jumpers, skirts, slacks, shorts, dresses, jeans, and even a sarong. But there were lots of jumpers. I find a pair of jeans much more practical.

It was fairly odd attending this event as a radical unschooler. I took some time to stroll through the different booths and displays and out of all the magazines, free books, pamphlets and catalogs that I collected I recycled all but one thing - a K'nex catalog! Everything there was SO schooly. Everything there looked SO boring! It isn't that I am opposed to learning. Far from it. I love learning and so do my kids. It's the format that I have so much trouble with. I could find nothing there that made me excited about wanting to learn (other than the Math-U-See booth, but then I want that for myself LOL!) When people would ask my what my kids were interested in and I said, "Anime, Japanese, Japanese culture, video games, soccer, cooking" I would get these blank stares (I think I lost them at Anime.) They would show me cartoon books or curriculum based on cooking or cookbooks based on some curriculum series. Nothing looked alive.

Sadly, I saw children there that didn't look alive. They looked like little animatronic wind up toys. Their eyes seemed dead. They didn't smile even when you looked at them in the eye. They sought permission to color on our table from their parents (we had butcher paper rolled out for kids to color on while the parents talked). I saw no joy in so many of these children's lives! It made me so sad for them. I wondered if they would grow up and have children of their own and be stuck in a denim jumper and continue the cycle of unjoyful living.

BTW, if you are reading this and you are a homeschooling mom who would never think to wear a denim jumper you should check out the website http://www.thedenimjumper.com . Great website for the secular homeschooler (no denim jumpers allowed!)

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

2006-08-09T08:10:00.000-07:00

Someone on the Unschooling Basics list today about a correlation between children's moods and developmental growth. I responded that it was similar to what babies go through when they have those "jazzy" days when they are inconsolable and then the next day they suddenly can do something that they couldn't before. Be it walking, talking, scooting, rolling over, etc. I truly believe this same thing happens with older children, teens, and (why not) even adults. I've seen it in my own teen. A period of fussy "PMS-looking" behaviour yet the next day (or the next week) suddenly she understands a new concept, a growth in maturity or understanding or perhaps a philosophical epiphany.

I think it is just part of our internal working. It doesn't leave us when we get older. We work things out in ways that seem "antisocial" rather than just working things out.

And speaking of antisocial, yesterday was the first day back at school for the public school children. So yesterday we did our yearly "back to school pilgrimage to the mall" We do this every year as a way of saying, "We are free and we don't conform!" We ran into Hot Topic and the cashier asked us why we weren't in school. The kids just laughed and said, "We are! This is Antisocial Studies!"

Joy

2006-08-07T10:44:00.000-07:00

A friend had a quote in her sig line today that said, "If you don't love what you do why are you doing it?" Wow, that really made a lot of sense. It seems so simple, but there are times when we truly do feel burdened to do things that don't bring joy into our lives. And it has nothing to do with the basic needs for living such as cooking, cleaning and paying bills. I'm talking about the inability to say no when someone asks you to do something that you truly don't enjoy. There are things I would do for some of my friends at the drop of the hat, without thinking twice. Without questioning what it is they are asking me and I would do it with joy because I know they need me at that moment. But there are so many times that I find myself accepting tasks simply because I can't say no and then I am stuck doing those things.

So my friend's quote came at the right moment today. It made me reflect upon some things that I have been doing that I truly don't enjoy. Things that feel like a drudgery and a weight. It's helping me see that I don't need to do those things. They don't bring joy to me and they don't bring joy to my children.

Sucking fun

2006-08-03T08:10:00.000-07:00

There is a great line in the movie Freaky Friday with Jamie Lee Curtis. "You're a funsucker!" Funsucker. I've met a few of those. They are the people that want to turn something that should be fun into something that is boring, droll and agonizing. I see it in all sorts of venues. People who take leisure activities and turn them into "learning experiences" as if one can't get a learning experience out of it unless it looks like school. Or that perhaps there is no merit in doing something just because it is fun. I've actually heard a parent tell a child, "You've had enough fun stuff for the day. Now you need to do something educational." Funsucker!

So my question is, are you a funsucker? Do you suck the fun out of something because you don't deem it to be educational or "good enough?" Have you ever stopped your kids (or yourself) from doing something that was fun because you felt you were having too much of it? Have you disallowed your child to do something goofy because you were afraid you might be embarassed? Did you ever stop a child from going to play in the rain (when there wasn't thunder or lightening) because you didn't want to deal with the mess later? Are homemade cookies too much of a bother? How about baking your own bread with your kids? Is a garden too much work? Have you ever been disappointed by a homemade card or gift and not seen the joy love and creativity that went into it?

If so then go to your local tattoo shop and have FUNSUCKER tattooed across your forehead.

Middle of a long hot summer

2006-08-01T07:35:00.000-07:00

It's August 1st. It's hurricane season. There is a tropical storm that is hovering south of Florida aiming (perhaps, though hopefully not) to the gulf. It feels like my life in some ways. This summer has been unbearably hot with little rain. A dry spell both figuratively and literally. It feels like we are just waiting for something to happen. A little refreshing rain, yet we wake each morning to another day of humidly high temperatures with little rain in sight. Yet it all seems in anticipation of a bigger worse storm on the horizon. Something big that will change the landscapes of our lives.

Lately I have felt that my unschooling support system has drained away slowly. Over the past two years I have watched my unschooling friends head off to more northern (and less hurricane-prone) areas of the country. Those that have stayed seem to have barricaded themselves in their homes and are no longer active. Yet, we, too, talk of moving off to less hurricane-prone areas. We are talking yet again about moving back to Oregon. Perhaps the coast. Perhaps the valley. Somewhere that is not here. Not in this horrible heat. Not in this are that seems forever sitting on the edge of destruction waiting to be sucked into the sea.

Meanwhile as I wait, I'm knitting again. I've got 3/4 of a pair of socks complete and am furiously working on a shrug to wear when I go places that have chilly temperatures (I'm talking movie theaters and restaurants not Oregon or Minnesota.) It's a fairly simple pattern but I keep knitting and knitting and knitting and can't seem to get to the end. The pattern is quite simple and I made it up myself. Using bulky yarn and size 15 needles, cast on 32 stitches and connect in round. K1P1 ribbing for an inch and a half or so. Increase 1 stitch every 4 stitches by making one. Knit one row then increase every 4 stitches again. Knit another row then increase yet again. You can increase as much or as little as you wish until you get it as wide as you want (ye with skinny arms may not wish to increase as much). Then knit until you have your sleeve as long as you want. I made mine 3/4 length sleeves. Then knit in stockinette stitch (going back and forth, not around any longer) until it reaches across your back and will fit comfortably around your arm again. Rejoin the circle and continue knitting until you have a matching length sleeve then decrease oppositely of your increases, do an inch or so of ribbing and bind off and work in your two ends. I'm actually thinking of doing something to the back like some ribbon work or something. I'm using a fairly fuzzy yarn from JoAnn (some black something with fuzz whiffs throughout in multicolors). I'll look at the label later and post what kind it is. It's going to take about 4 balls of yarn to complete.

The next natural step

2006-05-04T08:27:00.000-07:00

When I had my babies, I read all the "right books" that had so many opposing viewpoints. Yet the one unifying theme was that mothers needed to learn to trust their hearts and follow their babies' cues. And by my third child I had finally, I suppose, gotten to that point. I no longer obsessed because he didn't walk by a certain time, that he was still frequently nursing after 2 years of age, that his speech patterns were "delayed." He was doing things in his time. I had learned that children will walk, talk, jump, and wean when they are ready and I followed my children's leads in those things.

But then school happened? It dawned on me recently how unschooling is a natural extension of child lead weaning. Why is it that we take a child that we have given the freedom of leading and suddenly give them tons of rules and restrictions and force them into artificial models of society? We've trusted that our children will wean when they are ready, but we force arbitrary mathematics on them. We've allowed a child to independently move into his own bed, but now he must learn to read when we tell him. We've honored our child by giving her the freedom to move through her world at her speed but we take that away when we throw them into modern learning systems. Suddenly we don't trust our children to learn the things that they need to learn when they need to learn them. What kind of message is that? How sad for our children to suddenly have the freedom of world exploration taken from them!

Rain

2006-04-26T07:23:00.000-07:00

There used to be a time when I enjoyed rain. I looked forward to soaking showers and spending the day lounging around the house being soothed by the rain. Dark drizzly days were an invitation to get lost in a book or create in my studio. Thundering nights with wild lightening shows were cause to snuggle deeper into the covers and slumber peacefully. Ah, the joy of a good rain.

Then my bedroom flooded. This was just about a year ago this week. We had 17+" of rain in less than 24 hours last April and the addition to our house (which houses my bedroom) flooded. Since then it has flooded 3 more times, including during Hurricane Dennis last year. So now anytime we get more than an "afternoon thunderstorm" I fear for my room. Part of the problem came when new construction was done behind our house and the land was elevated much higher than our property. Our property was compromised because of this. We put in French drains around the back side of the house last year, but aside from Dennis (which dumped 20 something inches) it hasn't truly been tested.

I yearn so much for the days when I found rain comforting instead of evoking fear and panic!

Tangled mess!

2006-04-11T09:13:00.000-07:00

I've been knitting on my "odd little bag of striped blues with some sort of interesting Celtic knotwork intarsia." It's been going fairly well and it has kept my interest as it is more than just row after row of knit knit knit knit knit. So last night I picked it up to work on and realized that I had started a round one stitch off. No problem. I back up the 20 or so stitches I had started and begin again. I work about 8 rounds and look down and there is no interesting Celtic knotwork. It's a band of mess! I count each round out and verify with the pattern that I did each round correctly. So why didn't the 5th band look like bands 1-4? Then it dawns on me. I was holding my pattern UPSIDE DOWN! Not only that but I think I actually turned in around again at some point. So I get to take out 9 rounds of knitting and try to make sense of this pattern.

Life sort of feels like that sometimes. You are going along merrily thinking that everything is fine and you look behind you to see a huge train wreck behind you. Not only that but you were the cause of this train wreck even though you never intended it or consciously did anything to cause the train wreck. You were just taking life as it came and it seemed to be free of stress and worry and then BAM! train wreck in your review mirror. With knitting it is easy to fix those train wrecks. It's just yarn and time so you rip it out (or frog as knitters say - rip it rip it rip it). Life isn't so easy to fix. There are usually people involved and emotions and feelings and egos and esteem. You carefully try to make amends but sometimes it just makes the train wreck worse.

I hope you have a train wreck free week!

Wisteria Pathways

2006-04-04T06:32:00.000-07:00

The wisteria is blooming! The air is scented with the luscious fragrance of a sweetness so pure that it puts roses and hyacinth to shame. It isn't an overwhelming fragrance like jasmine or honeysuckle. It's a light sweet fragrance. The kind you have to think to find with your nose. It doesn't hit you as you walk out of the house but eventually you recognize it. Wisteria is also very delicate. As the wind blows the tender petals are blown in the air and scatter along the ground like a bride's aisle. I love the beautiful light lavender path that leads me from my backdoor to my garden. It makes my world seem light and beautiful, like nothing can destroy that moment. That sweet fragrant beautiful moment.

I wish that wisteria bloomed more often and for longer.

Marigolds!

2006-03-31T08:57:00.000-08:00

When I went to water my garden this morning I noticed something new in one of the beds. Just a little speck of green! A marigold has finally popped its head out and this is so thrilling. These itty bitty specks of leaves managed to push their way up to the top of the soil to find the much needed sunlight! Life has sprung in my garden. Now my corn plants and pepper plant which were started indoors will have a little company! It gives me hope for my other little seeds. The tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots and basil that we planted last week and the nasturtiums, broccoli and watermelon that we planted this week. It means I'm doing something right. I'm seeing the "fruits" of my labor even though there is no fruit yet.

Odd knitting patterns are much like that. You know the kind of pattern that I am talking about. The ones that you truly can't visualize that what you are doing is going to create what the picture is. The ones where you just have to knit each row or set of stitches with the faith that the end product will be made from these odd collection of stitches. It can be daunting but fun.

And children are much like that. We do all these odd configuration of things to help them be who they will become. The only difference with children and plants is that there is no final picture of what they will be. When you plant a cucumber seed you know in a few months you will have cucumbers. You know when you start to knit a pair of socks that in a few days (or weeks or months) you will have a pair of socks. But with children, the only thing you know is that they will eventually (hopefully) be adults. But what kind of adults? Will they be astronauts or doctors or waitresses or teachers or mothers or Broadway singers? Will they be starving artists still living at home when they are 30? I don't believe it matters as long as they are happy and doing something that they love. It doesn't matter as long as they are reaching out of their seed casings and pushing up through the dirt to the sunshine. Whether they are beautiful like the marigolds or fruitful like the zucchini it doesn't matter as long as they keep reaching upward and growing!

Playing in mud

2006-03-30T06:04:00.000-08:00

We are growing a garden. It's fun. There comes a point in your life where you are told "You are too old to make mudpies. Come inside and do things your age." Personally I loved making mud pies. I loved the smell of wet dirt and how different dirt smelled differently. I remember the way the soil smelled in Spain and how it differed from the red clay in Florida. I loved the way the mud would slip between my fingers. How it would work into every crease and get under my fingernails giving me a reverse French manicure. I loved how it would quickly dry over and crack easily as I played with it and how I would need to continue to add more water to keep it flowing. Playing in the dirt made me feel alive, like I was part of the very earth itself. Yet oddly it also felt good to take a shower and feel the mud slipping off me as the hot water and soap bubbles cleansed my skin and returned me to my normal skin.

And I am forty and again playing in the mud. There is something refreshing and alive about going outside each day and gently watering by hand each little section of my garden. Looking for any insects that might eat the tender shoots, counting the seedlings to see if they are all coming up properly, and picking out stray leaves and other debris that has blown in during the night. I like the way the compost smells. I can almost smell the life inside of it. I have pride in my corn which is only 3 inches tall and in the itty bitty shoots of green coming up in the areas designated for cucumbers, tomatoes and carrots.

The truly fun part is sharing this with my children. My son dreams of all the food he is going to make with the produce we are growing. He looks up recipes for brocolli and carrots and ponders how cucumbers that we grow are going to taste in comparison to the cucumbers from the store. My middle child is more curious about how the seeds are growing. How exactly does a stalk of corn grow from one little kernel that was all dried up and shrivelled? How could something that seemingly lifeless spring up out of the ground and create a plant that we are going to be able to harvest actual corn that we are going to be able to eat. This mystery of life is almost too big for her to understand. And then there is my impatient oldest child. The one that is ready to harvest. Yet even in her haste to get to the end she is enjoying the daily tasks of watering and tending to the plants.

It's a beautiful garden full of rich compost and divided into neat little squares with string. The soil warms in our Florida sun and fills the air with the scent of fresh earth. Our sad yard which still has uprooted pine stumps from hurricane Ivan now looks like it has life again! And I once again have dirt under my nails and feel childlike again in my amazement of simple dirt.

Eventually......

2006-03-23T07:09:00.000-08:00

I do get around to posting new entries. Since my last post I have managed to finish knitting and felt my odd bag of sorts. Somewhere in the felting process the handle twisted and is off-center from the rest of the bag. I'm planning on cutting the straps and resew them in some fashion to make it more useable. Although I'm still not sure what I am going to use it for. It may just become a yarn bag, although I have thought of taking it shopping with me in lieu of using more plastic bags. Hmmmm. I figure it out eventually.

On the needles currently I have a soon-to-be-felted bag that will have Celtic knotwork bands in blue running around it. I'm planning on making it with a square mitered bottom, but haven't gotten that far. Right now it is just a short fat tube of squiggles. I also have a pair of socks in some self-patterning sock yarn that was in my stash. Just needed something for my hands to do and wanted a new pair of hand knit socks.

Eventually there will be photos to go with all these posts!

My current eventual project - the bag!

2006-03-01T05:20:00.000-08:00

I have this bag I'm working on. It's made from leftover wool from a previous bag project that I felted earlier this year. I decided to make it BIG! I've been knitting on this thing for about 2 months and it just never seems to get to the end. I have no real pattern in mind. Just endless rounds of knit knit knit knit knit knit. It's BORING! I can knit it in my sleep. I can knit it while watching tv. I can knit it while discussing with one of the kids how photosynthesis works or how the ozone layer filters light. But no matter how much I knit I never seem to get to the end of this project! UGH! What drive me up the wall is I'm anxious to be done so that I can felt the darn thing. I'm ready for the end process and stuck in the middle. I suppose I will get there eventually!

The Eventual Knitter

2006-02-27T07:52:00.000-08:00

I struggled for a long time on what to call my blog. I knit. It's a fact. Not an addiction (although some would argue that point), not a fad (I've been knitting for too long for it to be a fad and I was kintting before it was a fad), and not a whim (whim's don't cost this much money or expend this much thought.) I realized that I had an ever growing list of items that I wanted to knit. All those things that I would get to "eventually." Thus was born the Eventual Knitter. It's simple. It's descriptive. It's me. Eventual.

And yes (before anyone asks) I was one of the over 4,000 people who participated in the Knitting Olympics begun by the Yarn Harlot. And yes (because no one will probably ask) I did complete my goal. I was one of the many Michelle's who was knitting socks. Not only that but I also managed to make another pair of socks for a friend and cast on, knit, and frog 9 rows, 3 times a hat for my daughter. It currently resides as a ball of beautiful peacock green yarn and a handful of beads. Eventually I will tackle this project again.