Blogging definitely works better when one does it more often, I think. Sort of like knitting, which is a thing that Ariann is teaching me. Knitters I knit with in Roswell are probably snickering, as this past Sunday, I announced my burning desire to frog Ms. Ariann and walk away from her. But I felt like I needed to check with Chris, first, and Chris is busy with many things on her plate, and shouldn't be called upon to make critical decisions about Ariann right now, so I knit on. And on. Admittedly, my problems with this sweater come when I pick it up and knit awhile and then put her down for days on end. Ariann is a harsh mistress, and wants my full attention. So, even though one day I love the candy pink, and the next day it makes me want to puke, or scratch my eyes out, I am trying to serve her well. While ignoring the come-hither calls of some Noro Kureyon and the Maine Morning Mitts pattern, or the beckoning of Swallowtail shawl in some Schaefer Ann...Ariann owns me now. But I post no pictures of her, as you will only feel sorry for me, when you see what minimal progress I have made, after my one-step-up-two-steps-back phase of last week. Suffice to say, I am not burning up the needles on this project, and it's not Bonnie Marie's fault, either.
Fall is here, and it's cold. Low sixities in the daytime, rain, or feeble sun. Low 50's at night, necessitating closed windows, and a fleece blanket on the bed. Leaves remain mostly green around here, but acorns are falling, and the squirrels are working themselves up into a frenzy. Someone asked me if I'd seen kudzu here, and what did I think of it? I'm stunned by it, by how much of it there is, (and I don't really think GA is deep kudzu country, is it?) It seems to grow on the edge of the forested areas, so it must like sun, and it makes these fantastic sculptural shapes of the trees. Leaves appear in a triad, which upon first viewing, caused me a big panic, when I thought it was a new kind of poison ivy. Closer inspection revealed that while the real poison ivy grows around here, this wasn't it.
I wonder when it was introduced? I think it must have been post-Civil War, and imagine that Sherman didn't see it, as he rolled over Atlanta. I don't especially like it, think it's invasive as all hell, but it does form graceful curtains down from some of our taller trees in the meadow by Nancy Creek.
Unemployment continues, in spite of my efforts, and I'm trying to cheerfully accept this time in my life, knowing that when I start teaching again, I'll feel my ass being worked off, and recall fondly this down time. The long-awaited depression came rolling in last week, and greeted me like an old friend, which, in fact, it was. I'd been expecting it this time, though, and it didn't hit me like a train, but merely caused me to up my quantity of St. John's Wort, lengthen my dog walks and try and keep the house a little cleaner. Which is kind of a "fake it til you make it" approach, but it can work, given patience and perseverance. Wearing my handknit sweaters has helped immensely, I have to say. Another reason to keep grinding away on my harsh mistress, I guess.
I've found myself in a fair number of skirmishes, recently, not all of them my fault, or so I would like to believe. One of them happened on Facebook, as I made a political comment, which provoked a firestorm-y rant from someone whom I shouldn't have friended, because I've also been the subject of her religious rants in the past. I tried to play it down, but for a few days, it really bothered the hell out of me. This person tends to run off at the mouth, and is quite conservative, politically and religiously. She lived down the hall from me in college, when we were both young and silly and while not friends, she was a good acquaintance, who dated a guy I knew and liked. When she appeared on friends' lists, I friended her, having no real reason not to. Or so I thought. Now? not so sure I want to read her ranting and scolding. Yes, we agree to disagree, but lets do it respectfully and try not to involve too much of our personal bitter baggage, no?
When I drew the 9 of swords tarot card today, it hit me that I'd been torturing myself unnecessarily over this interchange. Self-flagellation is not pretty, is it? Nice to be reminded that I am, in spite of worries about what people think, my own spiritual (in a loose use of the term) authority in this world. Again, tarot to the rescue, in unexpected ways. I'm reminded that I hold the tools to break through a lot of what's been bothering me, in the form of meditation, reiki, yoga, and general spiritual pursuits. More time at the altar, and less time on frakkin' facebook are what's called for in my life, I'm well aware.
Felicity is done, and loved. I teeter on the brink of gifting her, and fight the temptation to knit numerous other smalls, but for today, I wear her.
Yes, my cheeks are chipmunky in this picture, aren't they? I like it, though, as it seems to show a smug satisfaction in having knitted such a fabulously simple hat.
It sounds like DisKnit is thinking of leaving The Knitted Brow, to pursue writing elsewhere. I hope she drops by with a farewell post, but who can say? She has a lot on her plate, too.
I am reading The Knitter's Book of Yarn, and it is a fabulously informative book, full of technical information about different yarns, and how they get from animal or plant to knitted garment, and the qualities and taxonomy of yarn in general. There are nice patterns in the book, as well, and more than a few smalls to tempt me, like so many knitting bonbons...