New Knitter Gettin' the Bug

I taught my friend Shelley how to knit last week, and she's steadily stitching along on a baby blanket for her neice. She's doing very well, really, and I like that I have someone new I can yammer to about all the things I've learned, all the things I think I've learned, and all the things I wonder about with respect to yarn and needles and knitting. So far she doesn't seem annoyed. I think I might be approaching that threshold though, so I'm trying to pace myself. However, I believe she has sufficiently caught the bug, as she has already begun weighing going to sleep at a reasonable hour against "just one more row."

On my knitting front, I've started the Angelina cardigan that will hopefully look something like this when finished (the bottom picture in white).



I know this will take me a very long time to accomplish. For instance, the pattern begins with a needle full of stitches that you are instructed to work in 2x2 ribbing for approximately 3.6 miles. Approximately. So far I've got five inches.

It's been very nice to work on, though. I've been using cotton for so many of my recent projects that I had forgotten what it was like to knit with a nice soft merino wool that has a lot of give to it. I like the cotton yarns, of course, and for those bright pretty dishcloths they are a necessity, but this wool is so stretchy and soft that it feels luxurious just to have it running through my fingers while I knit it.

Of course, this knitting has only been happening when I'm inside--with the happy air conditioning. Not outside, where it reached flingin'-flangin' hot degrees this weekend and wool is entirely uncalled for.

I am a blogger

Hey Katie, your blog is now fixed you Albanian haberdasher.

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I Made a Sock

And it fits!

And it has a mate!

And they both match my steering wheel cover!

That's what happens when you have extra yarn :)

A Deeper Well

When I first moved to Nashville and away from my friends and family, virtually alone for the months before I began to make new friends, I decided to figure out some of the things I truly, of my own desire, liked. Not things I liked because it was what I was exposed to at home, or liked because it was what a lot of my friends were into, but just what I liked. I am easily swayed by the masses, so while I had some general dislikes, there was a lot of gray area that just fell into the category of “sure, I like it all right.”

So I rented movies and listened to music and read books--and refused to get anyone else’s opinion about any of it until I formed an opinion myself. I took a new look at things both obvious and relatively obscure. And I discovered the types of music I could get lost in, some authors who change the way I think about things, and some wonderful movies--as well as some genuinely boring movies, some songs I didn’t feel anything in, and some books that I didn’t even bother to finish.

And it felt freeing. It felt nice not to take anyone else’s opinion into consideration. And once I found a few things I discovered I genuinely liked, I found similar artists and works and tried those out as well. And I liked finding things that were truly me, rather than me trying to fit a certain mold--a Franklinton mold, an all-things-obviously-and-only-Christian mold, whatever.

During that time, one of the albums I discovered that I truly liked was Emmylou Harris’s Wrecking Ball. I loved the haunting sound of the music, her beautiful voice, the ache in those words. I kept it in my CD player for weeks, and during one day of one of those weeks my Grandma’s health took a serious turn. She had suffered a stroke long before that, and had not really been herself for a while, but now we found she was dying.

In the course of the few weeks left of her life I listened to that album countless times. I listened to its songs of death and heartache and longing for another world--a world beyond our flesh and blood and pain. And it all seemed a fitting accompaniment for those last days. In life she had been a creative spirit--a painter, quilter, knitter, poetry-lover. She had been a Christian who meant it--who loved unconditionally and took care of people. She had been a baby-sitter when I was sick, she came to all my dance recitals, she gave me five dollars as Fair money every October, she made biscuits without measuring anything, and she always reached her arms out to hug me when I walked in the door--even when I was a rather sullen teen who wasn’t terribly easy to love. And though she was now somewhat changed from the way we had known her, I knew somewhere inside her, she still longed for what those songs spoke of--the body made whole, the world away from pain.

When she did pass away from this world, I drove down to Franklinton for the funeral. Alone in my car I listened to the album again, and I remembered her the way she was and now would be again.

During my lunch hour yesterday I took a walk along the streets of Nashville, where people were streaming in for a music festival in town this week, and as a car with its windows rolled down sat at a red light, I heard two lines from that album filter out into the day:

Found I had a thirst that I could not quell
Lookin' for the water from a deeper well

And though she died years ago, I’m there again, remembering the childhood my Grandma was such a part of, wondering at what lies beyond this world.

Second Chances

In addition to more of the dishcloth-knitting, I've begun a scribble lace scarf with teeny-tiny black crochet cotton and a ribbon yarn that was taken out of my stash, a remnant of a rather ill-fated project from many moons ago. So the yarn is finding its second chance here.

And in other second chances, here's the beginning of my second attempt at sock-knitting. The yarn is Cascade Fixation cotton, which I imagine will be nice for summer, and also it is very stretchy in case I screw up again. And since it's an ankle-length sock, it won't take as long to find out if it's another disaster. See that turned heel? Nice.

What Did I Eat?

Well, since you asked (and I’ll try to do the food justice with my descriptions), we started with some good strong red wine and an appetizer of smoked duck and gnocchi. Then, my entree was the best salmon I’ve ever had in my life. The chef does very creative combinations of seasonings, so it’s hard to describe what it tasted like except to say that it was a good mix of spicy, peppery flavors and sweet flavors that just tasted really good. It came with side dishes of curried snow peas and cinnamon jasmine rice. Oh, so good. Chris had a steak with blue cheese, spinach, and tomatoes. His was very good too (birthday girl gets to taste everybody’s food—personal rule I have). Then we had the Toll House Tart for dessert—like a tall, melty chocolate chip cookie with homemade cinnamon ice cream. It was a really great meal! Definitely a special occasion place, but such excellent food.

And thanks to Sarah's hint I found the bathroom without any help. It's the one with the Barbie doll by the door, FYI.