This picture is about 10 months old... but the hat Emily's Liam is modeling is the same design I plan to knit for the Yarlot's latest cause.
I've been knitting on the sly as much as possible...which resulted in a dropped stitch that I didn't even notice until 2 and 1/2 inches later... no option but to rip out and do over. But since I enjoy knitting, that means I double the fun, right? :-)
A visit to the phenomenal Eiteljorg Museum of Native American Art (behind the reindeer sculpture) - I would come back to Indianapolis just to see this museum again...
Tree was not doing so well last year but this Spring put out a lot of lovely new growth and is thriving! It needed a full turn of seasons to adjust to being outdoors I guess.
Yesterday Suzzette, Gretchen, Iris and I made handmade paper out of random things lying around the house (well, not so random - I took a papermaking class a couple years ago and had a lot of materials left over). This is some of the paper we made.
100% cotton yarn; I have found that intarsia (the technique used to make the blue heart) works much better than stranded Fair Isle style knitting for incorporating color with cotton yarn. Intarsia gives you a much smoother result - of course it limits what you can do, but it also saves yarn! I had maybe one yard of the orange left over at the end, so intarsia works well for extending the yarn you have to work with (Dot, the darker blue diamond in the scarf I knit for you is intarsia as well).
Main topic:
I was thinking about sadness the other day, and wondering in terms of brain chemistry why do humans experience this feeling? How is sadness or grief a survival trait? Terry thinks it is a function of our capacity to hypothesize, or to imagine different realities; he read some article about how the ability to anticipate things that have not yet happened is a survival trait related to pattern recognition. If the hunter can anticipate the movements of the beast, it is more likely to come home with a kill than not. The hunter's experiences over time build up to a recognition of certain patterns in underbrush and spoor; thus he can successfully imagine a reality that he is not directly experiencing.
Trouble is, I can imagine realities in which Aaron (Solana's dad) is alive, in which I have a child of my own - and now, not years from now! and this capacity to imagine corresponds to a capacity for sadness that can be hard to bear sometimes. Which brings me back to the original question - what is the point of sadness? What is the purpose? Why do humans experience grief? Ultimately, of course, what I am demanding is an accounting for why I must experience grief and sadness - I'm just good at intellectualizing these things. Maybe that's a survival trait in itself.
It's all over but the buttons. I don't think I can bear to part with this prettiest of soft wool sweaters, knit in Tahki yarns' "Shannon" (my own design). This one goes in the hope chest :-).
Twice in the past five days I have gotten quite teary-eyed while at work; once while talking with a solid gold volunteer and realizing that I won't be here when he comes back at the end of the summer, and again today while looking at pictures of the end-of-the-year party for our Latino High School Bigs. This pilot project was a scary new thing for me, a new thing for our agency, and a bit of a risk - but it paid off beautifully. What this means to me is concrete accomplishment of the vision I had when coming into this job - to see Latino young people coming forward as mentors and volunteers, demonstrating that to be Latino does not automatically mean poverty and need, that this community is a resource and source of goodness, and for the kids, that you can be Latino and be a good role model, not a gang member or wannabe. These volunteers show such leadership. And the kids have benefitted so much! The little girl in red was so shy and in her shell at the beginning of the year, and look at her now! So I'm getting all soppy and sentimental here; the vitality and joy of this group is so beautiful. And I won't be here in the Fall to see the next group coming through. I know I'll be back, but I just had this moment of sadness mixed with joy while looking at these photos.
Another day, another sock :-) I have a bad habit of losing yarn labels, but I can tell you it's a wool blend that feels like cotton. I am using the chevron pattern from Charlene Schurch's book. Yesterday Terry and I drove to Staunton - it's only a half hour away! I had never been before! - for an afternoon date; it was really fun. Of course I felt a smidge guilty for neglecting work, but, well, the puppy needed a walk :-)
In addition to re-organizing my entire yarn stash (and throwing away several handfuls of bits and pieces of yarn each less than a foot long - exactly what did I think I was going to use those for???), sewing buttons and "Solana Sweater" labels on these three sweaters, blocking another Solana Sweater (not pictured), and nearly finishing my Ringed Fang Socks (soon to be fangless), I also thought a lot about ripping back knitting, and why I don't really mind it so much.
Last night I came home very very very very very very very very very very very very very grumpy... a combination of having more work to do than I thought I should have this week, and less logistical support from a certain person (no one in this office) than I thought I should have this week. Plus, after nearly finishing the leg of the second Ringed Fang Sock, I discovered that I had cast on 4 stitches fewer on the mate than I did on the original... GRRR! I tossed the pair scornfully aside and began work on another pair.
Last year my brother-in-law, Aaron Kane, died at the age of 30 of unknown causes. The grief is still too fresh to say too much here. One way that I have found to soothe the sadness is by knitting baby sweaters. When Solana, Aaron's daughter, was born on September 13, 2004, I knitted up a storm of little sweaters and discovered the fun of making small things - an excellent venue for experimenting with color, texture, and design. They're small, so you finish fast :-) When we lost Aaron, I had this brainstorm to knit and sell baby sweaters to get a little income for Solana; the additional benefit has been the venue for expressing my love and grief in yarn. So far I have made 11 sweaters and 3 hats (the hats were commissioned by my cousin Reuben), sold this one to Tara, and sent the rest to the Farmer's Market with Tracey. I even ordered little tags that say "Solana Sweaters." It only took me 13 months to actually get this project going... but every stitch was made with love. And every cent goes to Solana.
