Who you callin' a dummie?

By God, they DO make Blogging for Dummies! The Amazon angels are winging one my way even as we speak. The internet is a wonderful thing. (much easier to work than the thermostat!)

The Perils of Modern Technology

Well readers (or should I say reader, singular? Wouldn't want to be accused of self-aggrandizement.) last night I hit a new low in techno-incompetence. After figuring out how to make a virtual me and a virtual pet; after successfully using the Edit HTML feature, I thought I was hot stuff. Meet the new techno-wiz in town! No blinking 12:00 on my VCR, nosiree Bob! (sideline: Why Bob? Why not Fred? Or in the interest of gender equality - Hey! It worked for hurricanes - Irene?)

I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, never ever let him forget he's a man (honestly, who would forget that!) What I can't do, apparently, is figure out how our new programmable thermostats work.

Got back from celebrating Nick's birthday with three of his nearest and dearest at Bazbeaux Pizza about 10:00 last night. I was knitting and watching the news (oh alright, I was watching the finale of Shear Genius. Happy?) and I was sweating all over my Seasilk. When I looked at the thermometer in my studio it read 80 degrees. I know people don't usually have thermometers inside their house, but my husband got it for me because he got tired of answering the question of menopausal women everywhere: "Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?"

I put my hand over the register and the air was tepid - not good. I kicked the cat off my lap, hauled myself out of my knitting chair (also my reading and television watching chair,) looked at the thermostat and saw that it was set for 78 degrees and currently reading 79. Looked reasonable, so I goosed it down by a couple degrees, figuring there was a balance problem between the old section of our house and the newer addition. More knitting. More sweating. No cold air.

I turned it down to 74. Still no cold air. I walked outside and listened for the whir of the unit. No whir. Not good. I wiggled the circuit breakers. Nothing. I prepared myself for breaking the bad news to my husband that, even though we are but weeks away from listing the house, we may have to spring for a new A/C unit (current one is vintage - 22 years - ah yes, 1985 was a very good year.)

Husband walked upstairs from the basement where he had been working, walked over to the thermostat, removed the cover, and moved the little button from Off to Cool. Husband looked at me in disbelief.

I think I'll stick to complicated lace patterns. Easier to figure out.

Go ahead and laugh. I know you want to.

Nobody puts Baby in the corner

Today my baby is twenty years old! Almost an adult! (isn't it funny how they keep getting older while we stay just the same? Har har!)

I wish I had my digital camera so I could show you his first picture (not counting the ultrasound in utero shot.) My husband took it when Nicholas was 30 seconds old. Dr. Fisch held him up, said, "It's a boy," and my husband (bless his heart) picked up the camera and took one shot with available light. The picture is stunning, really. I promise to post it later this week.

So Baby isn't a baby any more (sigh!) But today he officially leaves the teen age years (Thank God!) These past seven years have been full of worry, anger, difficulties, and sometimes harsh words, but they have also been full of hope, growth, excitement, promise, and love that passeth all understanding.

Both my boys have provided plenty of grist for the mill that is my soon to be published book on the soulful parenting of teenagers, but Nick is the one who "field-tested" the concepts and practices outlined in the book. Couldn't have done it without him.

I love you to pieces, baby boy, even if I'm only allowed brief hugs these days, instead of jammy-fingered hand holding and earnest eskimo kisses.

So here, for you, (whom no one would DARE put in a corner!)is a letter I wrote a few years back (edited and updated for privacy's and pertinence's sake.)Maybe you won't get why I'm dredging up this old chestnut, but to me it seems just as timely as when I first wrote it.

Besides what did you expect? I'm a writer. It's what I do.

Dear Nicholas,

As I write this letter, I am seated on the porch. The sun is shining, the fan whirs its soft hum in the background, and the air lies warm and heavy upon my shoulders. This is the natural world, untouched by human air-conditioning (although moved by artificial breeze. – thank God!) Somehow I feel closer to the heart of things when I can breathe outdoor air, more in touch with our world and what truly matters in it. So perhaps this is the right place to think upon the challenges you have overcome in the past, you continue to struggle with in the present and no doubt will carry with you into your future.


We are often at odds these days, and there is considerable strain in our household; We do not live in a “Father Knows Best” world (much as your dad would like to think so), nor can I channel June Cleaver, put on my apron and pearls, whip up a batch of brownies, meet my family at the door with a cheerful, “How was your day, dear?” and remain confident of a perfect outcome (within 30 minutes.) Oh, if it were only that simple! But I remain confident of the power of love to overcome all strife, and trust in God to somehow lead us through the darker passages of our mutual life into the light of true communion.

You will not always be 20 and struggling to attain your freedom; we will not always be “50”ish and worried about your safety and degree of wisdom. Our struggle to rein you in and your chafing at the bit are all part of the eternal cycle in which the young grow up and then away, to begin their own lives, apart from the parents who still love them, still worry about them, and still wish they were there to tuck safely into bed each night.

When you were just a “little peanut” as your Grandma Barbara called you, I would hold you close and stroke your fair hair, call you my angel baby, count my blessings, and wonder who you would become and what you would do with your life. And how I could help you to become the man I knew you could be. To love what is good, to do what is right, to live with truth and honor.

Someday you will have children and then you will understand how a parent’s heart beats in tandem with their child’s. This is why I get upset; this is why I care; this is why my heart grieves when you are in pain and leaps when you succeed.

I know it feels like you are endlessly old and wise at the ripe old age of twenty. You are teetering on the edge of the nest, testing your wings, longing for the day when you can fly the coop. This is as it should be.

Your teen years have been difficult and tumultuous, as you struggled with your personal demons to find your inner light. You are in the process of discovering your own truth of who you are, and why you are here. And that's a great thing.

I believe we are all part of the divine, here to bring about God’s kingdom on earth, in the fullness of time – the fruition of love. You will find your own beliefs and your own way of expressing them, but I encourage you to remember your mission, remain true to yourself, and establish each day upon the firm footing of your ultimate purpose. Let your life speak.

True peace and joy comes from discovering “where your deep longing meets the world’s great need” and then following your calling. We are here to help each other; we are here to serve God; we are here to learn to “bear the beams of love.”

Friends and loved ones will leave us, jobs will come and go, youth is fleeting, and gratification is always temporary. But the deep sense of calling and purpose, of making a difference in our world, if nurtured and guided will always provide meaning to your life.

As I cross myself,I say, “I – Not I – Christ in Me.” I can make a difference; but not to myself or for my benefit alone; I can serve as God’s eyes and ears and hands upon this earth.

As you make your own way through life, I urge you to pause, listen to the voice within, and heed its wisdom. It has never failed me and I know it will see you through, no matter what life sends your way.

Put yourself out there; dare to try; seeing if your grasp exceeds your reach. You may surprise yourself. The world lies before you in endless variety; make a resolution to make a difference in it, whether that difference is as large as “saving the world” or small as “ saving one person.” Either way, in so doing you will save yourself. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord. Thanks be to God.

Love always,
Mom

Rebirth

Many have heard;
Few have seen
the world that lives beyond the pale
of thoughts and dreams
and nightmares -
The fragile fact behind the face
of now, and then, and whatever -
The unseen branded deep
within the known -
Enfleshed in truth and fire.
“What’s up?” he asks
and I reply.
We exist in this world.
But we live
in a place called
Hope.

-Susan Pandorf 2005

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a match

Don't know why I'm writing, if no one is reading, but will assume that eventually someone will find me. (Not sure if that is cause for celebration or abject panic!) Have noticed already that these posts seem to take on the character of shorthand diary entries or missives stuffed into bottles and thrown out into the surf in hopes that someone will find them. Perhaps, in the interest of promoting good writing habits, I should include pronouns?

I know from my own surfing, that everybody wants pictures. My family gave me an IOU for a digital camera for Mommy's day, so I promise pictures as soon as I figure out what kind to get. It has to cost around $100. Any suggestions out there? Hello? Anybody?

Third step today. I joined the Knitting Blog ring (all by myself, with no help - my mother would be so proud.) I also ventured my URL out onto a couple comments. I actually told someone about this experiment in self-flagellation, er, expression.

I promised details on Sheri's blog, so here goes.

What did I knit this weekend? I started three different projects and frogged two. (if you're keeping score, I'm up by one) Why the frogging? Well, I had a ski instructor who once told me, "You can't ski if you don't know how to fall and get up again." So I took the fall, and am glad for the opportunity to get up again.

The first yarn (drug) I wanted to use was four skeins of the softest lace weight cashmere from across the pond at Posh Yarn. The color is a bronze and soft green blend, like verdigris. It reminded me of the fronds on my bronze leaf fern in the back yard. First I tried the Forest Path Stole pattern, and the yarn looked gorgeous in the seed stitch border, but once I got to the entrelac lace sections, the yarn started striping. Shorter color runs will do that. So ribbit - rip it - frog that sucker and try, try again. Second effort was Kiri and after five pattern repeats, I am happy to report the marriage of yarn and pattern is complete. May they live in peace and harmony forever, world without end. Amen.

The second project in process this weekend was a shawl to go with my brown dress. The materials? Three lovely skeins of Handmaiden Sea Silk in the color Woodland, a beautiful blend of blue, green, and brown. First tried this color in the cobweb weight Silk Lace with Eunny Jang's Print of the Wave pattern, but the yarn was too fine to use at the proper gauge and the swatch at a smaller gauge looked too busy. The color change was too obvious. So I scrapped the Silk Lace and tried again with the slightly heavier Sea Silk and Anne's Wing o' the Moth pattern. Eureka! The YOs look like little leaves waving in the woods: just the effect I was going for.

Third project is (what else?) my first pair of Monkey socks! (Well, I did try the pattern once before on a self striping and hated the way it looked. Wound up scrapping the yarn altogether.) I wanted to knit with some of the Zen String Harmony to see how I liked it and whether it behaved as a nice sock should. The color is called Aloha, and Hawaii seems to me a perfect habitat for monkeys, so there you have it.

An interesting thing happened on the way to the instep. The yarn which formed shallow stripes in the ribbing, pooled into gigantic vertical pools of color once the pattern began. But I kind of like them that way. After all, when was the last time you saw a tame monkey? Aren't the trained ones sort of depressing? Go wild, my monkeys. Fly!

So all's well that ends well and I now have two shawls and a pair of monkeys to get off my needles. I now pronounce you yarn and pattern.

Life is good.

Two steps forward...

So this thing actually works! This is what you do on a quiet Monday evening when there's nothing on television worth watching. I'm sure I will get the hang of this in short order. I am a writer after all. And a soon to be published one at that (Go figure! It's amazing who they'll publish these days, isn't it?)

Of course, I wanted to name this thing "Purls Before Nine" (pearls before swine, get it?)but I accidentally typed in the wrong email address, couldn't figure out how to correct it and now Blogger tells me that name is not available (sigh!) Not a terribly auspicious beginning...

What can you expect here? A little knitting, a little philosophizing, and a lot of self-indulgence. (Hey, what are these things for?) If you like what you read, let me know. If you don't, then let me know that as well, but be kind to the newbie on the block. I'm just getting my legs under me, so to speak.

That's all for now. I have taken the first step into a new world. New challenges are exhausting. Think I'll turn in. More tomorrow. Contain your excitement.

Testing 1-2-3

Well, here I go...