We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Blog...

Gone to Michigan to hang out with the family. Back on the 30th, at which time I will answer the burning question:

How many Christmas gifts can you knit in a week and a half?

Later...

A Gift of Words

“I will give them one heart, and put a new spirit within them; I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a heart of flesh, so that they may follow my statutes and keep my ordinances and obey them. Then they shall be my people, and I will be their God.”
Ezekiel 11:19-20

As we approach the end of the all-important holiday shopping season touted widely as the remedy for the sluggish U.S. economy, we are egged on daily by television commercials that proclaim our need to “don't just give a gift; grant a wish” and radio ads, which tell us that “Every kiss begins with Kay.” Personally, I have a difference of opinion with the fine folks at the jewelry stores and Sears as to exactly what wishes need granting and where, precisely, the birthplace of love within the human heart might be located.

I don't know about you, but I feel the need every year about this time to press the pause button on the Christmas machine, and retreat for a quiet moment from the annual “mistletoe madness” - to gather my thoughts from the four corners of the mall where they are wont to wander. This year I find myself contemplating Ezekiel’s “one heart and new spirit.”

So many of us hope for God to place within us a “heart of flesh” to replace our “heart[s] of stone.” And many try to accomplish this feat throughout the busy holiday season, as if we could grow new hearts as easily as the ever-popular “Chia Pets” grow horticultural hair. Of course, we discard them just as quickly, once the season is past, the tinsel is forgotten, and the decorations are packed away for another year.

We are bombarded from all sides by “to do” lists and “wish” lists, and “Christmas card” lists – shopping lists and grocery lists and Santa’s ubiquitous “naughty and nice” list. We are exhorted to give generously, spend lavishly, bake prodigiously, entertain bounteously, and pursue that elusive thing known to all women everywhere (with dread in their hearts) as the “perfect family gathering.” And somewhere along the way, we lose sight of the simplicity of the season, which is the true blessing of the holidays.

Many of us live in such spiritual poverty the rest of the year that we try to cram an entire year’s worth of spiritual sustenance into one short month. We hustle and bustle, fret and fume, simmer and stir, plan and prepare, wrap and wrangle, decorate and do, until we want to cry with the lady in the now defunct Calgon ad, “Take me away!” Please! Instead, I say we take a page from John Lennon’s songbook and just “let it be.”

We need – I need – to stop; to slow down to the deliberate pace of a worn out donkey, to see clearly how easily the darkness in our hearts can mirror the depth of a starry night outside a country backwater in Judea; to hear the distant cries of a needy populace mingling with the angels’ triumphant song; to feel the bottomless fatigue of the refugee, carried deep in the bones of a tired pregnant girl; to taste the sharp, acrid worry of an uneducated carpenter who doesn’t know where he will lay his head that night or whether the child carried by his wife is even his to raise; to smell the sweet straw and earthy animal droppings which undercut the heady scent of frankincense and myrrh.

We need to look beneath the weary world, alight with forced gaiety and empty gifts, to find the “one heart” of love and the “new spirit” of hope. This gift is not to be found in any catalogue or store. It cannot be created with pipe cleaners and cookie dough. It is worth more than the most lavish fur coat or diamond earrings, and it costs us nothing we can earn, but all we have to offer.

This gift is contained in the beating heart of God, made fragile flesh in a wee, wailing infant so many long years ago in Bethlehem. Though the gift was given over two thousand years ago, it remains as fresh, as unsullied, and as newborn as our souls’ bright promise.

This gift is ours to keep, ours to treasure, to ponder, to pass on to those we love most deeply. This gift is ours to receive and ours to give back. This gift is blessed benediction.

Then we will grow new hearts for God to write upon. Then we will follow, keep, and obey. Then we shall be God’s people. And God will lead us home. To the place we never left.

*****************************

A dear friend of mine passed along one of his family's Christmas traditions to me some years ago. Every year, before opening their packages, his family would go around the room, one by one, and give each other what they called, "the gift of words," each telling in turn what he or she most appreciated about each family member during the course of the past year.

My family has carried on this tradition in our own family and it has become a cherished part of the holiday celebration, reminding us of the true blessings of family and the only gifts that really matter.

Don't write me off as a "Pollyanna." There was a year where the only positive thing I could think of to say about one person was how much I liked the smile that stretched from ear to ear. That was a tough year for our family. But even then, the glass was half full. And the tradition reminded me of that fact.

There have been many words this past year - more than most - as I moved further into a new calling as a writer and designer, and reaffirmed my old role as wife, mother, and knitter. To all of you who have read my words, pondered them in your hearts, laughed with me, enjoyed my (admittedly slightly skewed) vision of life in this 21st century, or shared my ideas and dreams of wooly bliss, I send my most profound thanks and my heartfelt wishes for a joyous holiday season, however you and your family choose to celebrate it.

Above all else, I wish you wholeness at all times , in all things.

Shalom.

I'm gonna be on "Socks in the City!"

Hello, fellow knitters! I just had an email from Carrie, asking if she could read my rewrite of “The Night Before Christmas” on her next episode.

Well…yeah!

I’ve never listened to a podcast. Any advice for a newbie? How do I go about listening?

I’m so-o-o-o excited!

Back to the workshop. Four Xmas projects down, four to go...

Do they allow elves in Gitmo?

DO NOT DISTURB...

ELVES AT WORK...

ALL SHALL BE REVEALED...

BUT NOT TODAY...

*No, I'm not being detained for hosting a subversive website...

YET...

*****************
If you are confused, read all posts with tag "delusion." And BTW: I have it on good authority that they do NOT allow elves...

Between the Dreaming and the Coming True...

There is a different quality to the morning light these snowy December days. How shall I describe it?

(Writers are always looking for just the right word. As Mark Twain once said, "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug.")

I guess I'd call it twilight.

I know, twilight refers to the ending of the day, not the beginning. But the otherworldly glow that rises off the snow at dawn (or close to it) resists my efforts to categorize it otherwise. I lie abed at seven something, open my eyes, and the room seems cast in silver and shades of gray - not hard like steel, or cold like ice, but rather the softer grays of fog and pussy willows.

And, like twilight, it is a between time. The day hovers upon the crest of morning, full of potential, of possibilities, of dreams. It is a pregnant pause before the business, or busy-ness, of life takes over.

It is a time to regather our thoughts from the far fields where they have been grazing overnight and shepherd them into the fold, where we can draw upon them throughout the day, whatever that day may bring.

Writer Robert Benson wrote a wonderful book, entitled, "Between the Dreaming and the Coming True." In it, he proposes that the space between those two alternatives is where we live the bulk of our lives.

It is hard to live life in that duality. But the truth is: we have little say in the matter.

We can fret at the person in front of us in the line at the post office; we can curse the little old man going 45mph.on the interstate; we can bemoan the amount of time (or lack thereof) between Thanksgiving and Christmas. But we are powerless to change it.

And how we deal with that dichotomy goes a long way towards determining the quality of our life experiences.

Creative people especially live in that twilight zone, that between space. With the freedom of a young child who has not yet learned to color within the lines, creative people bend, cross, ignore, or obliterate the boundaries that so many live their lives by.

Just because we haven't, doesn't mean we can't.

We are now living in the holy season of Advent, the beginning of the liturgical year. Contrary to our popular culture, where Christmas carols freely intermarry with Halloween ghosts and goblins, the church restricts Christmas to that period of time, so often sung about in The Twelve Days of Christmas, between Dec. 24th at midnight, which marks the moment of our Lord's birth, and Epiphany, which celebrates the arrival of three wise men from the East.

Until that night, we are in Advent, actively engaged in the process of waiting.

As I read around the blogosphere, many of us wait, as Mary did, for the birth of someone new. We mull over lists of baby names, wondering if this little person to be will be a Mary Kate or an Andrew Douglas. We clean out the extra bedroom to make room for the nursery. We attend birthing classes to ensure (or attempt to) a safe delivery for the newest member of the family.

We do more than wait. We prepare.

In our secular culture, at this time of year, waiting and preparing go hand in hand as well. We bake, we shop, we trim, we knit. We are VERY actively engaged in the process (some more than others.) And we wait. Like children, we count down the days. Like children, we are caught between the dreaming and the coming true.

We dream of chilblained hands that will be warmed by our mittens, of frozen ears that will be defrosted by our hats, of shivering shoulders that will be wrapped in our shawls, of cold feet that will be buried under our throws, of hardened hearts that will thaw in our love.

And we take up our needles and knit "the coming true."

Every day begins with a dream. And ends with the coming true.

Every piece of knitting begins with a dream. And ends with the coming true.

Every new birth begins with a dream. And ends with the coming true.

Every challenge begins with a dream. And ends with the coming true.

Every life (even Jesus') begins with a dream.

Every life (even Jesus') ends with the coming true.

And what we do within that moment's hush, in that split second when it all hangs in the balance, while our eyes and hearts adjust, between the dreaming and the coming true...

makes all the difference.

***************************

Many of my projects linger in the twilight these days as I rush towards await and prepare for the holiday.

This one included.

But I am giving it to you anyway, even though it still languishes on my needles, and is likely to do so until after Christmas.

BECAUSE it still languishes on my needles, and is likely to do so until after Christmas.

This has been a wonderful year for me. And all of you are a big part of that something wonderful.

And so, without further ado, I present the "Shhhh! It's a SOCKRET!" scarf.

Ah, yes, those two little words that are to knitters as catnip is to cats:

FREE PATTERN!!!

I was intending on blocking this little snippet of lace, but something unexpected happened between the dreaming and the coming true.

Bumps.

Nifty-little-pebbly-rustic-sort-of-natural-looking...

Bumps.

And I saw the bumps and called them good.

Feel free to block if you like. This will get you a perfectly flat scarf.


Me? I like the ripples...

And the slight bias slant the scarf take son in its unblocked state...

And the way the edges curl up a bit...

But that's me. You may be different...

"SOCKRET" SCARF

Materials: one skein (400yds.) sock or fingering weight yarn. Use a space dyed or semi solid unless you want it to stripe and pool. (I used Araucania Ranco Multi in 03 Aztec.), US size 4 needles

Gauge: Approx. 6 stitches to an inch (unblocked)

Cast on 43 stitches. Work as follows:

Row 1: (ws) and all subsequent odd rows: Purl
Rows 2 & 4: Knit 1, *Knit 2, YO, SK2togP, YO, Knit 1; repeat from * to end.
Rows 6 & 8: Knit 2 together, *YO, Knit 3, YO, SK2togP: repeat from *to last five stitches, end YO, Knit 3, YO, SSK.
Rows: 10 & 12: Knit 1, *YO, SK2togP, YO, Knit 3; repeat from * to end.

Repeat this twelve row pattern until desired length or your yarn runs out (about 50 inches.) Bind off.

And that's all she wrote (literally.)





Enjoy!


I know I will...

Today

I had a brief moment of panic last night, when I realized that it is just a little over a week until Christmas and:

• I've yet to bake a cookie
• I haven't got a tree in a bucket of water in the garage, let alone in the living room, decorated within an inch of its life, screaming, "Martha Stewart, Martha Stewart!"
  
• I've barely scratched the surface of my Christmas list
• I've sent no cards, wrapped no presents, knit no gifts

In other words, I'm W-A-A-A-A-Y-Y-Y-Y behind.

It is all too easy this time of year to lose sight of today in our frantic rush towards tomorrow. We wildly knit across our lives, then turn and hurriedly purl back, only to reach the end...

• of our day
• of our list
• of our patience
• of our energy
• of our rope

Before we turn and start all over again, trusting that somehow, if we just keep going, the perfect Christmas will fall off our needles and into our lap.

But not me.

Not this time.

Not this Christmas.

Not this year.

Because, in giving to others, I have discovered the biggest gift of all.

And that gift is today.

************************

Sometime in mid October, I was discouraged because I had lost my 25th subscriber on Bloglines. I wondered if this blog I was writing was worth my time, let alone my readers'.

If I had any.

I worried that in this overcrowded and sometimes overwhelming world, I wasn't making a dent.

Or even a hiccup.

So I did what I always do: sublimate and bury the doubts under a pile of snarky humor. And run a contest to see who could guess the day and time I would regain that magic number: 25. I promised 25 items to the winner, with really no idea what I would send. I just hadn't thought that far ahead.

And it took me all the way to Thanksgiving before I regained that twenty-fifth reader. To paraphrase Jimmy Durante, "Thank you Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are."

Tiennie was my closest guesser. Now I had to decide what to send.

Now folks, I have enough stash to knit until I die and into the next generation. Sunflower Designs will never run out of yarn. Not in this lifetime.

I bear a burden of guilt for a period of gross over-consumption (especially of sock yarn - they are the potato chip of the yarn universe - betcha can't eat just one!) An idea began to form.

I sent her a knitter's advent calendar - one skein of sock or lace yarn a day - for twenty-five days. I won't bore you with all the details. You can just surf on over to Tiennie's doorstep and read all about it. I'll wait...

Dum-da-dum-da-dum-dum-dum
Dum-de-dum-dum- DUM-de-dum-de-dum-dum
(That's the final Jeopardy tune, in case you didn't recognize it.)

Oh, you're back?

Tiennie decided to pay it forward and give away some of her largess, with my blessing. I just came from Tiennie Knits and, let me tell you, the love that is building over there is awesome to behold.

I thought I would make someone smile.

I had no idea I would make so many someones smile.

Today I have been blessed to observe and participate in the greatest holiday miracle there is: the blooming of love in the human heart.

I have questioned in the past the ability of this thing we call the Internet to form true and lasting connections. No more.

I began this blog, as I approach all my writing: as ministry. If I'm going to write on a daily basis, I figure I might as well throw it out there for others to catch.

I've no idea where this ride I'm on will take me, but I have faith in the people I meet along the way and in the fitness, the balance, the perfection of my final resting place. "To turn, turn will be my delight. Till by turning, turning, I come round right."

I am not just touched. I am profoundly moved by the ripples moving through our community today.

Tomorrow can look after itself.

For today, there is love.

********************

There is also eye candy, even if it's not Friday.



This is Arabian Nights laceweight from Kim over at the Woolen Rabbit, hot out of the yarn pot. She tells me it is a little more blue than the close up would indicate.










Mmmmmmmmmmm! McDreamy......

I Came, I Saw, I Conquered (Eventually)

I know it doesn't look like much, but this...

took two full days of quality time.






Time I could have spent:

• wrapping presents
• putting up the tree
• shopping (well, THAT's no great loss!)

Time I could have wasted:

• blogging
• surfing
• emailing
• raveling (We need to get busy folks. I am hereby announcing a crusade to get this word and its appropriate meaning into Webster's in 2008.)

But most of all, time I could have been traveling on the road to Morocco!

Two days, and all I had to show for it as of last night was this sad little line of cast offs ons.



I had a very specific list of requirements: The fastening tab for Sedona had to:

• Be knit into the vest's right front bodice - no picked up stitches.
• Achieve the same gauge as the body of the vest ( which, being a slip stitch pattern has drawn in considerably.)
• Either continue the color gradation of the body or, at least, coordinate with it
• Not be overwhelmed by the coloration of the yarn(s)
• Be easy enough for a beginning knitter to handle
• Be distinctive enough to anchor the piece (after all, it is right there up-front and center.)

Is that too much to ask?

Apparently it was. I tried cables, slipped stitches, texture, mosaic, one color, two color, same size needles, smaller needles, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...

Ad nauseum...
Ad VERY nauseum...

Ad
IF-I-DON'T-GET-THIS-SOON-I'M-GOING-TO-HANG-UP-MY
NEEDLES-MOVE-TO-LITHUANIA-AND BECOME-A-SHEPHERD
nauseum...

I was actually getting worried. They can smell fear...

Let's see if it looks better blocked...

This is the fastening tab for Sedona. And it represents a great victory my friends. I have wrestled with the knitting demons and banished them to hell. ( You know hell...that place where all they have to knit with is cheap acrylic.) I have wandered in the wilderness* and the knitting gods have brought me home.

*If I'd known it was going to be so long a trip, I would have packed better.

I have been complimented in the past by y'all for my tenacity. But let's call it what it is:

Good old fashioned stubbornness.

It takes a lot to get my back up, but once it's there, it doesn't back down.

Not for love...
Not for money...
And DEFINITELY not for some ornery piece of knitting that thinks it can get the drop on me.

I mean, who's the boss around here? Huh? If I start letting a little slip of a UFO like this pissy placket get the better of me, what's next?

• Surly socks?
• Hoity-toity hats?
• Putrid pullovers?
• Crabby cardigans?
  
• Bratty blankets?
  
• Malevolent mittens?
  
• Snotty scarves?
• Short-tempered shawls?

I'm tellin' you, you just don't want to go there...

See? Even the cat doesn't want to go there. See him cowering under the knitting basket in the face of my towering wrath?

(The fact that there is a heating vent underneath said cat is obviously irrelevant. He has the utmost respect for the power of wrath. )

So, now that I have reestablished order to the universe and put my knitting firmly in its place, I can finish up this little sucker and work my way around to YOUR Christmas gift.

Here's a little teaser:

Nope, I can't tell you.

It's a sockret!

But it will be in your hot little knittin' hands by the weekend.

Feel free to knock it around a bit and show it who's boss.

I won't tell...

BTW, the tip as to the identity and location of "Deep Sheep" turned out to be a phony. (For those who are new to the game, see last Saturday's post.) I remain undeterred in my pursuit of this ridiculous delusion important issue...

I'm Off...(well, yeah,but that's a whole other subject!)

Only time for a quick post. We've had an anonymous tip on the whereabouts of "Deep Sheep."

Time to go hunting...

Make It Work

Thanks to a Saturday spent knitting with the Ravelry crowd and a really lopsided, and therefore rather boring, Colts game last night, Sedona has rounded the final turn and is racing down the home stretch.

So, after months of "Knit 1, purl 1, knit 1, slip 1" it is time to kick start my brain, (but it's Monday!!! That's my inner whiner. Some people have inner children. I have an inner whiner.) I have to figure out how to attach the button tab to the front.

First try wasn't satisfactory, as evidenced by this lovely shot of Sedona with her slip slipped stitches showing..

In other news, the folks from Ravelry couldn't have been nicer (unless, of course, they had insisted on buying all the yarn Susan stocks at Mass. Ave. Knits. I guess THAT would have been nicer!) I think I will "adopt" them all.

But not until after Christmas.

My list is long enough already, without adding sixty rabid enthusiastic knitters onto it.

I tried to be good. Honest I did. I mean it's not like I don't have enough on my plate.

But I just couldn't resist the Malabrigo.



Look at it. Ain't it purty????

It's Polar Morn: a pale icy blue-gray with the faintest whiff of lavender.




And this is my lightly blocked test swatch for the new design - Norwegian Woods (after the Beatles, of course.)

She'll be a knee length cardigan jacket with a soft rolled shawl collar. And she'll be February's pin up girl. Have to finish Moroccan Days and my "secret" project first.

And now that I have gotten THAT out of my system, I'm ready to tackle that button band again.

As Tim Gunn would say, "Make it work."

Almost there. I can see the finish line from here...

********************

We interrupt this blog to bring you an important message from Homeland Security.

Disregard any mention of "Deep Sheep" by the author of this blog. There is no such person animal. Any attempt to uncover the identity of this nonexistent individual (and why would you want to waste your precious knitting time undermining annoying your supreme potentates duly-elected-and-always-looking-out-for-your-best-interest government by looking anyway?) will be met with severe punishment justifiable force.

And no.

We DON'T allow knitting needles in Guantanamo Bay.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled giggles. Had this been a real emergency, the announcement you just read would have been much more boring...

Conspiracy Theory

Yesterday, I had visitors to my blog from around the world. Now, this is nothing new. Many of us have created a far-flung family of friends and neighbors through the matchmaking abilities of the Internet. But I honestly had no idea how many people were lurking about until I got Stat Counter. (Thanks for the suggestion, guys!)

Such a good word: lurker. One of those underutilized -yet-redolent-with-shades-of-meaning words. I keep envisioning young layabouts hanging out in the mouth of the digital alley, outside Pop's Candy Store, smoking cigarettes, looking out for Officer Krepsky, waiting for the music to start so they can break into song.

I digress... (I do that a lot)

What caught my attention yesterday was not one visit, but two. Yesterday, my humble home in the blogosphere was visited by two of the three"Axis of Evil", as our fearless leader so dubbed them. That's right, boys and girls. A Few Stitches Short has made its Iranian and North Korean debut.

And both of them got to my site by googling, "Malabrigo Laceweight Olive."

Hmmmmmmmmmm!

I find this cause for extreme panic, involving calling Homeland Security and raising the Def Con level slightly suspicious, don't you?

What dastardly (another underutilized word) plot could they be hatching?

What is the connection between Malabrigo and our enemies? How much do we know about this South American import? Have we been monitoring Malabrigo's phone lines? Have we been analyzing its chemical components? Have we infiltrated the flock of sheep which produce the wool? Do we have an operative within the organization reporting every move they make into the files of the FBI, CIA, and Secret Service?

And what subversive activities has "Deep Sheep" found?

Paranoid Enquiring minds want to know.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have phone calls to make. If you don't hear from me for a while, it's probably because I'm being held for questioning...

Hmm. Maybe I want to rethink this. Do they allow knitting needles in Gitmo?

Up to My Armpits...

Literally
Would I kid you?

Well, yeah...

But I'm not ( at least not this time!)

Sedona is past the "great divide" and well on her way to the finish line. And just in the "St. Nick" of time, as some folks over on Ravelry are waiting on her. Pattern should go up sometime next week.

Thanks to all my readers for some very interesting comments yesterday on adoption and adaption. Your perceptive remarks challenged me to examine my own beliefs and preconceptions. And that is the power of the Internet at its finest!

Sunflower Designs seems to have segued into fast forward this week. In addition to Moroccan Days/ Arabian Nights, I have a mystery project (Uh oh! You know what that means...) and commitments for three more shawl designs, one for Michelle at the Sweet Sheep, one for Oceanwind Knits, and one for Skylark Yarns in Utah. And I'm still fondling the Woodmoss Lace from Kim and envisioning my Faerie Ring shawl.

Want another sneak peek? Of course you do...









In other news, this came from Sherri at the Loopy Ewe the other day:




Dream in Color Smooshy


But not for socks.




No.

Too much yumminess...

Unless you're an octopus...

with eight feet...





This is going to be my Open Skies kimono jacket





And these are heading for a Cancun Holiday under the hot Tropical Sun.




And now, I'll leave you with some Eye Candy...





I call it "Still Life with Two feet and Two Laptops."

And they both keep me warm...

Adoption or Adaption?

There is some interesting terminology over at the Ravelry website. On the page where you can contribute a design of your own, or a yarn you have made, spun, dyed, etc., you have the option of "adopting" a pattern or fiber. Apparently, we all have something to contribute, whether we originate a product or idea or simply pass it on.

Passing it on has become much easier in the age of cut and paste. Want to send a chain letter or a joke? Just hit "forward." Want to communicate an image? Hit "search" and find something that aligns with your vision. Just make sure you attribute.

Want to make a friend? Hit "add to my friends." The "Pay It Forward" swap (which apparently no one wants to join. How can I pay it forward if I have no one to pay it to? Can I pay it backwards, Lucia?)

Where was I?

Oh yes, the PIF swap. I have discovered that swaps, in general, are not my ball of wax (or yarn as the case may be.) As I disclosed last week, I am not an organized person. But, setting that consideration aside, there is still something a little unusual about making a friend by lottery, then shopping and creating for that friend in absentia, sans any real knowledge of the individual's desires and dreams.

There are people on Ravelry whose friends number in the hundreds. And that's nothing, compared to MySpace and Facebook, where our children hang out with thousands of "friends."

Doesn't real friendship require something more? Doesn't it require time, and patience, and the willingness to accept another person, warts and all?

Do we really have hundreds of "friends" or are they acquaintances?

I don't mean to kick the hornet's nest. I know that we can have both friends AND acquaintances on-line and off. I have made real friends on the Internet. But I didn't make them by pushing a button. I made them by investing myself in their world and allowing them into mine. That friendship grew over time.

When we knit, we have a choice. We can "adopt" the pattern as our own or we can choose to adapt it. When we adopt it, we are respecting the integrity of the original, embracing the vision of the designer. We are, in effect, saying, "I agree with you. This is the best way I can knit this item. I wouldn't change a thing."

We no longer live in a "one size fits all" world. Our digital age lets us customize. From blue jeans to web pages, we can "have it our way." I can print my book on demand. I can revise my patterns instantly due to customer feedback (and already have.)

If modifications make a square peg fit in a round hole, or a skinny-minny pattern into something that flatters a middle aged, chubby housewife (not that I know anyone who fits that description) well then, so much the better. Right?

My question is: What happens when we don't adopt a pattern, as is? Does adaption somehow subvert the original intent of the designer? Or does the adaption enhance the appeal of the original?

And what if we substitute people for patterns and pose the same questions? Does adaption of the individual somehow subvert the original intent of God? Or does the adaption enhance the appeal of the original?

Yesterday a 20 year old kid opened fire on a bunch of strangers in a Von Maur store in Omaha. Like the shooters at Virgina Tech and Columbine High, he felt disenfranchised. His family had kicked him out of the house. He no longer felt valued by his family or his society. When he said he was sorry for causing his family pain, he wasn't apologizing for the shooting. No, he thought that fine action would make him famous.

He was apologizing for his very existence. Did he feel unacceptable as he was? Did he think he needed adaption, in the absence of adoption?

The increase in gated communities points to an increasing isolation in our society. There are many days when I would rather brew myself a cup of coffee just the way I like it, cuddle up with my two laptops (the digital and the feline one) and hibernate. Go out? Then I'd have to pay for gas, go out in the cold, figure out where I was going, and wait in line once I got there. Much easier to stay home.

So what happens when we close ourselves up at night, retreat behind closed doors, and find our "friends" on the Internet instead of around the block? Do we adopt? Or do we adapt?

Someone I read yesterday asked if the Internet was replacing LYS's and Knitting Groups as a way to connect with other knitters. Lord, I hope not.

I love Ravelry and all my Internet buddies as much as the next blogger, but I hope I never skip a chance to meet in person, or pick up the phone and hear another human voice.

Above all else, we are a community. We need to commune. In person.

I can use the Internet to find people who think like I do, want the same things, enjoy the same pursuits, worship the same God, live in the same city, country, state. I can join a "knitter's who knit monochromatic, silk scarves, American style,with their left hands, on circular Addi turbo needles" group. If there is no such specialized group, I can start one.

Or I can use the Internet to expand my horizons and widen my perceptions.

I can ensconce myself within a collection of like minded souls. I can adapt my environment to fit my preferences. Or adapt my views, my words, myself to fit in. I can alter my pattern.

Or I can choose not to.

So Saturday, I promise I will haul my lazy carcass out of bed and spend my morning with the Broad Ripple knitters, and my afternoon with the INknitters at my local LYS.

Because sometimes, communion requires more than adaption.

Sometimes, it requires adoption and all the challenges that entails.

Perspective

"When Christ and all his angels wept..."

Shoppers wait outside Omaha mall during shooting. Photo by MSNBC

While I was whining about standing in line...

others were dying.

My heart grieves for us all.

Takin' Care of Business

Today's post is one of those mixed bag type of posts. I often find myself in a groove when holding forth on a particular topic and it feels like an intrusion of randomness would interrupt the flow. So I go days without imparting crucial irrelevant information to you - my adoring fans, enthusiastic followers, lukewarm audience, tolerant friends.

You have no idea how hard it was for the writer in me to add on the postscript to yesterday's thoughtfully considered and endlessly valuable post rant. It was like fingernails on a blackboard.

It was like tacking extra arms onto the Venus de Milo. It was like adding jalapeno peppers to a hot fudge sundae. It was like tacking a delicate lace border onto a beefy aran sweater.

In other words, it stuck out like a sore thumb (or a dropped stitch as the case may be.)

So, today you get...

leftovers.

Contain your excitement.

Miriam Felton, on her blog, poses the question, “If I knit fast enough, does it count as exercise?” The answer, apparently, according to Health magazine is YES!

There it is, right on pg. 117 of the September issue, under “No-Sweat Calorie Burners:”

“Do your nails or knit while watching your favorite hour-long TV show. BURN 102 CALORIES.”

Who knew?

Lucia corralled me into the Pay It Forward exchange that's been making the rounds. I get a little something sent to me, and in return I make this promise:

I will send a handmade gift to the first 3 people who leave a comment on my blog requesting to join this PIF exchange. I don’t know what that gift will be yet and you may not receive it tomorrow or next week, but you will receive it within 365 days, that is my promise! The only thing you have to do in return is pay it forward by making the same promise on your blog.

I don't do well with deadlines (see Structure post) but this one has a window so wide even the chronically organizationally challenged can squeeze through. I mean, a year! 365 big ones! Surely, even I can make that deadline (but don't bet on it! I wouldn't want to be responsible for you losing your shirt, your home, your kid's college tuition, or...

GASP!!

your yarn money (tragic!)

But when I come through, I really come through. Yesterday I mailed off Tiennie's prize package for winning the 25th subscriber contest. I don't know when I've had such fun! Since I promised 25 things and there are 25 days in December before D-day Christmas, I made her a knitter's advent calendar with something to open every day between now and the big Yule.

I know I'm late (did I mention I was disorganized?) but just think of the fun she'll have opening an entire week at once. Man, when I was a kid, that would have just thrilled the livin' bejeesus out of me. My brother and I fought over whose turn it was to open that little flap of cardboard!

Anyway, she knows about the advent calendar thingie, so I'm not revealing any state secrets here. What did she get? You'll just have to scamper on over to her blog come next week and find out... I had such a good time with this idea that I'm going to do it every year (the advent prize, not the Bloglines subscriber estimate.) Next year, I'll find a different contest angle. And I'll get the prize box off in November (maybe.)

Thanks for enduring my rant yesterday. Hope it wasn't off-putting to anybody. I'm not really a Scrooge. I just find so much more of the peaceful spirit of the holiday flowing through me when I am knitting or baking, anything but shopping. I don't deal well with crowds.

When I am knitting a present for someone, I envision that person, what makes them special, how much joy they have brought into my life, and love speeds my needles on...

You just don't get that feeling standing in line at WalMart.

Well, maybe YOU do, but I don't.

Have been busy entering projects onto Ravelry. Margene kindly suggested it would be a good way to get the word out about Sunflower Designs. It's a brave new world, people.

Speaking of Margene, she has a great post today on UFO's Go read. I'll wait...

And as to that grass I was dashing through yesterday?

It's yesterday's news.

Last night, when I went to bed, it looked like this:









This morning, when I got up, things had made significant progress...









It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...








Think I'll go warm myself by the welcoming fire that is my sun-baked Moroccan holiday.

















And Pippin will help...

Jingle, Jingle

Dashing through the snow grass
In a one horse open sleigh Subaru Outback
O'er the fields roads we go
Laughing mentally kicking myself for not starting my Xmas knitting in July all the way

Bells on bobtail cash registers ring
Making spirits bright wallets slim
Oh what fun a chore it is to sing spend
A sleighing song my hard earned bucks tonight today

C'mon everybody!

Sing along!

Jingle bucks
Shopping sucks
How I hate EBay
Wish I'd git
time to knit
my presents any way-hey

Hate to crawl
Through the mall
How I'd rather be
Getting my kicks
With string and sticks
Beneath the Christmas tree!

*Note to self: Christmas knitting can only be called Christmas knitting if it's done by... oh, I don't know...Christmas?

*Second note to self: Resolved: I will NOT let the lack of time for personal knitting get in the way of a joyous holiday.

*Third note to self: Get over it and get on with it.

*Fourth note to self: Count blessings, not parking spaces (of which there are sure to be few)

*Fifth note to self: Five Goh-old rings (Oops! wrong song!) Put reminder on July calendar page - START CHRISTMAS KNITTING NOW!

*Sixth note to self: What are you doing fiddling about with your blog when there are shawls to knit presents to buy? Go knit shop, woman...

BUGGER!

PS - New title for Morocco is Moroccan Days / Arabian Nights. Kim is dyeing up some deep blue lace yarn just for this project. So you will have your choice of two colors for the kit: sunny Moroccan Days with topaz beads or dreamy Arabian Nights with silver beads. Why two? Because two is more fun than one and we are, after all, in the USA at least...

Wait for it...

A two "party" system.

So put on your glad rags, break out the bubbly, and toast the new year with two...

Two...

Two knits in one! (apologies to the Doublemint twins. Please don't sue me for copyright infringement. Think of the children who won't get hand knit socks crummy store bought gifts for Christmas...)

Perfection

"All good gifts around us
Are sent from Heaven above
Then thank the Lord, thank the Lord for all his love... "
-Godspell

So rarely in life do we look at something and say,

"Perfect."

One little word, yet it looms so large in our minds.

Even though we almost never expect it of others, we all too often expect it of ourselves. We hold ourselves to tougher standards than we would ever subject the rest of the human race to.

The Amish sometimes purposefully sew a mistake into their quilts. Called an Amish "oops," these irascible errors serve as a reminder that none of us can ever achieve perfection. The Amish leave that to God. They would not presume.

How many times, have we read a blog post featuring an absolutely gorgeous creation, only to have the craftsperson point out a tiny flaw? Does the flaw somehow diminish the work? Or does it stand as an admission of our mutual humanity?

It might appear to others that I spend a good deal of time here in Short Stitch land, patting myself on the back. I know I have a tendency to hyperbole!

NO! REALLY!?!?!

And I often gush over the beauty of whatever knitted object I am working on.

I want to reassure everyone (or at least the everyones who visit) that I, in no manner, intend to glorify myself. The creativity that crosses these pages is not mine to own. It is mine to share. It does not flow from me, but rather through me.

It is a gift from God, pure and simple.

Now, that doesn't make me special in ANY way. I believe God gives equally to all her children. Some are given to become leaders; some are given to quietly toil in the garden. Some can weave rugs of spectacular color and beauty; some can wipe away the tears of children. Some can invoke the Gods. and some can whisper in an another's ear and listen to another's heart.

When I heap praise upon the work coming from my hands and heart, it is not to promote myself. It is rather an outer indicator of the inner delight with which I behold the gifts God has given me. I am always astounded at what springs from my soul and I know, without a single doubt, that I could NEVER dream of these things alone. Really. Truly. No question.

It is a daily revelation, in both senses of the word. It feels as if these ideas, like the Great and Powerful Oz, are hidden behind a curtain, awaiting the fullness of time when they shall be revealed. And, when they are, I revel in them - not as their originator- but as their receptor.

That being said, after a full weekend of work on Morocco, I can almost say,

"PERFECT!"

Almost...

There is not a single thing I would change about the end border. It is precisely what I envisioned and more than I had hoped. The texture of the Persian lace is lovely, and the modifications made to accommodate the beading were well worth the effort.



I love the little line of beads on the side edges.












I love the beaded fringe on the end.










I love the way the lace and beading play off of each other.

It makes me happy just to look at it.








And the body of the shawl, two pattern repeats in, is shaping up nicely as well.


I haven't felt this giddy since junior high, when I had a crush on Bobby Sherman and spent my days paging through fan magazines, gazing at posters, and dreaming of the day (or forbidden night) when he would somehow get past my over protective mother, materialize at the foot of my bed, and whisk me away to his Hollywood mansion.

I gaze at this border, I caress this border, I could eat this border up with a spoon. I could marry this border. And we could definitely "get a room."

Cherry was a beautiful summer fling, but Morocco is the real deal, folks.

I'm in love.

But not with myself.

Oh, no.

With the magnitude of the gift.

Deo Gratias indeed.