Structure

**Scroll to the end if you want to skip the unsolicited advice and go directly to the knitting content. **
(No. You do NOT get to collect $200 as you pass GO.)

Yesterday I ate an oatmeal cookie and a banana for breakfast...

at 12:30 p.m.

I had some crostini with Alouette light garlic & herb cheese spread and a half pint of raspberries for lunch...

at 4:45 p.m.

I opened the freezer door at 10:00 and had a frozen malt cup...

Yup, you guessed it...

Dinner!

Clearly structure is not my strong suit. This drives my husband crazy. He eats lunch at 12:00 on the dot, wants dinner on the table at 6:00, and goes to bed every night at 11:00, watching the news and Jay Leno's opening monologue before turning out the light.

Me? I'm just as likely to be found downstairs working my way through a thorny design issue, catching up on my blog buddies, or playing a game on my computer.

Structure is an interesting thing. Too little structure and we become jellyfish; too much and we turn into ramrods.

Backbone is good; stiff, not so much.

Flexibility is desired; spinelessness leaves something to be.

A few years back, I had opportunity to be employed part time as a bank teller. The closer I came to accepting the job, the more anxiety I felt. I finally turned down the position, not sure why I felt driven to withdraw my name from contention.

Looking back, I see clearly: I didn't want to give up the control I had over my own schedule. Over the years of raising children, running the Arts Chorale, and attending seminary, I had gotten used to a fairly large amount of autonomy that I wasn't ready to give up.

Yes, I had class times and homework deadlines, and the kids had nap schedules when they were small, and if a grant was due by 5:00 on June 15th, by God, you'd better not be late.

But I determined the order in which things got done; I juggled the tasks, keeping all the balls in the air (or picking them up if and when they dropped, as they inevitably did); I set the goals and decided the amount of structure necessary to see them through.

And the thought of having someone else dictate that gave me hives.

I am lucky enough to work with the man who freed me from my self-imposed structure (and let me tell you, it was rigid. It had me by the throat and its stranglehold on my life sent me right down into the black hole of depression.) Greg taught me how to "ride" my life instead of driving it. He taught me to live in the moment, to listen to my inner voice, to cultivate presence, to "be still and know that I am God."

There has been a lot of chatter this week about Amy's post on what brings joy. Not pleasure, which, in today's world of instant gratification, is often confused with joy. Nor happiness, which can be easily compromised by unpleasant realities and immutable tragedies.

But joy. True, abundant, transformative, ennobling, transcendent, and abiding joy.

Your answer will be different than mine, but mine depends upon a certain level of openness. The kind of openness that manifests itself in what my husband would surely find an unacceptable lack of structure.

As Greg and I write in Soulful Parent Soulful Teen:

"The essentials of life are not transitory things that bring momentary happiness, but rather the enduring elements of divine existence - peace, unity, faith, compassion, selflessness, harmony, gratitude, and love. Here we find peace that passes all understanding, peace that sustains us - whether we’re happy or not. The quest for happiness loses its urgency as we stop straining toward something to satisfy our desire and find rest and repose in the transcendent tranquility of love."

"Relaxing our iron grip, we no longer claw at the future, but release to God what belongs with God. It isn’t easy to let go. But the difficulty of our attempt leads to a greater understanding of our children’s struggle for independence and individuation. We know the territory and can help them find their way to their own understanding of grace.Once we accept this struggle as normal, we can begin to address the true goals of parenting adolescents, which are: assessing the realities of a situation, offering appropriate support, structure, and guidance, and getting out of the way"

There's that word again: structure. What is "appropriate structure?" That can be a tough question for anyone. And not just parents of teenagers. Anyone.

Structure is a key component to design. Too much and the house looks clunky, the dress stands by itself, the painting looks like a photograph. Too little and the roof falls in, the sweater stretches out and loses its shape, the photograph looks like a painting.

(Impressionism is good in painting. Less so in photography. Were it not so, some of my efforts would be masterpieces!)

Lace is all about structure. Without the proper stitches we have a jumbled mess. But it is also about openness, ergo the bloom of a piece once it has been soaked and blocked.

For example, I have been working on a design for a lace coat. The fiber is Malabrigo lace, the color is a lovely shade of green, the gauge is very fine. I want the coat to float delicately. That requires single stranding and a fairly open stitch pattern.

But I also want the coat to maintain its lines, not to sag or bag in crucial areas. I want a rolled shawl collar, not too stiff, but not droopy either. That might dictate double stranding and/or a more compacted stitch.



I tried double stranding an Ivy pattern, but it seemed too large and clunky.






I tried the same pattern single stranded (getting closer, but too many open holes. Not durable enough.


















An offset leaf pattern was too dense.






In desperation, I tried an allover pattern. Nice but too tight.







But knit on larger needles than the yarn warranted and subsequently blocked out, it positively bloomed into just the right stitch. Just enough structure, but not too much.







Now I needed to give it some bones:






This leafy pattern for the edges








And this one for inserts to give the piece a stronger vertical line

Both the leaf patterns will be worked double stranded, while the overall pattern will be single stranded.




Delicate, yet disciplined.

Strong, yet ethereal

Structured, yet flexible.




Now that I have assessed the realities, provided appropriate structure, and gotten out of the way, I think I'll see what's in the fridge...

Even if it is only 2:00 in the afternoon.

Lost and Found

This morning I ventured out to get the morning paper (Yes, I'm one of those dinosaurs who still likes to get her news in print rather than on the web), only to be greeted by Mother Nature's carpeting:










The overnight rains had succeeded in loosing the leaves from their slight tethers and sent them cascading down to turn a dull stretch of driveway into an M. C. Escher print...










Of course, to get this perspective you had to look closely at the scene. What appeared a carpet from far off, became a stunning collection of individuals when viewed up close and personal:










( I have sometimes considered whether my Autumn Glory pullover was brighter than any natural color.)


Guess not!







So, would a leaf rather be part of a magnificent display?

Or be recognized as a stunning individual?

(I know I'm pushing the metaphor here, but if yarn can talk to us, why not leaves?)

Let's switch gears.

Thursday afternoon I got an email from my writing partner Greg. The books were in from the publisher. Three years of hard work was finally paying off. I could pick them up at his office any time during regular business hours.

Cool!

So Friday, armed with a map from Map Quest, I went in search of his new digs, which I had yet to visit since the move back in July. I knew the area, so I didn't bother with driving directions.

Mistake.

Big mistake

Big, huge, honkin' mistake.

Turns out the directions to get to his office should be, "Head straight to Carmel Drive and take a right on CAN'T GET THERE FROM HERE Ave."

Road construction. Closed intersection. No problem, I'll go around.

More road construction. Another closed intersection. I could see it, but I couldn't (all together now...)

GET THERE FROM HERE!

I went back the way I had just come and went looking for the other end of the road Greg's office was on. Smokey Row - shouldn't be too hard to find, right?

Wrong.

Smokey Row doesn't connect with Range Line Rd. But Eighth Ave. does, and Eighth Ave. TURNS INTO Smokey Row. GOSH! Everyone knows that!

Fifteen minutes later, I finally found his office, walked inside, took one look at the book propped up on the reception desk and squealed with delight, "It's here!"

Receptionist looked up with a wry expression and said, "You must be Susan."

(How did she know? Doesn't EVERYONE squeal with delight when they see our book?)

I retired to my car with the box of books and sat with one in my hand. Three years. Endless meetings. Innumerable revisions. Constant prayer.










One book. One small book.










With my name on it.

I bowed my head and said, "Thank you God, for helping me to find my way."

You see, I have been much more lost in my life than I was that rainy Autumn afternoon. I have taken detours that wound over some very rough terrain. Too many pit stops to count. Sometimes scenic overlooks were in short supply. And many times I just plain ran out of gas.

But I kept on going. Even when I had to get out and push.

Because I wasn't alone. Others helped me. They put their shoulders into it and helped me out of the muck and into a bright new day.

So I thank God for the opportunity to, perhaps, apply my shoulder to the task at hand and help someone else get unstuck.

I am happy to be "with Susan Pandorf" rather than "by Susan Pandorf, all by her lonesome."










I do not have to be the brightest leaf in the pile. I am content to be part of the carpet, which God sends down to us, to clothe the world in splendor on this rainy Autumn day.

Product or Process?

I got into an interesting conversation with my husband this weekend.

First, a little background. Scott is a model railroader. He is an avid modeler. He is a talented modeler. Most of all, he is a prolific modeler. When we built this house 22 year ago, he said to me, "Honey, here's what I want in the basement. What you build on top of it is your business." No lie.

Now we are in preparations for putting our house on the market. With the college graduation (and impending nuptials) of #1 son and the imminent departure of Baby (see last Wednesday's entry) we find we no longer need our 3600 sq. ft. house. A nice little cottage in the woods of Northern Michigan (as depicted in my avatar to the right) is calling us home. But before we can build said cottage, we have to unload current castle. So I have been cleaning closets and Scott has been dismantling 22 years of train layout building in the basement.

Last night, a weary husband climbed into bed, turned to me and sighed. "Well, it's all down now." I asked him how he felt about that. He said he was trying not to think about it. I asked him, "Are you a product or a process person?" He said, "Huh?"

I asked, "Did you build the layout because you wanted to have a finished model train layout in the basement? Or did you build it because you enjoyed the activity of building? Which is more important: the product or the process?"

"The process," he answered.

"Then you didn't destroy 22 years of pleasure. You just cleared the way for the next enjoyable process."

Most knitters I know are process people. I still remember in the early days of my fascination with fiber, when Scott turned to me and said, "Well, at least we can save money if you make your own sweaters (oh, what a babe in the woods!) We all know there are cheaper and easier ways of obtaining the clothes on our backs.

But the product is not the point. The process is. We knit (spin, weave, sew, create) not because we need to, but because we want to.

In life, as in knitting, the point is not how fast we can reach the end of the road. It's all about the scenery along the way. And the yarn shops.

Speaking of yarn...(you knew it would eventually work around to that, didn't you?)

Look what came in the mail Saturday!









That's this month's lace cake from MamaE on the left (color: marine - got to be something aquatic, dontcha think?) and one skein of Anne that I ordered by accident (it was an old item I had placed in my basket and forgot about.) Then last week, I ordered some patterns from Carla, and this was included in the order. Oops!

But a serendipitous oops. Look at those colors. Lucky me!










I think it might be a scarf when it grows up. We'll see where the process leads...

And my postal lady brought me these today (Scott, if you're reading this, it didn't cost a thing...much...)











That's this month's sock club yarn from Zen String on the left and three skeins of Knitting Notions' Classic Merino Lace in Lichen (destined for a swallowtail shawl) on the right.

Things are progressing nicely on Soulful Parent, Soulful Teen, Moving from Control to Care. (Was going to show you the cover design, but can't find the revised copy on my computer - next time, promise!) Met today with my co-author, Greg, and got an autographed copy of his first book, out for a few weeks now and available here and here. Go check out his website. I'll wait.

Our book is at the printer's as we speak and on track for a labor day publication. (My, how appropriate, considering how long we have worked on it.) I am so lucky to work with this man. Next Voice is a fine organization, with a very important message.

Tune in tomorrow boys and girls, when I'll reveal to you all the goodies I'm sending Anne's way for her fundraising effort in support of Claudia's Ride. If you're good.