3 Years Later

When I set my intention to start blogging again, I never expected my next post to be in 2020 instead of a month or two later in 2017. Yet, here we are in April of 2020, the world is dealing with the 2020 version of The Plague. We, as the human race, seem to be going through a similar Renaissance or Awakening. The fact that the waters of Venice are clear and there are dolphins in them, are eye opening to me! I did not know that was ever a thing, but it definitely is a thing. Someone out there knew that and totally did not tell me.

It's been so long since I used this laptop I barely remember how to type. (well.... that's a tiny exaggeration) I am grateful to the 1st ex for restoring it to its near former glory. The screen is broken a bit, from kids knocking it over back 8 years or so ago. It's a dinosaur of sorts now, I don't recall what year I got it, but it's definitely ancient by the standard of technology. The battery has been replaced, by one that still doesn't work right, and the data that it holds was so compromised it was almost impossible to recover. Thankfully, having a decent relationship with the baby daddy is rewarded handsomely with tech support. 

The second ex did not fair so well. Well... I should say, I did not fair so well. If there's a better phrase than "out of the frying pan into the fire" I will have to make it up. How about, "Out of the soup into the vapors and heat of an active volcano." That sums it up.

If you ever think you can't make a worse choice in any situation, you are all the way wrong. It can always, always get worse. Literally, figuratively, physically and spiritually, it got worse. Seriously, always, it can get worse. 

I've dated here and there, mildly (though my children might not agree with mildly) and it can get worse again, I've learned. Not that the 2  people I dated (semi-seriously) were both worse people than my second ex-husband, just the situations they were in and I how would've faired with them, can be worse. I will not tempt fate by saying the second ex is the worst man on the planet, but it is nearly true. The rumors he has spread far and wide about me are nearly funny, as to just how inaccurate they are. So I laugh. What's worse that bullshit? Cat shit? No, I like cats. Chicken shit, is useful, so that doesn't apply.  He's full of... his own shit, yeah.

For the record, the 3rd person I dated is not worse and neither is the situation. It was/is rather nice, actually, but that's where I go Clandestine in this post. Neither of us know where it's going and that's quite alright with me.

I'm knitting again! My brain chemicals are working again, my kids are doing well. Although they are as stressed about on homeschooling as the rest of the country's children. They are very social, so this thing really hurts for them. As an omnivert, myself, I can take it or leave it when it comes to mixing with people that are physically present. I didn't do so well with isolation, when I was a teenager, though, so it's nowhere near the same fairness.

Having been isolated from our support system while suffering incessant mental, emotional and spiritual abuse while trapped within the confines of the property, was rather our entire existence from 2014 - September 2018. The kids did, most of that time, have school to go to, and that was how they survived. I almost didn't make it. By the time I left, I was bleeding out from my uterus (for 6 t0 9 weeks at a time) and couldn't breathe from severe asthma and bronchitis. Choking the life out of a person by oppression is just as deadly as putting your hands around their throat. Bleeding from sadness and loss of the will to live can make one have, 'Severe Anemia with Thrombosis." That was my actual diagnosis. I got a blood clot a couple of months after I left, did not have insurance but dealt with as well as I could.

Did you know that once you are so anemic you can barely move, that you no longer absorb anything? It's logical, yes, but I didn't know it until it happened to me. Water doesn't stay in your body, you have no ability to absorb nutrition, you can't get any thing from breathing, not that I could breathe, either, but if I could, it didn't do much good. I'm very surprised that I wasn't blue. It was rough. 

A year and seven months later, things are way better. No one wants me dead, and though the rumors are still flying, I really don't care. Truly, people are always gonna think what they want and that's none of my business. I will say, that the stuff that particular ex says, are more likely to apply to him, than they are to me. Transference is a thing and will always be a thing and he is a thing. *shudder* His new, future victim, is 100% snowed with his ability to charm, is all the way convinced that I am what he says. Ironically she started liking FB photos, him and I, that he was tagged in, from our marriage. (what?) Oy... poor unfortunate soul. I hope somehow she and her young daughter fare better than my daughter and I did. My daughter is still .... well, she was more damaged that I. Let's leave it at that. *sigh*

New Subject, Anyone?

Oh, yeah. Knitting. I'm Knitting teacup warmers / hand protector things. My sister's teacups are slightly smaller than mine, so I'm doing two sizes and will post the pattern in the next post. This opost is too many words and subjects - 😩

It's a super easy pattern and will be super free, supah freeeeeeeaky baby, so why don't ya .... knit me? I dunno.

I'm BAAACK baby, and let's see if I can last!

Slowly Slowly

Getting back into blogging has been just as challenging as I thought it would be. Success in writing for me means quiet time, no interruptions, focus, etc, etc, etc... At least, that's what I tell myself. I went back in time today. Back to 2007. I read my journal from that year. It stretched from February of 2007 until May 25th 2008. Going back to visit your darkest days, after ten years or so, is cathartic.

There is so much I want to write about, so much to say on so many different subjects that they all jumble together. But today, the past, the present and the future.

In the days I was writing that journal, I was stuck in a pattern of repeating conflicts. Mourning, pining, wishing, hoping, groping for the light that was supposed to be at the end of the tunnel. I couldn't see any light. There was no flicker of hope. There was only darkness and despair. The strange thing is, the thing that put me into that place, is the thing that got me out of it. Sort of.

I was in that dark place before it took me over, but I was never the resigned type. Usually, I take the bull by the horns, wrestle it to the floor and force it into submission, one way or another. That figurative bull was any obstacle, situation or conflict I might be facing at any given moment. But wrestling bulls gets exhausting, and isn't there a saying about bulls? Something about horns? Yeah, you know the one. So, I got the horns, and it got dark.

There was a middle time, between the first break and the break that starting my healing. The darkness in that time was intense. All I could do was pine and mourn over a beautiful fiction that I had created almost by myself. There were aspects of it that were real, that I hadn't created, but it's easy to see what you want to see when you feel nearly desperate for appreciation or to even be acknowledged as worthy of attention.

The things I learned from breaking are profound. One of the main things is that there is always another chance to get it right. The chance may not be with the same person, but the chance does reoccur. The lesson you have to learn to get to the next step in your personal evolution will present itself again and again until you get it right.

I don't pine anymore, but I still mourn. The pining was less about any particular person, but about love. That thing that had been just beyond my reach. It would appear in front of me, shadowy and misty. Then it would materialize and make me feel safe enough to reach for it and disappear into thin air and leave me bleeding and reeling. As I was learning to love myself enough to not settle for anything less that something quite real and tangible, I had to start to mourn for the person whose job it was to teach me unconditional love. Dads are funny things. Flawed and flailing in their own worlds of ineptitude, how can they do their job when no one taught them those things about themselves?

The truth is, unless they are very diligent, they cannot teach what they have not learned personally. It is forgivable, because it must be. To live happily we must forgive the inadequacies of those who started molding us, as difficult as it is.

So here I sit. In the present. Having looked at the past, reflected on the present and looking forward to a future that is all light and no tunnel. Emerging into the light has been a relief but has come with it's own birthing pains. This is to be expected.

The lesson is, if you are in darkness, darkness cannot persist, for into the darkness, light will come - one way or another. But you must be patient in the interim, the light is worth the wait.

~ * ~

In unrelated news, I'm still knitting that baby blanket. The baby is born and getting old by now. Maybe this blanket is for a different baby? That's what I have to tell myself for procrastinating so long. Oh well, that baby already has lots of blankets. =)

When I'm Wrong I'm Wrong

Behold! A swatch!

You see, it had to be done. I was wrong to imagine the yarn you see holding the swatch up would ever look right in this pattern. I was also wrong to think I was going to double strand this cotton. I changed my mind accordingly and here lie the labors of my mind. Keeping it simple has many advantages.

My original failed project had 199 stitches. It was going to be fairly large for a baby blanket. The swatch is 25 stitches (quite photogenic for a swatch, don't ya think?) and 4 inches across exactly. 200÷25=8  8×4=32 32 inches is a decent size for a baby blanket. I think I'll stick with the 199.

Now I have to decide to keep the swatch (because it's so pretty) or save yarn and roll it back up. Most likely I'll decide in favor of the latter, but I may be wrong. Again.

Where the Heck am I?

I'm here, lurking, reading, clicking all my links in the side bar looking for life in Blog Land. I've been feeling it's time to reconnect with the Knit Blog Community. This leads me to examine how I connected with Knit Blogging to start with, why I drifted away, and why I'm heading back in.

The reason I got into Knit Blogging was for a creative outlet that could encompass all the drives I had in me. I was brought to this community by my sister Heidi (Mica), remember her? She was a teenager at the time, getting into html coding, learning along side me the ins and outs of knitting, fiber, attempted crochet, etc. We blogged together for a while and then we blogged apart for a while. Things happened, lives exploded, lives were knit back together and exploded again and knit together again. 

Life is hard.

That's the real answer to all three reasons. I knit because life is hard. I blog because life is hard. I do art because life is hard. I fight with my family because life is hard. I make up with my family because life is hard. I drifted away from blogging because life is hard and I'm back here because life is hard.

The hardness of life, though, need not make us hard. It definitely can do so, but we choose how we respond to hardness. We can develop tenacity, empathy, kindness, compassion and we can love just as hard as life can be. Through it all, keep moving forward, keep swimming, knit through all, keep on keeping on, never give up, plug away, keep breathing in and out and keep our heads up.

Whatever kicks us or slaps us or does unjustifiable things to us - that is the problem of that thing. Our response and attitude is our problem. You reap what you sow. Karma. Balance. God. The Universe. Aliens. Whatever you believe all boils down to the same thing Jesus said, "Treat others as you would like to be treated." and "Turn the other cheek." And for the sake of all things just BE NICE, c'mon! Is it really that hard to just not be a jerk? hm? really?

ANYWAY...

I started knitting a thing and then I ripped the thing apart because it was making my eyes crossed. Originally I was going to make a pretty little baby blanket out of variegated yarn and also knit patterns into it. That was a bad idea. And of course there's all those people talking to you when you are just trying to think straight and you P K P K P instead of K P K P K and it all goes bonkers. So... the end and the beginning.

So here I am at the library where they have real internet and actual quiet doing real work and some playing (right now) although this technically is work because I'm writing and I'm a writer. so there HUMPH

Anyway, different yarn is picked out and since I actually did my due diligence and planned it out very  thoroughly, I can start again with much fewer problems - hopefully. I actually get to use the object of my last post, my "new" yarn stranding box that I made. I'm actually going to do a swatch first. (don't panic) Everyone knows I don't "swatch" (yes I used that as a verb) and I'm not a "swatcher" but we can't all stick to our principles 100% of the time. If this double stranding is too much for this pattern, I want to know now before I cast on 199 stitches and do several rows of garter stitch and then start something I can't stomach.

So, I'm back and I'll be back again.

Just keep knitting, knitting, knitting la la LA LA laaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Tutorial For Making a Yarn Stranding Box

There are hundreds of solutions for keeping your stranding yarn untangled. As a person who struggles with the tangling disease,  I've tried many and varied reported solutions. None of the methods I have tried work. Bobbins only make it worse. I don't enjoy little bits of strands on plastic floating bits of confusion. Stranding for Fair Isle is different from running two balls of yarn together to make a chunkier yarn, which I seem to do a LOT, but the similarity is, you have to keep the strands untangled. For double stranding, I have tried winding the two balls (or cakes) into one ball/cake, but I've noticed that one strand tends to get ahead of the other, so that I have a floppy loopy thing wagging around begging to get tangled at the first opportunity.

One solution to these issues is beautiful, hand carved yarn bowls, which are either gorgeous, or ugly(on purpose), or maybe they are dipped in gold, because I can't currently afford such a luxury. I understand hand crafted stuff is worth it's price, but until I'm richer or famouser (misspelling on purpose) or both, I will have to figure out another way.

I happened to be feeling very much like a pretend carpenter a few weeks ago, and in a creative spurt of nervous energy, I repurposed one thing into another. I have lots of boxes lying around, and some cardboard tubey things and my brain said, "HEY! Lets build a yarn separator box thingie!" So I did.

Materials:

• 1 medium sized box --  Mine measures H-4", L-18", W-9"
• 1 smallish box -- Needs to have salvageable bits at least as wide and as tall as your medium sized box
• 1 or 2 cardboard tubes -- I used shipping tubes for my essential oils, but one can use toilet paper or      paper towel tubes
• 1 box cutter or sharp knife
• 1 roll of box or shipping tape

Measure your box and divide it into equal compartments.

I chose 3 compartments for mine. Cut a small slice at your measured spots

that don't quite go all the way to the corners.

Divide your tubes into fairly equal length and line them up in the 

middle of your compartments and trace around them.

Using your smaller box, cut out dividers slightly less wide and an inch or two

taller than your first box. You don't have to shape yours exactly like

mine, of course, but you need the lower bit to mostly take 

up the width of your box, so your yarn doesn't escape from one

compartment into the other. (because that would 

defeat the purpose of all this cardboard box cutting and taping)

Cut a few slices into your traced circles. You don't have to be too precise

to be functional, but if you want it pretty, you can do it 

better than I did.

Pop your tubey thingie either up through the bottom or 

down through the top. I did mine from below for ease of taping

and securing, plus I wanted to be able to photograph it for y'all. So if you want yours

prettier and more fumbly for taping, you can push it from the outside down.

Tape the bits to the tube thing.

Put your dividers in. I taped up all the edges on my dividers for durability

and ease of insertion and retraction.

There's my wee yarn ball all the way in the back. Remember to thread

the yarn through your tube things.

Put the divider all the way down.

Repeat the process of yarn threading and divider insertion until you have 

all your wobbly yarn balls or cakes safely inside their own little

houses and not in danger of getting all tangly and wobbly.

I arranged a very taped up end of the box with a folded tape stick, unstick

latch thing. Very primitive and simple, yet quite functional for now.

I may do a nobby/elastic thingie in the future, and I may not.

You can probably think of something cute and crafty without my help.

I hope this tutorial is helpful to someone out there. If you do embark on your own version of a yarn separator box thing, please share it (or a link to it) with me in the comments.

Happy knitting peoples! =)

Once Upon a Morning Coffee

...there was a blogger, knitter, reader, podcaster, poet, painter, sketcher but master of none. Then life did some of those things that life sometimes does and she didn't do much of any of it for some length of time. But low and behold, life did some other things (and of course in this particular sentence, life actually refers to the blogger) and got back some of those things that she enjoyed and somewhat defined herself as being. First came reading, then knitting, and eventually blogging. Podcasting is still out there not being done, in spite of the fact that her voice was rediscovered although she hadn't been aware that it was lost. A few poems fell out now and then, but never really got properly documented for posterity. (and yes, I do almost always end a sentence with a preposition and/or prepositional phrase, because... that's just how I roll - oops, I forgot I was typing in the third person - AHEM) 

She never made any promises about the frequency or content of the blogging that she wanted to get back, but she had at least wanted to blog once or twice a month. Oh life, you many faceted jewel of mystery and mayhem, mirth and monstrosity, you always keep things interesting.

"It's time for a new start, again!" she shouted triumphantly at no one in particular. No one was really listening anyway, but she thought it wise to speak the words aloud in case that whole "universe" thing all her fellow hippies were talking about is actually a thing. She started rereading all of Jane Austen's novels and one fan fiction called Unequal Affections, books about psychology and books about Jane Austen's actual life. She did some knitting of baby surprise sweaters and more reading. Then, there was a car accident, and then she got really sick and went to the hospital for the first time in 8 or 9 years, went to Colorado when her best friend needed her and then to a more local area when her newish in-laws needed her.

She finally got back to blogging on April the thirteenth of the year two thousand and sixteen. There may or may not be another baby surprise sweater soonish. She is determined to get that pattern in her head enough that she can knit it in her sleep. Actually, she is prepared to make the baby sweater, stranding two balls of yarn together, as she did with her first baby surprise sweater. 

ok I'm done with 3rd person

I forgot that I built a yarn box for stranding balls of yarn together without getting them tangled! See that in my next post =)

Bad Habits Resurface

Days and days without posting. Days without knitting, actually. At least I finished the WIP! This one, is bigger, which I figured, since the yarn is slightly more bulky and I used larger needles. I guess I didn't realize quite how much bigger it would be. (Especially considering the fact that the baby isn't even born yet) It looks to be about a 2T, if memory serves.

I've been in a bit of a strange head space the last week or two. I don’t know how many creative types go through a period of weirdness right before a creative breakthrough or not, but I do. Any breakthrough, creative or otherwise, I experience is proceeded by a period of what I call, “staring at the wall”. I don’t really know what is going on in my brain during that time for sure, but I can only describe it as feeling like my subconscious is working out a problem that I am not privy to

It’s an odd feeling. I can’t focus on complicated things. I function mostly normally, but go quiet. For most people that know me well, quiet isn’t usually a word used to describe me. The thing is, over the last few years I’ve been described that way more and more. I don’t know if it’s good, bad or indifferent, it just is. Even now, trying to write a simple blog post, I can see the inconsistency and rambling nature of my thoughts in black and white. Still, I have to put something down, something I can point to and say, “I did do something. I DID start on the thing I was trying to work out.”

The thing is, I’ve been feeling the call of the arts. But they are all calling at once. I want to take amazing photographs while painting an abstract in oils and knit miles of self striping yarn as I write my book. Focus focus focus – I have it, I don’t have it, I have it, I don’t – It’s all the same. I’m focused on them all without being able to do any of it. Oh yeah, I want to figure out how to make bread. Really really good chewy bread with giant holes that rises the way it’s supposed to and make a sandwich. (for the record, I’ve been making bread a long time, and much more lately, but I’m not happy with my results yet)

On the plus side, I've become a veritable sourdough lord of the yeasts, so all my bread tastes marvelous. (Gentlemen Broncos reference) My biggest problem is getting the risen bread not to collapse once it starts baking, or to rise at all after the punch-down. So far, my best success has been with a very simple Ciabatta recipe that my sister sent me. No kneading, it rises in the oven all night and then you shape it into a loaf and start baking it in a cold oven at 400. So far, I have 2 successes and 1 failure. 2 more rising now for tries 4 and 5.

As for my book ideas... I have several stories bouncing around in my head. When I sit down to write them, they jumble up. So, I think I'll start with collecting my random poetry.