Merry Christmas!

Why it's become a taboo phrase in the past several years, I don't know. But I say it proudly, and frankly, don't think it can be said enough.

I celebrate Christmas, in all it's religious glory. I refuse to debate the finer points of the telephone effect on a 2000+ year old story, nor will I discuss, at this point, what Biblical scholars think are the confirmable points. For me, it is the birthday of Jesus Christ, a baby sleeping in a hay-filled feed trough in a poor stable somewhere in the ancient Middle East. I know, with all the ads and shopping and media coverage and such, many people think that Christmas begins the day after Thanksgiving and ends on December 25. In reality, begins tonight, and carries on through the Twelve Days of Christmas, to the Feast of the Epiphany, when, as the story goes, the Three Wise Men arrived to view the Savior of the World.

And so, I wish you peace. I wish you joy. I wish you love. I wish you happiness. I wish you all the blessings of the Christmas season.

I wish you a Merry Christmas!

Respect

My mother has a saying. Well, she has many, most of them which originated from her mother, and which get trotted out from time to time as the situation calls for them. Today, however, I'm talking about one in particular:

"Someday, you, too, will be old, and only in the way."

We use this one a lot. We use it when we're walking down the street — my mother at her best arthritic snail's pace while leaning on my arm for balance — and some pretentious yuppie type (or a herd of their equally pretentious and ill-mannered children) either huffs and blows and never considers uttering the words, "Excuse me" in an effort to get past us or nearly knocks us over trying to go around (and still doesn't say anything). We use it when I point out that she's telling the same story for the 14,000th time that day. We use it when people look at her funny for one reason or another, often because she can't hear very well and either she or the people she's speaking with are projecting rather loudly. But mostly, it's because someone is being rude and impatient while my mother is doing her best to walk, which can be a real challenge some days.

I often wonder whose way I will be in. And unless I turn out to be like the 100-year-old nursing home resident who was strangled by her 98-year-old room mate, I really can't see that I'll be bothering anyone much. (And I should hope I have enough visitors in the home to annoy someone. Just sayin'.)

(I also like the slightly different takes on this story available in the Boston Herald and the Daily Mail. Intriguing.)

This brings me back to my point, though. And I do have one. It is the lack of respect for the elderly that grows worse in the United States on a daily basis. Anthony Burgess' A Clockwork Orange is a chilling depiction of youth in charge, their desires running essentially unchecked in spite of the efforts of a few. A little of "the old ultra-violence" was all the entertainment Alex DeLarge and his Droogs needed on any given evening. Youth, in their eyes, is more important than anything. How close do we come to this kind of id-riddled behavior now, where personal responsibility is not enforced? Where a parenting philosophy of "Don't tell the child no, you'll stunt his/her creative growth" is now growing into its hormonal teens and on into what should be a responsible adulthood? Where educational philosophy of equality and no one failing and "I'm OK, you're OK" takes the place of genuine accomplishment? Where it is common practice for older workers to be laid off or forced into early retirement, to be replaced by those younger and perceived to be smarter, hipper, more adaptable? Even reports of pending and proposed health care reforms will lead to lack of care for the elderly.

Makes me wonder if I'll ever be able to get old enough to be in anyone's way.

(Note: I will do something about health care later. I'm finding way too much information to use at this time.)

Tea Cozies (or Cosies, if you prefer)

I have the perfect tea cosy.

It came from Harrod's several years ago, when they first went live with their Web site. It's quilted, it fits both my big and my small tea pot, and it will keep the tea drinkably hot for as long as 4 hours, depending on how much tea is in the pot.

The problem is, it's beginning to fall apart. The seams are coming undone, and the inside is terribly stained from years of daily use. The further problem is that I can not seem to find another one like it. There are all sorts of tea cosys available, but either they are not quite the right size, not the right thickness, or fancier than I want. I've even got some patterns for them, such as the Kureyon Kozy on Knitty, and a whole book of Wild Tea Cosies, which I like a lot but have not had a chance to explore making. I'm also learning to quilt, and since I sew by hand, something small like a tea cosy might be a perfect starter project for me.

The final problem is that I'm unsure what to do.

So, the quest continues. Do I attempt to find the time and resources to make one? Do I keep looking and hope the right one will appear? Do I just bite the bullet and buy one that will do for now? Or do I go back to my tried and true method of keeping the pot warm, which I used for years before I got a tea cosy: sitting it on one thick, old dish towel, and wrapping it up in another?

Decisions, decisions....

Knitting Decisions

Well, sort of.

I did something very rare. I ordered a knitting book sight-unseen. Normally, I see a knitting or crochet book that looks intriguing, I either borrow it from a friend or get it from the library and take a good look at it. Not this time, though. I saw the book, I bought it.

Now, apparently it's been out for a while, but then again we all know I live under a rock so I don't necessarily see these things. The book, you ask? Cheryl Oberle's Knitted Jackets: 20 Designs from Classic to Contemporary. Why did I buy it sight unseen? Because I have her two other books and LOVE them both.

Well, when it arrived, I did a little happy dance of joy around the house, then proceeded to take it everywhere for the next 48 hours and look at it. I read the introduction, looked at the pictures, pondered the yarn sources, and finally decided on something I really wanted to make.

Sort of.

I narrowed it down to two patterns: Edo, and Little Edo. Yes, they are very similar. One is longer and more lacy in appearance, the other is standard jacket length, and I see no sign of the laciness in the pictures. So, I went to my LYS, from which I had a rather hefty sum in credit slips that were burning a hole in my day planner, and got enough yarn for the larger one, figuring that I could use the same for the smaller.

Now to decide.

Vanity, thy name is...

I got my hair trimmed yesterday. I have very curly, extremely thick hair, and I do not like to fuss or spend much time on it. Thus, I have two ways to wear it: very short, or long. At the moment, it is the former, and as it grows like weeds given too much Miracle Gro, it does best if I get a trim about every three weeks.

Here's the issue: I do not like my hair cut.

Here's the BIGGER issue: the rest of the world seems to LOVE it!

Everyone I know waxes poetic about how cute it looks. My mother, my friends, my colleagues, my neighbors. Even the butchers at my local market and the waiters at my local favorite restaurant have commented on how good it looks. Random people I have never seen before have come up to me on the street, in the mall, in Target, at the library, and commented on it. Granted, it is extremely easy-care, which I like a lot, but it poofs on the top and I don't like that. Reminds me of a bouffant or a beehive (not quite that high, but you get the idea). It's a fussy look that isn't my style.

I've encountered this before. I've had hair cuts that I did not like, or worn clothing that I thought made me look (quite literally) like a blimp, and people go on about how good I look. So, here's my question (it's a three-parter):

1. Am I really so incapable of seeing what looks good on me that I prefer things which actually do not?
2. Are they lying to me, and I'm really correct?
3. Are my expectations impractical and improbable, and what I really want is something that can not be achieved, and so while the result isn't exactly what I wanted, it really does look good and I'm just too pouty to notice?

Inquiring minds want to know.

To knit or not to knit

Like most crafters, I have favorite things.

I have favorite yarns, favorite types of patterns, favorite hooks and needles. Even a favorite place to sit myself when working on things.

So now, my question to myself as I finish a couple of large WIPs that I've enjoyed working on is this:

What do I embark on next?

Of course, the shorter, more budget conscious answer is to finish all those WIPs that are simmering, then pick up a few of those projects for which the yarn and patterns are all ready to go and do those. But then there's the thrill of the hunt, as it were. The joy of planning and plotting, seeking the perfect pattern and the perfect yarn.

I have some Frog Tree Alpaca Sport (one of my favorite yarns) for a hat for my mom. I have a Dubbelmossa hat that I've been working on for a while, which makes my heart sing with joy and which I suspect will keep my ears REALLY warm if I ever finish it. I could get some Black Water Abbey yarn (another favorite) and embark on some variation on a fisherman's gansey. Or I could take up some cobweb weight wool and begin a fine Shetland-style shawl.

At the beginning of the year I declared this The Year of Knitting Selfishly. I did this because 98% of what I make is for someone else, and I had only a hat I'd made myself. It's been a good run, and now, as the end of 2009 approaches, I find I have to do some things for others. Christmas gifts, baby gifts, birthday gifts, mourning gifts. So the decision still remains:

What's next?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Graciousness and Gratitude

When I was 10, my mother became ill. For the next two years, there was a cycle with her in the hospital for a week, home a week. It was very rough on my father and I. It was hard for him because he suddenly felt that he had both Mama and I to take care of. It was hard for me because I suddenly had to be a grown up in many ways.

I learned a lot of things when I was 10. I learned how to pick out which plums were ripe and ready. I learned how to bake bread. I learned that my teachers were often on my side even when I desperately wanted to keep them from knowing I had a side that someone needed to be on with me. I learned how to make a whole Thanksgiving dinner, from the planning stage through the use of leftovers. I learned how to manage money. And probably most importantly, I learned how to stand on my own two feet, and that I could indeed do that.

I also learned gratitude. I learned to be thankful for every moment you have with someone because you never know when there will be no more moments. I learned to appreciate everything I was given, whether it was a hug or a helping hand or a present, because no one is obligated to give you anything, and for every thing you have and receive, there are those who do not have it. I learned that fear and worry are necessary parts of life, but that life does indeed go on, and that you should always appreciate the little things, whether it's a pure white violet, or a rainbow, or a piece of candy that's fantastic, or the smile of someone who loves you. Otherwise, life really isn't worth the effort.

There's been a severe loss of this kind of thing. People are not thankful any more. They feel they are entitled. There is no graciousness in their receipt of something given. Rather, they demand and take it. Granted, it is sometimes difficult to accept something given. It may be something you really don't want like a jar of limburger-licorice dip, or it may be something that you would rather not have to receive, like a helping hand. If it's given to you in a spirit of love, then be gracious. Say thank you, and smile. It's a small thing, but it makes life so much better.

What brings this up? Well, someone did something for me that I would prefer she hadn't, in part because it may have taken away from her being able to do something for someone else who is in more need than me. Also, she went much further than expected, and did a few things where she meant well but I really would prefer had not been done. Graciousness will lead me to say thank you, and will prevent me from pointing out that perhaps this or that was not a great idea. I appreciate her effort, and find it wonderful that she would want to do such a thing for me. And I hope that I can do something as wonderful for her in return.