Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Superwoman - Not!

Every time the catalog from Femail Creations arrives, I am always drawn toward one particular plaque that speaks to me.


Now me? I'd probably want to add a magic wand to the mix. Kind of a Fairy Godmother with super powers.

The problem, I'm starting to slowly realize, is that I need more than a cape, tiara and magic wand. On top of that, I'm tired and I'm not sure I want to save the world anymore.

While I think I'm starting to understand I'm not Superwoman, I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to admit it yet. To the world, but more importantly — to me.

I grew up in the '60s and '70s — to the Helen Reddy anthem "I am woman, hear me roar, in numbers to big to ignore..." or the classic "I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never make you forget you're a man — cause I'm a woman." Gloria Steinem, Helen Gurley Brown, bra burning ... the fantasy that women could do anything and everything they wanted. WE COULD HAVE IT ALL!

But I'm starting to ask the question "do I want to have it all?" and "why do I need to have it all?" In the end, what did having it all do for me? Did it improve my quality of life? Did I accomplish more? Did I enjoy myself along the way? Did it let me focus on the things that are important?

For the most part, the answer is no. 

Trying to do it all has
...worn me out
                ...unfocused my attention
                                 ....and caused me angst as I work out the logistics of making it look easy.

If I'm too tired because I've been running around, like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to prove I'm superwoman and make it look like a walk in the park ... well then, I'm not enjoying the things I really want to, am I? And to be honest. Being superwoman isn't one of them.

So, here's my declaration: I don't want it all — I have enough. I don't need a tiara, cape and magic want — I need a cup of tea, a good book and a porch swing.

If you'll excuse me, the sun is shining, there's a gentle breeze, and the tea is brewed ... 

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Time Lord Wanted, TARDIS Mandatory

When I saw this diagram,

I finally knew what I needed — a Time Lord!! 

Let me restate that. I need to BE a Time Lord.

Why you might ask? Well, for any number of reasons.

First, I would go back in time to the beginning of 2014 and write that brilliant blog post I never got around to. Since I wouldn't be changing anyone's timeline, I suppose this would be ok. I truly can't image my blog posts affecting the course of the world or changing history.

But wait! From a knitter's perspective, that's not all...

The TARDIS — imagine what kind of yarn a knitter could hide in a TARDIS. While the space, where I currently house my stash, is finite and eventually the yarn will go pouring out the window, a TARDIS would solve that problem! Bigger on the inside? Yes please. And so deceptive! No one will ever know the extent of that stash. (Well, they wouldn't if I didn't compulsively list it on Ravelry to keep track of it.) I mean, really how much yarn can one police box hold?

I assume knitting is supported by the Gallifreyans since the fourth Doctor had a 16 foot scarf that many a knitter has duplicated. (Although frankly, that's a lot of garter stitch. Too much, if you ask me. When my son asked for a Dr. Who scarf, I taught him to knit and bought him the yarn.)

Then there's the Sonic Screwdriver that seems to be the all-purpose fix-it tool. Just think of the knitting errors (I mean, unintentional design elements) you could fix without the cursing, frustration, and gnashing of teeth. Perhaps it would even translate poorly written patterns into English (or German, or whatever language makes it understandable.)

Companions? I don't know that, as a Time Lord, I'd have just one companion. Knitting, while it can be a solitary endeavor, is best done with friends. Lots of them. If you're going to travel through time, you might as well have companions that make you laugh and understand your knitting obsession. Not to mention, the TARDIS would be able to hold everyone's stash!! And spinning wheels and looms and ... well, it boggles the mind.

And finally there's that two heart thing. While I can't come up with a specific reason why two hearts would be valuable in knitting, I do think the world would be a better place if we all had two hearts.

So to recap: Time Lord, TARDIS, companions, sonic screwdriver... 

All I can say is allons-y

Friday, December 13, 2013

A Knitter's Holiday Dilemma... (in rhyme, of course)

Twelve days before Christmas,
        and things were a mess.
There were projects unknitted,
        the knitter was vexed.

With only two hands ,
        plus a list, oh so, long,
            How can I get finished?
        where did I go wrong?

In choosing my gifting,
        was it overambitious,
            To think it’d be easy,
        to grant everyone’s wishes.

So how to get started?
                    how to prioritize?
            How to still look amazing,
        in everyone’s eyes.

So the list has been written
                   the yarn’s all been bought
            The time has been scheduled,
                   to ease my distraught.

Yet, here I sit...
       and think, "where will I fail?"
I’ll know after coffee
      and reading email…  


Thursday, November 21, 2013

Insight Without Action Is...

Normal?

For me it seems.

So, this is the first step of doing something about an insight I recently had. The insight? I have read and learned a great deal, and I have thought about what I've learned and how it could be applied.

And I have applied it — in my head.

Which reminds me of my dad's favorite photography saying "I've taken hundreds of great pictures, too bad there wasn't any film in the camera."

I've come up with great business ideas, written wonderful blog posts, taken stunning photographs and created gorgeous knitwear — in my head.  

Now for some reason, lately, this lesson has come back to me over and over in the last month.

In October I took a photography course on how to take photos of my fiber from Franklin Habit. Remember him? This time I was in my element sitting with my new DSLR, my point and shoot and my phone. I learned how I could use each effectively and while I thought I knew about photography from my past, this helped me see the differences between shooting with film and digitally. I finally understood all the cool things that can now be done. But the one thing that Franklin kept emphasizing was "if you don't practice what you've learned, get the camera out and start experimenting, your photos aren't going to get any better." (I put quotes there, but it's a bit paraphrased.) I left class determined that my camera would go with me everywhere. I would experiment with lighting and backgrounds. I would examine previous photos and see what I could have improved. I've had the insight...

There's been no action.

Last week I participated in a wonderful, online Great Work MBA program that was pulled together by Michael Bungay Stanier of Box of Crayons. (If you haven't encountered Michael's work yet, take a look. You'll be glad you did.) The program was brilliant. The people he interviewed were brilliant. I took page after page of notes that were brilliant .

At the end of each interview, Michael would ask us to take a moment to reflect on what two key things we wanted to remember from the interview, and then what one action were we going to take. Five days of interviews + five speakers a day (should) = twenty-five actions. Right? For the past week I've thought a great deal about the brilliant things I learned.

There's been no action.

At the end of the week, I was sharing with a friend an idea I had. It was a venture that would move me into something that was more aligned with who I am and what I'm good at. I was excited as I told her about it and the steps I'd been thinking about to move in that direction. Something that both the photography class and the Great Work MBA made me believe was attainable. She told me to hurry and write it down...

There's been no action.

Last night was the final nudge. At knitting I was complaining about a hat I knit and knew I could do better. Knew that it didn't meet my standards. That every time Mike put it on, I'd cringe. Finally one of my fiber friends said (again, paraphrasing) "Rip it out already."

And this time, there has been action. 

So this is my public declaration that it's time to take action on some of those other things. My photography, my writing, and my great ideas (well, to me anyway — they're brilliant!) To quit complaining and just "Rip it out already." Thank you Franklin, Michael and Malee.

Blog post acknowledging insight written? Check! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go cast on stitches for a new hat, write a business plan and pull out the camera ... before I think about it too long.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Plea from A Small Dog

Hi everyone,
You probably don't know me, but you may have noticed my picture in the corner of this blog. Yes, that's me. In a tangled mass of yarn. I promise, I didn't do it. And why I had my picture taken in the middle of it is beyond me. Someone's completely unwound — not gonna say who ...

So, my momma (she's the one who usually writes here) told me about this guy who lives with a sheep named Dolores and balls of sock yarn that sometimes write his blog for him. So I figured, if a chain-smoking sheep can write, why can't I? And besides there's something I have to say.

I don't get this whole yarn and knitting obsession. I mean, I've tried. I really have.

Of the needles I've chewed, I haven't found any that are particularly tasty. They all have a tendency to give me splinters and leave a wooden aftertaste. I haven't tried chewing any of the carbon ones yet. (I wonder where she's got those hidden.)

And yarn? Man that woman gets cranky when I want to play with it. It's not like I'm eating it — I'm just dragging it around the house and teasing the cats. I run with it, they pounce. Momma says we all need more exercise, but I'm not sure she means it. I think running and pouncing are exercise and I think it shows a level of cooperation between the furry people in the house. That didn't seem to persuade her either.

Don't even get me started on her knitting book collection. Not one has patterns that I find of interest. Seriously, aren't there books on how to knit sweaters for adorable little dogs who freeze in the winter? Why am I condemned to store bought fleece hoodies? I've seen how much yarn she has. She could knit me a sweater ... a lot of them! I promise that I probably won't run, dragging it through the house, the way I do my hoodies. Probably. And you know whatever she knits, I'm gonna make look good, even if it has bobbles! (I'm not sure I heard right, but I think she said something about finding a book that would show her how to make yarn with my fur — that's going a bit far, don't you think? I make a cute dog, not a cute sweater.)

There's this writer momma likes, the Yarn Harlot I think. Ms. Harlot wrote a piece, in her book, All Wound Up: The Yarn Harlot Writes for a Spin, comparing knitting to addiction. If I remember correctly, the conclusion was that knitters are near to being addicts. I find this disturbing. I realize we all have our vices. That big fat cat, Sam, seems to like his toys covered in catnip, and I will admit that if my slimy, stuffing-less caterpillar goes missing, I freak out a bit. But I think it's time momma just says NO to yarn before she ends up in rehab and is forced to knit with coffee stirrers and string she's spun out of lint from the dryer.

And the final straw? She leaves me so she can hang out with other knitting addicts who, instead of helping her on the road to recovery, only feed her habit. She thinks I don't know, but I see her sneak out of the house with her knitting paraphernalia. I know where she's going. And I don't like it one bit. If only I could make her see that the cure is staying home and playing with me. But the more I nag the faster she seems to leave the house. She keeps trying that trick of making me want to be quiet, but I'm on to her. It's going to take more than a milkbone to bribe me into silence.

I guess that's all I have to say now ... her needles have stopped clacking, so I'm guessing she'll be looking for me shortly. She gets all kinds of cranky when she catches me on the computer.

Please join me in the fight to save my momma from the merino lined rabbit hole she's headed down. There's a milkbone in it for you and I may let you play with my caterpillar.

Thanks for your support,
La Bella Luna 
(aka Luna, or if Mike's talking about me to momma, YOUR dog. I like Luna better.)

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

It's October and Time to Break Out the Pink?

Well, for most people ... not for me. I've come to hate this time of year and the overwhelm of "in your face" breast cancer awareness.

I am aware.

I am a survivor.

But, here's the thing — I believe breast cancer awareness should be year round and not just October. I hate being reminded, throughout the month of October, that I 'belong to the club'. There are some that seem to base their identity on this disease — I'm not one of them. Every year I sit in the waiting room of the mammography center, and every year I hear women proclaim, almost proudly "well, I have to go through special screenings because I'm a breast cancer survivor." I am too, I just don't think it's any one's business but my own when I'm sitting there.

Truthfully, I don't think it's any one's business even when I'm not sitting there. (and yet here I sit writing a public post about it) I'm still surprised when someone learns I had breast cancer and they hadn't known at the time. Why would they? I didn't declare it from the rooftops or take out an ad in the post. I did what I needed to do. I researched, I found the best care I could, I kept a positive attitude (even when I wasn't feeling particularly positive) and through it all, I was thankful that I decided to schedule a mammogram for my 50 year/50,000 mile check up and it was caught early.

After nearly five years I don't notice the scars and, except for doctor appointments, I have finally hit a point where I forget that I belong to the group labled breast cancer survivors.

So while I won't wear pink ribbons, buy pink appliances (Tell me, what does a pink mixer have to do with breast cancer research anyway? And who has a kitchen a pink mixer would look good in?), or put a pink ribbon magnet on my car, here's what I will do:
  • I will support the organizations that are trying to make a difference.
  • I will encourage women not to ignore their mammograms and extol the benefits of early detection.
  • I will be there for another woman who is dealing with the news that something "suspicious" was found in the images.
  • I will donate to groups that I believe are truly committed to women's health issues. (One major organization lost my support several years ago for what, I thought, was a short-sighted decision that has since been reversed. I'm sure they continue to do good things, just not with my money.)
  • I will Make Strides when I can, and support others when I can't.
  • I will remember that breast cancer is only one type of cancer and that daily people are in a fight for their lives.
  • I will continue to donate to the American Cancer Society because of that.
  • And finally, I will ask you to respect the right, of survivors, to view October as the month between September and November, and not assume they don't care about the cause. We do care, just not publicly, and not just in October.
Of course, I have no control over Luna... 
She's half terrier and has a mind of her own

Now, back to our regularly scheduled, less preachy, more sassy and smart-assy, blog.

Monday, September 30, 2013

The Process of Knitting with Mom

"My mind isn't what it used to be, I forget things" is something my mother frequently tells me when she's frustrated that she can't remember an event, a person, what she had for breakfast that morning, or more recently, how to describe a fountain that she had just seen. I can't even imagine what it's like to know something is wrong, but not know what.

As I've mentioned before, the 'what' is Alzheimer's and because of our history of a loved one with this disease, I don't think we've ever used the word Alzheimer's with my mom, at least I know I haven't. What would be the point of telling my mom why she 'forgets' things? It's not going away. It's not going to get better.

And yet, in the midst of all this, I am amazed at what still resides in her memory ... like knitting. 

I don't remember my mom being an avid knitter when I was growing up.  I know she knit out of necessity - mittens, hats. At this point I have no way of asking her when she learned to knit, or who taught her. And I'm pretty sure she didn't teach me. Knitting was not something you saw my mom do often. If she was knitting, it was because something needed to be knit. 

It was product, not process, that drove the knitting.

Fast forward to the present. My mom knits. 

Constantly. 

Ask her why and she'll tell you it's because she has always enjoyed knitting. It makes her happy and keeps her busy. 

At this point, it's process that's important more than the product. 

Because the product is ... well ... um ... we're not entirely sure.

She casts on as many stitches as the needle will hold and then just knits, dropping stitches as she goes, randomly adding others. In the end what you have is a skein of yarn that has become rows and rows of garter stitch but not much else. Except that it has made her happy to work with pretty yarn, and she's content in the belief she's doing something useful. 

Often, when I visit, we sit and unwind what she's knit. She holds the knitted piece, I wind the ball. When I ask why we were doing it, she just smiled and says "Because we're having fun." To her, just being with me, sharing the time, is what is important now. It has become part of the process.

So while she forgets people, places, and events from her past, for now she remembers me and she remembers knitting. I visit, we sit, we knit. And sometimes we rip out and rewind what she's knit, but that's ok. 

It's part of the process ...

And we're having fun.