... And Owning a Cat Doesn't Hurt ...

Cats are marvelous companions.  They instantly approve of everything you knit.  They watch with intense interest while your needles click and clack and they wait with great anticipation for you to turn your back and leave your knitting unattended so they can fully investigate the quality of your yarn and covertly help you "wind" it properly.  They think they are helping.  To suggest otherwise would be to malign their good characters, to be sure. 

I've often wondered why, when knitters are so ardent about their stash and projects, that they are almost always drawn to pets who like nothing better than to romp in said stash and tangle with it.  Why doesn't a knitter go for, say, something less "helpful" like, oh, I don't know ... a goldfish?

Because, dear friends, and I'm sure this will come as a surprise, a knitter is always up for a challenge and you can't say to a goldfish, "Gill, will you wind this for me, please?"

Oh, and, Q-tip?  I KNOW you're not really asleep.  You are lying in wait ...

Joy in knitting...

A Little Piece of String

That's how it begins.  A little piece of string and a lot of fascination with making your own fabric.  Turning that fabric into something beautiful comes with practice and experience but we still begin with a little piece of string.  It's not magic.  You don't have to be good - you just have to have the desire to learn.  If you're drawn to the craft, just find some string, some needles and do it.  It may look "funny" when you start but with patience and determination, the skill will grow.

This is a little top down jacket in progress.  When it's done, it should look like I actually know what I'm doing.  And it all started with a little piece of string.

Joy in knitting.

HALLELUJAH!

It's a touchy topic that has been Cast About, pun completely intended, recently and a topic which interests me greatly.  May we, or may we not, knit during church services with divine dispensation without fear of being put in an overnight pouch and FedEx-ed straight to Heck without passing Go and without collecting $200 for yarn.  I'm putting the question to my faithful readers.

Personally, I am unable to sit for 90 minutes with my hands folded politely in my lap, listening intently to my pastor preach.  Do not get me wrong.  My pastor consistently gives wonderful sermons, well prepared and thought out and riveting to the max.  The problem is mine.  I. Cannot. Sit. Still.  Call it impatience, or not having got past the Wiggly Kid Syndrome or just the fact that my heart rate increases if I am for five minutes or more without the means to knit.  You can say what you like - I absorb more and benefit more from my pastor's sermons when I can knit one, purl two for every prayer request and reference to scripture.

All of this makes it difficult to drink my coffee (which I also must have in church).  I have been known to pass my coffee to my hubby while I work an intricate cable, but I draw the line at having him hold out his hands with yarn wrapped around them while I wind a new skein into a ball.  That's what my swift is for.  And even my long-suffering pastor might raise an eyebrow at that activity.

My question to all of you is, if you do knit in church (and we know you do so don't try to wiggle out of it), do you attempt to hide it or do you just whip it out and start throwing?  Do you resist the urge to cuss if you drop a stitch?  Do you complain if they turn the lights down to project films onto a screen or do you say, "Ahem, helloooo, trying to KNIT over here?!" 

I am expecting comments and replies to this post if for no other reason than to assure me that my eternal salvation is secure despite my inability to lay aside my knitting for 90 minutes of reflection and prayer.  The clock starts ... now.

Joy in knitting ... and prayerful reflection ...
Judith (who is wondering if they would mind if I attach my swift to the pew in front of me...)

Amen.

WHAT DOES YOUR MOTHER SMELL LIKE

Okay, so it's NOT knitting-related but I was using my favourite hand cream this afternoon and the scent reminded me that my mother always smelled of Nivea. You know, the cream in the little blue jar. That is the one defining scent that brings my mother to mind with no effort whatsoever.

Isn't it funny how scents can conjure up the most vivid memories from childhood and why is that? Are they so indelibly etched into our brains that we carry them with us all through our lives?

Dear ol' Dad always smelled of Old Spice because, after all, if you grew up in the 60's, that was the quintessential gift that every kid bought for their dads for every possible occasion.

Mom's gone now but lives on every time I catch a trace of Nivea in the air ... and sometimes, I think she's close enough to touch ...

SHARING YOUR CRAFT WITH YOUR PETS - WHAT A GOOD IDEA... - NOT

My Q-tip would much rather play with (and destroy) my Addi Turbos if given half a chance.

Joy in knitting - and discouraging your kitties from wanting to "help".

IVAN HAS A GOOD SIDE AFTER ALL ...

He made Q-tip stop tearing around the house with my Addi Turbos for 5 minutes...

HATS for tiny GIRLS and BOYS

Recently, I learned to crochet. Well, I say recently - compared that to when I learned to knit more than half a century ago ... I only learned to crochet in the last couple of years and I was given a wonderful pattern for hats which are well received at local hospitals for their newborn population.

The latest bag ready for delivery, and the first bag of the New Year, is pictured here, containing 34 hats, 4 of which were made New Year's Day. So quick and easy.

I like to store them in those nifty plastic bags that sheet sets come in because the hospital staff can see what they're getting and it's easy just to slip a card or note inside saying where they are from and it keeps the hats clean and organized.

There is joy in knitting and crocheting and definitely warming tiny heads.

SEE, THIS IS WHY I CALL HIM "IVAN THE SQUIRRIBLE"


Our squirrels are VERY bold. There is, quite frankly, no way of discouraging them from thieving the bird food when they set their little pea brains on that very task. The picture above is how I found him when I walked into my kitchen to make a cup of Rosie Lee this morning.

Today, it seems, Ivan decided it would be a good day for a suet breakfast. Clearly, this particular rodent's list of new year's resolutions did not include leaving the birds' food alone.

This is his commentary to me after pounding on the window to dislodge his hairy butt.
SPEAK to the TAIL!

Now, normally, I would not be put off by this blatant display of gross disrespect, but I DID give him a good 3 minute grace period munching on the suet so I could photograph the dirty deed before pounding on the window so I think he ought to be grateful. This was very rude, I think.

After jumping from the illicit feast to the window sill and over to the fence where he furiously scratched himself and spun his tail while "regrouping", he decided he was still not full.

This is Ivan coming back for more. It's a good job Q-tip was too busy chewing my Addi Turbos to notice this little mini-drama.





Crafty Squirrel: 1
Irate Woman: 0

He wins the battle - I'm still fighting the war.