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Socks for Terry

Socks for Terry

I think I might start posting my knitting on this blog. Instead of writing, I have been knitting like a fiend. Because of the pandemic, I no longer know how to talk to humans and have probably forgotten how to drive–but my knitting mojo has exploded. It seems to use a different part of my brain than I use when poring over the right combinations of words and has been just the thing to quiet the anxiety of this long season. It has been so mindless and soothing at times that I have felt a twinge of guilt and uncertainty: Just who am I becoming?

Some people hide their booze bottles from family members while I may or may not have yarn stashed artfully throughout the house….

I put on my headphones even when I am not listening to anything beyond the interior of my brain and the movements of my needles.

Here is one recent project, socks for a neighbor with cancer.

Socks are simple and contemplative, and I don’t think I can ever truly tire of making them. Also, since my main love language is Acts of Service, I can love through making and also care for those who receive my knitting by praying for them.

Wow, don’t I sound like a saint?

Quick, hand me my credit card.

You Can’t Steal My Joy

You Can’t Steal My Joy

Life for me can feel both small and unhinged as COVID rages and my nation implodes. I work as a therapist from my basement and need miles and miles of walking each week to shake off the effects of back-to-back Zoom meetings and the log jam of alarming news reports.

So, I walk. I bake. I knit. I read. I do housework. I watch a show here and there. I hang out with my family. I correspond some with friends.

Whether I credit or blame my introverted nature, life feels rich and layered during these days as I move more slowly and take the time to attend to it. The disciplines of Noticing and Gratitude calm my anxieties. I will miss my close friendship with them when these days pass.

I thought I’d share–for the sake of us both–some of the sprinkles of abundance to be found in days which can look bland and ordinary to the jaded soul.

Summer wouldn’t be summer without hot dogs. Here is one very hot dog cooling his privates. Yes, he can get out of his box. He just likes it there, fortuitously located under the ceiling fan. He feels cozy and safe despite his demented expression. On top of the box, you see another of my pops of Happy– a small knitted bag drying after being felted in the washing machine. Oh, I just noticed that small UFO at the top right of the photo! It is the toe of a hand-knitted sock which has been blocked and is hanging to dry. I had not realized until this very moment how very much of a knitting nerd I had become.

summer 2020 hotdog

Below is the finished “Charlotte” Felt Handbag after the pattern of the same name by Claire Fairall. You can find her on Ravelry. Charlotte is so cute I just want to kiss her. Of course, always wanting to experiment, I did not use the recommended yarn; and the bag is too small even to fit a cell phone. This dainty may end up in the Christmas stocking of a young friend.

summer 2020 Charlotte Handbag

Next is an old fire hydrant I often pass on my walks. I enjoy this particular street at dusk because its country ways and the angle of the sun produce perfection.

summer 2020 hydrant

This is my favorite evening walk, and so I must continue with this old mail box…

summer 2020 mailbox

and these flowers. I think they must be buttercups. I didn’t think buttercups grew so tall but theses are a particularly jubilant patch!

summer 2020 yellow flowers

I’ll save some more Happy to share another day soon. Things might get worse before they get better, and we’ll need some to help us remember what is good and true in this world.

Until then.

Message in a Bottle

Message in a Bottle

Hello.

How are you?

I am writing to you from the toilet.

I’m lying.

Or am I?

You’d never know.

This is how we behave in a pandemic. Everything goes.

I’ve provided video therapy with a cat’s butt in my face while wearing a nice green blouse, navy blue pajama bottoms with sparkly stars, self-knitted striped rainbow socks, and green paisley clogs. I’ve made a sourdough starter and begun to bake bread. I’ve performed songs from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang over Marco Polo using the “helium” voice and sourced coveted face mask elastic from a worn out fitted sheet, king sized. My youngest daughter is making bank sewing face masks at the kitchen table.

It has taken a pandemic to bring me back to this blog. My muse had left me, and I had become overwhelmed trying to keep up with all of your blogs.

I don’t know if I’ll be back here tomorrow or the next day. I might be busy going crazy. I don’t know if you’ll read this. You might be busy doing the same.

I don’t know anything. Except that God is still good. And in the midst of horror, beauty and joy are still to be found. In abundance.

I hope you are all safe and well.

P.S. In case you’re curious, this is what I’ve been up to since dropped off the face of the earth: https://www.ravelry.com/projects/cmburesh .

sourdough starter photo credit: By arash ghanizadeh – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=47349654

 

 

 

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