Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who would want to live in an institution? - H.L. Mencken
The best reason for a knitter to marry is that you can't teach the cat to be impressed when you finish a lace scarf. Even if he doesn't know a cable from a boble, my mate can be my biggest cheerleader. - At Knit's End, Yarn Harlot
I just finished my first (of 3) baby blankets. It is for a co-worker from a previous job. It's a pink and blue knit blanket (even though she is having a girl) with a yellow crochet trim. I finished it up after a month of working on it. I did the last ten rows and the crocheted edge while watching about 5 hours of CSI Season 1 on DVD. At 7am, my husband comes into the room and I show him the blanket. He stares at it for a long time before saying, "This is the best thing I've ever seen you make!" Even if the receiver doesn't like the blanket at all, my husband's praise made doing the job worthwhile. Best. Encouragement. Ever.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Fear
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you NOT to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. Marianne Williamson
I first heard this quote in Coach Carter. It made me pause, cry a little, and pull out my journal with a promise to let my light shine. In the movie, there is no mention of God. So imagine my surprise that the truth of the quote without God was validated (to me) by the truth of the quote including God. There was a certain power to the words, as if God had reached from the television to touch the part of my heart that makes this quote true. I am afraid to push myself to my limits, working to exhaustion, resting when needed, congratulating myself when I succeed, learning from my mistakes when I fail.
I know my biggest fear is failure. I am afraid I am no good, that I am trying to hard for nothing. I am afraid that others will be better than me, nullifying my achievements. I am afraid that I will not learn, I will not grow and therefore, I will die. I fight against it every day, trying my hardest to be innovative. I am also afraid that I will let those around me down. What I am beginning to understand is that I will do all the things I am afraid of, but what I continually find, much to my amazement, is that I do not do them. When I am my most judgemental self, something keeps me from being the disappointment I should be. When I write, it always comes out as something insightful, or funny, or emotional, depending on what I am writing. Others are better than me, but my achievements are still noticed and rewarded and when something I do isn't rewarded, there is still some comfort in finding that I've done my best. No matter what darkness threatens to overtake my efforts, I find that, through no help from me, my efforts avail much. If there is weakness in my actions, the results are momentous. So if my actions are strong, the results my be astounding. That is what, in the end, I am afraid of.
It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you NOT to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. Marianne Williamson
I first heard this quote in Coach Carter. It made me pause, cry a little, and pull out my journal with a promise to let my light shine. In the movie, there is no mention of God. So imagine my surprise that the truth of the quote without God was validated (to me) by the truth of the quote including God. There was a certain power to the words, as if God had reached from the television to touch the part of my heart that makes this quote true. I am afraid to push myself to my limits, working to exhaustion, resting when needed, congratulating myself when I succeed, learning from my mistakes when I fail.
I know my biggest fear is failure. I am afraid I am no good, that I am trying to hard for nothing. I am afraid that others will be better than me, nullifying my achievements. I am afraid that I will not learn, I will not grow and therefore, I will die. I fight against it every day, trying my hardest to be innovative. I am also afraid that I will let those around me down. What I am beginning to understand is that I will do all the things I am afraid of, but what I continually find, much to my amazement, is that I do not do them. When I am my most judgemental self, something keeps me from being the disappointment I should be. When I write, it always comes out as something insightful, or funny, or emotional, depending on what I am writing. Others are better than me, but my achievements are still noticed and rewarded and when something I do isn't rewarded, there is still some comfort in finding that I've done my best. No matter what darkness threatens to overtake my efforts, I find that, through no help from me, my efforts avail much. If there is weakness in my actions, the results are momentous. So if my actions are strong, the results my be astounding. That is what, in the end, I am afraid of.
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Snide comments are SO called for.
I am a yarn nerd. I asked about yarn shops everywhere I went in Indiana. People told me different places, but they were never places we were going. Finally in Ohio, I spot a fabric shop. The coffee shop we were going to check out was two blocks away, so when we ordered our food, I ran to the shop to check out what yarn, if any, they had.
There were two little old ladies in the back, talking. They looked at me as I walked in, then went back to their conversation. Neither greeted me, neither offered to help. They just talked about what their granddaughter was going to wear somewhere, what their son said the other day, etc. I saw some really beautiful yarn and some really passe yarn. There was this soft netting type yarn that would have been very pretty for a baby shawl, or even a tiny sweater. There was this multicoloured yarn that would have been awesome for a bag. There were these two old biddies that wouldn't even give me the time of day. So, yarn nerd that I was, I stood up, turned towards the door and started my walk out. I took big, angry steps, like the steps my mom took when I was a little girl struggling to keep up. I let my full weight fall into each step, sounding like the giant I am. Then I said, cheerily, loudly, with a touch of the anger and hurt I was feeling, "Thank you ladies so much..." I began
"You're welcom..." one lady got out before I finished. "for helping me." She cut her "Hon" short because she hadn't.
I walked two block faster than I've ever walked any place, stopping short at a sign. I quickly sprinted into the store and ordered. Half a pound of fudge. Peanut butter fudge and chocolate peanut butter fudge. Because I was hollow. The proprietor was nice. He even rounded down though he was mathematically able to round up.
"Thank you for being nice." I say. I don't know what was in my voice, but he looked at me, his eyes softened a little and he said genuinely, almost laughing, "Hey, that's what I'm here for!"
I heard, "I can't solve all the problems of the world, but I can do my part to be a human being." Then I saw C and J at the car with our food and rushed out, a pinch of fudge on the way to my mouth.
There were two little old ladies in the back, talking. They looked at me as I walked in, then went back to their conversation. Neither greeted me, neither offered to help. They just talked about what their granddaughter was going to wear somewhere, what their son said the other day, etc. I saw some really beautiful yarn and some really passe yarn. There was this soft netting type yarn that would have been very pretty for a baby shawl, or even a tiny sweater. There was this multicoloured yarn that would have been awesome for a bag. There were these two old biddies that wouldn't even give me the time of day. So, yarn nerd that I was, I stood up, turned towards the door and started my walk out. I took big, angry steps, like the steps my mom took when I was a little girl struggling to keep up. I let my full weight fall into each step, sounding like the giant I am. Then I said, cheerily, loudly, with a touch of the anger and hurt I was feeling, "Thank you ladies so much..." I began
"You're welcom..." one lady got out before I finished. "for helping me." She cut her "Hon" short because she hadn't.
I walked two block faster than I've ever walked any place, stopping short at a sign. I quickly sprinted into the store and ordered. Half a pound of fudge. Peanut butter fudge and chocolate peanut butter fudge. Because I was hollow. The proprietor was nice. He even rounded down though he was mathematically able to round up.
"Thank you for being nice." I say. I don't know what was in my voice, but he looked at me, his eyes softened a little and he said genuinely, almost laughing, "Hey, that's what I'm here for!"
I heard, "I can't solve all the problems of the world, but I can do my part to be a human being." Then I saw C and J at the car with our food and rushed out, a pinch of fudge on the way to my mouth.
Are We There Yet?
"Do you need directions sir?"
"No. I'm from here."
I didn't doubt he didn't need directions, but we had been up all day, it was nearly 10:45 and we needed to be on our way to the warm bed that was awaiting us at the end of our journey. C. had worked 6 hours, 7 for me and J. pretty much worked all day. Then we'd flown out of Hartsfield and landed in Indianapolis 1 hour later, ready to put our bags down and go to sleep.
We settled back into the seats of our brand new, never before driven Santa Fe, taking in the new car smell, wondering why they didn't put any car mats down and driving in what looked like a big circle.
"I think we're on the airport loop." J. said.
"I see the interstate over there." C. said. I didn't say anything.
"Yeah, I see that." J. said.
"You're in a Santa Fe." C. said. J. looked askance. I said nothing.
"You know, you could take this thing over the grass..." C. joked.
"I can just see myself trying to explain the scratches. 'I promise, the scratches were already there! I don't know why she didn't see them when she checked us out.'" J. laughed. "Oh, here's a street off the loop." He takes it. I begin to laugh to myself a little bit.
Then we drive. I feel like we've seen the whole of Indianapolis and are still no closer to getting to sleep. Finally, we stumble upon the interstate. They breathe a sigh of relief.
"Interesting." I say. J. turns around and looks at me. "No snide comments about me not taking directions." he says. I tell him I was commenting on the car that went too far, backed up in the midst of busy traffic, then went in the right direction at a busy intersection. Interesting that she backed up, interesting that it was this busy at 11:30.
We get on the interstate. We follow it correctly. 10 minutes later, on our right, is the airport, our car rental name emblazoned in yellow. The same car rental place we'd left 45 minutes ago.
Interesting.
For the rest of the trip, I laughed everytime someone asked J. if he needed directions.
"No. I'm from here."
I didn't doubt he didn't need directions, but we had been up all day, it was nearly 10:45 and we needed to be on our way to the warm bed that was awaiting us at the end of our journey. C. had worked 6 hours, 7 for me and J. pretty much worked all day. Then we'd flown out of Hartsfield and landed in Indianapolis 1 hour later, ready to put our bags down and go to sleep.
We settled back into the seats of our brand new, never before driven Santa Fe, taking in the new car smell, wondering why they didn't put any car mats down and driving in what looked like a big circle.
"I think we're on the airport loop." J. said.
"I see the interstate over there." C. said. I didn't say anything.
"Yeah, I see that." J. said.
"You're in a Santa Fe." C. said. J. looked askance. I said nothing.
"You know, you could take this thing over the grass..." C. joked.
"I can just see myself trying to explain the scratches. 'I promise, the scratches were already there! I don't know why she didn't see them when she checked us out.'" J. laughed. "Oh, here's a street off the loop." He takes it. I begin to laugh to myself a little bit.
Then we drive. I feel like we've seen the whole of Indianapolis and are still no closer to getting to sleep. Finally, we stumble upon the interstate. They breathe a sigh of relief.
"Interesting." I say. J. turns around and looks at me. "No snide comments about me not taking directions." he says. I tell him I was commenting on the car that went too far, backed up in the midst of busy traffic, then went in the right direction at a busy intersection. Interesting that she backed up, interesting that it was this busy at 11:30.
We get on the interstate. We follow it correctly. 10 minutes later, on our right, is the airport, our car rental name emblazoned in yellow. The same car rental place we'd left 45 minutes ago.
Interesting.
For the rest of the trip, I laughed everytime someone asked J. if he needed directions.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Reflections during flight
I had to switch to all plastic and wood knitting needles for this flight, although somehow my crochet hook made it in under the radar. That means I had to give up two urgent projects because I was working with metal needles. Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhh. RANT: I had to start two new projects to compensate for the lack of metal needles. Now I'm truly overloaded. Please clue me in when a little old lady tries to hijack a plane with size 11 US knitting needles or Addi Turbo circulars.
There is a lady wearing pink and green. Bright pink and green. Neon even. Colours I haven't seen together since 10th grade. 13 years ago. And only on a very awkward, socially unacceptable teen. Me. And I thought I was cute, just like this lady. And I was wrong. Just like this lady.
I'm making myself a scarf knit on size 19 needles. I'm very excited. This is the first thing I'll knit for myself that will be any good. My first knit item sits in the bottom drawer of my husband desk at work. Even I am not sure what it is supposed to be. He says it looks like I took a skein of yarn, threw it to a dog to play with, took it back 30 minutes later and say, "Here's my scarf."
There is a squeaky wheel on the plane. It's as bad as a bad grocery cart wheel. But scarier. I'm sure it doesn't say anything good about the plane.
Take off is the best part of flying.
There is a lady wearing pink and green. Bright pink and green. Neon even. Colours I haven't seen together since 10th grade. 13 years ago. And only on a very awkward, socially unacceptable teen. Me. And I thought I was cute, just like this lady. And I was wrong. Just like this lady.
I'm making myself a scarf knit on size 19 needles. I'm very excited. This is the first thing I'll knit for myself that will be any good. My first knit item sits in the bottom drawer of my husband desk at work. Even I am not sure what it is supposed to be. He says it looks like I took a skein of yarn, threw it to a dog to play with, took it back 30 minutes later and say, "Here's my scarf."
There is a squeaky wheel on the plane. It's as bad as a bad grocery cart wheel. But scarier. I'm sure it doesn't say anything good about the plane.
Take off is the best part of flying.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Land Shark!
Here is proof that Sci-Fi Network reads my blog. I don't know if that's good or not. Without a doubt the thoughts presented in High Tide are present in this finished product by Sci-Fi. That's okay. It couldn't be better than mine was going to be.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants of course spoilers
Yes. That is actually the title of this post. No, I did not find jeans that magically fit me and three of my friends. Heck, I can't find a pair that will fit just me. But I found a movie that fit quite nicely. The movie starred Joan of Arcadia and a Gilmore Girl and America Ferrera, and another girl who I didn't know from anything. They were well thought out characters, characters that were dynamic, that changed during the course of the movie, that were three dimensional. The story was well written, a good flow of ideas into images that sometimes took my breath away. And I cried.
How did I come to see this traveling pants movie, you ask? It all started out well enough. I was taking the girls I mentor to a movie, since we were getting too weighed down with all the things going on around us. I decided they should pick the movie. I was hoping we would get to see The Longest Yard, even though I've only heard so-so reviews about it. The Sisterhood came out that day and was at the top of the listing for movies and they didn't get much further than that one. I breathed a big sigh and said, "Okay." I invited a co-worker to go with us, simply because I didn't know her and thought it would be fun getting to know her. So there we were, our own weird sisterhood, going to watch this movie. I enjoyed the dialogue, the sadness that didn't get mired into sappiness, the realness of friendship portrayed, the truth of parent/child relationships. Even the benign self-centeredness of Carmen's (America Ferrera's character) stepmother-to-be as she prepared for her wedding was real. I wasn't quite that bad, but I remember. The favourite character was Bailey, the precocious 12 year old with leukemia. She was acidic enough to be 12, but caring enough to be a person facing death every day. I don't think Dakota Fanning has to watch her back, but she was truly good. I cried the most during Carmen's scenes with her dad. The longing to be with him even though he kept himself far from her, the treachery she felt, the anger, and the pure joy when he included her without being coerced into doing so. Maybe it was too much of a happy ending for her story, but at the same time, it was right. Oh, it's not Oscar worthy, where I left the theater thinking that I'd never seen a better written movie, or more ably acted, or anything like that. I did walk away from it with many topics running through my mind. Things like, why do I fear death? Will I ever be honest with my dad like Carmen? Can I stop looking down on others just because they chose a path I wouldn't have? Will I continue to fight for the love I've been given against any odds?
I guess I should say this at the beginning, but I recommend this movie. If you've gotten this far, you've seen a map of the journey, perhaps, but you haven't seen the beauty of Greece, and the joy of being acknowledged, or the anguish of defeating yourself that this movie takes you through. It's something else to look at the world again though another's eyes.
How did I come to see this traveling pants movie, you ask? It all started out well enough. I was taking the girls I mentor to a movie, since we were getting too weighed down with all the things going on around us. I decided they should pick the movie. I was hoping we would get to see The Longest Yard, even though I've only heard so-so reviews about it. The Sisterhood came out that day and was at the top of the listing for movies and they didn't get much further than that one. I breathed a big sigh and said, "Okay." I invited a co-worker to go with us, simply because I didn't know her and thought it would be fun getting to know her. So there we were, our own weird sisterhood, going to watch this movie. I enjoyed the dialogue, the sadness that didn't get mired into sappiness, the realness of friendship portrayed, the truth of parent/child relationships. Even the benign self-centeredness of Carmen's (America Ferrera's character) stepmother-to-be as she prepared for her wedding was real. I wasn't quite that bad, but I remember. The favourite character was Bailey, the precocious 12 year old with leukemia. She was acidic enough to be 12, but caring enough to be a person facing death every day. I don't think Dakota Fanning has to watch her back, but she was truly good. I cried the most during Carmen's scenes with her dad. The longing to be with him even though he kept himself far from her, the treachery she felt, the anger, and the pure joy when he included her without being coerced into doing so. Maybe it was too much of a happy ending for her story, but at the same time, it was right. Oh, it's not Oscar worthy, where I left the theater thinking that I'd never seen a better written movie, or more ably acted, or anything like that. I did walk away from it with many topics running through my mind. Things like, why do I fear death? Will I ever be honest with my dad like Carmen? Can I stop looking down on others just because they chose a path I wouldn't have? Will I continue to fight for the love I've been given against any odds?
I guess I should say this at the beginning, but I recommend this movie. If you've gotten this far, you've seen a map of the journey, perhaps, but you haven't seen the beauty of Greece, and the joy of being acknowledged, or the anguish of defeating yourself that this movie takes you through. It's something else to look at the world again though another's eyes.
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