Why Do We Do the Things that We Do?

 This afternoon I took pause to capture images of the active yarn projects spread around my home.  I skipped over the projects that have sat dormant for four or more months.  Inventory?  About nine open accounts.  Wow.  And what do I really have to show for it?  Sometimes, I've got to wonder.  After all, I've repeatedly said that there's no way to make money off this stuff, it's not as if I'm converting my passion into, say, a yarn-work teaching store or even a design house.  It's a sort of applied art meets walking self expression art installment meets a vision of retro-leisure-time-activity.  Who knows, maybe it's just giving expression to modern day angst in a fashion that is quiet and portable and socially acceptable.  And really, why justify it with a cause, a purpose? 

Why so many?  Why not so many!

I'm quite satisfied with the variety, style, craft, and portability of the work at hand.  A benefit of working different projects simultaneously is that any project might fit the moment.  Need some mindless work for sitting at a swim meet?  How about a newly generated concept, full of life and potential?  What about a piece that has failed in it's initial efforts and needs some re-working and careful thought?  And of course, what about the statement piece, one which is always a conversation starter, a gem, piece of my mind, quite literally, out there for all to see? 

Forever Projects Work Wonders on our Sense of Time.

This afghan is one of my favorites.  It's called the Harlequin, from an old Afghan Catalog that I've been carrying around for years, Modern and Traditional Afghans to knit or crochet.

The Harlequin

From Mom's collection of course.

I'm thrilled with my color choice.  The sixties pattern calls for primary colors on a white background.  My taste, and to fit my front porch/office area is the chartreuse/coral/black/grey.  The black background seemed like a great idea, but it's turning into a bit of a nightmare.  I've got about forty more black diamonds to crochet and assemble, and the yarn is difficult to see, especially when working in challenging light.  I'm probably about twenty-five percent finished, so, like many pieces, I may never finish.

Don't give it away.  It's purpose is fulfillment. 

Mobius Cowl

I'm happy to make another Mobius Cowl.  I made this wrap/shawl/warmer for another friend at a time of illness and recovery.  This deep purple cowl is going to someone nearby who has had a difficult season.  I am not too fond of making objects as gifts.  A big piece of why I work yarn crafts is that it's a way to make things without always making things for other people (kids/spouse/etc), and as soon as one fills their to-do list with gift items, well, then, poof(!), there goes the huge part of crafting that is self care and meditative.  That said, I'm ocasionally inspired to make a gift, and this wrap is so clever, in that you never have to lift the hook (it wraps on top and bottom as you crochet), there something delightfully giving about the essence of how the cowl works up.

The message: Oh Well. 

Oh Well! Hat.

Heavy on concept,  the Oh Well! hat is one of my favorites.  It's a double knit, so as I work the main color, the contrasting color can spell a design or word out.  "Oh Well." is my first and very favorite bumper-sticker of all.  That said, it's not my favorite piece of yarn work, and I'm not in love with how it's working up (too clunky, too loose with the two color scheme).  It's also a scrap yarn, so although lovely color and yarn, possibly not the best delivery of my message.  Often times, the concept itself is much more inspiring that whatever it is I actually come up with.  So many ideas, and so  little actual time, of course, to bring ideas to light.  I'm completely captivated with yarn-bombing of all sorts, but truthfully, I can't fathom being able to cover such vast spaces with my work, so I need to settle for wear-able yarn art.

Sometimes, an idea fails. Move On.

Crochet or get out of the way. Move on.

I'm kind of moving away from my obsession with granny squares turned into garments.  So this really delicious yarn (baby cashmere merino silk), that I've already used for fingerless mittens and hat is sort of taking up space in my project mind.  I want to turn it into a skirt, but it's just taking too long, and I'm not feeling it.  Let's face it, anyone who's ever made a lot of stuff knows the truth.  Some projects just don't work.  This might get pieced together one day, but it's hard to
feel it, sitting in a purse, day in and day out.  In some ways, life is a lot like this.  Sometimes, something seems like a good idea, but once the inspiration is gone, move on.

 Meditation, Repetition, Prediction.

Needlepoint bench cover. Just like Grandma's.

 And then, there's a giant needlepoint bench cover that I found, half-worked, in a thrift store last summer. Something tugged at my heart when I saw it, and I was back in my Grandmother's house, learning to needlepoint, and admiring her cane wood chairs each carefully covered with a maroon-backed floral print.  Needlepoint is tedious, a tremendous eye strain, and not very creative at all.  It is, strictly, pattern piece work.  That said, there's a terrific meditative rhythym to this work, and there are mornings when there's nothing that I'd like to do more than sit in bed with coffee in hand, working this piece which, surely, will take a lifetime.  Then I can dream on to the discovery of what and where I might find the proper bench to place this work upon.   Originally, I imagined some sort of giant coat backed with this piece, but now I've come to realize that this sort of needlework will probably never make it outside of the house....well, as far as I can think....

Foresee the inevitable.  Weather will change.
Cozy in the American Tourister suitcase, a pair of mittens, worked up with yarn that will match the "Oh Well" hat.  I originally conspired to put little ducky on the back side, but the pattern I was using was completely wrong and my tension was miserable.  So it was, just a matter of days or weeks ago that I unravelled last winter's work and started over, perhaps to do a simple striped glove or the like.  For the time, I need to let go of my beloved stencil-patterns for knitting.  Now that it's actually snowing, I sort of wish there was a way that I could have foreseen the cold.   I'm enough of a fair weather athlete to absolutely wait until the weather shifts before I perform any seasonal projects.  Poor planning? Perhaps, but then again, if my intention is to create a feeling of being unencumbered within myself, then I guess I'm on the right track.

Wish List: Always Creating. And, speaking of scraps, I've got in my head that I'd like to build a mod-style dress out of cast-off yarn. Crochet is the craft, and I'm thinking a fairly bulky design on vertical stripes.  Lo and behold, the scraps that I was considering, probably wouldn't be enough for a skirt, let alone a dress, so it's back to the drawing board on that one.

And so yes, why do any of this? Why do what I do? Why do what any of us does?  It's in this world, a world endowed with leisure time and technology and mass production and the mad rush to achieve, earn, survive, that we wish and wonder why.  I argue that we do this because we must.  We must do something to create a sense of ritual, peace, art, joy, connection, belonging.  Some of it turns around and makes the world a better place, some of it sits in our own cocoon and withers, but it's what we must do.  We must try to do something, try to create something, after all it's the hope and the wish that we're building something beautiful, meaningful, worthy of this life and more.  

Ironman has become a marker, and so, let's go!

 Ironman countdown day four, or three, not including race day.  Some years, about now, I'm giddy and silly and dancing around the house.  Some years, I'm chewing through the walls I'm so cranky and nervous.  Other years, I'm so frazzled from trying to pull everything from different compartments of my life together, that it's just one insane swirl.  This morning, I woke up to what I can only describe as a hint of nervousness (can I have waited three hundred sixty days before getting nervous before such a potentially nightmarish day?) mixed with a hefty wave of melancholy.  Sprinkle with world news that can leave no sane person without a terrible stomach ache, and that's where I am.  Now, to wolf down my last meal before leaving in our beloved mini-van towards Madison, Wisconsin.

First, a discussion of gear.  Believe it, this photo-array of the packings that I'm taking is a typical selection of what Iron-geeks bring to their lodging prior to race day.  Two of just about everything, and one of every sort of race day weather attire.  Bike, swim, run gear galore, plus three days worth of weekend-er clothes to enjoy what is a bit of a retreat, reunion, celebration, as it might be called.

The Unencumbered Woman does one better, which is, as usual, I can't imagine leaving for five days without a selection of yarn projects.  I'm taking three (or is it four?)  yarn works.  One, my needlepoint benchcover; two, a pair of worsted weight socks that I started yesterday, and an Doris Chan motif skirt. That, along with a Joyce Carol Oates novel, my training log and calendar, camera, smartphone and sundry chargers, I'm all set for leisure time.

And what about race preparation?  I'll jog a bit in Madison, swim on Saturday morning, perhaps tool around on my bike, but for the most part I'm finished with exercise.  Yesterday, I got up early enough to swim with my team, and that felt nice.  Then, in accordance with the fact that I've been primarily walking since I crashed my bike, I went for a long walk at around noon.   By the end of the day, I was wondering what had happened to me.  Where is that fighting spirit?  Do I care how fast, how hard, how long I take?  Simple burnout, fear of failure, or even battle fatigue from a crash and sore breathing three weeks prior to race day.  I don't really know, and at my ninth Ironman, it hardly matters.  Frankly, this woman has done her job, but enrolling and participating in the Ironman has given me a focus for my years worth of exercise.  Most don't believe this, but I know I'd have a hard time getting out twelve months a year and exercising without this sort of encompassing goal.  Now, after so many years, the ritual is set and it's almost easy for me to go through the training motions. 

And then last evening,  as I sat watching daughter's martial arts practice, it dawned on me.  As I repeat something that I can savor, year in and year out, our life here in suburbia, the stars of the show are evolving and growing and moving and changing.  On the eve of a black belt promotion, that little pipsqueak that cheered me on in 2008 is grown to the size that her sister was in 2008.  And big sis, well, there's no shortage of emotional pull in this house as we watch her successfully navigate her first month at a humungous suburban high school.  We're so proud of these beautiful, funny, athletic, creative kids, and we're preparing for the next phase.  

 So what will the next phase look like?  Who can know.  And maybe this, as much as anything, keeps me coming back to Ironman.  I, as much as I love chaos and adventure, am a creature of habit.  I grew  up in a quiet, predictable, safe home.  I was fortunate to grow up in the number one hippie town in the US, and raised by loving, older parents of the WWII generation.  My empathy spans the decades and the movements, but at bottom, I crave simplicity.  A workout plan, a sweaty day, a healthy hippie meal, and a jigsaw puzzle to toil over.  Amidst the rocky world news and national news that leaves so many of us feeling utterly help/hopeless, day after day, I can repeat this ritual race.  While I'm at it, I can share my perspective with others, I can honor my own integrity when possible, and finally, I can get some of that mojo out, that a middle aged woman is totally proud to possess.  From year to year, I can remember what it was that was happening in years past.  Ironman has become a marker, and so, let's go!

What's next, after the motivation is gone?

So whither the goddess yarn artist within me?  Today, I'm trying to pack for a weekend away with family and friends.  Needless to say, this is an occasion for glorious yarn arts.  While throwing some running clothes and flannel shirts into my overnight bag, I start to mull over what crochet or knit project I'll bring along.  All I can think, unfortunately, is yuck, yuck, yuck.  All of my active projects are feeling roughshod, failed, or just not worth the effort.  I'm looking at a pile of yarn that cost a bundle, I've already thrown a lot of sweat equity this way, and I can't bear the results.  Ugh.
This is what I've got it narrowed down to: Shall I bring my partially finished chick-motif mitten?  Not really, since I'm realizing that my yarn work on the pattern is too tight and slightly off-center.

That's so cute! Will it fit?

 OK, then how about the granny square remnant that I'm converting into a skirt or dress or cape?  Well, since the weight of yarn is hideously light (picture: old school crochet) and I can't really figure out what part of my body this object will adorn, I'm stuck.

table runner? blanket? dress? who knows?

And, perhaps, what about this pink-mesh thing that was supposed to be a snug tank but now it's feeling looser and looser as it works up and the stitch is just plain boring? Yuck, sick of this, and the hot pink attracts too many comments as I plod along.

Oh, my. Nice color!

But there's more! How about the granny square skirt that I've  been slowly working up for the better part of a year?  I harbor no major objections to this project, but after a few nicely designed squares, I feel like it's all filler, now, and I'm not inspired to build onto it, plus, I'm afraid that I don't have enough yarn to make the skirt long enough to wear.

Looks cute to me, can't you just finish it?

And finally, a  beautiful set of soy silk yarn, recently purchased for a truly fabulous Star Trek style dress designed by her highness, Doris Chan.  But alas, reading this pattern has proved elusive for me up until now.  I can't wrap my head around the thing, and it's driving me nuts.  Any communal time while I sit in the corner arguing with a magazine page is simply not pretty.  It also kills my image as a fiber arts goddess myself.

This ol' thing? What's so tough about it?

So there I have it. The equivalent of major craft-blockage.  I don't know what I want to work on, and even more daunting, maybe I don't even want to be working on yarn this weekend.  So, I'll take a deep breath, grab two books, a camera, and maybe even a journal.  Toss in a crossword puzzle book and I'm golden.  Next installment, I might even share the not-so-secret truth that my motivation at training has tanked this season.  Few workouts, lots of sleep, and missed registration deadlines.  A new me?  Quite possibly, but I'll take it easy, follow the energy and see what emerges. After all, this is supposed to be fun, right?

Adorn thyself....musings of a yarn-madwoman.

Political junkies and sports fans, I know you've got your plate full and all, but the Unencumbered is All Too Aware of the pitfalls of relying on the actions of others to deliver us from insanity. And so it goes.  Bedtime for this woman when the talking heads start to grind away.  What else is there?  Why, calm and quiet, of course!
But wait, there's more! It's fall in the Northern Hemisphere and everything is aglow!  Time to whip out some crafty projects and not a minute too soon!  Sore back, sore knee, sore lip...I need to exercise those sedentary muscles.  Polishing off a watch cap and matching fingerless mittens.  LOVE!  Photos, courtesy of Ashby.  I'll take the phenomenal weather and breathe it all in.

watchcap series: Mom's 60s magazine collection.

add a styling' vest from the beautiful friends...good to go.

catch the leaves, girl!

I LOVE FALL> I LOVE THIS WEATHER> I LOVE ME> I LOVE YARN>

catch the maple tree. for real!

I bow down to the beauties and wonder of mother nature and all that this planet has delivered us.

Oh my god.  So many of these people totally don't see things the way I see them!!! Arg!!!!! Read an article for cryin' out  loud!!!!

But can we agree on this? Autumn is Amazing. Hobbies are good. Yarn is soft.  People who make things are working on keeping the planet working in a good direction.  Make things, admire that which is around you.  Adorn thyself.

Sublime. Simple. 

for those who need to know: Mother's Day: September 1965

Yarnage? :extra fine merino, silk, cashmere.  yummmm!!!!!!

Don't try this at home--beware of pointy things

The needlework wars. You know the sort. I'm sitting at a swim meet, with a giant hook in hand and somebody compliments my knitting.  Or, as often, someone compliments my lovely knitted skirt.  Or, a local yarn store is referred to as a "knitting store". I suppose it goes both ways.  The crochet world holds it's own superiority complex as crochet, with a single hook and improvisation galore, layers of kitsch or ancient lacework, well, let's just say that those in the "know" sometimes wonder why bother with something so puritanical as knitting.  I've pretty much revived my needlework career with the crochet hook, but as a lifelong knitter, I adore both crafts and see their pure perfection in many ways.  That said, I'm also not afraid of just about any yarn art: needlepoint, crewel, stitchery, cross-stitch, even rug-hooking in recent years, as my queue of crochet and knit projects ever expands, but every once in a while an awesome '70s style needlework kit catches my eye. What's my point here? I like it all, and whatever yarn art you might decide to pursue, today, tomorrow, or whenever, there's great work to be done and fabulous ideas galore.

Here's another question, however.  Did you ever wonder which craft was more safe, knit or crochet?  I know I've wondered often about eye strain (both crafts) and repetitive use injuries (i've always sort of thought knitting would damage my wrists and arms more readily), sometimes my forefinger hurts as a result of some hearty hooking with tight crochet.

But today, I made an instant discovery, which many of you wise followers probably can imagine. I was sitting on a crowded bleacher at a swim meet. Peter insisted that I was sitting on MC's iPad, and suggested I stand up.

See that spot? Real Blood!

   I quickly grabbed the sock that I was knitting and stood up, driving the size one double tipped knitting needle into the meat of my quadricep. Yes, today I stabbed myself at a swim meet, and didn't even let out a howl.  I pulled the needle out, thinking it probably wasn't in my leg, it had only penetrated my faded jeans, but alas, after I sat back down and reorganized my yarn work, I saw a small circle of blood accumulate on my jeans.  Fact: knitting is more dangerous than crochet, and today's work proved it.  Good thing my tetanus shot is recent. Funny, my doc suggested I get a tetanus because of all the gnarly cycling I do...don't think she anticipated a dirty ol' metal knitting needle driving into my flesh. Go figure!

Sock #1. Almost finished with #2.

"OK...If you hold a gun to my head...."

Collection thanks to Mom! Fresh as the day it was purchased in 1952

 Today I unveiled the Helmet Cover emblazoned with gun.  I have been working on this rendition of a fifties boy's hat for a month or so, and as I adapted the pattern, I realized that I had over-worked the upsizing, thus the intended snug fit was giant on my own head.


 I pondered washing the wool, but thought better and turned it into a helmet cover for cycling!

Photo credit, Addie.

Meet up spot at Lake & Harlem. Photo courtesy of Rick.

Addie: be sure you get all the an

 I love the kitschy child's toy gun, mixed with my rad fifties colors (chartreuse, brown, and coral).  The guys at the corner of Lake & Harlem were duly impressed.  Some seem to think it's a commodity that I can mass produce, but alas, the one and only!

And it's November!!!!!

And then we were off! We were on one of Michael's adventure rides. This time we went North, then East to Evanston, which is rare for us.  Once we got North of Evanston and into Wilmette, Winnetka, etc, we encountered the North Shore Cyclists, who I would describe, basically, as just like us, except we never cross paths because we always ride West and South, they always ride North and West.  We all stopped at the Baha'i Temple for a photo op, and this is what we captured on my camera.