Grace.

One big gust and I'm suddenly blown right into Thanksgiving.  Best of intentions at updating the blog aside, life continues on at a pedal to the metal pace.  Project after project rolls off needles.  October birthed "Diamonds for Mom" an early birthday present.  Opting out of the zipper it called for, simple closure at the top of just her choosing.

"Football Hoodie" completed just before hunting season began.  A woolen behemoth to wrap around my love while he was stalking the big one.

Knee-highs for the girl rounded out football and soccer season.  Mindlessly knitting while little legs ran.

A quest for the perfect fall hat resulted in a cabled and brimmed chapeau, not sold on the brim a bit too Sherlock Holmes.  May rework this one in the days to come.

Successfully added 2 inches to a sweater I made last year and regreted binding off too early, now it's perfect!  Frogged and rewound another sweater I did last year and was forever irritated by.  Some mistakes are known only by me and some are blaringly obvious. 

Finally, Grace.  A cabled beauty I've been pining for since publication last year.  In keeping with my theme, I screwed it up.  Not once, but twice.  I know right where they are.  I know where it all went awry.  I also know where I recognized it, where I stopped what I was doing and where I moved forward, correctly.  No need to go back and try to fix it, wouldn't have mattered to anyone but me.  I know they're there.  Nobody else does and I kind of like it that way.

Comfortable.

The cooler nights have admittedly been getting to me.  Summer took so long to arrive I no longer care if it stays.  Pining for wool.  I not so jokingly tell my family we'll get an alpaca when we buy our house.  For now I'll make do with a simple sweater made of one. 

Kids at school, canning done for the year, garden putting it's energy into ripening the last fruits.  Nothing to plant.  No activities to plan. 

Frantic running from practice to games even finds it's rhythm.  Picnics packed, eating in the grass, knitting draped on lap, watching them run and run and run...

Lengthened waist.  Lengthened arms.  Left off buttons.  Simple stockinette body shows off the thick/thin baby alpaca blend.  Perfect for the morning walk to school, while the air is still crisp.  Turn on the radio and curl up with the second cup.  Is that a leaf that just fell?

Comfortable.

Ch..Ch..Ch..Changes

Trust me, my lack of posting is not an indication of a lack of knitting. 

Quite the contrary, I finished one sweater, another that's missing 1 1/2 sleeves and a third that all too soon will also need homes for arms. 

In other words, I'm knitting just not writing. 

I loved this pattern since I found it back in January. 

After reading about how to 'fit' my knits more, I knew it was time to take knowledge to needles and this was the platform.

I love it.  Once again, I had to make some changes because of me, not because of her pattern.  Her pattern was perfect.  I am not.  Change the gauge.  Change the length.  Change the increases.  Change, change, change.  Perfect?  No.  Still messed up on a lace row, saw it as it laid there blocking.  My eyes roll back, figures. 

Summer comes to an end and all the real changes rear their heads.  School starts for all, slowly, but starts nevertheless.  Would love to say I'm basking in the silence, needles clicking steadily away but I haven't found my rhythm, yet.  Still too twitchy. 

More change on the horizon.  It lays outstretched in one hand, while the other hand is firmly on my back.  Two hands to come together at a time only He knows.  Calm resolve in the Divine plan.

Day 4 of a long weekend.  Summers last stand, keeps windows closed and sprinklers on.  Round ball of wool becomes a collar, a shoulder, an elbow, a wrist. 

Everything changing right before my eyes.

Complicated.

Luckily, this one didn't smell.  100% silk so the potential was great.  Airy light, rippling drape, just in time for Summer. 
Looks ridiculously complicated.
All over lace,elegant.
4 different lace charts, scary.
Customizing size away from pattern, confusing.
Seaming all pieces together, boring.
Complicated?
No.
One week of knitting, not even every day. 
Including a full day of ripping back, after a failed attempt at therapy knitting. 
Lace is for a clear head. 
Rhythmically counting off each stitch.  28,29,30,31...only to return again 1,2,3,4...over and over until all that seems so complicated, ceases.
The pulse that pounds the temple, slows.  7,8,9,10...
Ears open.   Ah, so that's what He's been trying to say. 
Priorities firmly re-assessed.  Back to my simple life and it's amazing here.

sniff..sniff...

I have a tendency to over complicate things.  I'm female, it's what I do.  Sometimes, I crave simplicity. 

Smooth lines. 

Subtle detail. 

Calm. 

Peace. 

Sometime, that's exactly what I get.  More often, everything just stinks. 

Quite literally that's what I got with this last project.  Simple, quick, gleaming silk reflecting suns rays. Perfect. 

Unfortunately it smelled awful.  What seemed so easy, what seemed so indulgent, what seemed so right, just stank. 

A camping trip in the great outdoors and a soak in some serious fabric softener has tamed the beast but I know what lies under the surface. 

Forever tainted.    

Don't get me wrong, I still love the pattern. 

The kids enthusiastically helped pick out the buttons.  Cap sleeves for summer vs. the full length originals. 

Still, simple. 

Still, me. 
Casted on, hooded pullover for the man. 
Celebrating our 13th  Anniversary today, this next one is for you my love.

Seven.

I can't even say I would like to have my days filled with a general fluff of the house in the morning and complete freedom from there on out. 
I'm too twitchy.
Luckily, that is not the case, so here I am playing catch up, writing the girls birthday blog a full week and a half late. 
I'll do my best to leave out pinings for the oldest who is making his homecoming from camp today. 
I'll also leave out any gratuitus mentions of all the mommy time the youngest got with brother at camp and sister at grandma's.  I won't talk about how we sat outside the yogurt shop slurping chocolate off gummy worms or how we poured over a bike map spread before us in McDonald's Playland, plotting our morning ride. 
No. 
This is about the girl.

Quickly approaching age 3, she still didn't talk.  If you've met Ethan you would know why.  It was time for a girls trip.  I loaded her up, fuzzy pink backpack with the horsey sticking out the back and we headed for the airport.  Nodding in confidence to all the "how cute's" and "isn't she adorable's". 
I knew. 
She was.
That trip marked her first major change.
She was able to speak!
She was also infatuated with the in flight bathroom and potty trained herself.  Nice bonus!
In a blink, seven candles ignite on birthday grasshopper pie. 
An unconventional request from an unconventional girl.
Waiting 12 weeks to change out her first pair of earrings, inaugural pair removed, she refuses to let me near her.  Holes closing before my eyes. 
This was hard.
I was mad.

Not so much that I paid for the process and wanted a refund.  Well, maybe a little.

But that she kept repeating over and over "I'm not strong enough,  I'm not strong enough"

What?!

The little waif that climbs to the top and over anything...not strong enough?

The princess that tackles her older, larger brother without smudging her eyeshadow...not strong enough?

The athlete that takes no prisoners on the way to the goal, not afraid to hone her elbow jab skills on her own team mates...not strong enough??
Seven.
Will of her own firmly established.  Lineage recognized.  Chuckling softly at family traits awaiting her own brood.  I love my girl.  Her mental fortitude alone confirms the strength she believes she lacks.
You are mightier than you know my daughter.

Blessed.

When the random thought to knit overtook me, I figured my family at the very least would think I was insane, or more insane.  But that persistent voice in my head won out, needles and yarn purchased I settled in.  Granted it was hours of me locked in my room screaming at tiny needles and unruly, squeaky acrylic but I did in the end succeed. 

My first box of yarn arrived shortly there after.  A gift from a friend who acquired it for free on Craigslist.  

Addiction established. 

A hat gifted to my mom, resulted in two huge bags passed on from one of her friends, excited that I was taking it up. 

Most recently, a Christmas hat for my sister leads to conversations of yarn with her friend and now another bag ends up on my doorstep.

 

I still don't know the why behind me picking up needles. 

I don't know if I'll ever be privy to that information, if the stars will align and it'll all make sense. 

I'm more than confident in the necessity though.  I gave up on coincidence a long time ago.  For whatever reason, bag after bag keeps finding it's way in, it's not my place to question, simply to cast on. 

My "Thank You" hat knit for my sister's friend.  I love the cable band and cloche styling, hope she does too!

Perfection.

Something I have yet to attain, nor see in my immediate future.  Pretty darn good, I know a lot about.  The latest project was conceived as a knit along with my girlfriend and since I had yarn searching for a project, I paired them up and cast on. 


Needless to say this one made me think. 

Middle medallion was actually done rather quickly, star transforming before my eyes.

The outer band was another beast entirely.

"Knit until it fits around" is not my favorite term.  A quick Google search on finding circumference refreshed my high school math skills and gave my goal number.

After some chart memorization techniques that would've come in handy about 52 inches earlier, it began to fly.

Perfect would've been the cotton it called for, I used wool.

Perfect would've been all cables crossed correctly, instead I once went right when I should've gone left.  Realization too far along to care.

Perfect would've been a nice seamlessly, tight kitchener.  I can barely spell kitchener I'm impressed I thought to do it at all.

Perfect would've read the pattern to see an additional seam needed before joining all pieces.  As usual, I dove right in to get 'er done.

But in the end, it is me.  Thank you my friend for doing this one too, commiserating along the way is half the fun.  You'll be done before you know it, two imperfect friends, happily looking over the faults.

Phases.

I've honestly lost track of which phase this would be, but if there is a precursor to empty nest this would be it.  On the tail end of storm clouds, summer vacation arrives. 

Today was my last day alone with Elijah. 

This Fall he enters the world of school.  Another woman will not only hold his attention but his affection as well.

Ethan lived his youth in daycare and pre-k.  Elaina soaked up one solid year at home, while I got my sea-legs.  Elijah basked in three entire mommy filled years.

With my heart in my throat we commenced our day. 

What does a perfect day for a 5 year old look like?

It starts with a stroll downtown. 

Stopping to watch a bird in the awning above a store. 

Waving at a toddler crawling through mannequin legs. 

Staring in awe at rapid water as it disappears underground. 

Ice cold strawberries and cream licked greedily off a straw. 

A surprise stop at a favorite sweet shop. 

Lunch on a blanket with Frank and Jessica squirrel as they snatch up all the apple they possibly can. 

Back in the car, a sudden cry to stop, simply to drop a stick in a tiny stream and watch it flow all the way to the pond below.

And with that our phase has ended. 



Will this time shape him differently than the other two? 

Will he encourage his future wife to sacrifice career to the infinitely more important role of mom?

Bell rings, two more enter. 

Arguing ensues, tears flow, the injustice of imagined lack.

Heart firmly pushed back down in place, one long, deep breath before diving into this next phase. 

Summer begins.

Bliss.

After a ridiculously wet May and a months worth of rain in one day for June we knew, without a doubt, it was time.  Trailer in literal tow we packed up the kids and headed over the hills in search of bliss.  The clouds parted and sun beams shone down on the perfect spot nestled in the woods.  This was of course after the current campers with the three enourmous dogs that tried to eat our friends dog left. But I digress.  Oasis rises with the turn of a crank.   Bliss emerges.

Chairs unfold, fire smolders to life, children giggle-run after butterflies fluttering for their lives. 

No buzz of technology. 

No "Can I get on?" cry to play on the computer 24/7.

Not even enough reception to determine the time.

Silent bliss.

Native fish navigating the river behind camp, provide the perfect opportunity for Ethan.  Unfamiliar fly rod tentatively held, he manages to entice.  Success spawns confidence, another fly fisherman has been born. 

Back at camp, grill marks form while sausages sizzle. 

Marshmallow, chocolate and dirt covers each child as they sleepily retire from day 1.

Exhausted bliss.

Bacon fills the air as scorching water drains through  grounds. 

Kids happily play with bubbles as groggy adults prepare for the day, Lawrence Welk's camping road tour.

Never to be out done by the older brother, Elaina awkwardly makes her first cast.  Middle child triuphantly lands four fish.  Two small fly rods now in our monetary future. 

Two days down, three spent kids, one dog that will sleep unmoving for days and two very satisfied parents. 

Victory claimed over the inaugural trip.

Memories and abilities to be passed down to their own broods.

Stocked trailer simply awaits food and clothing. 

Bliss attained.