Thursday, November 29, 2007

You're Knitting . . . . Again?

I took AG and her kindred spirit D to see Professor Magorium on Saturday night. Now that was a wild ride. Two tweens at a movie . . . at night! This was a special treat for both girls, who are much more accustomed to matinees. We settled in, and I grabbed one of the ever-present dishcloth projects I've been trying to finish in time for handmade gift-giving this weekend (a tradition among my husband's siblings).

D leaned forward and whispered, "Mrs. Nall . . . you're knitting . . . again? In the dark? Don't you want to watch the movie?"

Actually, not so much. But I smiled and whispered that I could knit and watch the movie at the same time. She wasn't really satisfied and I could tell that she was storing that additional proof of my "weirdness" away for future sharing with tweendom.

Let's just say that Dustin Hoffman was darling and Princess Star Wars not very comfortable with the whole piano-playing, conducting schtick. Visually, the movie is amazing. And the kid who plays Eric was very appealing.

Ten minutes before the end of the movie, I could tell the girls' attention was elsewhere. Whispers and giggles clued me in to the object of their focus - at the rear of the theater. A teenage couple was going at it, smooching to beat the band. "Now you girls know - if you kiss in public, everyone laughs at you."

Hah. Never miss a teachable moment to implant some motherly advice. And to mess with their heads.

I get that "You're knitting . . . again?" reaction all the time because I knit ALL THE TIME. In carpool, in doctor's offices, in the shotgun spot for long family car trips, during homework. But what folks don't appreciate is that if I weren't knitting, I'd be a finger-tapping, short attention span, restless mess.

I wish I'd known how to knit when my kids were toddlers. They'd have had a lot more time at the playground if Mommy had had something to do other than watch them toddle, fall, flap, and squeal. I love my kids, but . . .

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

In medias res

As always, I'm between things. Just returned from AG's choir practice and waiting to go pick up A from Mock Trial practice. T in New York on business and sure to check in shortly. Dinner a medley of hurried bites - cereal for A, mac & cheese for AG, and PB&J for me. Just not enough time for more. Somehow I need to finish three more dishcloths before heading to North Carolina on Saturday AM for the annual N family Christmas gathering. And there's a freelance writing project on my desk, a web site to update, tuition receipts to log, a class to prep, and laundry to do.

I'm sure Scooter the Wonder Dog would appreciate a walk, but that's just not going to happen tonight.

Yet I feel rather peaceful at the moment. Because my life is constantly in medias res. I've learned the value of living in the moment. Having a child living with acute Crohn's Disease keeps us all very much in the moment. (Thank you, God, for Remicade, amazing pediatric gastroenterologists, and Children's Healthcare of Atlanta at Scottish Rite.)

Tonight I wore my "vest of many colors," a painterly mix of stash remnants that turned out pretty well. The pattern (definitely more like a recipe) came from Dazzling Knits: Building Blocks to Creative Knitting by Patricia Werner. It's called the Ojo de Dios Vest, and it was a pleasure to make. No more than 25 or so stitches on the needles at any time - very transportable and an easily memorized pattern.

Waiting for the phone to ring. Perhaps there's time for just a few more rows on those dishcloths . . .

musings by a knitting knosher

Knitting defines my in-between years. Before knitting, I was restless and much too hurried to enjoy idleness. After knitting . . . I'm just not sure. But right now, knitting fills my hands and heart with pleasure.

I'm working on a stack of dishcloths for our family's "handmade Christmas" tradition. And, because the Nall family gathers the first week in December, my deadline is much, much sooner than I'm prepared for. I want to give each family a stack of six. Nine completed. Three to go. I've varied the patterns, but kept the colorways complementary. Thanks to carpool, doctors' appointments, and homework supervision, they've gone quickly.

I wore a sweater completed this summer for the first time this month. It takes a while for the cold to reach Atlanta, but it finally did. Of course, then it immediately got hot again. Then cold. Layers and natural fibers are a Southern girl's best friend.

I'll post a pix of the sweater tomorrow.