Stick to your knitting.

"Stick to your knitting" - advice to continue doing what you know rather than something you know very little about. This cliche has been a favorite of late with financial newswriters covering the demise of one company after another. The more dire the markets, the closer everyone should cling to the things they know, they say. Start-ups: stop! Outside the box thinkers - get back to square one! The downside of risk-taking is that the flipside of success is abject failure.

Yet, if everyone followed that advice, where would we be?

• This admitted homebody would never have ventured to the Dunwoody Nature Center, opening new experiences in composting, hiking, website management, wielding a nail gun, building makeshift fences, and other cool stuff. (Hey, if a wimpy indoor gal in her middle years can fall in love with the outdoors, anyone can!)
  
• Eleanor Roosevelt would have stayed "in her place," doling out tea in the parlor and nodding her head pleasantly to one and all. Instead of becoming a force in her own right.
• The people of Dunwoody would have agreed with the avuncular DeKalb County professionals that running a city is way too difficult for the average person. Ahem.
• Ray Kroc would have been a mediocre salesman of milkshake machines rather than the guy who thought about branding cheap eats.
  
• The women behind the Twist Collective would have continued designing for other companies rather than create their own innovative forum. Way to go.
• Ravelry. Enough said.
• Kemmons Wilson would have stayed in the homebuilding business instead of coming up with the crazy notion of a national motel chain. You may have stayed in one: Holiday Inn, the first mainstream roadside inn network in America.

I consider myself a fiscal conservative and have a very low threshold for risk-taking. Yet I admire big thinkers and am awed by their passion and energy. It's easy to hunker down and cling to the tried and true when retirement funds are depleted and people are out of work.

We need risk-takers to regain our momentum. America has always thrived on ingenuity, people who can start something in the garage and change the world with a single idea. So I wish you success. We're all the richer for what you achieve.

Extra effort.

What does it take to do something really, really well?

That irritating thing parents say to their kids is quite true: if you want something badly enough, you'll work harder to get it. There's no guarantee of success, but at least you'll gain some satisfaction in knowing you tried your best.

Take knitting. A novice can stay in the garter-stitch scarf mode forever. Never advancing technique to purls and yarnovers, avoiding stranded colors and slanted decreases to create cardigans and totes and socks and lace that are challenging to knit and a joy to finish and wear.

Or school. A' Mock Trial team meets for two hours, twice a week, a schedule that is just demanding enough to balance with school work. The teams he's scrimmaging with practice three hours a day, four days a week, in the months just prior to competition. Will the result be a more polished, confident team at competition, one ready to pick apart the nuances of the opposing counsel's arguments?

Or volunteering. In every situation where I've recruited volunteers, there are a handful of people who do more than just show up. They go "above and beyond," seeing needs and filling them. While they're filling shoeboxes with gifts and personal items for the kids at CHRIS Homes, collecting books for the 100-book library at a school served by Mountain Top, or cleaning one of the Interfaith Outreach apartments for homeless families in transition, some volunteers look around and see what else they can do. Then do it.

Extra effort does not promise success. It isn't always apparent. But extra effort leads to an inner satisfaction that is indescribable. And the best result of all.

Right back atcha

Insert foot A into mouth B.

I think my son has it right. He's generally mute, moving silently through classes and church and Scouts, keeping his thoughts to himself. Another student recently observed that A speaks only when spoken to. Very true.

The benefit of that reserve is that he rarely speaks out of turn. (He saves those moments for his family, and the mis-speaks are legendary.)

My daughter is more socially adept, with an inherent tact that I find amazing. Proof that some traits are just pre-wired at birth.

My husband is frustratingly calm, no matter what the situation. He has the gift of seeing both sides of a debate without giving up his position. And staying on subject even when everyone else is meandering around emotional backwaters.

I am well known for getting pretty passionate about things, especially those concerning my kids and their schools. Nothing makes me go from cool to hot faster. There have been quite a few opportunities for strong feelings this year at Dunwoody High School, which is going through some uncomfortable growing pains.

The root of this introspection about mis-speaking? I was the beneficiary of some very poorly worded news yesterday, and am still trying to put things into perspective. The person sharing the tidings is well known for foot-in-mouth-itis, so I understand that the intent was not to diminish. But the effect nonetheless is there.

I've learned to write emails with the "to" frame blank (no more accidentally sent missives). I have forced myself to edit my remarks to the bare essentials. I breathe deeply and say I'll think about something before I give a decision. I smile and redirect the ignorant and misguided.

But every now and then, I put my foot in my mouth. And that fact keeps me humble.

Hilarious.

What happens when three brainiacs decide it would be really, really funny to open up a series of fire hydrants in the middle of the night during an arctic temp blast? Subsequent hilarity includes thick ice around a high school, through a neighborhood, and across a major thoroughfare for residents going to work. Added bonus: coverage by a local news crew.

What happens? They get caught. They are arrested and booked. And their mugs are posted on the county's website.

Not so funny after all.

Since they have so much time and energy available, I extend a cordial invitation to use that creativity at Dunwoody Nature Center. We have lots of opportunities, including mulching trails, clearing invasive vines, moving rocks, keeping the creek clear of trash and debris, preparing for some upcoming festivals, and raking the entry lane. Added bonus: fresh air, sweat equity, and a sense of accomplishment.

It's crunch time for A's Mock Trial team - time for scrimmages and the build-up to the regional competition in February. (For some bizarre reason, the powers-that-be have placed Dunwoody High School in the Jonesboro regional rather than the Decatur one, which is geographically more appropriate. With a mandatory 5:00 PM Friday start-time, it's going to be downright hairy getting there after school. Ah, well.)

I love watching the team compete. They pull things together with aplomb, and show a better working understanding of the judicial process than most adults. Their attorney coaches, Curt and Heather, are the yin and yang of the profession, one who enjoys pushing the edge and the other who quietly goes after the desired verdict.

The case is interesting, and the teens are enjoying their roles. This time, A is an attorney for the defense, with responsibility for the closing argument and at least one cross-examination. Fascinating tidbit: cases are written with gender-neutral names so students can take on roles as needed. What's fun is during the trial, when each team has to remember the correct gender reference during opening/closing arguments and cross-examination. It's very easy to get tongue-tied when your 9:00 competition had a male as the defendent, then a female in the following round.

It's going to be a busy few weeks . . . with lots of time for knitting!

Aaaargh!

Submarined: the feeling of something coming at you, unseen and unexpected, that sinks your schedule/plans for the weekend/expectations for relaxation/hopes for breathing room.

Yeah, we got submarined.

WHY is it that otherwise rational people think teenagers (who look and talk like adults, but most definitely are not) will tell parents ANYTHING? I found out at 5:00 today, as I was dropping off snacks for A's Mock Trial practice, from a sheepish teacher, that there's a scrimmage Saturday at 2:45. Mentioned last week to the team. At the Atlanta International School. NOT mentioned by son. In the middle of a hectic day of family stuff and work stuff and cotillion and whatever.

Crap.

(If you hear Reba when you read that word, you're getting exactly the right intonation.)

I love my kids. I love my husband and my work and church and friends and tiramisu and feeling needed and pitching in and doing my share. I don't love getting submarined. Which appears to go with all of the aforementioned.

We'll get through it. We'll wiggle some things around and drive really, really fast between stuff.

Presenting Hanover (at long last)

Here's the finished Hanover Jacket, a very satisfactory design and knitting project. I enjoyed the repetition of the ribbing pattern, very conducive to waiting room and movie knitting. The simple leaf motif on the back and at the cuff of each sleeve was simple to create. Jean Frost is a good designer, easy to follow and a pleasure to wear.

Yarn: Patons Classic Merino Wool
Color: Soft Gold
Skeins: 8
Needle: 6 US
Start to Finish: 8 weeks (off and on)

Casting on: Piedmont Park Hoodie from Knitch in midtown!