Closet archeology

I was just going to tidy up a little. Nothing major. Just put a few things away and fold some things. Then all of a sudden, things went all tangential on me and my bed was covered with things I knitted or wove over the last several years. 

Ohhhh, I remember making this…
And this….

The lap robe I made for Gramma Jolin…

The hat that Andi’s mother never got to wear…

My first attempts at knitting with my own handspun yarn…

I always play down my abilities, but some of these things are really lovely. It could be that I really know what I am doing. If I saw this pile of knits anywhere but my own house I would think that someone talented had been involved in the creation of these garments. 

Funny how I assume that some hack did all of this until I see it all together. It’s kind of an interesting body of work really. A lot of hats, shawls, scarves. The occasional sweater or pair of gloves or socks. I can knit anything, and even  make my own yarn.  It is one of my few talents that might be of use in the Apocalypse. I can make sure my loved ones are warm. 

Seeing all of this in a pile, I really do wonder why I don’t think I am good at it. There are things here that are beautiful. Anyone would be proud to have created some of this stuff. 
Then, after admiring my work, I asked myself the hardest question:  who is going to put all of this away?

Why doesn’t Squeaky Cat ever have to do chores??



and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
–James Joyce/Ulysses

Yes, she breathed in his ear 


So much in life is No. 


You make me feel like yes.

Entirely yes. Yes. 

Again, yes.

Still. Yes. 


On making plans

My relationship with making plans is somewhat tempestuous. While I absolutely love a spontaneous invitation to do something fun, I am also a big fan of having something to look forward to.  I love that anticipation of pleasure. The wondering how it will go. Yes, it is important to live in the moment…and no, I shouldn’t do so much what-iffing…but what-iffing the possibilities when you have plans with someone is part of the fun. 

Often things seem to fall through when I make plans with people, and I am not sure why that is. 

Over the long holiday weekend, I had multiple layers of plans go astray. Which left me sort limbo. Which is exactly the place I least like to be. In fact, if I were a designer, Hell would consist of ironing, pulling weeds and “maybe we should do something this weekend, I’ll let you know on Friday night.” 

Spontaneity is great. Definite plans are even better. The maybes are a killer. 

You might think that all of the anticipation and what-iffing would lead to disappointment. That is only true when the plans fall through. When the planned activity happens, I am never let down. Somehow, everything is better than I expected almost every time. 

Why do you suppose that is?

Obviously, it is because of something about me and also about the people I make plans with. 

Me? Since part of the what iffing includes the direst of possible outcomes, any time my plans work out I am thrilled. I mean,  I was probably assuming there would be a tsunami, so when people actually end up at the beach with me it will be way better than that! Optimistic pessimism is great. 

Most of the credit has to go to my friends and family: the best people on the planet, and also the most fun. It is well documented in my blog. They are huggers, laughers, tongue sticker outers, drink pourers. They are story tellers, football watchers, coffee drinkers, domino players. They are caring, tolerant, compassionate, smart. They are whimsical, prone to hijinks, golf cart racers, food servers. 

They are, without exception, the kind of people who take care of each other and love each other. 

What did I ever do to deserve them? Hell if I know. I show up on time. I kiss everybody.  I bring a lot of booze. I laugh at everyone’s funny stories and cry about the sad ones. Sometimes both at the same time. I post about it all here. It doesn’t really seem like a fair trade. 
You know what time if year it is? It’s the time if year I think about what to do on my vacation…

Who wants to come along?