I knit that, or rather, am knitting that. It’s not exactly finished. It was an unexpected turn of events, truth be told. Seven years ago, after a botched attempt at knitting a sweater, I thought I’d given up the knitting needles for good. Then Maren made a cowl during her sojourn here in Oregon and I thought, “I want one!” So, off I went to buy a skein of yarn and needles and got the party started. Well, I wish it were that easy. I read the directions in the Reader’s Digest Complete Guide to Needlework (circa 1979), which is possibly one of the neatest how-to books ever, started, then ripped it out about ten times (shit, shit, shit), then got the hang of it, and here we are. I am looking forward to a warm neck. Our house is cold.
The cursing is another unexpected turn. I used to be a prim Polly when it came to such things, feeling enormous guilt when I let a zinger slip, most definitely left over from a childhood (who am I kidding, adulthood, too!) of wanting and believing I could be perfect and good and sweet and liked by all. Well, as it turns out, cursing can be fun (fuck ya, bitches!), needed, and appropriate, and being liked by all is not all it is cracked up to be. Besides, there are plenty of no good louts on my list of people to avoid. I might as well balance the scales. Yup.
I also never expected that right about the time I started to love my body as it is that it would go and change on me. Now I don’t know if this is at all tied to the fact that I am now forty years old, or if it is some sort cosmic joke (you should have done this sooner, honey!), but dang. The skin on my face continues to baffle me and at my eye appointment last week found out that I need to wear bifocals when I read or knit or write. Bifocals! The good news on that front is that I found an awesome pair of vintage frames, and if all works out well and they don’t break in the process of putting in new lenses, I will be kitted out like the sassafras I am now embracing. Photo below.
Finally and rather joyfully, after the quite unexpected suicide attempt of someone I know (such heavy news), I am reminded of the preciousness of life, the dazzling beauty of the everyday, and ever more gratified at the bounty of friends I’ve gathered together on this thin raft, near and far (Hef – get out your spyglass. I’m waving at you!). You are gems, and I love you all.
I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being.
Absence weakens mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind blows out candles and kindles fires.
