The Grinch Was Right

At the last Knitting Night, Lynn was making fingerless gloves for Christmas presents. I fell in love with them. Beautiful cables and an inserted thumb hole . . . (not the lazy way that I do mine of just leaving part of the seam open!).

But then I got 'the story'. Her mom passed away at the beginning of the year. No one could quite bring themselves to wear any of her sweaters. So Lynn selected one . . . took it apart . . . and then unraveled it. I know, huh! Talk about tedious and time consuming. 

If that wasn't time consuming enough . . . She then took the yarn and she's knitting fingerless gloves for her sisters for Christmas. 

It's probably the most thoughtful gift they will ever receive.

The Grinch . . . and Lynn . . . nailed it.

"Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas he thought, means a little bit more."


Until next time, keep your nose in a book or your fingers in fiber.

Be Careful What You Wish For

My daughter . . . 'the saver' . . . recently bought her own house. After multiple weekends of returning for "a few things", her room is finally empty (except for a notebook of Pokemon cards that I just found yesterday). 

While she was going through the purchase process, her boss kept saying . . . "What's your mother going to do?", "She's going to miss you!","What's your mother going to do with your room?"

Really? Hasn't he seen the Staples commercial where the son goes off to college, and as soon as the car leaves the driveway the mother is up in his room with a tape measure?! Since my daughter has bought a house . . . well, there will be no return on winter and summer breaks.

Just picture it. An empty room . . . okay, there is one twin bed in the corner . . . but these four walls will never have the title of guest room. I pulled all my yarn out from its hiding place under my eaves . . . grabbed the baskets my mother has made . . . and set about creating . . . finally . . . my craft room. Just saying it brings me instant serenity. 

I looked at my stash and admit I got a little stressed . . . no silly, . . . not because of the amount . . . but how should I 
organize it?



First, I quickly realized that Mona could not be involved in this process and she had to be evicted from the room.






I thought I would do it by fiber. All the mohair together . . . all the cotton . . . all the wool . . . you get the picture.
But as I was making the piles I soon realized this was not going to work. All the colors mixed up just did nothing for me.

Hmm . . . by weight? But what would I do with some of those unlabeled skeins that I'm not sure what they are??









So I grouped them together by color and the serenity quickly returned. (Please note that this is only a partial viewing of the fiber involved in this project!!)








Next I put each color group into a basket. I put all the fleece waiting to be knitted into mittens in another basket . . . added my knitting needle collection that I keep in my grandmother's old ice tea pitcher . . . and then added a felted bear to watch over the whole corner.

There you have it. After 29 years, all signs of a daughter are removed and replaced with a long waisted for craft room. 


Although . . .  if I sit there quietly . . . I can still see her sitting on the floor playing the Sims on her computer . . . there are still some spots on the walls from her glow-in-the-dark stars that I couldn't get out . . . I have memory flashes of wrestling matches and arguments with her brother . . . Elmo and blankie, Fisher Price toys, and band 
uniforms . . . and I might even hear U2. Oh ya . . . and the Pokemon cards are there. Perhaps I'll keep the cards . . . move them in with my stash . . . keep 29 years of memories safely cushioned and preserved by wool, mohair, and cedar chips . . . and love.

Until next time, keep your nose in a book or your fingers in fiber.