Big news here…

Dear, lovely Megan tells us that she is expecting. Her first!! We are all so, so excited. Naturally, I want to knit something for the baby. I’m the only knitter in the family, and I love to knit for kids.

Let’s see…she wants a boy. Um, well. So much for the huge tubs of pink, girly yarn I have meticulously stored for year after year… (I am actually trying to “knit down the stash.” Yes, really!!) I don’t have any baby-pastels. (Er, none, except for some fancy non-washable stuff.) I have some boring white DK….I’ll use it if I must…

Hold on. What about this….?

It’s some organic beaverslide, from a wonderful hand-dyer and mommy, here in Oregon. The colors spoke to me (i.e., rainbow is my fave!) I got it last year, and haven’t touched it yet. Washable, yes? Yes! I started a baby blanket. Just now!

baby blanket, originally uploaded by yarntherapy88.

Just basket weave. (It’s pooling already…dang! Do you think the kid will notice?)
And while I’m working on this, I will plot my next move. Maybe…some baby socks??


Lucy’s sweater, originally uploaded by yarntherapy88.

The “Not-Quite-Ready-For-Easter” sweater. LOL! Lucy might have preferred a soccer outfit. (Dang!)

Say, it is a really nice day. If I back up a little, with my camera, I see this:Lucy's sweater, zooming out


And if I back up a little more, y’all get a view of my living room.

Lucy's sweater, zooming out some more

I wish you all could come over, today. You could see the sweater! I would pick up the toys, first, of course!

Progress note, originally uploaded by yarntherapy88.

You know, this finishing business can be quite meditative.




Still a long way to go….

Finishing School

Friday night finishing, originally uploaded by yarntherapy88.

Things to never, never say when you are finishing: 

1. “It’s not that bad.”

2. “No one will notice (fill in blank).”

3. “I can watch TV while I do this.”

4. “If I hurry, I can get this done now.”

5. “Another round, here, bartender!”

6. “I don’t need to tear my house apart, looking for this book.

7. “I don’t need to see this again…or this…or this!

8. “Of course I can blog while I’m doing mattress stitch…”

Just me and the sweater tonight…some good light, and my trusty Vogue book to guide me…

The shoulder seams look a little funky and I’m trying not to notice. First they were too tight, so I frogged and tried again. Now, are they too loose? Hmmm….

(Sigh.) My life is just too exciting on a Friday night.  I want this to be done soon!!   And while I am wishing, I would also like a pony.

Assembling a sweater

a sweater for Lucy, originally uploaded by yarntherapy88.

I love to knit for kids! I wish I had finished this one before Easter. It has more colors than an Easter basket.

Lucy likes red….see, it has some red in it! Do I like these colors more than Lucy does? Dear Lucy, even if you only wear this in my imagination…it is a fun knit!


A call that we all dread…it came, last night.

“Grandpa died,” said my relative, briskly, into the phone. “At St. Vincent’s. 2 AM.”

“I’m…so sorry,” I murmured.

I am not resigned
to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be,
for so it has been, time out of mind…

“He was peaceful,” she said. “His breathing was bad. And he had some infections. Pneumonia, I think. And anemia. And something with his sodium.”

Crowned with lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned…
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.

“And you know, he was going to be 94 next week. He had a great life, didn’t he?”

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom.
I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

“OH! And one more thing,” she said. “We want you to know…we’re going to bury him with those socks you made for him. You know, those nice ones.”

“My socks…?”

“He loved them! He wore them all the time! So we are making sure that they go with him. We just wanted to tell you.”

“Er…thank you. Um, thank you, very much.”

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Goodbye, Grandpa Hugo.

-Dirge Without Music, Edna St. Vincent Millay.