newt mine

It is a good thing that Picasso is both much loved and cute, or else he’d be turned into a newt by now.

And people wonder why I am well trained to Put Everything Away. Oh yes. I wonder.

twelve

Twelve times now I count another year since the accident.

Somehow 17 has turned into 29, and I have survived. Not overcome, triumphed, or conquered. Survived. Remained alive. Another remembrance, another acknowledgment, another year. Always the same nexus. I grow and change and become, and yet. What happened always happened, is now happening, will happen.

This year is different from the other eleven remembrances, if only because for the first time, I will not be alone for it.

The memories are there, the images I see when my eyes are closed are there, the sensations are there, my body is there.

None of these things can change will change are going to change.

But maybe today can be different. Maybe it will be. Maybe it is going to be. If only because I will not be alone today. If only because I will be with someone who chooses to be with me today. Companionship, I know, does not change a single thing, does not mean the old wounds do not again reawaken on this day.

And yet.

It is a curious thing, choice. I cannot choose to have this day be carefree, to be without its ghosts. That choice was made for me long ago. But I can choose not to be alone. I can choose, given the opportunity, to be supported in a safe environment. I can choose to ask to be coddled, to be cared for. To have the day be about me, about trying.

Trying to find the moments in between.

As the years have passed, coping method after coping method have been stripped from me. For two years now, I have not cried without becoming instantly violently ill with muscle cramping. Just one of the many legacies, one of the many things I have lost because of that one day twelve years ago.

So there will be no tears today.

Perhaps there will be pockets of joy today, moments when I am outside myself. It is enough, at the least, to try. To be with.

To choose.

swatch friday

If for some odd reason you were wondering what watership down looked like knit up at 6 spi and 9 rpi? Here’s your chance! My wonderful faboo amazing cromulent etc etc etc friend Tiphanie knitted me a big pile of samples and I thought – why not share them every friday? So here we are!

I confess that I kind of wish I’d kept a skein of this one for me, after seeing stuff like this…. and this….. When I dyed it, way back when winter was still a theory, I was thinking of March, and the new green growth amidst daffodils. *sighs*

See? Wish I had.

headband the third

I swear, it’s like potato chips… this one is o-wool balance, 50% wool, 50% cotton, all organic. I love the texture and feel of this yarn, and I think it makes a great rustic lace fabric, no? Maybe a big wrap with this yarn, someday……

This one is openwork diamonds, p. 213, Barbara Walker treasury 1. See the modifications to the decreases? People who I’ve begged for tiny swatches for, this is why. Lemme know what you think.

I’m not sure if I’ll knit more, but you’re warned, there might be more! You never know…..

headband the second

I admit it, I kind of went crazy… I loved the idea of swatching lace and still getting something practical after doing all that knitting and learning. This is yarn meant for a super-sekrit knit, so sekrit I’m blogging about it, but I digress – and it’s really nice! It’s Jaggerspun 4/8, a DK weight wool/silk yarn with great memory and bounce, and a nice sheen to it.

The lace? Openwork leaf pattern, Barbara Walker treasury 1, page 213. You’ll see, you’ll see soon, why I swatched this

headband the first

It doesn’t look like much, and it was awfully simple – but I love it! Thanks to ravelry, it was easy to find something to knit when I wanted something to hold my hair out of my face, what with the hat hair lately. Oh winter, I love you except not so much with the love.. Taking hats off has been an adventure lately, what with the dry hair and the static and all…. you too? Is it just me? Do I suffer alone?

b is for benkei

Let’s face it. I live with Benkei stapled to my hand. Stapled. I love him. He probably doesn’t love me back, but that’s okay. I love him. My sidekick. Oh yes. This one is #5, I think. I’m a love them and kill them type. Drop them, spill them, crack them, kitty-kill them, they keep on going, and when they don’t, I turn around and buy a new one.

And I can’t imagine live without Benkei. No.

Give me my text, give me my email, give me my yahoo, give me my AIM, give me my photo storage, give me my notepad, give me my internets. Use him for my alarm clock, my game repository, my notes for various knitting projects, get emailed at 4 am by gramma, keep in touch with everyone (as best as I can).

And house him and abuse him in the much loved kchan.

sock

Fast and furious

the moment everything was frogged

the mojo

the mojo

the mojo

it came back

how about that?

a sock in a few hours, barely a blink

six months sockless we were

and now here we are

a sock

a sock

and now I need to make one more.

free

You’re right of course, all of you – frogging? Much better. I’ll have to skein and wash and dry them, but for now, free. Free of less than perfect socks, of frustration, of ennui, of things no longer wanted.

third annual blogger’s (silent) poetry reading

The Choice

The intellect of man is forced to choose

perfection of the life, or of the work,

And if it take the second must refuse

A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.

When all that story’s finished, what’s the news?

In luck or out the toil has left its mark:

That old perplexity an empty purse,

Or the day’s vanity, the night’s remorse.

William Butler Yeats