A Revival

So, when my husband lost his job back in January it automatically meant cutting out any and all extra spending, such as eating out, going out for drinks, clothes shopping, and yarn shopping. Knitting is so relaxing and comforting to me, especially when I'm traveling or staying home sick- basically any situation I'm trapped in and just have to wait out! But the costs definitely add up, depending on how fast I'm turning out projects, so other than gifts for people I had to cut myself off. And it sucked.

So when a brief, amazing sale at a craft store rolled around a couple weeks ago, I was in the perfect vulnerable position to cave. I haven't worked for six weeks now, and have way too much free time on my hands, so cave I did.



First in the lineup is a sweet short-sleeved cardigan- I've never knitted a sweater before, so we'll see what happens. Then, an assortment of baby blankets and maybe even some teeny tiny dog sweaters for the ankle biters in the family. That's not a joke. I will almost definitely be knitting some canine sweaters. Expanding my knitting resume, that's what!

Coincidentally, during one of our spelunking adventures into the basement to dig through our hundreds of boxes for shoes or books or coats, Bryan found his long lost pipe and humidor. So, we are back to our normal nerdy geezer selves over here. Sort of.

her simple worsted gray/is silver now with clinging mist...

Well, I should have saved the Frost 'November' poem for today. Yesterday was 70 degrees and breezy, but today is a bit more seasonal.

My November Guest

(although it is sunny today)

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

(Robert Frost)

A Farewell to October

Halloween really ought to be our national holiday. For real. It's not in my top three favorite holidays, but for some reason this year the quirkiness of this holiday struck me. On no other occasion is every single home expected to give free candy to every stray, oddly-dressed child who threatens for it. Regardless of race, religion, age, or gender, it's a given that we all participate. It's not a holiday necessarily centered around family or the people we love; the most exciting parts (at least for kids) (well, for that matter, maybe adults too- plenty of parents in our current neighborhood were strolling behind their kids with beers in hand) take place away from home. Its success depends on the participation of the community and public acceptance. It's the only night kids are encouraged to take candy from strangers, for crying out loud. It's such a topsy-turvy, contradicting mix of fear and fun, of terror and sugar, of screams and laughter. And I guess one of the many benefits is that it can be expressed in a bajillion different ways through decorations and costumes, whether hand-spun or store-bought; and unlike Thanksgiving or Christmas, there's no pressure or mounted expectation to be a smiley, loving, perfectly functional family unit. Expectations are as broad as your own creativity allows.

Overanalyze much?

In other news, I will never ever grow tired of watching autumn leaves flare up like so many matches, and burn down to smoldering embers until cold November rain snuffs them out.