Please put all pointy objects away before reading this post!

January 27, 2008

This is going to make your blood boil…or if you have a very good sense of irony and tragic humor it will make you laugh at this narrow minded, women trashing, ignorant, soul. (Be warned, there is explicit language in the *ahem* gentleman’s (?) article).

http://www.philadelphiaweekly.com/articles/16125

I sent him this email:

I have to say that your article was rather disturbing and insulting. I am a knitter of 20 years. I knit back when knitting wasn’t cool or edgy and that has never been my motive for doing so. In fact most of my acquaintences who knit do not knit because it is cool or edgy. I knit because it was a great skill that was passed on to me by my grandmother. It is a way to connect with the women in my family’s past. My grandmother was a very strong woman, she was none of the things you described in your article, nor was her husband, she worked hard for her family because she loved them, not because she was trapped in some male hierarchy. She was a 4th grade teacher and in her class everyone learned how to knit, girls and boys because it was a life skill, not a “woman’s skill”. Your entire article seems to show a serious lack of respect for women and yet you have the nerve to wave the women’s rights movement under our noses, which if I am not mistaken was about a women’s rite to choose. And here you are in your article telling women what is and what is not punk, what we can and cannot choose. Here I thought goth and punk were a means of self expression, the key word here is self. You make a lot of generalizations in your article about why people choose to knit, without obviously taking the time to ask. In all honesty, it’s hard to relate to your views when your disrespect for women permeates your writing so thoroughly. Let me make this very clear to you Mr. Wells: if you were in my “brain-dead, soul-destroying pre-feminist housewife” grandmother’s family and she heard you talk that way about women…she’d take you out behind the barn and kick your ass.
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I got an award!

January 22, 2008

Pooch has gifted me with a button.

lovebleblog.jpg

Thanks Pooch, I am touched and feeling quite loved as well as lovable. So, who to pass this on to? Let’s see, my three nominees are (in no particular order of lovableness):

Meg at Inch by Inch

Amanda at Mistress Stash Enhancer

Keana at Meowfish Pie

Congrats ladies! And thanks Pooch.


A conversation between mother and daughter

January 21, 2008

You guess who is who…

While out shopping at the mall (shudders)

Speaker #1: “Oh hey, look! Black nail polish, I’ve always wanted to try it. Will you get it for me?”

Speaker #2: “Sure, but just that, I don’t have a lot of money.”

Speaker #1: “Thanks.”

Back at home in the batcave…

Speaker #2: “So, how do you like your black nail polish”

Speaker #1: “I don’t know, I guess I don’t really like it much, it’s too…dark.”

Speaker #2: “It’s Black, duh.”

Speaker #1: “I know.”(defensively)

Speaker #2: “You owe me $2.50.”


I have a sister.

January 19, 2008

I do, I have a really cool big sister. She is my half sister through my Dad and to be frank, or Bob, or Harry, we really didn’t get to spend a lot of time together as children for geographical and parental reasons. None the less, the time that we did spend together I remember I was always in awe of her. You see, she was cool. My big sister was different, she was very smart, she could draw and write poetry, and she always wore black and she had great blond hair. And in my childhood filled with older stepbrothers she was a breath of fresh air. She never shot any of my My Little Ponies with a b-b gun.

I have thought about her on so many occasions. I will see something that will remind me of her. I remember on her apartment door where she went to college she had a stale bagel on the door as a door knocker. Ingenious. I think I have always known her as my little big sister and she I as her big little sister. I’m taller. I don’t know why, but I can’t listen to a Boy George song without thinking about her. I think she was the one who introduced me to his music one summer when she and I were at Dad’s. We have been out of touch for the past twelve years. I think the last time I got to see her was the summer the Monkey was born. I don’t think either of us made it a point to try to stay in touch. We hadn’t established a close “sister thing” as children, why should things change now that we are adults? Well, because we are adults, and your priorities change, and things like losing a grandmother make you think about family and you re-evaluate it’s importance.

This past Thursday my sister emailed me and asked about our getting to know each other. (We are adults you know, we don’t have to rely on our parents for that sort of thing anymore. Win, wink, nod, nod.) I have to say, I am elated. I am pickled tink! She may be dropping by here now and again. I do hope she does. As my first act of sister relationship building, I will knit her some belated birthday socks…as soon as I find out her shoe size. I missed you Little Big Sister.


Hey Diddle Diddle, the cat chewed my needles

January 17, 2008

A trip to Target, or Walmart, or even Baby’s R Us, and you will find a baby section filled with lots of teeny adorable baby doo-dads. Little clothes, wee booties, nursery sets, all in soft pastels with Disney characters or little jungle animals on them, or trains or flowers. Let me tell you it’s enough to make me puke! I went the Disney route with the last baby, lets just say my tastes have matured a little over the past 12 years. Yes, those sweet little pastels are very cute, but honestly, they aren’t in the sweet little pastel age long anyway. I want color! I want something that every mother in the labor and delivery room hasn’t done! I want something to catch the eye! I want something new and original! So, I went to the past. 1930’s to be exact. On our trip back home to NY I stopped into a well kept secret quilter’s paradise. The Fieldstone House. I found exactly what I was looking for. I used to come here when the Monkey was tiny and get fabric for the sweetest dresses. I remembered these specific patterns and it just so happens they still have them. After 12 years, can you believe it? 1930’s Nursery Rhyme Prints!

Exactly the splash of color I was looking for!
Jack and Jill
Alice in Wonderland (not really sure she qualifies as a nursery rhyme)
The Naughty Kittens Who Lost Their Mittens
And of course, Hey Diddle Diddle

My super talented Mom B. is a quilter and she has been given a yard each of this fabric so we are very excited to see what kind of quilt will be going into the crib of this wee one. She asked if we had a quilt pattern preference and we said no, it’s more exciting to see what she will come up with. She’s incredibly talented. Oh did I mention she does custom jobs and restorations? All by hand? Pst me if you are ever in need of an amazing quilter. 😉

On the needles: A Print O’ The Wave Stole by the lovely Eunny Jang. This will be going to a missionary in Haiti. I though in Haiti you wouldn’t want a traditional prayer shawl, as they are very bulky. Evanrude even joined in to help me “hold” the first half still whilst I snapped the picture. What a cat. The yarn was hand died by the wonderful 2Trees over at World of Yarncraft. It was a surprise tucked in with her Warm Up The Winter donations. I don’t remember specifically what it is as the cat has seen fit to knock the postcard under the refrigerator. I believe it’s merino. This picture does not do the color justice. It has a lovely almost mottled undertone to it. It reminds me of green marble.

And of course a baby cap to wear in the hospital. Unisex of course, we are still going to keep it a surprise. Evanrude decided to chew on my needles until I told him about May and Chaos’s career in bib modeling. I guess he figured that hat wouldn’t look good on him.


Heavenly Needles

January 14, 2008

The funeral was beautiful. The whole day was a celebration of life and family. It was hard to be sad. My Aunt Bev saw me knitting and told me that she made sure Grandma had a pair of her knitting needles in her hand. She said, “She’s got to have a pair for heaven.” I personally think that you get to trade your old ones in for gold ones that are light as air.

I stopped by this great quilt shop while I was in NY, The Fieldstone House, and we picked out 1930’s nursery prints to do the nursery in. We are doing our crib set, curtains, etc. in green, yellow, blue, and red, each color fabric has a different nursery rhyme on it. I will post pics when I can get some in the light. Also, I am working up a Print O’ The Wave stole for a missionary in Haiti. I got a lot done on that this weekend too. Again, pics will follow when the sun is up.

Thank you to everyone for your kind words. You folks are the best!


Thank you isn’t enough

January 7, 2008

I wrote this as a tribute to Grandma Besemer. Grandma was an amazing woman, and very special to me because of the wonderful gift she shared with me.

Who taught you to knit? For me it was my Grandma Besemer. Starting in fourth grade I used to walk over to Grandma’s house after school and stay until my mom got out of work. I remember everything about her apartment, the way it smelled, the handmade doilies and afghans on the couch, I remember her silverware, her small kitchen table and the coffee mugs hanging on the rack, I remember the claw foot tub in the bathroom and the bubble bath she used. I remember in the spring how thousands of violets would cover her yard and I would always pick some for her. I remember Grandma’s rocking chair, it was by the window for good light. I would come in and she was always, always working on something. There would be stacks of baby sweaters and mittens piled all around her for the church bazaar. Once in a while a quilt would be pieced out on the floor, but as long as I can remember, Grandma always had knitting needles in her hand.

I would arrive and start my homework. Homework was always intimidating with Grandma; after all she was a retired 4th grade teacher. Sometimes Aunt Martha, who taught English, would be there too. They would correct me whenever I said, “Me and my friend”. I would hear a chorus of, “My friend and I.” To this day I am always correcting my own family. Sometimes we would play Yahtzee and drink tea when my homework was done. Grandma would make me tea, and when I would ask for sugar she’d tell me you don’t need sugar in your tea…and then hand me a couple of Oreos. I thought it was fun, little did I know it was Grandma’s secret plan to help my pitiful adding skills.

After a while we would sit in the living room and knit. She would cast on my stitches and get me started and then turn the TV off and have me sit on the couch and knit for fifteen minutes. I hated it; it was boring, and absolute torture. Each minute would crawl by, an eternity in every second. With each stitch I would pray that at least five minutes had passed. They never did. Finally my fifteen minutes would be up and she’d turn the TV back on and we’d watch Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune, still both knitting away. My grandmother was handing down a skill, not just knitting, but patience. It’s funny because to this day I am still not a very patient person…unless I am knitting.

Last week we went home to NY for New Years. I went on Monday to visit my Grandma for the first time in two years. It was the first time I was able to see her since I have moved to PA. It wasn’t a great day for Grandma, she didn’t say anything, she just scowled at us, but that’s ok. It was good just to be there and sit with her. It was good to sit and knit in the presence of the woman who shared this amazing gift with me. I kissed her goodbye when it was time to go, and I told her that this year it would be twenty years ago that she taught me to knit. Twenty years ago my Grandma Besemer made me sit, and be still and quiet and passed on to me a skill that has served me better than any skill listed on my resume. She passed on to me a heritage. Last Sunday my Mom B. called to tell me that Grandma passed away that afternoon. My grandma is home now, she is free, and strong, and she can see, and she can talk again. She is with our Savior even now and I’ll bet she’s knitting, and so I can’t be sad. I can only say thank you Grandma, but thank you just doesn’t seem enough.