Knitting in the New Year

Knitting.  My passport to sanity!  Color, texture, pattern, fabric: from precious soft cashmere to nubby wool tweed to silky sock yarns and comfortingly warm alpaca, and that is only the beginning.  When I first started knitting many (MANY) years ago, there were relatively few yarn choices in a limited range of colors and hues.  My most exotic creation was a burnt orange ski sweater with an autumn gold lightening bolt down the front and back.  It wasn’t until grad school, almost a decade later, that I finally found the right boyfriend for it; or maybe he was just the bravest.  I knit several sweaters and vests during those years, and while I loved that yarn shop, the choices were limited to wools for the winter and cottons for the summer.

Today, of course, you can choose yarns made from everything from wool to milk curd, to bamboo, soy, corn, silk, wire, ribbon,

Linen Stitch scarf

metallic sequins and more – and in every blend imaginable.  Each of these spectacular creations comes in a range of colors that will stimulate your salivary glands faster than any gastronomic delight.  Solid, variegated, self-striping, self-patterning, heathered; if you can imagine it, most likely you will find it.  And of course, there are scores of addictive websites where you can see it all, including patterns and suggestions and help.  Super stress relief and creative indulgence for the overtaxed 9 to 5 brain!

Aside from the online knitting world, an essential part of this centuries old craft is the existence of the LYS: the Local Yarn Shop.  Here is the heart of the art.  Women (and men and children, too!) who have a wealth of knowledge, experience, and creativity and are willing to share it with you.  The past few years have been hard on these shops and several wonderful places have closed.  While a few have maintained an online existence, the real loss is the human connection and sharing of project successes and failures.  Just tonight, another area shop announced it will close its doors.

Ruffles Galore!

As I left my favorite LYS tonight, where I work the occasional weekend, my coworker and I were discussing our plans for New Year’s Eve.  We both agreed that while there were parties to go to, we could think of nothing better than knitting in the New Year.  And so, to knitters everywhere, Happy New Year!  Let 2012 be filled with color, creativity and comfort!

A Christmas Eve Rescue

Growing up, Christmas Eve was always magical for me.  Not just because of Santa, but because of everything leading up to one of the most anticipated holidays of the year.  The magic was about singing favorite carols, baking (and sharing) scores of cookies, searching for the perfect present for friends and family while enjoying the decorations and heightened holiday spirit, the sound of the Salvation Army bells outside every department store and the excitement of staying up late enough to attend midnight mass in snow-covered churches.

Over the years, much of the magic has been hidden behind day-to-day obligations, never-ending work demands, and the feeling that there just aren’t enough hours in a day to tune out those responsibilities and find the joy and Christmas spirit that was so readily available during my earlier years.  This year, even the Giving Tree at work and the animal shelter donations didn’t quite seem to fill me with the magic of Christmas.  Until Christmas eve…

Sweet Bella!

One of my friends is a police officer and she was working the night shift.  She had just stopped by for a quick exchange of gifts and was back on patrol.  About an hour later she sent a text about a small dog she had just rescued.  The dog, a sweet Shih tzu with the most adorable underbite, had managed to get out of the house, escape through the fence and then fall into the creek running behind the property.  A neighbor heard the dog barking and alerted the police.  My friend climbed down the ravine (in full, 50 lb police gear) waded into the icy water and picked up the shivering and soaked little dog.  A short time later, little “Bella” was safe and dry at the police station, feasting on treats and chew bones from the stash I had given my friend for her yellow lab.

Bell and Bella

The next challenge was what to do with Bella for the rest of the night since the family appeared to be away for the evening.  So, I volunteered to dog sit her for the night.  Enter Christmas Bella!  The sweetest personality with soft curly fur and the biggest brown eyes that even Susan Sarandon would envy.  She instantly got along with my dog and after only a few minutes she was off on a complete investigation of the house – no room or corner went unsniffed!  I have had other dogs visit but this was the most composed and gracious little houseguest that I have ever seen.  She was respectful of my dog’s territory and toys, immediately figured out that Noebell always sits on the far right side of the couch, so she chose the far left, and understood which dishses were now hers for kibble and water.  The two dogs walked beautifully together on their leashes, each one trying to sniff the same leaf at the same time. The ultimate cuddlebug, Bella was content to curl up next to me on the sofa with her chew bone and put her scary adventure behind her.

As it turned out, Bella stayed with me for two days and she was the best Christmas present, even if temporary, that I could have wanted.  Her joy in the simplest of things was a reminder of what is essential in life and her rescue a reminder of how fragile life can be.  Bella is now back home with her family, but she has left behind the Christmas spirit of hope and giving.  Thank you, Bella!

Gleek On!

I am a total Glee fan.  How could I not be?  This show takes me right back to high school, where performance arts were as valued as academic skills.  Granted, the Glee Club I was in bore little resemblance to the one in this show.  Our Glee Club was far more conservative both in musical content and presentation.  We didn’t sing popular songs, Broadway material or Journey songs (that band didn’t exist yet!) and we didn’t have choreographed dance moves or cool costumes.  And we definitely didn’t have hot guys who could actually dance.  (We did have most of these things for our annual operettas and holiday shows and we teamed up with our “brother” school for the spring musicals.  Our Drama Club productions were closer to Glee! productions.)

Still, it was thrilling to don the red silk robes and our black kitten-heeled pumps while we tried to control the mounting excitement of going onstage.  Our songs were mostly classic numbers that a Catholic girl’s school would find acceptable.  When we branched out, it was to do an unusual Russian folk song or perhaps something in Japanese, French or Italian.  We were all required to stand perfectly still – not a wiggle was allowed.  This wasn’t all that difficult to do, since most of the songs did not translate well into Bob Fosse jazz moves.  That didn’t stop us from playing tricks on each other onstage, to try to get the soloists to  lose their composure.   Oh yes, we were so so bad!

What I loved about Glee Club and what I love about Glee! is the passion for the music and the performance.  Yes, there were butterflies galore before stepping out in front of the audience and the usual fears about forgetting the lyrics or tripping on the hem of the robe.  But the joy that comes from being part of a vocal team is a high you never forget.  Glee! brings me right back to that time – the excitement of performing onstage; the hours spent rehearsing; the evenings and weekends spent belting out every Barbra Streisand song I could get my hands on; the weekly voice lessons as well as guitar and dance lessons.  In the end, I chose an academic career over performance arts and while it has been interesting, it has never touched my soul the way singing did.  Thanks, Glee!  My plan for 2012: find a great voice teacher and get back to singing.  I may not perform for anyone other than my dogs, but I will feel more like me again.

Frankie and Sierra were sweethearts

I didn’t expect my first blog to be about death, but then you never know what life sends your way.  This past weekend I had to say goodbye to my oldest dog of nearly 15 years, Frankie.  He was quite the character, half Australian cattle dog, half dingo, one blue eye, one brown, one ear standing straight up, one flopped over.  All attached to one fearless, intelligent and rambunctious personality.  He would have made a great search and rescue dog but he seemed happy enough being part of my 3 dog pack.  Sierra, his best friend and the female who raised him when I brought him home at 6 weeks, died 5 years ago.  A border collie/german shepherd mix, Sierra was the Omega dog, the peacekeeper.  Roughly the same size, she and Frankie grew together like an old married couple who knew each others ways and needs.  Both had welcomed the newest pack member, Noebell, the small, fluffy white 3-legged mini-American Eskimo, that I brought home unexpectedly from a rescue group.  Now Noe is the only child and while she is quite thrilled to have the run of the house, I definitely miss the life force that was Frankie.  I think it won’t be too long before another rescue finds her or his way to our home.

Dogs (and cats and any pet) are more than members of our families, they are the keepers of our memories and the visible reminders of our past and present lives; the everyday challenges, successes, failures, highlights and lowlights of our lives.  And they live it with us, offering hope, joy and unconditional love every day.  My friend Susan is convinced that Frankie has found Sierra and they are now chasing squirrels in the great beyond.  My bet is that Frankie is chasing Sierra, and she is chasing him back.