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I love to knit. No mystery there. I’ve proclaimed my love far and wide in any venue available. But there is knitting and then there is knitting of the sort that really becomes a metaphor for life

Before you set upon me with all sorts of dismissive comfort noises hear me out.

A knitted item contains hundred and usually thousands of individual stitches. Some knit in an autonomous, fugue like state. Others knit where every choice is fraught with choice after choice after that. If this then that. If that then here. If there then…what? Knit and rip?

I spend a fair amount of life repeating behavior I rarely acknowledge. Tooth brushing. Commuting. Then there are the contemplated job changes. The adult children coming home from college. The realities of the 10’s or 100’s of tiny crossroads where you juggle and bump with people and places and things. The stuff that pokes you in the eye and says HEY! I’m talking to you!

Some moments seem to be constructed of only pokes in the eye. Knitting has been like that lately.

See I decided it couldn’t be all that hard to graft together two pieces of color work after missing a full row in the pattern.

Easy decision to make. Really, really hard to do. The things we don’t know about the things we think we know well. It applies to just about everything in life if we pay attention.

So I cut my knitting and picked out the stitches only to find there was no way in heck Humpty was going to be a seamless egg ever again.

I’m going out on a semi-facetious limb here. This is not warfare, but I suddenly felt like a shell shocked soldier who has seen too much. No one should ever have to see their knitted project in that state(cut irreparably in half!!!)(After all that work!!!). Oh the humanity or knitmanity as it were.

So I gathered myself up literally and began knitting again. Till I finished. It was hard. I didn’t like it. And then it was good cuz it was done.

So hear me crossroads of life and stitches. I will always gather myself and knit. Job decisions if I have to rip I will. I’ll keep on knitting and ripping with courage till I’m called to knit harp-strings and angel hair into halos. Or knit a thong for the devil himself using pitchforks as needles and god only knows what that yarn is made of…

Can you tell I’m a little worked up here?

See knitting as metaphor for life!

My friend Kristin and I walked the Helvetia Half today. I was a ton of fun and not as hard as it sounds. I have pictures of the fun, well Marc has put up pictures of the fun, onto Facebook. Once I have a brain in my cranium I’ll look to where they are and get some of them here. Right now I’m about as empty headed as they come.

The Bar Mitzvah. The (4 day) Wedding. The Graduation. The no longer a teenager birthday. Family. Friends. Laughing. Talking. Too little sleeping. A lot of eating. A detente and thawing in a decade long silence between me and the kids dad.

An embarrassment of riches. One lucky girl.