knitting – Page 2

The geeky life doesn’t get any better than this. As I write this I am up in the air, en route from Detroit to Newark and the second leg of a family visit. The flight we were supposed to take was overbooked, so we accepted vouchers to take a later flight. Now I’m feeling flush and happy to spend the $4.95 for the on-flight Internet service. This is so cool!

We spent the past several days in Peoria, Illinois, where we had a great visit with my parents. Now we’re headed to New York to visit Henry’s daughter, Sarah. I’ll be delivering Fluffy the Bear — for those of you who’ve been with me for a while, you remember that story. At long last, Fluffy and Sarah are going to be reunited, along with a special surprise that I’ll be revealing to her tomorrow, and I’ll share more on that soon. Best not talk about it here. She might actually read this.

I’ve taken my knitting with me, which came in handy on and between flights. Yes, that knitting. As you may recall, I recently started knitting again after a few decades off. Knitting is relaxing, right?

Um, no, not so much.

My determination, ambition, and enthusiasm are exceeded by just one thing: a meager skill level. It’s been a looonnnggg time, and I’m having a lot of trouble remembering anything beyond knit and purl.

As I learned quickly that I was in over my head (why didn’t I start with something simple, like a scarf? Don’t know. I always overcomplicate my creative life), I bought some knitting books to help me. Stitch ‘n’ Bitch by Debbie Stoller has become my knitting bible, reminding me about things like “yarn over” and “knit two together.” Okay, I tell myself. I can do this.

I have also discovered the genius of YouTube. There’s a video for everything, way beyond all the cute kittens! All I have to do is to go to YouTube and type in the mysterious, esoteric abbreviations that appear on a knitting pattern. PSSO? SSK? SL? They’re all there with little samples to show me what my work should look like, all with soothing female voices providing comfort and reassurance.

Turns out from watching these videos, though, that I learned to make stitches in reverse — probably a left-handed thing — so I still have to adapt some of the instructions a little to accommodate my quirks. Yes, not only did I start out with an overcomplicated project, but I also overcomplicate it with my personal style.

Of course, all the guidance in the world doesn’t help when I don’t read the instructions. Well, I did, repeatedly, but for some reason my eyes managed to miss some essential information, as often happens when I try to follow directions (I generally just wing it, which used to drive my previous husband crazy). Seems kind of strange coming from someone who wrote several procedure manuals on her day job, but that’s how it goes.

In this case, I totally ignored an instruction that required an additional 70 rows or so.

Here’s the thing. The skirt has ruffles. There’s an underskirt that’s supposed to go the whole length of the skirt, and then I pick up purl rows to add the ruffles. It’s really cute! At least it could be, in the hands of someone with a bit more skill.

I had already ripped and re-ripped the bottom ruffle multiple times. I finally understood the pattern, only to realize that I had to take it out all over again to add the missing rows. Does it matter? Yeah, this was one mistake I couldn’t cover up. The area meant to be the bottom skirt ruffle was going to end up, well, more at my bottom. I could get arrested wearing a skirt that short. It’s also rather chilly and windy on the Olympic Peninsula, so a micro mini doesn’t fit the weather pattern. But I am nothing if not persistent — years as a struggling writer have taught me that much.

After working and reworking the skirt, I am finally back on track. All of this doing and re-doing has given me quite an education, and all of a sudden I feel back in a groove again. My fingers have found a rhythm, and my hands their memory.

This is not to say that there aren’t any mistakes left in the skirt. I’m happy to report, though, that none of them will be visible. Just stay the hell away from my waistband. You don’t need to be looking there anyway!

My sister Amy modeling the prom dress I made.

When I was eight years old, my grandmother taught me how to knit. I started by making a belt with heavy yellow yarn, and the stitches got so tight I could hardly maneuver my needle through them. Still, I was proud of and excited about my efforts.

Over the years I learned to sew and embroider as well. Once I dressed up a pair of my sister’s blue jeans with an embroidered, multicolored Volkswagen (she owned a bug at the time). I took a couple of years of Home Ec, where I learned to make clothes. My proudest accomplishment was the prom dress I made in senior year, with lots of lace trim.

Those of us who grew up in the 60s and 70s got plenty of mixed messages. While we were learning how to do Women’s Work and make a proper home, we were also being exposed to new choices and possibilities. We learned that we didn’t have to feel tied to Women’s Work. This was a good thing, and I embraced feminism then as I do now.

I learned that engineering and science could be Women’s Work. I saw more and more women enter politics and other fields that were once male-dominated. It was an exciting, heady time.

Here’s the problem, though: I really enjoyed the traditional Women’s Work. I found it fun and relaxing to do. Yet I put it aside, seeing it somehow as oppressive, activities best left behind in the quest for a career.

For years I didn’t sew or do any kind of craft. Later, though, when recovering from a long and difficult illness, I rediscovered the delight of Women’s Work. I learned to quilt and make drapes. In working with fabric, I found healing in my body as well as my soul.

Still, once I got better and went back to work, I left my Women’s Work behind yet again.

Lately, I have found myself weary. I love to write novels, but I find the marketing difficult and tedious. In the midst of our cross-country move, I sent Blood & Loam off to my editor with the instructions to “take your time.” Sales for The Foreign Language of Friends have been flat, in large part because I’m not that consistent with the marketing. It’s still sort of a deep dark secret, actually. Other novel ideas have fizzled out. I have had to take a step back to regroup.

It is time to reconnect with Women’s Work.

Quaint Port Gamble, which reminds me of the small Massachusetts towns I love so much.

Here on the Olympic Peninsula, Women’s Work is everywhere. This past weekend we attended a Fiber and Fabric festival in Port Gamble, where women were spinning on the sidewalks, and I don’t mean with their bicycles! You can get big bags of wool, dyed or not, and spin away. It looked so relaxing, I wanted to run out immediately and get a spinner. Groups abound, where women get together to chat and knit, spin, or quilt — and I am welcome to join.

I bought some fabric to make curtains. I picked out a quilting kit (I decided that to get back in the flow, a kit would be easier), and I bought some yarn to knit a skirt. I have a dedicated place now for my sewing machine, right by a cheerful window, and I’ve started to work.

Of course, a funny thing happens when I start doing Women’s Work. A delicious idea for a new novel bubbled up from the depths of my subconscious. It’s compelling and insistent, and I have to heed the call. Yes, my writing is Women’s Work, but to do it better and more happily, I may need to pick up the needle as well.