Busha Full Of Grace

Ike Halloween 2006

A frog's life isn't all fun and games....life is a big pond, ya know.

Finished Felted Bag

Third post is the charm. Are you tired of hearing from me yet today? But I just couldn't resist letting you see my finished felted bag! Remember the pattern I was unhappy with, and my request for ideas of how to make a felted button? Well, this is how I finished it up:

It was made from the Fiber Trends Tote Around pattern, and Manos del Uruguay yarn throughout. There is also a little decorative yarn in there. It cost me a bundle, didn't felt up nearly as beautifully as it knits, and wasn't (in my humble opinion) bulky enough to be a sturdy bag. My problem was mainly with the looped strap on the center back, that threads through a buttonhole in the front. This, for me, was flimsy. (I forgot to take a before picture, sorry). So what I did, was sew on two leather straps purchased at ImagiKnit, and a large button on the front; I then tied the long knitted strap into a knot to make a new buttonhole; threaded that knot and loop through the original buttonhole and fastened; finally, I cut and tied the strap into decorative hanging tails:

And voila, the finished product:

Inspiration

Susie, at The Knit Farm, recently posted a photo of a sock she knitted for her daughter. I was reminded of an unfinshed project of mine from a couple of year ago, using nearly the exact same yarn. I had about two inches of the cuff done, so I pulled it out and nearly finished it yesterday. I'm just waiting to try it on his foot before I finish the toe:

then, sock #2. I just LOVE the colors. They are wool, I sure hope he will wear them...

Oh my GAAAAAAWD

Yes, I said that, earth mother to the umteenth. Last night I was a total, almost 53 year old drooling, starry-eyed, fan. I don't know how many of you ever watch Six Feet Under, but I was a junkie. I'm not into the reruns, but when it was a fresh season of shows, I loved them. It was about the only thing I would watch all week. Especially that tall, brooding, sexy Nate Fisher. Heart, be still.

Well, last night I went to my daughter's school, to drop of the chili for the fundraising dinner. The event was "Sprite's Night", a wonderful Halloween celebration for children. And right there, standing in front of me, was Peter Krause; yep. NATE FISHER! My daughter had been telling me that his son was in kindergarten at her school, but I had yet to see him. So, there he was, in all his costumed, cowboy splendor. And he was just as cute as any ol' wrangler; cute as a bug's ear. Those boots and that ten gallon hat. This "wise woman" got a hitch in her git-along. And all I could think was....

"HEY COWBOY...COME TO MAMA"

Fetching wrist warmers complete.

Hooray!

GO TO YOUR ROOM!

Those are the words I use to get the dogs in their kennels. Really, it's more like, "Go to your room doggies..." But just now, as I wandered happily through Blogland, sipping my coffee, this is what happened to the knitting I so carelessly left on my table last night:

And that lovely turquoise blue fabric? Those are pajama bottoms they pulled out of the laundry room as well...and yes, they have PLENTY of toys. Granted, most of them have been killed and dismembered, but no need to take that one out on me. Look at these faces, Remy is obliviously waiting for a treat, looking at me in that pathetic, "See, I'm not begging" way. She's quite naive. Harry is older and wiser, and cannot even look beyond that chewed up needle on top of his crate, into my eyes:

But there is a happy ending, and there wasn't an inch of yarn waste:

Tidied my stash tonight!

I'm refinancing, and the appraiser is coming tomorrow at 10 am, so I had to tidy up tonight. My yarn stash, in my office, is organized and it feels SO GOOD! Now I may want to hang out in here more. Oy, do I have a lot of you know what. I dream of being able to use it all up.

Oh yeah! And I have one of the Fetching wrist warmers done:

A Truth Discovered

During last night's, middle of the night musings, I happened upon a personal truth. I'm not feeling "old" at all. What I'm feeling is a longing for change. Why do I keep labeling it old? One possibility is that it is socially acceptable to use aging as a reason for change; thus, if I am a "victim" of old age, there is nothing I or anyone can do about it. (I know, a bunch of BS) I haven't yet learned to accept that change is ok just because I desire it. That's what I will begin to work on within my process.

This is a beautiful fertility goddess that Camille carved for me last Mother's Day. I need to remember to look at it often, and remember who I am...

Off to the Harvest Faire at my school, with Satch. The faculty is singing a beautiful, three part round as a gift to the school community:

"How great is the pleasure
How sweet the delight
When kind love and music
Together unite.
How great is the pleasure, how sweet the delight,
when love,
kind love,
And music unite.
Sweet.
Sweet,
How sweet the delight,
When harmony,
sweet harmony,
And love do unite."

I'm looking forward to this day. May your harvest, whether spiritual or earthly, be fruitful!

Simplify

I read an Amish quote many years ago when I was a busy young mother. It was on a greeting card, a simple white card with a tiny drawing of a black and white quilt in the center. It read, “To simplify, say ‘no’.” I carried that card around with me for years, somewhere in my stash of poems and sayings. I didn’t keep very good track of the card, but the words remained in a neat corner of my conscience. Words that rang so true to me, yet I left unheeded.

Recently, I have been grappling with my own aging. I’m ready for a change in my life. I long for the inner peace that speaks to me, yet each day I push myself out into the busy world. I recently told my daughter, Brooke, that I am experiencing that inner unrest which has previously in my life, created trauma; when I haven’t listened and the universe has forced me to do so. In the beginning, it is always reflected in my tendency to isolate. Feel tired. Withdraw. Friends get hurt and angry because I’m not available. I get self absorbed and vacillate between longing for my family yet being immobilized and feeling guilty for not being available. I try to say no, but the world doesn’t like it. Maybe I’m not doing it right.

So…on Monday morning, I awoke feeling great. On the way to work I stopped along the way and photographed “my commute” for my blog. I wanted to share the reason that 50 miles round trip is a favorite part of my day. I had begun walking again, getting exercise; my knee finally felt almost normal following the surgery. The dogs loved my new found energy. I was HAPPY. So why…WHY…was I so careless, as I trucked through the school parking lot with my arms full of books, that I tripped over the handicapped parking curb (how ironic is THAT?), falling flat on my face, spraining my ankle, making a bloody mess of my knees, hands and chin???? Glasses and shoes flying through the air, and all this happening at 8:25 when the parking lot was full of families?

Since Monday, I am trying so hard to figure this all out. There is a purpose, a reason. There is a lesson for me at this crossroad in my life. I need to be wide open right now. I need to experience the sadness that is there (it just is, I’m not sure why), the emotional pain is greater than the abrasions and sprains. I truly want to grow old gracefully. But grace is not in the cards right now. Since I’m down, physically, and out right now, and I have some cultivating of my life garden to do.

Synchronistically, I am reading a book my SIL recommended, “Lasagna Gardening for Small Spaces” and it suggests that when you age and your family leaves home, you might want to join the small garden crowd. Since I am a young, still working grandma, busy beyond belief, gardening for stress relief, I don’t want a big garden that will stress me out! But what I’m thinking about right now is downsizing to a small, sustainable, organic garden that is rich with beauty. A garden whose focus is to feed the soul instead of the body. A Granny’s garden, ripe with yes. One thought ringing clearly is this: sustainability and spirituality soar upon the same breath…

Ike's World

It's one of those strangely odd moments full with polarities; like when you return to the world after a bout with the flu; or when you are loading your groceries into the car, and you see a funeral procession driving by; or when sitting in a restaurant window having a meal with people you love, and you see someone on the payphone across the street, crying....

Recently I asked my daughter, Shannon, who is now with her family in Miami finishing up some school rotations, to send me some photos to post of Ikey's World. I post quite often about little Satchel, because I have the good fortune of having him nearby. When Ike's photos arrived, I was quite surprised by my gut reaction. First thing I thought was how odd it felt to be wearing my wool socks, loving autumn, dreaming of children and grandchildren wrapped in my fibery love...and here comes Ike, in shorts, in sunscreen, on a beautiful Florida beach. Not "on vacation", but this is his true life. Like the situations I began with, it felt surreal, as if a little piece of my heart was somewhere other than in my body. Like the thought of it all is just a little bit fuzzy. Of course the photos show that he is beautiful and peaceful and demure. But what these grandma's eyes saw and internalized, was the feeling that he is too alone in these photos. Mama and Poppi make his life rich and he is dearly loved, but I don't understand, cannot fathom,
the phenomenon of being so solitary within such a big, crazy, loving close family. Families full of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins both here and in Mexico! My heart longs for their return. Two more months. All three and one-half of them. Yep! They're bringing a new little seed of a grandchild back with them in mama's tummy!