Say thanks!

Since I launched this website with comments in April of last year, I have gotten a lot of really kind and very encouraging feedback.

I also get lots of requests for advice, and I answer them when I can.

Funny thing is, of the people who ask me for advice, and whom I help, very few ever come back to say thanks. Is that weird? I think that’s weird. Maybe they ask the question in the comment and never come back to see if I’ve answered it. Or maybe they don’t like my answers. Or maybe they got what they wanted, and then cast me aside like a stinky dish sponge.

Now my blog readers, you are different. You comment no matter how boring my post, you love cats with me, you encourage my knitting, soothe me when I’m hurting, e-mail me, you make my Leo Moon so purr-y happy. María, Katie, Alyssa, Hannah, Pat. And Lance and Kate, you don’t comment but I know you read. Thank you, ladies. And Lance. Have I missed anyone?

This is for Alyssa--

sweater bottom

I have been working on this since Christmas. It’s the bottom of an Elizabeth Zimmermann sweater from her Knitter’s Almanac.

Have I mentioned on this blog how much I love love love Mrs. Zimmermann? Unfortunately, I started knitting about a decade too late; she gave up the ghost in 1999.

But fortunately she left a wealth of books, a couple of which I own, and videos, which I have only heard about at this point. As you read through her instructions and advice on knitting techniques, you often come across gems like this:

Let nobody say she can’t sew up a sweater— she just doesn’t want to. Reminds me of the infuriating remark, “I’ve always wanted to knit, but I just can’t.” Pish, my good woman, you can plan meals, can’t you? You can put your hair up? You can type, write fairly legibly, shuffle cards? All of these are more difficult than knitting. You just don’t want to knit, so why pretend you do? It’s not compulsory; take up something else.

One more story, and then I really must get to work.

Sadie xmas

This is my mom and me, with her kitty Sadie, who she rescued from the road back in the Fall. It’s Christmas day. Sadie has recovered quite well, and has revealed herself as a scrapper. All teeth and claws and energy.

But she looks quite calm here, doesn’t she? We have been playing the three recorders that we received from my sister Amy’s very cool mother-in-law. We’re learning to play them from the book that came with the package. Boy, we had some fun belting out screechy versions of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” We even did some Beethoven (Ode to Joy). You can imagine.

Well, Miss Sadie the Scrappy jumped right up in Mom’s lap and curled up like the demurest pussy cat, purring delightedly. She LOVED our concert. It was the most bizarre thing. As our playing became more screechy and dissonant, the purring became louder. So moved was she by our glorious music.

It was a fun Christmas. No politics (very touchy as Mom is a Fox News Republican and we are the hated “Liberals”— it can get ugly), no big, expensive gifts, just music and fun. And the three of us together.