Seasons

A few years ago Marcus and I experienced the season of weddings.  We married young, so we were the first of our friends and cousins to tie the knot.  But others quickly followed suit, and it wasn’t long before we spent every weekend (or so it felt) celebrating with friends and family as they embarked upon their lives together.

Logically, the season of babies followed. Not only did we eventually have three children of our own, but we welcomed cousins, fellow Demon Deacons, and friends and neighbors.  To be frank, when it came to kids, our proverbial cups runneth over.

And now, like it sometimes happens with real seasons, I suspect that Marcus and I are preparing to encounter a difficult season ahead in our lives.  Both in our early thirties, we’ve been blessed to bring our children into a world where they are surrounded by loving family, including both grandparents and great-grandparents.  And this week, we lost their first great-grandmother and Marcus’ grandmother. The blow has hit us all hard, both in what it means to us as a real loss and what it says about the road ahead.

My post isn’t meant to be about what a wonderful woman Grandma was (and she was a wonderful woman) or how much she’ll be missed (by so many, more than words can say).  It isn’t meant to talk about all the wonderful things she did for the Cuban community (and she did so much).  It isn’t about her beautiful daughter, sons, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren (and they are all amazing).  It isn’t about her devoted husband (and he is an amazing man, too). There are children and grandchildren who could sing her praises much better than I.

Instead, it’s about this season that I fear is upon us.  The season where I realize that we’re mortal and where we learn that death is all around us.  This is the season when I will have to explain to my children that someone has died.  It’s the season where I fear one death may be followed by another.

I long for the seasons of weddings and births.

The Importance of Pictures?

I was just sitting down to blog and tell you all that we made it back to the states safe and sound, no worse for the wear.

Then I realized that this would be my third blog post in a row with no pictures, and it got me thinking…how important are pictures to the satisfaction you receive when reading a blog post?

I’d love to get some feedback from my readers, even if you aren’t regularly a commenter. Do you like it when I post pictures? Why? What pictures are you the most interested in?

And I guess that gets us down to the reason you read my blog–the knitting, the girls, my life/depression/coping, or the combination of it all?

I’d love to hear from all of you…

Marcus

I often write about my relationship with the girls, my knitting, my writing, and my family’s adventures abroad.

The other night as I drifted off to sleep, however, I realized that I rarely blog about the reason that all of this is possible…my husband.

It was a funny night.  We stayed up until 11 PM, and cuddled up in bed, both exhausted.  It was really cold out, and we were trying to get warm by snuggling.  I mentioned something I had read on a political thread on Ravelry, and Marcus and I started talking about it.

We talked, him and I, for almost an hour, curled up in bed together. We were so tired, and should have gone to bed.  But we didn’t.  Instead, we talked, shared, discussed, lightheartedly debated, and listened.

What’s amazing to me, and what I realized from this conversation, is that Marcus and I never talked politics before we got married.  In fact, there were a large number of things we never really talked about.  How we’d handle crying it out.  Formula vs. breast milk.  Where we’d spend Christmas and Thanksgiving.  How we’d manage our money or our time.

Of course, before we got married we knew we were similar.  We loved doing the same things, and we had the same vision for our future.  But many of the logistics that have encompassed our day to day life these days weren’t something we’d ever thought of.

And as we sat, curled up in bed, I realized how lucky it was that I married the right man.  Not because we agree on everything (though we were in agreement that night), but because we really are well suited for one another, him and I.  When we don’t agree, we talk, share, and compromise.  There are times that I agree that he knows what’s best, and vice versa.

Whew…some days we bicker like there’s no tomorrow.  But those moments fade away.  And I realize that I truly am blessed to have married this man, who once drank 5 forties in a morning for the Breakfast of Champions.  Who once dressed up like a fairy godmother for Christmas.  Who still loves Tetris as much as the day he was ten.

I love you, Marcus.

Verra Nice

Marcus and I spent the weekend in Edinburgh, Scotland.  And by “Marcus and I” I mean “Marcus and I.”  No kids.  No family and friends.  No lists of things to do, places to go, people to meet, or…well…anything.

We took the train from Harrogate on Friday morning, and spent 2 glorious days in a beautiful city.  We walked the Royal Mile, visited the Whisky Heritage Center, walked around Edinburgh Castle, explored the Real Mary King’s Close, and ate, drank, talked, walked, and enjoyed one another.  It was a perfect weekend.

And yet, still, at the end of the trip, we couldn’t wait to get home to the girls.  Though they manage to drive me crazy every day and sometimes have me on the verge of a nervous breakdown, it’s amazing how empty life seemed without them around.  The bed was too big.  The room was too quiet.  The conversations weren’t nearly as lively (though we managed to finish sentences and actually talk about grown-up things).

So, we returned home aching to see our girls, but having enjoyed our time together alone.  I remember reading once that as much as we love our children and spend so much of our adult lives focusing on them, that one day they will grow up and leave us, and all Marcus and I will have left is one another.  I’m so glad we make the time to nurture our relationship and enjoy time for just the two of us.

Marcus and Kelly in Edinburgh Castle

Mood: Accomplished!

I am feeling accomplished today…hmmm…is that really a mood?  I suppose it would better be described as proud.

After a lazy Sunday and a fairly rough start to the week with church yesterday, the week has really shaped up nicely.  I have accomplished quite a bit, and am feeling good about it.

I finished my Eleanor socks.

I started my very first knitting design project, a design your own socks challenge from the Sock Knitters Anonymous group on Ravelry.  Here’s my progress so far:

I entered Associated Content’s Ultimate Call for Content, with a grand prize of $5,000.  Will I win?  Only time will tell.  But I am really pleased with my piece, and promise to link to it once it publishes (hopefully soon!).

I had a good day yesterday with the girls, and despite some struggles today, it’s shaping up to be another good one.  It’s amazing how the weather can help, too, and we’ve had two beautiful days in a row here in Yorkshire.

Marcus and I went on a date last night.  He took me to the movies, to see Indiana Jones.  It was so much fun, and we realized we should make time for just the two of us more often.

All in all, it’s shaped up to be a great week, afterall.  Thank goodness for that!  I hope it carries into the weekend–we’ll be spending it in the (hopefully sunny) Lake District!  Fingers crossed.

Tag…You’re It!

I was recently tagged for a Meme by Peaceful Knitter.  Here’s the deal:

The rules: Each player answers the questions about themselves. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5-6 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog. Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve posted your answer.

1) What was I doing ten years ago?

It was 1998, so I was just finishing up my freshman year of college.  I returned home, where I worked at Camp Mayo as a counselor, still dated my high school boyfriend, and probably drove my mother crazy.  I’d met Marcus, my future husband, but we were still in “friend” mode!

2) What are five (non-work) things on my to-do list for today:

• Cast on my design your own sock for the Sock Knitters Anonymous June Challenge.
• Write my wedding destinations article for Associated Content. (I suppose this is sort of work)
• Visit the acupuncturist.
• Mail my dad’s birthday cards.
• Cuddle the girls and my husband.

3) Snacks I enjoy:

I am a huge fan of cheap chocolate (Hershey’s, Reese’s, M&M’s, etc).

4) Things I would do if I were a billionaire:

Mostly, I’d want Marcus to quit his job so that we could be home together as a family, without worrying about money.

5) Places I have lived:

Maryland, North Carolina, Virginia, Washington DC, England

6) Jobs I have had:

Special Ed Recreation (counselor, specialist, program director), Classroom Teacher, Technology Coordinator and Classroom Teacher, Stay at Home Mom/Homemaker, Writer, Salesgirl at Abercrombie, Salesgirl/Cashier/Front End Supervisor at Old Navy…not in that order!

7) Peeps I want to know more about:

Dalesgirl

On the Hill

Nothing Fancy

Life on the Double Point

So, now you know the truth about me…any surprises?

The Departed

My mom is officially gone.  She flew back to the States yesterday morning, and called this morning to let us know that she had arrived home safely (though without luggage).

It’s always hard when my mom leaves, or any visitors, really.  We say all the time that if we didn’t miss our family so much in the States, we could stay in Yorkshire forever.  It’s usually exacerbated by visitors.  When they leave, we remember how much we miss them, but when we haven’t had anyone here in awhile, we sometimes forget.

The few days after my mom leaves area always the hardest.

Today, though, it’s like Fr. Apollo knew just what we needed to hear at church.  We celebrated the mystery of the Holy Trinity today, and he talked a lot about the idea of unity.  Unity of our community, unity of our families, unity of three bodies and one God.  I think I needed this reminder that even though we are separated, we are still united and still a family.  And that this distance between us won’t last forever.

To help cope with mom’s departure, I’ve jumped right back into writing.  I hope to have a few articles ready for Associated Content this week, as well as a few for the Station Break on base.

I’ve also been knitting.  I wanted a relaxing knit, and went right for the sometimes overlooked Forest Canopy Shawl.  The progress has been slow, but it really is turning out beautifully.

Maybe the knitting and writing helps me feel unity, too.  United with the person I am knitting it for.  United with myself.  United with other knitters and writers.

I feel less alone.

I went shopping too, and that always helps! 

Red Wine and Philosophy

The girls are asleep.  Marcus is playing Call of Duty 4 on the PS3 (I just asked the name), and I am sitting on the couch, looking at the sock I am knitting.  I just had to frog (which I just learned is from the fast way you say, “rip it, rip it” when you are ripping it out after a mistake!) the heel because I miscounted somewhere and it was off center.  I managed to pick back up all of my stitches, miraculously, and now it’s sitting beside me, awaiting further action.

This error, for whatever the reason, warranted correction.  I stopped, and I plan to go back and try to make it right.

However, I’m also back onto working on my Cardigan for Arwen.  About 3 weeks ago I started the left side of the cardigan, and since this was my first time reading a chart, I made a mistake that I didn’t sort out until row 7 of an 8 row pattern on the cable chart.  I stuck the cardigan in my knitting basket, and there it sat until 3 nights ago while I figured out what to do with it.

Based on the sock story, you’d think the obvious choice would have been to rip out the 7 rows and do them again.  After all, they were only 7 rows.  I’m knitting my very first cardigan.  Shouldn’t I want it to be perfect?

But when I pulled out Arwen the other night and looked at her, I decided to keep on knitting.  To overlook the mistake, knit it correctly from now on, and go with it.  7 rows of a cable pattern had an error in them.  How many rows will my entire cardigan have?  More than I even want to figure right now!

Maybe I am feeling philosophical right now, but I wonder what the difference is between these two projects, and if there is a greater moral here.  My sock has thousands of stitches.  Smaller stitches, of course, but still thousands of them in a pair (each row is 60 stitches, at least 150 rows in a sock…you do the math!).  So it isn’t the stitch count that makes the difference.

It isn’t the price of the yarn or the time invested, either.  The heel took me about 30 minutes to do.  So did the 7 mistaken cable repeats.

Nope.  I think the real heart of the matter is how I feel about the mistake.  The sock mistake was on my heel.  Every time I put that pair of socks on, I would have felt that the heel was off center.  It would have made the socks potentially unwearable, especially if one felt right and the other didn’t.

But with the cardigan, my mistake may not even be noticeable when the whole cardigan is knitted.  And if it is, I can chalk it up as a part of the story–how I read the pattern left to right for each row, instead of only on the odd numbered rows.  How I knitted the whole thing myself and the error is minimal, in the scheme of things.  And how I won’t see that part of the cardigan every time I put it on.  It won’t change how it feels for me, how it fits, or how I feel about it.  It makes it hand-knit and unique.

I wonder about the mistakes that I’ve made in my life over the years.  There have been many that have caused me to want to frog the entire situation, to “rip it, rip it” and start over.  I’ve apologized.  Changed.  Learned and grown.  But the idea is like the socks–it doesn’t feel right, and I have to do something about it.

But then there are other situations, other moments in life like the cardigan, where the mistake is minimal.  That even if the same number of stitches were involved, it doesn’t change my life.  But I still fix them and go on.  I just don’t look to erase the past.  I simply move forward.

Is your life filled with cardigan and sock moments?  Which have you learned the most from?  Which have changed you most?  For the better?  For the worse? Do you strive to be perfect in some situations, and accept mistakes in others?  Why?

I suppose the most important thing is the change, critical in both instances.

At any rate, I suppose I’ll leave the sock and the cardigan for tomorrow.  I shouldn’t knit with wine, anyway.

PS:  Can you see the mistake, 6 cable pattern repeats later?  What if I’d never told you it was there?