Shall we talk shop first? Should we mention any updates on the controversy?
Nahhhh, let’s not do that today. I’d rather talk about how a pair of socks reminded me of the comfort of our craft, and not the conflict. Ok, ok, some knitters think they’re better than others and like to prove it, boast about it, but as Morrissey sang in a rather famous song by The Smiths, “Some girls are bigger than others…..”
Now, Phillip and I aren’t football people, so we weren’t really tripped up with the Superbowl. But, I do have to confess that if there had a been a World Cup Croquet Match, I would have asked everyone to be quiet so I could stare and yell at the television. “Through the wicket, you fool! Through the wicket!”
So, instead of watching football, Phillip and I gathered around this little laptop, I was knitting away, he was crocheting away, and we probably did the most UN-football thing you could think of. We started binge watching “Downton Abbey” from the beginning. It’s funny that he would say, “I see why you like this so much. It’s very E.M. Forster.” And indeed, I do have an unknown frequency, a vibration that sets my soul to pen descriptions of lush greens beneath robin egg colored skies, as the azaleas drop distant memories of heritage and tradition whenever I spy on the Edwardian.
Funny to think that when people see this man with his fading boots and worn jeans, his dirty ballcap and unshaven face, that this is all that he is, when there is so much complexity beneath. I rocket past people to play croquet, would rather have a beer with my dinner, than a glass of wine, would rather sit on a porch at the end of a long summer day just to hear the cacophony of the cicadas, than go to a concert. But, that’s neither here nor there to this story….
Every once in a while, when I do some “selfish” knitting, I knit myself a pair of socks. I have only 3 pair at the moment, but when I feel I need just a minute away from the teddy bears, I pick up a pair of socks I’ve probably been working on for about a year, then I realize I have to get back to work and put them aside again. Hence, why I only have three pair. 🙂
So, while we were watching “Downton Abbey” I decided to put my socks on, just to remind myself of how warm they feel, how great they make my feet feel….And then I noticed that right after that, I put my boots back on. When my life takes a downturn, when my life gets hazardously close to ruin again, I find it very hard not to keep my boots on. It’s from the old days, where I feel I will be asked to leave my home at any moment. Some things I’ll never be able to shake. I see myself in some form as an eccentric old man one day (one day??? how about now, crazy???), where you find me walking around the old folks home in a bathrobe and his underwear….but still with his boots on, still afraid someone is going to ask me to leave my home.
But, as I was wearing my socks, I began to feel the comfort of the craft in a new way. These tender handed things give us a solace that the mass produced cannot. Much like a love letter, written in hand, as opposed to a forwarded email. These things we make take time, they take prominence in memory, of the people that love us. Our scarves not only shield from the winter winds, but rather, constantly kiss the neck of the wearer. Our sweaters and shawls act more as constant hugs. Our teddy bears and other knit animals readily available for clutching in the dark when we feel we need safety.
So, I happily spent the day wearing the comfort of my craft, knitting my teddy bears, reminding myself that every stitch should come from a place in the heart that years for comfort, rather than something to be used as an excuse for conflict.
Otherwise, we aren’t knitters at all….just arrogant people with a skill.
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