Back into the Sunlight

So, after a long wet weekend, I ran out to the garden this morning to catch some beloved sunlight, and to spy on the flowers. They always look so much brighter and richer the morning after a rainstorm. Who cares that I was in my pajamas? Who cares what the neighbors may say. I was frolicking in the dewy morning light. Not enough people do that. Go frolicking in your pajamas some nice sunny morning. You won’t stop smiling all day.

I was also able to take better pictures of my little tiger and bears, too. Man, those pictures I took yesterday were just dreadful. Probably why none of them sold. And I mean NOTHING sold. Can’t let that happen too many days in a row. We already teeter, would rather not fall. So, take a look around the shop, snag a bear for spring, or a tiger!

I am definitely heading back out to the little garden space this morning, going to enjoy as much of it as I can before it gets far too hot later today. Wish ya’ll could join me out there! Talk later!

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Bloom, Flowers, Bloom!

Sheesh, what a dreary morning. Tons of rain and grey skies, but you can’t dismiss it because that is precisely what makes beauty grow. The little budding gerbera daisies are desperate for it, the snap dragons yearn for it, the soul sits back and rests and says, “Ok. Do your thing. Everyone rest before blooming.” I just wasn’t able to take pics of my latest knit bears with that nice morning glow outside I do so enjoy, but not able to wait until tomorrow I had to improvise and take photos for the listings in a different light. And boy, lighting makes such a difference. So, try to use your imagination. 🙂 I’ve been knitting like mad for the last few days, tearing through this fun little yarn that I found, all in coordinating  colors. A nice lavender, pink and light blue all conspired to conceive of teddy bears and a tiger that are in desperate need of a home. So, take a peek in the shop by clicking here and take a look around, and again, excuse the quality of the pictures. These little guys are going to help pay this months insurance on the yarn truck….and some squirreled away for a possible move, but I’ll discuss more of a “maybe move” in a different post.

Watching the rain hit the window pane. Bloom, flowers, bloom! I need you!

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No Longer Resisting….

I’ve always resisted the idea that I have fans that appreciate my work, that I affect people in positive ways, that maybe I do have some small level of fame. I always thought thinking in those terms would be arrogant….but, maybe it is time to reconsider that line of thought and embrace that responsibility, embrace my own power. I think that would make all the difference in the world as to what my future holds….

Have a Friendly Space

Nothing beats a nice crisp, dewy spring morning….

Every day I’m loving more and more the little garden space Phillip set up for me to write in. God knows I get a beautiful amount of supportive emails and messages, but I also get my fair share of some pretty nasty ones, too. I’m fine with it. When you put yourself in the public arena, not everyone is going to like you. I don’t mind when people decry a difference in opinion that’s one thing. But, too many people are quick to rush to judge you on your appearance. They mock my weight, or worse, the state of my teeth. Which is just….well, rude. That is totally to be expected from people today. You just roll with it, and if you have a friendly space to disappear into, by all means, become a hermit there.

Someone said that it would be lovely to see a picture of me actually writing in my garden space. I hesitate to take pics of myself right now. With my weight at about 105 right now, I’m not that pretty to look at. Its actually kinda shocking. So, let me get some more meat on my bones before I get all duck faced and Kim Kardashian on ya.

Phillip and I finally got to have our ribs! And yes, they were amazing. AMAZING. I wish I knew who made them. I tore into the package so quickly to devour them, I didn’t get a chance to read the label. 🙂 Thanks for the ribs! We LOVED them! And for store bought, the Publix potato salad was pretty tasty.

I’ve been working with this adorable pinkish-peach yarn. Nice and soft, but not too delicate. A crisp color, not too quiet, but not too loud, either. There is a complimentary blue that goes nicely with it that I’m play with, too. But, for now I have this one little bear perfect for keeping you company in friendly spaces. So, be sure to snag him and keep the dream going. We need to get more meat on my bones. If you’d to adopt him, click here.

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…excuse me, must dance again…

I sat down tonight to do some writing. I didn’t want to do any knitting. You’ll find fault with me, some of you might be angry with me, but I don’t care to knit all the time. Sometimes I hate it. (Now I’ll beg you to buy my knit bears tomorrow), but that’s ok! Big chefs get take out, famous painters buy wallpaper, musicians sometimes turn their Pandora off.

I was trying to write, trying to find my head space. I just couldn’t. And writing isn’t as quick as a photograph. You can’t snap shot your thoughts that quick. The minute you try….you’ll find the bulb (the brain) won’t flash. You’re left with darkness. For instance, I have to turn back on these blog posts once I’m done with them because I see that I type so fast I omit words. My head is working  faster than my heads.

When that happens I look for my conditions. Every writer, every knitter, every crafter, every artist of any kind has conditions for getting to that place where it works. I require certain lighting,  bit of over the shoulder shouting (“Shut up! I’m writing), and music. I put on some Kate Bush. Was so into it that I took notes. (I scribble on the random cig pack what I’m thinking). But thats not writing. That’s saving for a rainy day. The next thing you know I’ve moved onto recommendations from youtube and I find myself dancing to random pop nonsense. Yes, I sang along to Brandy and Monica singing “That Boy is Mine.” I did dance to it. And I won’t apologize. I really got into it. Yes, I’ll admit that I’m one of those beautiful birds who flap their wings when the right chirping is heard.

I just couldn’t get to that spot tonight. Instead of writing what I wanted to, what had been on my head, I ended up dancing and being….ok, dorky and lovely. Had there been light outside I would have danced around the bushes. I would have danced around anything new I hadn’t seen before. Instead, as a foolish writer often does, I tried hard, pushed hard to move my work into a theme. I tried to “say” something rather than just experience the moment around me.

I’m writing a blog about how I couldn’t write. See how that works? Just live, Gregory. Just live. Don’t think about it. Just accept it.

In cryptic tone….

I had intended to write tonight how surprised I was that I was still alive….

…excuse me, must dance again…

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If I Could Change Who I Am

Seems strange that I should have to explain to someone who thinks I should simply “shut up and write about knitting,” that I’m a memoirist, an essayist. I observe, experience, live, die little deaths and write about them. I have to be honest about those moments, about those reflections, no matter how horrid my soul staring back at me in the shape of words may feel. If I didn’t, I’d lose the spark, the igniting desire to share one simple man’s life with a grander audience. I love that gelignite, because I get the chance that so few truly are blessed with: I get to connect, not only with many of you, but with myself. I get to hear things that are drowned out by a bustling world, too busy with its own narcissism to hear itself yell. And every time I sit down to write I find that I’m still a student of this particular craft.

I’ve always done things my own way and  have always challenged the idea that you should “do one thing and do it better than everyone else.” I chant to the mantra of, “doing many things and doing them differently than everyone else.”

I’ve always been on the edges of the knitting community, the odd cult hero, the bootleg tape you share with your friends, the song at a cavernous club you’ve spent all night waiting to hear and find yourself the only one dancing to…..but with glee. I’m the punk stage diver who leaps with enthusiasm hoping someone will be there to roll him through the crowd, the bearded sage on a mountain top that exclaims with irony, “If you want to learn to knit, you’re going to have to put those needles down and live first. Because everything that is born of your yarn is a reflection of the life you are, or are not, living….” I’m the kinetic flame thrower, but also the monk who can convince you of the importance of inertia.

I don’t have followers. I have readers who are leaders in their own right.

So, I said some things on Facebook this weekend that people hated. I’m ok with that. You may think it damning of  me, but I’m precisely the observer that I should be, reporting back what some may find hellish, what others may find noble. The older I get, the more comfortable I feel in my own skin. Heading towards 50, I find that the same reasonable questions to pose upon society are still as valid now as they were when I was an idyllic 20 something. Except my ideas of “anti-establishment,” “free thinking,” and “not needing validation” have simply dug in their heels.

You have to live your life to fullest of its honest observations, you have to sing them, slam a stand up bass with a middle finger with them….stage dive with glee. I could change who I am and ohhhh, if I did can you imagine what I would have accomplished by now? Oh, you would have been impressed. Endorsements, contracts, cable shows…..

I could change who I am….but, I do so adore this skin I’m in and how it embraces impact over impression.

No apologies from me today, nor for me. I’m happy with the delicate dance around madness in which I write, the aggressive imposition of beauty I describe, and the spotlight I shine brightly on the multi facets of who I am.

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Burgers, Bears, and a Nod to Suzanne Somers

I had a cheeseburger. Have I mentioned that yet? I’m surprised if I haven’t. It was like discovering something new that excites you to unparalleled giddiness and you run around telling everyone about what you’ve discovered and try to convince them to try it. Yes, I had a cheeseburger. The damned thing must have been half a pound, but I cut it in two and gave Phillip half. I guess that makes me a quarter pounder kind of guy. I figured the whole burger would have made me sick. You see, after months of having only tea, broth and light foods (basically a few turkey slices between bread, no condiments, no cheese, no nothing), I was STARVING.

It was amazing. Grease building in the corner of my lips and across my cheeks, massive amounts of mayonnaise and mustard dripping through my fingers and hitting my lap. Lovely bits of cauterized flesh would fall and I’d catch it mid air, only to shove it back into my mouth with greedy, salacious delight. It was disgusting, horrifying, classless and crass and I’m thrilled I didn’t have an audience to view it, but it was the most satiating moment I’d had in quite some time. And I have to say, whatever life force was left in that beef certainly wasn’t lost. I felt amazing the next day. UH MAZING. Not with fruit, not with vegetables, not with vitamin pills, but with beef. And still stuck at 109 pounds I’m anxious to spend the weekend just devouring as much meat as I can get my hands on. I’m serious. I felt as though I was STARVING. Even Suzanne Somers, think what you want of her, has been on the cutting edge of homeopathic, integrated medicine for years. And when she got cancer, she reminded people that the knee jerk reaction to illness is to go vegetarian, or vegan, and to assume that you’re eating a holistic and healthy diet. Oh, no, she says. You need meat, serious meat, practically raw cuts of cow consumed often. Kale won’t do it. Kale has its benefits, but the vitamin richness of a cut of beef is far superior. She may be on to something. I can only report what I know. The diet I was prescribed while sick got me better, but it was a cheeseburger that got me over the hump and back to wellness. And the one thing I’ve seen every vegan or vegetarian do once they start to feel HUNGRY is go for a Big Mac.

I’ve done a lot of knitting this week. Thought I’d share a group photo before they all were shipped. It was a good week. I may not blog this weekend, because if I have my way, yes Phillip and I are going to spend some time in our garden space enjoying each other’s company and the warm sun on my pale skin.

I have one last bear for this week. Using up little bobbins of this and that, I gave my usual dotted bear a purple muzzle and ears. And I do so love the face. Sort of bashful. I adore this bear. And when he sells I’m going to order some RIBS, dammit. That’s my goal. I’m going to sell this bear, get some ribs and sit in the garden with my husband and truly get back to 100%. Potato salad? Schmeh. Baked beans? Pfffft. I’m going full on, in your face, sticky fingered mess of baby backs galore. Because I am RAVENOUS right now. HUNGRY. And broth just won’t do it anymore. If you’d like to adopt him, click here.

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