Woke up to snow again. This means I have more time to spend with my thoughts in my home.
This ingenious row counter was made by my nephew (#7). He makes real chain mail (!!!) and lives on Saltspring Island with his dad, a carver http://www.inuastudio.com/index_files/page0004.htm, and his mom (my sister) a painter ,http://www.mountmaxwellcardco.com/ spinner and now poultry fancier. ETA She was mentioned on Lime & Violet when I sent them some crow cards!!
I bought it at the Twist of Fate fibre store in Kamloops. I could tell Erin wanted me to take advantage of some of her amazing sales. She has a very carefully chosen selection and great prices, but I couldn't be tempted.
It's that thing about stuff. There was a time when I couldn't leave a skein that was a great price. There would never be another opportunity to buy. But now I am worried that I won't be able to knit all my stash (it's really very moderate) or all the patterns I have gathered or earmarked.
Each skein of yarn in the clear, covered tubs in the basement pantry were accompanied by dreams and giddiness when they were bought. How can I recapture that personal hope?
I feel like the rat that pushes the button to get the jolt of endorphins. I used to be simple: candy, food, drink. Push the button. But mindfulness gets in the way (and pants that won't zip up).
Magazines have been my button sometimes. I still look at them in the grocery store check out, but they don't target my interests anymore.
Now I need a long walk or extended periods of knitting. Playing music usually helps, but I like to do that in an empty house (or when D is practicing his bagpipes).
Then there's you. I hit the blog button hoping for a treat. Did you post today? Can I see what you're knitting? How is your family, your pets. Please be the button that feeds me. Being locked to the computer is a bit pathetic and interferes with my own knitting time.
But I do enjoy the great pictures and the generous welcome that continues the story in your own words.
I think everything comes down to story telling. The narrative of life. The threads or yarns that intertwine us. I am lucky to have such a rich virtual neighborhood.