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Marriage & Knitting

Tonight I saw Stephen Sondheim's Company. Anyone who knows anything about Sondheim's lyrics knows that he's really a pyscho-therapist, who thinks he's a songwriter, and happens to write complex songs about the very complex human condition. Company is about the human need for one another, yet recognizing how annoying, frustrating, and sometimes disillusioning marriage can be. Why do we choose to get involved in something in which we lose our identities, find ourselves compromising, and wind up generally not getting exactly what we want? I find it quite similar to knitting a sweater (especially since I had to rip out two rows of the Jaeger Luxury Tweed cable sweater).

I came home after the play and picked up Knitting Rules by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee and started reading the "Ten Reasons to Knit a Sweater". I realized that it is not unlike a commitment to marriage. (Forgive me, Stephanie, for horribly mis-using your words.)

1. It's a commitment. Sure, you hear that all your life, but sometimes it's hard to remember in the midst of chaos. When things get really screwed up, you have to remind yourself that you've MADE A COMMITMENT. Both require lots of time, a fair amount of money and "stick-to-it-ness" even when you're so annoyed you wish to run over it with the car.
2. It's an upgrade from an accessory. It certainly is different than having a boyfriend/girlfriend, or a fiance . . .or a scarf. A life-partner/ husband /wife . . . that's a whole different kind of upgrade. Now you have life insurance, health insurance, mortgages, on-going sleeping arrangements, shared bathroom habits, likes and dislikes, perhaps kids . . . these things make it much more complicated than the simple accessory.
3. You could spend a lifetime exploring all the variations. We only hope we can spend a lifetime experiencing the variations. Being creatures of habit, often the variations cause huge frustration. With a sweater you can put it aside. I find that it's much more difficult to do that with marriage.
4. Once you get the hang of it . . .it is possible for you to have garments (a relationship) that actually fits. I have friends who have been married a long time. They seem to have found a way to make it "fit". I have days when my marriage fits perfectly. I have days when it fits like a bad polyester leisure suit. I'm still working on the "hang of it."
5. There's a style for everyone. I BELIEVE THIS WITH ALL MY HEART. There is someone for everyone, and there are all kinds of marriages, just like there are all kinds of sweaters. We just need to find the type of marriage (relationship)that works for each us and get out there and find it. Just be careful not get sucked into the current fashion. Current fashion is fun, but doesn't stand the test of time. It took me until my '30's to realize this. I still struggle with this in sweaters . . .and marriage.
6. When a sweater (relationship) goes wrong . . . (it) never stops being funny. I wish we all had a better sense of humor about what goes wrong in our relationships. Perhaps there wouldn't be so many bitter ex's. (I know there are bitter knitters when it comes to "a sweater gone bad".) I like that about Sondheim . . .he finds the humor. I wish to laugh about my former marriage and "along with" this one..
7. A sweater's a big canvas. I believe my marriage is a big canvas. I have the opporunity to paint whatever picture I chose. I chose to paint: happy, peaceful, healthy, open, funny, easy-going, connected, content and loving. I have never achieved all of those on the same day, or in the same year. . .but I still paint that picture in my mind.
8. A ( . . .sweater) is the fastest high a knitter can achieve. When a relationship is REALLY GOOD, it is one of the biggest highs a person can achieve. There's nothing like knowing that you have someone who cares that you come home at night, is your best friend, is your biggest cheerleader, who disagrees with you, but won't walk out the door. There's nothing like creating something that fits beautifully . . .whether it be a marriage or a sweater.
9. A sweater project offers variety. I think that the happiest marriages find a way to bring variety in their relationships. (I find that variety outside of the relationship often leads to "being bitter". . . see #6 above.) I don't just mean sex (but that's part of it). I mean finding ways to know each other better and finding things that excite both people (like a Sondhiem musical, sharing blogs, traveling . . . or thank Heaven . . KNITTING). Again, you can change projects when you are bored with what you're knitting, but it's harder in a relationship once you've become bored, because you've MADE A COMMITMENT.
10. A sweater affords the scientific-minded a chance to experience the phenomenon of the Knitting (Marriage) Black Hole. I've experienced both "black holes". I am guessing that most people, who knit (sweaters or anything complex) and are in marriages (or whatever you call your committed relationship), know what I mean. Trying to explain it is difficult. But once you've experienced the black hole, you know it. Everyone who's ever knitted a sweater knows that feeling of a dropped stitch that you didn't see till rows and rows later. Marriage is a bit like that . . .sometimes the things you screw up don't come to the forefront until days or weeks later. Either way, you got to back up and mend or make amends.

The last reason, #10, ends on a down note . . . I don't like ending on a down note. Like a good musical, I like to end with an up-note.

There are reasons why we knit . . .and why we get married or are in committed relationships. Sonheim say's best:

"MAKE ME CONFUSED,
MOCK ME WITH PRAISE,
LET ME BE USED
VARY MY DAYS . . .
(SOMETHING)TO PULL YOU UP SHORT,
(SOMETHING)TO PUT YOU THROUGH HELL,
AND GIVE YOU SUPPORT IS BEING ALIVE." (You can listen.)

What I do know is that it's a lot like knitting a Jaeger Luxury Tweed sweater.

Goodbye My Little Guys

I'm a bad foster mom. In fact, everyone agrees I'm a bad foster mom. I rank high on the list of "foster failures" in the pug rescue association to which I belong.
Four years ago, while out for a walk with Doug, we ran into a man and his son walking a pug puppy. I was so taken by the little guy that I knew immediately I was destined to have a pug. By the end of the day, we had our first pug, Sam. (Doug and I were still at a time in our relationship where he indulged my every whim.) I have since heard that it's difficult to have one pug . . .they're like eating Lay's potato chips . . .you can't just have one. I know that to be true.

I am writing this with six pugs around me. I guess it's like yarn . . . when you find something you love, you just have to keep a stash. I started my "pug stash" by joining Ohio Pug Rescue. Doug graciously agreed to allow our home to become a haven for these little souls until they can find their "forever" homes. The problem is that Jay and I become so attached that we have a very difficult time letting them move on. When one becomes attached and adopts their fosters, it is called a "foster failure". We've had two such failures.

I've see ads in knitting magazines about using your pet's hair to be spun into yarn. I've found with having six pugs around I don't need to have it spun into anything, it's just naturally there. Even as I write this, I have one on my lap and two on my shoulders, another by my side and two carefully watching my every move. I have learned lots of ways to remove pet hair from items . . .and I don't wear black unless I put it on and immediately leave the house. (You can now understand why I might pick certain colors when you see the similarity between the Jaegar Luxury Tweed and Buster.)




This morning, I take Buster and Keaton to their new "forever" home. (They've been with us for 10 months.) They were dropped off at a shelter in Cleveland had been quite neglected. They were very withdrawn in the beginning, with horrible ear infections and really bad teeth. I'm sure the pain they endured made it difficult for them to be warm and affectionate. After operations and medical treatment, they started to come out of their shells. I found that in nursing them and learning all their little piccadillo's I grew to love them more each day.

I kept hoping there wouldn't be anyone who would want two curmudgeonly older pugs as a package. I kept hoping that even though we wouldn't officially adopt them, they would become ours by default and I would not publicly add to the "foster failure" list. But the call came, and it's time to let them go. I keep hoping for the call that would tell me that the new perspective adopters have changed their minds . . .but it hasn't come.

As I drive home from dropping them off, I won't have my knitting to soothe me on the long drive back. I'll just have to stay with the pain of "failure" and shed my tears. I'll try to remind myself that there will be little pieces of them with me forever . . .woven into my heart. . .and a Luxury Tweed cable knit sweater.

A Family Wedding! Excuse to Knit Something Beautiful

I live the life of a step-mom, who works outside the home, even though my office is in my house. I start work early in the morning. While still in bed, I grab my computer and coffee. Eventually I move to the kitchen island, then down to my office. There are days when I'm so busy that I don't make it out of my pajamas until late afternoon. These days my idea of a fabulous evening is crawling into bed with my knitting and watching "Boston Legal". No longer do I dress in elegant evening clothes, but there still enough of the former "party girl" in my spirit that I swoon over beautiful items I see in magazines. When I saw this pattern in the latest issue of "Cast On", I could barely contain myself.

Even if I did have a reason to wear this, it would need sleeves . . . or I would need to drop 20 lbs and do my Windsor Pilates everyday. Yet, I really, really wanted to make it.

A wonderful thing has happened. My niece got engaged on St. Patrick's Day. We're a small family, so any wedding is a HUGE event. My niece, Kathryn, is marrying into a big Irish family that loves to celebrate any and all occasions. I knew this was the opportunity for me to satisfy the lust to knit something extravagant and beautiful. I immediately sent her the photo and asked for permission to make it. Thankfully she said, "yes" and picked out a lovely golden yellow color, called Sutra. It will be fabulous with her red hair and beautiful skin. Oh, my heart is racing.


The first engagement party is scheduled for May 6th. This is the excuse I've needed to drop everything (including the Jaeger sweater on the size 3 needles). I had to search online for this yarn as time is of the essence. I found it at Royal Yarns at 4 AM, while searching the web (this is compulsion . . or passion, which one, I'm not sure),and by Noon it was on it's way to me.

The package will arrive at my door today or tomorrow. (My hope is that Doug won't be here so the litany of "Package DuJour!" and "Do you really need more yarn?" will start.)

Kathryn is coming to town on Saturday to shop for her wedding dress. My sister and I will be accompanying her to the various bridal shops around town. I'll have my tape measure and be making notes as she's undressing. I've already found tiny golden beads at my local bead store. I'm gearing up for a marathon. Sunday I will start.

This will be a true labor of love . . .for my niece and for the "party girl" in me.


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My New Favorite Thing

While traveling to Raleigh last week, I realized that a purchase I made at Purl Soho in NYC was destined to become one of my favorite "knitting things". I picked up a Lantern Moon silk taffeta bag. I could have purchased it locally, but I like having items that recall the trips I've taken and where I got them. I got the dark red bag.

What I love about it is it's small, only 5"Wx8"H, and lightweight . . .like a feather. I put in one skein of yarn, tossed in my snubbed-nosed, airline-acceptable scissors and a small project (not the aran sweater I started for Doug for Valentine's and now is destined to be received at Christmas). All fit neatly in my briefcase.

With space on airplanes being so tight . . .especially if you're not in first class, and I'm not . . . this is the perfect solution. I've lost many balls of yarn in moving vehicles. Since I'm no gymnast and my yoga skills are very rusty, this saved me from trying to track them down. It hangs lightly on the arm. I know, because I'm recovering from dog bites received while breaking up a vicious pug fight (another story), and my arm was really sore. I didn't even notice that the bag was hanging there.

It's nice to use around the house. I can lie in bed or sit on the couch and it fits so close to the body that the cats and pugs don't notice it. Normally they think my knitting is really about "activity-time" for them.

With several trips coming up in the next few weeks (Louisville, NYC, Pittsburgh, Sarasota and Indianapolis), I will be using it a lot. It will be perfect to hold the Berroco Zen ribbon yarn for the "Floral Tube Top & Neckpiece" by Carole Powell (in the latest issue of CAST ON) that I'm making for my niece's engagement party. I found out last night that I have to have it finished before May 6th . . so it will be with me during the next few weeks. II must put aside the Jaeger cable sweater. . .and, of course, Doug's aran sweater for the time-being. . . .and enjoy my favorite new thing.

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Knitting Through Sadness

I have found that knitting is one of the most soothing and satisfying activities in my life. It is like meditation. It calms and quiets my mind and makes me feel centered. Another benefit is knitting with friends, or people who will soon become friends, because of our shared passion with needles and fiber.

Few people take the time these days to just sit and talk. Even though we use our beloved obsession as the reason to convene, it is truly the connecting of hearts that brings us together week after week. We talk about movies, we talk about kids, dogs, the state of the country, in addition to stitches and patterns and what we will be making next. We laugh, and sometimes we cry.

My friend Julie is a recent widow. Harold's passing has left a hole in our lives, but Julie is the one whose life has been blow up and she is slowly picking up the pieces, even though there are many days when she's not so sure she wants to pick up any more pieces. Yet, she knits through her sadness. Since the funeral she has knitted shawls to comfort each of her children. One is large enough to surround her son and daughter-in-law together. Tonight, we sat for the whole evening . . knitting, talking and crying. What I noticed is that the stitches came as effortlessly as the conversation and the tears.

I don't know what it's like to lose a husband. I have been intimate with grief, and know that it is often hard to get out of bed much less pick up needles . . .yet there's the movement of soft fiber through the fingers, the monotony of the activity and quiet conversation that soothes the soul.

Tuesday night the whole group meets for our weekly session. We will laugh, we'll swear at our mistakes, and we'll touch each others hearts with our stories. . . and the sadness will still be there, but we'll be comforted by yarn and each other.

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New Book by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee

IT'S OUT! For those of you who love Stephanie Peal-McPhee's previous books, "At Knit's End, Meditations for Women Who Knit Too Much" and "Yarn Harlot, The Secret Life of a Knitter', I know you are anxiously awaiting "Knitting Rules, The Yarn Harlot's Bag of Knitting Tricks." My copy is scheduled to be delivered any day and I can't wait to settle into my chair (or bed) and put down the size 3 needles, which are causing my hands to cramp. (I'm working on a Jaeger pattern for turtleneck cabled sweater in luxury tweed . . .another story.)
Expect a full review in a few days.

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Creative Knitting

Today I'm going to a knitting class. . . "Creative Knitting". I've been thinking about it for weeks with excited anticipation. I've never been to a knitting class. In fact, I really don't remember who taught me how to knit. I know I learned when I was young, but I don't remember how young. The first major piece I remember knitting was a royal blue sweater for a friend of mine when I was 18 years old. It wasn't a very good sweater, but at the time he was in love with me and he wore it all the time. (I wish I could remember his name. I just remember he was kind, funny, and supportive.) Obviously, my memory leaves much to be desired.

Today I'm going with my friend Lou, who is a truly wonderful knitter and dear friend (another kind, funny, supportive man), He suggested we go together. I'm very flattered, as he is the most accomplished knitter I know. I find that knitting in his company is simultaneously amusing, stimulating and comforting. (Selfishly, it's good to be around someone who's better than myself . . .that way I can always be learning.) We are going to create a modular sweater without a pattern with odds and ends of yarn . . .something that is truly our own. It will be good to share this experience with someone who will make me laugh at myself and perhaps share in my creative anxiety.

See, I am someone who has vision about how things should look when I create. When I can't envision the end product, I get stuck. (Ask me about the huge canvas that's been on the easel in the diningroom for months.) Right now as I go through my stash, I'm not envisioning anything. What to take? What needles do I want to use? If I take my good stuff, will I be sorry that I used it on a project that I may never wear?

This morning I decided the visioning should be about the knitter I'll become. One who can pull together yarns, create fabulous items out of odds and ends, and design one of a kind items with true artistic flair. Today is about enjoying the experience . . .allowing myself to just allow the muse to come out and play . . .enjoying the moment with a good friend.

Someday someone may ask how I learned to knit like I do and I'll reply. " I don't remember, I just remember I enjoyed the journey . . .and I shared it with people who were funny, kind and supportive."

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Kate & Beverly in NYC

For a week I've been meaning to write about the weekend in New York. I have been so busy that there hasn't been a lot of time to reflect on the two very full days of two reacquainted friends discovering new parts of a city we both love . . .and getting "caught up" on the last 30 years of our lives. We talked, and talked . . . . and talked. We didn't leave our hotel room until long after the average tourist had hit the streets. Yet, how do you adequately cover the the last thirty years in what turned out to be too few hours? We talked on subways, on benches, in coffee shops, in restaurants. We stayed up late talking until we couldn't keep our eyes open. IT WAS TERRIFIC. I left feeling that we had taken very different journeys, yet they brought us full circle back to each other.

On a much lighter note, we explored the yarn stores of Soho and Greenwich village. The photo above is one taken in the tiny shop "Purl Soho". (The woman who owns Purl authored one of my favorite knitting books "Knitted Gifts"). Julia Roberts was there while we were. They didn't pay any more attention to her than they did to us . . .which made us both feel special. After leaving Purl, we walked over to The Point Knitting Cafe, where we could sit and drink coffee, and play with the yarn. Beverly, who is not a knitter, purchased $150 worth of yarn. I warned her that it's as addicting as methamphetimine!

While in NYC, we purchased matching crocheted sweaters from Century 21 (world's biggest and most crowded high-end discount store). Bev was busted for trying on jeans in the aisles. We bought matching handpainted silk and crocheted shawls from the Museum of Design and Architecture. (I haven't bought matching items with a friends since high school.) We ate oysters at the Grand Central Oyster Bar, had a wonderful greek dinner at AVRA, (one of my favorite places) and ate bad pizza in our room.

I was proud that I made it out of NYC without purchasing a single skein of yarn. Of course, I missed Doug saying "Did you really need more yarn?" (We all know the answer to that one.) However, I added bamboo flex needles (great to use on planes since they're short stemmed) to my ever growing collection of knitting needles.

Yesterday I was digging around in my purse looking for a crochet hook and I pulled out a beautiful little bag with two gorgeous knitting needles protectors (I didn't know that knitting needles protectors could be gorgeous, but they can). I remembered looking at them in the store. Then I panicked thinking that perhaps I had inadvertently shoplifted them! Fortunately, attached to the bag was a note that read, "Thanks for the invitation, Love, Beverly".

Thank you Beverly for a weekend we will both remember.

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The Conversation

Last night I had dinner with my friend Lora. It has been almost a year since we have shared a meal and caught up in our lives. Oh, we've talked on the phone, had brief encounters between meetings, sick parents, kids, and family . . .but to have a little time to ourselves is very rare. Like most rare things, it's very valuable.

Lora and I met in 1973. We worked together in a trendy, hip restaurant. We were both in our early twenties, and arrogant as only young know-it-alls can be. It was the '70's and we shared all the temptations that the '70's presented to us. . . sex, drugs, rock 'n roll. We explored alternative lifestyles, and were strong advocates in the rights for women, as long as it didn't mean giving up our make-up.

I remember that I fell in love with her, in the way that a friend knows another friend . . .it's an innate sense of radar that pulls two people together. I have found this "friend radar" to serve me well though-out my life.

I moved to an apartment across the hall from hers and I cooked while she went to graduate school. I was carrying 21 hours in undergraduate school and working three jobs. We didn't have much money, but most every night we had dinner and conversation. We learned to make tomato juice and can it (in anticipation of elegant Bloody Mary brunches we never quite had.) I got my first cat, because of her cat. . . a long line of cats though-out the years. We had our first feeble attempts at home decorating. We thought we were independent, but we depended on one another.

As we became a little more prosperous, we pooled our resources and moved to a swanky apartment, in a not-so-swanky part of town. Lots of parties, lots of men (I was always convinced that my boyfriends were there to see the beautiful Lora , whose image graced the fashion page of the Tuesday Enquirer often.) The years in that apartment became a long history of memorable meals (especially the night she served steak tartar to her 80 year old grandmother) more laughs, dancing without provocation, learning to wallpaper, better decor and more talks than can be remembered. What I do remember is that we were never at a loss for words and there seemed to be a lot of very important things to discuss about the world, and how our lives would fit into that world.

It was at this point we both were clear on our need for moisturizer and "more make-up", her love of upscale parties and my love of beer. She was the mysterious temptress and I was the earthy, smart-mouthed, beer swigging, laughing girl . . .and guys were fascinated by both. We knew our power and we played with it like the sirens in tales of Orpheus and the Odyssey. (In hindsight, I realize we were more powerful and seductive than we imagined.)

When we entered the "professional" phase of our lives, we decided it would be more grown-up to have our own apartments. However, we never lived more than a mile from one another. Now there were dinners out together, three or four nights a week . . . and, of course, they were never quiet. There were new men and new focus. . . we were becoming serious. The party days were slipping behind us and we had the nagging feeling that we had to get on with our lives. We had plenty of fodder for introspection and we used one another as sounding boards. By now our hearts had been severely broken, and at times life didn't not seem as promising as it did in our 20's.

At one point in time, I entered a depression that would test any friendship, but this one never faltered. I remember her holding my head in her lap as she spoon fed me yogurt, talking gently, hoping that I might find a flicker of hope to want to live. I don't know if I talked much during that time. I do know that I cried . . . buckets and buckets of tears. The crying didn't stop for quite some time. She held steadfast through it all.

I introduced Lora to her husband. Soon after they were married and she moved away to Detroit, had a daughter, moved to Chicago, then lived on a sailboat for several years. During those early years I felt a huge hole in my life. I married, my career took off, bought and sold houses, got divorced. . . and looked for friends who could fill that void. Lora and I seldom shared meals, and had fewer long conversations . . .but the quality didn't seem to change. It was always like we were together yesterday.

Lora moved back to Cincinnati a few years ago. We had gotten used to being apart. We now have the family responsibilities and the careers we worked so hard to create . .they take up most of our lives. One can see that we're a bit more tired than we used to be.
We admit that we miss those talks . . .the sharing of our lives as we grew from young women into adulthood. Somewhere along the way, we became more humbled, perhaps a bit less hopeful about the years ahead.

But last night, we sat for hours . . .the conversation never waned, we talked about our kids, our dreams, our disappointments, the challenges and blessings of lives. We spoke of past relationships that held drama and how attractive we found them to be in our youth. I remembered how fiercely protective she is of me. She knows she is one of those people for whom I would "take a bullet". We were lucky enough to share the day-to-day minutia of each other lives for so many years . . . without judgment . . . with caring and commitment.

I still have my friend who speaks her truth to me and lets me know what she thinks of my opinions and decisions. She's never been afraid that I'll get angry or love her less if she disagrees. She still has a friend who shares her opinions openly, gives unwanted advice, and knows that I'll be there in bad times, as well as the good.

In a lifetime, if a person can have just one friend like this ...they've been given a gift. We have reached the place in our lives, were we know that the rest of our time here is short. We are grateful for every day that we feel good, still have our friends and family with us, have lots of things to laugh about, and are able to remember more than we forget. When the time comes and one of us leaves this planet first, I know what the other will miss . . . the conversation.

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