Archive for August, 2008

Oh yes, the knitting bug has definitely bit me since the divorce was over. I think the combination of paperwork, pure terror, and sheer laziness to continue doing something that requires thinking outside of the required amount at work and dealing with said paperwork made me just plain old too tired for knitting.

But now, the knitting bug is back! And I’ve started with the Sorbet Socks that I’m making out of some of my Victory yarn:


Don’t you just love how this sock looks all artistic-like when photographed with my keyboard and the afternoon sun shining through my horizontal blinds? Oh yes, the classiest of pictures indeed. But I love these socks. They are the colors that I have had yet to truely introduce into my sock color scheme. So far, most of mine have been blue, green, and variations on those two colors, sometimes, with a couple of odd ones mixed in. But these, no, they are bright, they are pink, orange, dark red, and the color of ripe summer berries and melons, mangos, and they remind me of rainbow sherbet. Mmmm…sherbet. They just epitomize summer to me, they look like they would taste and smell like summer if you tried.

But umm, don’t please. So, they have been named the Summer Sorbet Socks. And yes, I will be heading out after dinner for some sherbet. Because I’m totally craving it now.

Summer has been rough for me this year. Summers were often rough for me growing up, I didn’t have a lot of friends, and so I often spent my days making trips to the library, exchanging books for new books, then holing myself up in my room to read the glorious books and sip lemonade or cranberry juice. My summers were often lonely, and this one wasn’t really an exception, I spent it as far away from people as I could get without becoming an official hermit, but these socks actually made me want to go back out into the world. I took them with me to Starbucks and work, and believe me, for me, that’s progress. Maybe these socks will go out for a drink at a pub, or to a restaurant, or a friend’s house to watch a movie.

It is my belief that your knitting reflects who you are and where you are in life. For instance, a lot of my knitting at the beginning of this blog was geared towards my family, and it wasn’t just because it was Christmas time either. My mindset at the time was focused on my family, taking care of them, and I wanted nothing better than to wrap them all up in wool and silk and cashmere and alpaca and keep them warm and close forever. Then, when I left, I felt empty, and the only thing I could crank out was a few pairs of socks, some dishclothes, and the back of a sweater. And now, that I’m motivated to begin life again, I’ve broken out socks in fantastic bright colors, I’ve begun my Celtic Tote again, and I’m beginning to have an insatiable urge to felt something (so I better hurry up and knit the Celtic Tote, or it’s going to be replaced by a hat or something). My knitting has changed right along with my life, and as reflected my many moods and phases. Knitting has even HELPED me to change. These socks ARE the reason I knit in Starbucks, I wanted to show off these bright, beautiful colors.

And you thought it was all about knits, purls, scarves and sweaters.



Before I begin the real post, I’d like to warn you that this long overdue post is very long, and somewhat emotional and personal too. I don’t usually like posting much about my personal life in my knitting blog, but somehow, it feels appropriate.

Some of the readers of this blog are close to me, and know the details of my life, which over the last 7 months has changed dramatically. The first post of this blog was made on November 30, 2007, when life for me was very, very different. At the time, I was still living with my husband in the US, with a stepson only 7 years my junior, and 5 cats. As of January 17, 2008 however, that all changed.

My parents helped me to uproot from my very unhealthy and abusive relationship at my request, and transplanted me back to my homeland of the Fraser Valley in British Columbia, Canada. The circumstances my separation are complicated and many, so I won’t go into the, but suffice it so say that this is one of those situations where it was very wise for me to leave. Things got very messy very quickly as my soon-to-be-ex-husband tried to find every excuse in the book to make things difficult for me, including making ridiculous demands for money and property, and asking me to lie in court, and then acting as if I was the one who had come up with the idea all along. Starting to see why I left?

Life has been hard the past few months. I started a job just a week and a half after leaving, I started to pay back what to me was massive debt to my parents, and I was getting over the shock of my new life as a "separated woman." The word divorce made me shudder, but I knew it was for the best. Well, after months of paperwork, statements, property and finance battles, I met with my estranged husband and a judge for a settlement conference, where I kicked his sorry butt up one side of the court room, and down the other. The judge realized quickly my ex’s tactics, which included trying to insult, demean, and rail road me, and took every opportunity afterwards to make him squirm and point out the outrageous nature of his demands. Needless to say, I got my way and left that court room trying to keep the giant grin from my face. Because even though I couldn’t stand him anymore, I wanted to be tactful and respectful. This did not stop of course, the squeals of delight my mother and I made when we got to the car though. Or the celebratory drinking in the hotel room that night.

I mean come on. The bad dye job! His cell phone going off in court! The judge calling his demands bogus! The look on his face when my mother made it obvious that we had documentation that he was lying! It was priceless! Karma, you are my friend.

So far, the progress of my life, while very difficult to get through at times, has been great and rewarding. If only I could say the same about my knitting progress.

With all the paperwork that I had been doing, plus how much I was using my hands at work (I work an auto parts store, I’m constantly lifting things, prying things open, and getting them just generally beat up), sometimes the last thing I wanted to do when I was home was pick up my knitting needles. I know this sounds absolutely blasphemous to you, believe me I could scarcely believe it myself. But trust me, when your hand are raw from washing all the dust and grease off them 18 times a day, even the softest of wools and silks feels rough, and the knit stitch seems like a chore. The week before I journeyed down to the US of A though, I picked my needles back up and began a pair of socks that have been dubbed Happy Feet.


And I bought victory yarn, and a yarn basket that I’ve pined over for almost a year, and I found the perfect project for my victory yarn!




Progress has begun once again in my knitting life, with the Panda Wool already cast on for a pair of socks, and the Lantern Moon basket in use. I can’t help but think about how much I miss my cat Rascal, who is in the States, and I haven’t seen since January 17, 2008. I miss him terribly, and I was thinking about him while at work today. But then, I came home to this sight:


While the family sandbag – I mean, cat, Misty, is no Rascal, and won’t sleep on my head, or curl up with me, or follow me around until I pay attention to him, she definitely brightened my day when I saw her sleeping on my bed and purring when I walked over and began to pet her.


Rascal, I miss you, you will never be replaced, but I hope you understand why I had to leave you behind.

My progress has been phenomenal, and many people have expressed how they admired my strength to get out of a volatile situation, and to start over again. I’m proud of my self, don’t get me wrong, but every time I see his picture, I wonder why if this progress is so good, why it has to hurt so much.

But as the French say, c’est la vie. Such is life.