Happy is as happy knits...
You know those days...ahem...weeks where it feels like you’re making your progress in millimeters? Where your to-do list is two dozen things long and by the time you crawl into bed you’re at #3? I’m having one of those. And while I’m perfectly willing to admit that progress in this knitting project is only the illusion of progress in life (feel free to argue with me on this one), I’m in a place where any progress--illusionary or not--is valuable.
To put it simply, this vest fuels my attitude. As mom, my attitude pretty much calls the shots in the house. If I can put a positive spin on things, even when they rot, then chances are we can squeak through with a bit of panache. The minute my outlook starts to slide, I can pretty much take the household down with me. The old “if Mama ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy” thing.
And this knitting, in its lush color and appealing texture and big satisfying gauge, is making Mama happy. That’s really why we knit, isn’t it? As a counterbalance to all life seems too ready to throw at us? To avail ourselves of all the healing, hope, and happiness the creative act gives us? It is for me.
I’m highly tactile. I’m one of those people who has to touch things--I don’t do much buying over the internet. I love Levenger office products, and I drool over the catalogue, but I’m more delighted to go into the downtown Chicago Macy’s and...well, fondle the merchandise. The catalogue only serves as a list-maker of stuff I gotta go touch.
Tomorrow’s my birthday, so I get to be happy, even if the toaster broke this morning and I had two kids home sick from school and the television broke over the weekend and I’m four days behind on my writing schedule. If I have to steal my happiness through SteakNShake mocha milkshakes and knitting rather than more substantive means, then you can bet I’m going for it.
That lady barreling down Indiana I-65 toward the Kentucky Book Fair tomorrow? The one with the smile on her face, the mocha milkshake in her cup holder, Diana Gabaldon’s new novel in her audiobook player, and yarn in her trunk? That’ll be me.
Wave as I go by, will you?