December - dedicated to the memory of C.

C was my hairdresser for more than ten years, and if you're a regular reader here, then you know he passed away this year and the loss still stabs at me at unexpected times. All the traditional cliches - he was larger than life, he was one of a kind, blah, blah - don't help me much in describing him to you. He was certainly one of a kind! And he was far more to me than just some dude who cut my hair. He was part of my family.

He joked each year as the holiday season rolled around that he was nice to people only in December; the rest of the year he felt free to be a bastard, but he made an effort to be nice during December. (It was a joke, people, "bastard" was never a word I'd use to describe him.) He'd trot out that line when he didn't charge me for trimming my hair, or when offering a beer (yep, there was beer in his salon's fridge - most of the year, but always in December!) or offering to share the "confectionery crack" his mother sent up every Christmas, her own home-made divinity. (Indeed, confectionery crack was an accurate description.) I always brought cookies, which sometimes stayed at the salon and sometimes went home with him. His wife sent me a very sweet thank-you card in January of this year for the cookies of last year; I don't know if I kept it, but it said something along the lines of We didn't have much to be cheerful about this year, (as he was very ill over the holidays, although his death happened in March or April) but your cookies were a bright spot and we really enjoyed them.

I've written before (extensively) about why an Atheist bakes Christmas cookies, and there's no need to re-hash that here. (again!) But I will say that the cookies I bring to various people in holiday-decorated tins certainly fit into the definition of a Mitzvah.

Scrapping the religious part (620 rules were handed down from on high, and humanity should follow these rules. All good deeds come from these commandments.) leaves me with a very secular definition of the word; an act of human kindness.

The challenge from NaBloPoMo is to be "giving" for a month, and to write about those acts of giving. As I choose to define it, this can mean anything from actually giving someone a wrapped present to giving someone the gift of a smile on a difficult day, to doing something unexpected for someone - making a second pot of coffee on a cold day in my office (and there are many) might fall in to this definition too.

So for the first one, even though the task is not 100% complete yet, I'm going to write about a project/social experiment I joined on Ravelry.

Rav is more than a site with patterns and descriptions of yarn and nutcase knitters & spinners. There is a community there; I've tried explaining the site as "facebook for knitters" but from the blank looks I get when I use that description, it ain't gettin' through. Ravelry is part organizational tool, part social networking site, part online community like any fandom, part advertising opportunity, and part forum. I spend a lot of my online time on Ravelry. I belong to 19 groups (which function just like the FB groups, although the boards of those groups are much more active than any board of any FB group I've ever seen). They're pretty diverse groups, among them are; an Agnostic/Atheist group, a group of people who don't have and are not planning to have children, an NPR fangroup, a fangroup for the BBC TV show Top Gear, a Swedish group, a Supernatural group, a group that discusses yarnie culture in the wider world (oh, we're SUCH geeks), a group of naughty girls, and finally, a group called P.S., I knit. PSIK is a group of people who wanted grown-up pen pals, to exchange real snail-mail letters. This is incredible fun, much better than the mail I usually get; junk mail and bills!

The board for PSIK had a little announcement right before Halloween that the moderators were interested in setting up a Christmas Swap. Swaps are a big part of the Ravelry culture. Hilariously, one of the mottoes or guiding principals of Ravelry is "Be excellent to each other," which any child of the 80s will tell you is a line from Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure. Swaps tie in to that 'be excellent' idea because they're essentially gifts, although there isn't always a monetary value involved. Most swaps on Rav involve yarn; I have something you want, you have something I want, they're of roughly equal value, and so with the help of FedEx, we trade. Swaps can be 'de-stashing,' which help a knitter to decrease her surplus stockpile of yarn; they can be Random Acts of Kindness, they can be around a theme of color or television show or day of the week or type of fiber. Anything, really. A day when you receive a swap package is like a little joyous ray of sunshine.

The PSIK swap had some rules; almost every swap does have at least guidelines. But since PSIK is all about the letter writing, they set out some rules related specifically to that. You must include a letter in the box you send. Something handmade. Something holiday-related. Stationery. An item from your country/geographical region. Something yarn-related. Any other goodies you'd like to add in. Not to exceed a dollar value of $25 (pre-shipping). Everyone who signed up answered a short questionnaire about allergies and likes/dislikes, so you did have a little bit of a clue to start for your person. (Do I need to explain that no one in this group has actually met in real life? I think it goes without saying, but it might have been a wee bit unclear until now.)

Of course, this wasn't the simplest task. I can not claim to have followed the value rule, but I went over, and IMNSHO, that's far more desirable than under. I biffed it with the handmade item. I knitted a scarf from a skein of handspun I got from a fiber club. I don't remember how much the monthly dues are for the fiber club...25? 35? Something like that. The first month, the spinner shipped everything late, and she felt bad about it, so she gave everyone an extra skein of handspun. (Believe me, that more than makes up for the tardy package!) That means that I got 2 skeins for the price of one, and cheaper than her retail off-the-rack rate, but the price on the skein wrapper says $26. I'm over at that point without even casting on a stitch. So I decided that the dollar value of the yarn was exempt from the dollar amount limit of the package. It was, after all, just sitting in my stash. Admittedly, sitting in my stash does not equal free, but....yeah, well, I justified it in my own mind. :p

For the 'from your region' item, I choose something from a local company that makes pewter and brass decorative items; they run the gamut from coasters for drinks to serving trays to light switch covers. I choose a bookmark in an art-deco pattern that I'd really like to keep. (>_<)

I found a Christmas-y mug at the grocery store for a dollar, and some lemon-flavored hard candies from the same grocery store run will add little sunny spots in the package. My swap partner's questionnaire mentioned liking lemon-flavored stuff.

Then there's the scarf from the fiber club yarn, and some stitch markers from Hide & Sheep for the yarn-related and hand-made items. (They make the cutest little stitch markers, and they come packaged in these adorable little tins. Plus, the company name is Hide & Sheep. How can you not love that??)

I found the stationery at Pier One on clearance, and so now all that remains is to write the letter, wrap the scarf, bookmark, stitch markers, coffee mug and writing paper, box the whole shebang, and mail it off to my swap partner. Oh, plus I plan to add in some vanilla sandalwood hand-made soap that is sitting in my "gift drawer". {The gift drawer is a small drawer full of little but tasteful things that can be whipped out at a moment's notice and wrapped for a forgotten birthday present. Right now the gift drawer has a lot of hand made soap, but there's also a few delicate silvery book marks, some jewelry I got on Etsy, something my handbag designer friend sent me along with a piece I commissioned from her (a little extra that I've chosen not to keep for myself), and a Swiss Army knife bought as a gift for a guy friend a few years ago that has dropped off the face of the planet. (The friend, not the knife.)}

So that's Mitzvah #1. It's taken me a few weeks to gather all the bits and bobs and knit the scarf, and the deadline to get the box sent away is December 10; I want to have it in the mail by Saturday of this week and am excited to hear what my swap partner has to say about what I've chosen. It isn't a one-to-one exchange, it is a round-robin style, so the person I am sending a gift to is not the same person I will receive a gift from. But the point of the swap is not to get presents; it is about the thrill of the hunt and the fun of knowing you're making someone's day.

This was my first swap, but it won't be my last. I've enjoyed trying to find things that fit into each category. I wanted, desperately, to send Buckeyes as a symbol of Ohio, but alas! My partner is allergic to nuts. So that knocked both buckeyes and most chocolate that is processed in a factory right out of the water. Go ahead, you find chocolate that doesn't have a little disclaimer on the wrapper that says something like "processed on machinery that also processes nuts". Good luck with that one!

I've spent a little bit of time post-stalking my partner, reading her forum posts and checking out her projects and 'about me' on Rav to get a sense of the person. I got a message from the person who has me as a partner asking for my address, and thus far, I haven't looked her up (other than her 'about me' page, which is very limited on the deets) because I want to be surprised by her letter and package; I don't want to know anything about her until I get the box.

The mailbox for our house is down the street a bit from the house, and is a pain to get to, but I'll be checking it daily until that box gets here! I'm also waiting for a letter from my pen-pal person (a totally separate person) and that makes the trek to the mailbox a bit more fun.

Does this happen to you?

There is a shit-storm of drama brewing up on one of the forum boards I participate in daily. Snark, the usual order of the day, intended to be funny, can sometimes cut into tears.

I'm not involved, just a lurking bystander, reading the posts as they show up at lightening speed.

And even though I am not involved in this particular brouhaha, it makes my stomach hurt and upsets me to see the drama, and people who are usually making each other laugh hurting one another and being nasty.

Thank all that is holy that I am not a moderator for this group; mods will eventually step in and tell everyone to stop being blockheads, and possibly bar someone from posting for a while, dependant on how bad/nasty the bickering gets. I would swear that modding is a full-time job in of itself.

Unless someone drags me into the mess, I plan to stay the hell away, but it makes my heart ache to watch "friends" tear each other apart, even in the virtual world.

By another name

Fair warning: this post is a massive amount of me geeking out over Lord of the Rings.  If you've never read the books or seen the movies, move along.  You'll be bored to tears by the end of the second sentence.

Lord of the Rings was on TNT over the weekend.  Not the extended versions, which any real geek knows are the TRUE versions...but at least they played the entire trilogy.

I've read all three books more than once, and seen each of the movies many times.  I have both the theatrical versions and the extended collector's edition box set DVDs.  I can do lines from almost everything Tolkien ever wrote, starting with The Hobbit.  So I'm a fan.  You could say.

When I saw the first movie, "The Fellowship of the Ring," I was heartbrokenly disappointed that director Peter Jackson left out Tom Bombadil and Galadriel's gifts.  The extended version corrects the omission of the gifts, but not the Old Master.  Isn't it sad that I'm able to pick apart such detail?

As usual, I digress.

Something new sticks out to me each time I watch the movies or read the books.  This time around, what I noticed was the many names for the character Gandalf.

• Olórin
• Mithrandir
• Grey Pilgrim.
• Gandalf Greyham
• Greycloak
• Gandalf the Grey
• Gandalf the White 
• The White Rider 
• Stormcrow 
• Incánus 
• Tharkûn 
• Greybeard 
• Lathspell

(List partially acquired with the assistance of Wikipedia)

Although Gandalf is hardly unique among the Tolkien characters; Aragorn and Frodo also have multiple names.

What this made me think of was completely off-topic from the movies and the books; sure, there are multiple names for the characters, but we too, ordinary people, also have multiple names, related to the roles we play in various people's lives.  Nicknames a-plenty have we all, from grade school and college, from adventures and day-to-day life.

I'm not going to list the myriad nicknames I've acquired over the years.  (Sorry.)  Some of them I treasure, and more than a few I despise.

When I was growing up, my friends and family called me a shortened version of my legal name. I used to introduce myself to people by saying, "My name is X, but my friends call me Y."  Implying, of course, that even those whom I'd only recently met were friends.

Around about 16, I decided that the short version of the name reflected a child, a kid with bad teeth and messy hair, not the sophisticate I imagined myself to be, and I started insisting that everyone call me by my legal full name (i.e. the name on my birth certificate).

It took a few years, but eventually, even childhood friends had mostly adapted to it.  I hated when I ran into cousins or other extended kin who would still call me the nickname; I bitched about it, and frequently got angry at those who refused to conform to calling me the "right" name.

I remember complaining about a particular cousin to my dad; with 19 first cousins, there were still a few holdouts well into my 20s who I had (I felt) to correct at every opportunity for using the wrong name.  My father told me that a time would come when I wouldn't care which name people used for me, that there would be a point in the future where I would shrug and go along with whatever, it would just not be as important to me as it had been.   

That day hasn't come yet.  I don't know that it ever will; I still really hate being called my childhood nickname.  These days, though, I don't get angry about it.  I just say something polite along the lines of oh, you know, my real name is _____, and I prefer that now.  I don't get into arguments anymore over it.  (I will still kvetch privately, long and loud, about it though.)

I wrote a week or so ago about old school-mates "finding" me on Facebook; most of these are people who I have not seen since 1991-ish.  That is, of coure, pre-name-change days.  Many of these people I'm happy to reconnect with, it is nice to know where they are, what they're doing, but there are a handful that I'd rather they'd left well enough alone.  Playing the "what-have-you-done-since-I-saw-you-last" game is only fun once or twice.

There was a cop movie in the early 90s that starred Michael J. Fox, about a child actor who wants to be taken seriously, who wants grown up roles, called The Hard Way.  I remember a portion of it where he's complaining about not being offered the 'important' roles, where he throws a temper tantrum to his manager/assistant/publicist saying, "I'm the only one who wants me to grow up!"  And that's how I feel about people calling me The Nickname.  That they're not taking me seriously, that they still view me as that wallflower with the secondhand clothes and poor social skills.  At the same time, though, I recognize how immature and ridiculous it makes me seem to insist on being called my real name.  It is a no-win proposition.

(Watch at about 5-15 seconds into the trailer to see just what I mean.)

Now with even more stalking potential!

I used to work with a man who I thought was just your basic overgrown fraternity boy.  You know the type.  Loud, boorish, sports-and-beer obsessed, misogynist-leaning.  You've worked with him too.

He sent me a friend request on Facebook (yep, here we go again) and I sat on it for a few days before agreeing to friend him.  I didn't like the job that I was working when I worked with him.  I disagreed with him about nearly everything, from politics to religion.  I managed to mostly keep my hippie-tree-hugger thoughts/opinions to myself, but I don't really censor myself on Facebook (much) and I don't want to start now.  I felt like maybe I would have to tone it down a little bit if I friended him.  I didn't want to tone it down, nor did I really want to friend him.

When I first joined FB, it was to keep in touch with the people in Sweden.  That's worked wonderfully, and then it grew to a few friends in fandom, (great!) a few former high school classmates, (which was OK) and then, eventually, some professional contacts.  Ugh.  I didn't really want the latter at all.  

Talking about work on-line is a great way to talk yourself right out of a job, and dammit, I like the job I have now.  News stories from time to time talk about idiots who post pictures of themselves on FB smoking pot or what-have-you, and having a link to their employer on their page....when said employer finds those pot-smoking pictures, then you've posted yourself unemployed.  Idiot.

It was with great reluctance that I finally listed my current employment on my Facebook page; I felt I had to as I was sending messages as a representative of the organization through FB, so I thought I should be clear that I was in fact employed by them.

So when the friend request from a former work colleague came through, I recognized that keeping this person as a professional contact could have its benefits, whether I liked him personally or not.  Eventually, I granted the request.

He posted new pictures the other day.  Each time you post pictures on Facebook, it sends a nice little message to allllll your "friends,"  telling them about your new pictures.  So I'm curious.  I look.  Turns out that there's a lot more to this guy than I thought; he's quite the traveler, was married in a foreign country, has - apparently - homes in multiple places in the US.  Huh.  Perception.  Its a-changing.

Sites like Facebook give us a real double-edge sword.  On the one hand, we can get to know one another better, find out things about one another that might not otherwise come up in conversation.  On the other hand, it also gives people you barely know real access into some deeply personal (if you post it) information.

This doesn't really change the fact that I don't care for the gentleman in question personally; it has just made me realize all over again that what you see....ain't always what you get.

Knitting Faux Pas; a few things non-knitters should know.

On Ravelry, I belong to a group called "Selfish Knitters".  The group's credo is as follows:

We are The Sainthood of the Aggrieved Knitters Who Say Nee to Non-Lovers of Our Knitting.

Our Battle Cry(s):

1. We only knit for ourselves and for people who bless us and hand us boxes of expensive chocolates! Or money.

2. Some people need to learn gratitude or face the wrath of our flinging needles of Death!

3. Selfish Knitters are people who love and value themselves.

4. The person I knit for knows how to appreciate a knitted item–ME!

5. By uber-KAL-ling, selfish knitters can multiply the amount of attention they get for each knitting project.

6. Everybody should be loved. But some people are greeting-card-love-worthy and some people are handknit-socks worthy.

Official Proclamation - any knittings done for friends/family who just created human life OR are fighting hard to preserve human life are knittings done from the heart and not because of the selfishness of others and are therefore free from scorn and spite in this group!

We are here to support each other in our quest to become/be selfish knitters. No more “Can you make this for me and have it done tonight?”. No more “But I really liked the other color better.” No more “Can you make me a man-thong?”

The group started a list of rules for how people (i.e. non-knitters) should react when presented with a hand-knitted item.  I read my way through what was then "just" a 3-page thread and howled the whole time.  I contributed but one of these rules, and I'm really touched that it ended up in the listatation.  The thread is still going strong with 8 pages and counting, so I might just run this post from time-to-time with the additions.

Please bear in mind that most of this is intended with tongue FIRMLY in cheek and is intended to sound both selfish and self-deprecating.  Thankfully, no one that I knit for has ever committed any of these 'mortal sins'.  One or two of the rules made me gasp out loud that someone would say such a thing to a stranger - or worse - a friend or family member.  Most of the posts in the thread had a little backstory to each rule, so some of these things have indeed happened to real people.  

Chapter 1: Gift giving

1. Don’t give yarn as a gift if you expect the recipient to knit something for you in return. That is not a gift, that is a request.

2. A gift that is a pattern book with the expectation that I will make something from said book IS NOT A GIFT! It is a commission. I do not do commissions.

Chapter 2: On Show and Tell

1. When shown a knitter’s FO, oohs and aahs should be used liberally. Any comments such as “I don’t like that mitten” or “You should have done ______ differently” should be kept to oneself. Period.

2. When you see a FO of wondrous beauty, or a knitter working on something, please don’t gasp and say, “I could never do that!” Do you think knitters were born churning out such objects? Stop hinting and get yourself some needles and we’ll see how quickly you can pick it up.

3. Time: Do you, dear non-knitter, know how silly you sound saying, “I just don’t have the time to do that,” while you’re sitting there, watching me knit, on break at work or in an office waiting for an appointment, rehashing to me yesterday’s reality show highlights? If you don’t want to knit/crochet, that’s perfectly alright, all the more wool for me, but do not say you don’t have the time. You just lack time management skills, and perhaps a bit of creative industriousness. 3a: And don’t use that Time excuse to 1. not say what you really mean; I don’t want to… thats ok toots, we don’t want you to either, so shut up. 2. Act as if what we do isn’t as important as what you do, so we have far more leisure time to ‘play’ at knitting, since you’re a closet (TVaholic, boozer, eater, nosepicker)… we really don’t care what you do with your time just leave our time alone. 3. Put us down because you are really jealous as hell and wish you had something to do so you didn’t look so stupid sitting there griping about your busy (aka boring) life

4. When approaching a stranger about a knitted garment and finding out they made themselves don’t say “I could make that” in a derogatory tone. It doesn’t matter who made it the level of skill is still the same.

Chapter 3: Making request

1. Never ever assume that it will be cheaper to have someone knit you a hat, scarf, sweater, mittens. hand knits are NEVER cheaper….maybe for you but definitely not for the person knitting said “deal.”

2. When a knitter has deemed you knitworthy and is working on a project for you… under no circumstances should you ever say how easy it would be to finish if the knitter would just get to working on it. This will force the knitter to play the hand of “if it’s so easy… here, do it yourself” and your name will be stricken from the knitworthy list because it was on the list tenuously to begin with and that was the last straw.

3. If you ever request a knitted item from a knitter, do not tell the knitter that you do not like the finished object or, heaven forbid, return it as well. Knitters are not stores. We do not make consumer goods you may return, we make you gifts. These gifts come from the heart and are made with love. When you return these gifts by saying you hated them and if we could please do better next time, we feel hurt. Especially when it was you that requested this gift. It’s like us offering you our hearts and you stomping on them and throwing them into our faces and then expecting us to give you our hearts again. A knitter can only take so much heartbreak before permanently kicking you off the to knit for list.

4. No nagging! Assuming that you are knitworthy, do not ever ask the knitter “how long will it be? “I need this by ______ date” or “can’t you finish it sooner?”

5. It being common knowledge that someone is the only knitter you know and quite an unselfish one at that (when it comes to kiddies and the exclusively knitworthy) - DO NOT grab said person mid conversation and point out someone’s ‘knitted’ garment with that “nudge nudge wink wink” look on your face or smile pathetically and say “hi” in that awful patronising tone - At the very least you will get an eyebrow raise (the unimpressed kind) or else - especially if you are a repeat offender - you WILL get a slap!!

6. If you ask me to make you something (and you are willing to pay for it) don’t complain that the price I set is too damn expensive. For my family and friends, if they ask me to make them something, I usually only charge them for the yarn I use. So if you choose that gorgeous merino silk that is handyed, don’t be surprised at the $30 hat I knit you. How much are they charging at banana republic? Well, take your a$$ there an’ buy one. I’ll make myself that awesome hat from the idea you just gave me :)

7. There is no “quick altering” for already knit items, so don’t ask.

Chapter 4: Dirty fingers, stay away!

1. If your hands are dirty (eg. from eating/snacking), resist the urge to grab pretty lace-y angora (or any type of handknit). Handknits are often not easily washable, unlike the clothes from the Gap that you may currently wearing.

Chapter 5: Thanks!

1. When deemed knitworthy and bestowed a handknit gift, a simple email saying “thank you so much” is perfectly fine, especially if the alternative is nothing. Don’t put off the thank you because you somehow feel it needs to be in epic form and sent via Oscar-worthy video clip, turtledove, handmade card, or whatever.

Chapter 6: Respect (and don’t joke with) The Knitter

1. Knitworthy people should refrain from asking, “What are you going to knit me next?” Maybe once, fine. But repeatedly, even as a supposed joke, will slowly bump down their knitworthy status. Double demotion for asking The Knitter before they start a project from themselves after just finishing something for the requester

2. Do NOT grab the WIP to have a feel/squish without asking first!

3. Do NOT borrow tools without asking.

4. Do NOT assume the knitter is “doing it wrong” and GRAB their knitting to “show them how it’s done”.

5. Do NOT go through a Knitter’s bag

6. Do NOT take away my book/magazine/pattern

7. Do NOT play with the yarn I am knitting while I am knitting

8. Don’t call a knitter a “granny” in a slighly derogotary tone when you see one knitting. Its insulting two ways: the implication that being an older woman is bad and the implication that knitting means we are old women. I’m young, I’ve got no kids, and I’m quite proud that I am skilled enough to create with my hands.

9. Looking at my knitting and saying “Wow, you made that? I don’t have to bother making things, I have enough money to buy what I want. I value my time more than you do” is really rude. Just because you don’t choose to make things with your hands does not make you better than those of us that do. Good luck staying warm if all the stores suddenly closed.

10. when approaching a knitter staring very hard at what they’re knitting, do not assume the knitter wants you to talk. Politely approach said knitter and whisper: “Are you counting?”

11. If you run into a knitter you haven’t seen for a while, and the knitter has the same project as the last time you saw them, DO NOT, in a shocked tone, say “Wow, you’re not done with that YET?!?”

12. And when seeing someone ripping out their first pair of socks AGAIN ask, “How many times are you going to rip those socks out?”

13. If a knitter makes you something that you did not ask for - as a gift just because s/he wanted to make it, accept it graciously (with lots of enthusiasm) and let it go. Please do not offer payment.

14. It is perfectly acceptable to ask to squish or pet something a knitter is wearing, as long as the knitter has made it. But please remember to ASK before you do so.

15. A knitter is always happy to answer the question “Whatcha makin’ now?” or “What’s that yarn for?”, if asked with enthusiasm.

16. When someone tells you his/her hobby is knitting, don’t say “But can you knit?” Not that it’s very offensive, it just doesn’t sound very bright. (No, I can’t knit even though it’s my hobby?)

17. Never ask: “If you want socks, why don’t you just go buy them for $10 a pack??” OR “You can buy a sweater at Kohl’s for $15” OR “Why would you knit ____ when you can go to _____ and buy it for $__?”’ Ugh. Because if I wanted mass produced socks, I would go buy them. But they don’t give me the satisfaction that I get making socks myself. Nor do they feel as nice on my feet. Nor do I get to choose the luscious colors or fibers. There is a time and a place for Wal-mart socks. But they aren’t going to give me the satisfaction of working with my hands and producing something beautiful and one-of-a-kind for myself. Plus, I love me just enough to spend the time on me. So Pffffbbbbbtttt. If I wanted a cheap sweater, I most certainly WOULD go and buy a cheap sweater. But since I want to choose the fiber, fit, pattern, colors, etc, AND because I enjoy making something so unique with my own two hands, two sticks, and some string, I will.

18. Never assume that a knitter’s project is for a baby - pu-lease - even adults wear knitted items.

19. Never assume that a knitter’s project must be for someone else.

20. And never, ever, ask a stranger (knitter or not) if she is pregnant unless it is so freakin’ obvious that you don’t have to ask.

21. Anything along the lines of, “I let my girlfriend wear the hat you made me. She hates it” should be grounds not just for banning from the knitworthy list but for possible bodily injury.

22. DO NOT assume that if I crochet, I can also knit and vice versa. At least not at the same proficiency.

23. DO NOT take ANY credit for a hadcrafted item if you did not actually handcraft said item. Oh, you bought the yarn? Picked the pattern? Gave me the idea? How nice, but you did not spend the tens/hundreds of hours creating each stitch. NO CREDIT FOR YOU!

24. If you’ve been gifted with a handcrafted item… perhaps, let’s say (purely for the sake of argument), a baby sweater… for your wee little love, kindly do not return the handcrafted item to the crafter & ask him/her to take it all apart & use the yarn to make something newer & bigger for your not-so-wee-any-longer little love. While the crafter may appreciate your concept of recycling & your desire that the crafted item not go to waste, I’m pretty sure the crafter will not be receptive to all the work involved with deconstructing something that took lots of time, love, effort, stitches, etc. to construct in the first place, nor will the crafter be pleased to be thought of as a “crafting factory” no matter how much you might consider it complimentary that he/she is “in demand.”

25. Don’t ask your wife to pretty-please knit you a 100% wool sweater to fit your 50” chest, from wool yarn that was chosen by you specifically for its woolly warmth… and then ask your wife to “hurry up” in finishing the 100% wool sweater because you are “cold” and you really really REALLY want to wear your warm 100% wool sweater…and then NOT WEAR THE 100% WOOL SWEATER BECAUSE IT’S TOO WARM.

26. If I make something for your little one, and tell you “all I ask for in return is a picture of baby/kid wearing it.” Take a darn picture and give it to me! It’s really not THAT much to ask in return. Is it?

27. If I am counting stitches and you interupt me, I am likely to start counting out loud (loudly) This is your que to stop talking. It is NOT your que to start to yell out random numbers at me!! (thanks kids!)

28. If you ask me to teach you a stitch/ technique (I work in a yarn store) do not then tell me “that’s not how I do it.” or “that’s not how I was taught it.” Why are you even asking me to show you then?!! My response has been, “Then just do it the way you were shown. You’ll get the best results with what you are comfortable with” And yes I have gotten at least one, “But I don’t remember how to do it!” (head banging against a brick wall then ensues.)

29. If I am knitting on the train/bus and there are empty seats that aren’t right next to mine, please sit elsewhere, NOT right on top of me (forcing me to move my knitting bag and scrunch in on myself to avoid bumping you.~~stabbing you in the eye with my needles~~ )

30. If you see someone that you do not know knitting (let’s say in a class or on the bus or in public somewhere) do not ask what they can knit you. Yes, I am capable of knitting you a tie / computer case / whatever random thing you think I can’t knit and it is possible but I don’t know you, and I won’t knit you any of these things. The situation is just awkward.

31. In the case that you are married to one or date one or for share money or something - do not bother said knitter about buying yarn and accessories. There is a reason I need different sizes of needles - yes, there really is - and if I buy the yarn, I can use it in the future. It’s not like chicken or something where if I don’t eat it all in a week it’s going to magically disappear. I promise - the yarn will NOT go to waste.

32. If you are a husband, do not offer your wife’s knitting services to others. Do not say to your mother, “Mom, my wife can knit that for you if you ask.” She does NOT want to knit that for your mom. or your grandmother. or your sister.

33. If you are a sister-in-law, do not say, ”I’d like for you to knit a sweater for my daughter.” I’ve never knit a sweater before and if I wanted to knit a sweater, I’d knit one for myself first.

34. If you are the often mean grandmother-in-law, do not say, ”I’ll pay you to knit me a scarf. I’ll pay for the yarn.” What about paying me for the time?! And do not say, “I wish the first scarf you knit for me when I became your new granny was brown not blue because I don’t own enough blue things to match it.” And don’t look at the scarf I made a mutual friend with envy. It makes me feel bad that you obviously don’t appreciate the hard work that went into choosing that specific color and pattern for you.

35. If you are a friend who guilted me into giving you a scarf off my neck, then WEAR IT! Let me see you wearing it. It makes me feel bad that you never wear it. Why make me give it to you if you won’t wear it?!

Chapter 7: Respect (and use) the knitwear

1. Giftee should never disrespect anything that the knitter has given them. As in tossing on the floor, throwing in the laundry (unless superwash), forgetting that it was you that gave it to them, giving it away to someone else that admires it, sending it off to thrift shop because you really didn’t like the (color, fit, texture, it’s wool) whatever.

2. If a knitter takes the time to hand-knit you something, please don’t just pack it away because it’s “too nice” or you “don’t want to ruin it.” We knit it for you to enjoy and use, and not using whatever we’ve made for you makes us feel like it wasn’t loved.

3. If you decide to help out by doing laundry, look at what you’re throwing in the washer/dryer. If you’re in doubt about whether something will be safe in there, then ask, for Bob’s sake! Nothing like seeing hours and hours of loving work reduced to a felted lump. sniff

4. If you are 6 years old, don’t throw the mittens your Mom made onto the roof of your school, even if “all the other guys were doing it”. Especially if there are workmen up there tarring the roof.

Chapter 8: Proposal of knitting for sale

1. Please resist the urge to tell the knitter that they could make “so much money” selling their finished objects for the amount you would be willing to pay for that object, usually less than $25. First of all, we’ll think you’re just silly that you think $25 is “so much money”; secondly, we very likely spent more than that on just the yarn; and thirdly, you are displaying your ignorance of how much time and work I’ve put in. Suggesting that your handknit socks are worth any monetary amount under $500 is grounds for removal from the knitworthy list.

Chapter 9: Respect the Designer

1. When your knitter gives you a wonderful gift, it is wonderful that you wear it. It is also wonderful that you brag on your knitter. And I can’t tell you how impressed your knitter is that you finally realize knitting takes money and time, and your knitter will not be loaned out, nor pressed into servitude producing gifts for you to hand out. However… when your friends ogle your wonderful handknit and think that they’d like to “make one just like that”–do not volunteer your knitter to photocopy her pattern and hand it round! In most cases this is clear copyright violation and is tantamount to stealing money right out of the designer’s pocket. It doesn’t matter that your knitter “already has the pattern just sitting around”. It doesn’t matter that your knitter has a home copier. It doesn’t even matter that no one will know. It is wrong, and your knitter will not do it and then you will have to explain to all your friends that they won’t be getting a freebie pattern after all. ps– if you ask nicely, I’m sure your knitter will be happy to tell you where she purchased her pattern, and then your friends can go buy their own copy.

Chapter 10: Respect the Yarn Store

1. If you go into a yarn store, browse all you want. ENJOY all the yummy yarns you want, but please do NOT tell me you can get it cheaper at a craft store or on the net. ALSO, please don’t come in, ask me to help you find something, then ask for a piece of paper and pen so you can write the yarn info down because you “buy all my yarns on E-bay.”

Chapter 11: Template for Those Who Don’t Want You to Knit for Them

1. “My beloved (wife/husband/girlfriend/partner/mum/sister) I am so impressed by your new found enthusiasm for (knitting/crochet/spinning/buying yarn and going ‘oooh’) and I deeply respect and cherish this. When you said last night that you wanted to make me a (hat/scarf/sweater/pair of socks/really nice pair of fingerless gloves you saw on Knitty) and you had already picked out some (Malabrigo/Wollmeise/Sundara/exotic sounding fibre that makes you go all obsessive and slightly scary) for it, I was filled with great love for you. However, I have a (yarn allergy/dislike of knitted items/dislike of items that can’t be machine washed and dried/phobia of handcraft dating back to a nasty incident in my youth involving a darning needle) and I fear that whatever you make for me, I will find it too hard to enjoy the end product. I recognise that your willingness to include me on your list of people to knit for makes me the luckiest person alive, and I am filled with love right now, but I would not want you to spend all that (time/effort/money/stash) making something for me that I am too (ignorant/careless/weird) to appreciate. Instead, why not (buy yourself some yarn/sit down and put your feet up while I make dinner/enjoy these chocolates I bought you) and knit something for yourself so I can admire you in it?”

I think perhaps it is a sad state of affairs when the world in general needs to be reminded of some basic, common courtesy.  Some of these rules are things that perhaps your knitter wanted to say, but was too polite to do so.

Part of the reason I find these so amusing is that I have been a knitter for 8 or 9 years and in all that time, with about 45 FOs (or completed projects, to the non-knitters), I have ONE SCARF that I made for myself.  One.  It is therefore high time I take some time to knit FOR ME.  I love to knit, I find it soothing, I enjoy creating things with my hands, and it makes me very happy when someone genuinely likes something I've made for them.  My sisters and mother, all recipients of hand-knitted projects of mine, are always enthusiastic about what they've gotten.  But I think it is time for the person who appreciates my work the most (i.e. ME) to have a few things I've made.  

Selfish?  Maybe.  Ask me if I care.

I'm knitting, and I can't stop!

(chanted to the tune of that old telly commercial, I've fallen, and I can't get up!)

At the end of 2008, I declared to a group of fiber fanatic friends that 2009 was going to be the year of Lucy knitting for Lucy.

And as we all know, whenever you make a declarative statement like that, the universe conspires against you and manages to tell you, "SCREW YOU!" ala comedian Jeff Dunham & Walter.

First came the invitation for a baby shower. One of my employees from my old non-profit is having a baby, and I got an invitation to the baby shower mostly because I ran into her recently. Not that I object to buying her a present, or celebrating the birth of her son; I don't. But I'd rather give her something hand-knitted than some plastic-y thing or gift certificate. So I quickly knitted her two baby hats; a small one for a newborn, and a slightly larger one for when he gets bigger.

Then, there was a phone call at work one day from DH telling me that friends of ours in Chicago are also expecting. Since I began knitting in about 2001, DH has done nothing but poke fun at me for doing an "old-lady" craft. He also likes to harass me about how long it takes for something to be finished; the line - and he knows how much this annoys me, which is why he does it - is "Aren't you done with that YET?"

But the moment he found out about the Chicago people, he asked me to make them a blanket. I'm inclined to turn him down on principle alone, or at least to harass back about how sure, now, now he LIKES my knitting. Suuure. But I'm not that bitchy. Or at least not all the time.

The thing is that it takes about 6 weeks to make a baby blanket, and I really don't want to take that much time out of selfishly knitting for myself. (sidebar: >_< goodness, that sounds harsh.)

Of course, it makes me feel guilty to even think such a thing, let alone say it out loud. I'm sure that I will end up making something for them, more than some-THING, probably a blanket, hats, a baby sweater....even though I've kind of sworn off garments, because the last sweater I made took me six years, no exaggeration, no joke.

I was cruising a friend's queue on Ravelry, and I saw a Scandinavian designer's pattern that I thought was pretty, but as it was a long duster-style cardigan, way, way, way too much work for me. (FYI- Ravelry = social networking site for knitters, kind of like MySpace with patterns. Queue = list of patterns/projects stored on Rav that you would like to make.) Because this particular designer was Scandinavian, and Fair Isle (scandinavian-style) knitting amazes me, I had to look at what else she's designed. Which brought me to this.

Photocredit goes to Tirku, I do not own this picture.  I just love it, admire it, and want, want, want, want to make one for myself.

She blogs in Finnish and English.  Here is the post about the sweater.  Since it appeared in Vogue Knits magazine in the Fall 2008 edition, the pattern is no longer online.  I bought the mag from the publisher; I do hope that she was well compensated by them for it.  (n.b., I just realized it sounds like I resent paying for the pattern.  Allow me to be clear: I do NOT.  I'm happy to pay for it.   I just hope she gets residuals or something from me purchasing the back issue.)

I don't love the color in the picture; the blog post picture is a vivid kelly green that I'm not a fan of either.  I can't wear either color, so no, I won't be making it that hue.  I'm also not a huge fan of hoodies; my sisters both love them, but meh.  Just not my thing.  There are numerous examples on Ravelry of people who have made them without the hood, and I intend to do the same.  In fact, over 400 people on Rav have started this project, and the reviews are positive, that it knits up quickly.  This may just bring me back to knitting actual clothes.  Maybe.

In the meantime, until my copy of Vogue Knitting Fall 2008 gets here, I'm searching for an easy baby blanket pattern.  Sigh.

'Cause they were, like, totally awesome and stuff.

Facebook, again.

I went to a very small school system, K-12, except for the school year I spent in Sweden.  I graduated with 135 people.  I knew their names, I knew their siblings, I knew where they lived, I knew what their parents did for a living.  Small, small place.  I don't think that there were more than 400 kids in the entire high school, so of course I knew a lot of people in the class ahead of me and the class behind me, too.  My sisters often had the younger siblings of my classmates in their classes, so I knew a lot of them, too.  

When I take a peek at the other people who note that they graduated from my alma mater and the same year I did on Facebook, I don't recognize many of them.  There are only roughly 30 of my classmates out there, and I don't know who about half of them are.  There was someone named Tito in my class?  Really?  Um, OK.  Suuuuuuure there was.

Hilariously, of the half that I *do* recognize, I didn't like about half of them back then.  I lived in a pretty upscale little place, and if you weren't rich (and we weren't) and you weren't a cheerleader (and I wasn't) and you weren't considered "pretty" (and I never thought I was)....well, to put it mildly, there were a lot of cliques, and like not mixing grains when you're drinking, or oil and water when you're cooking, there was very little crossing of the clique lines.  I had a great group of friends, many of whom I still see/talk to/e-mail on a regular basis, please don't misunderstand that.  

But there are a bunch of those people that a) I don't really care about, b) weren't nice to me then and I don't see why I should be nice to them now, and c) apparently, I don't remember them at all.  

Mean-spirited evil little bastards they were.  Cruel, nasty, elitist snots.

Saying I don't care about them is harsh, truly, and not exactly what I mean.  I hope they're happy, I hope they have nice little lives for themselves, I am glad they're still alive, but that's about the extent of it.  

When I was in high school and people would tell me that my high school years were "the best time of your life" I either wanted to stab them, repeatedly, or myself, fatally.  I used to ask adults, "You DO remember being in high school, right?  Best time of your life?  It doesn't get better than THIS?  Eurgh." {eyeroll, eyeroll, eyeroll}  And I'd be thinking, "Dude, seriously?  I think you're, like, young for Alzheimer's and stuff, but you obviously don't, like, remember, like, what fucking hell on earth high school really is."  Yep, had a potty mouth back then too, and was horribly guilty of the over-use of the word "like".  Obviously.

It does get better, by leaps and bounds.  Thank the gentle goddess.  I look back on the time I was in college with lots more fondness than high school will ever be recalled.

Searching through lists of classmates and checking out these people's friend lists has turned up a few folks that I really did like and have lost touch with.  I'd like to send them friend requests, but there's a little demon in my ear that whispers..."What if they remember YOU with vitriol like you remember the popular kids?  Do you want to know that?  Worse, what if they don't remember you AT ALL?  You were such a wallflower.  I doubt they'd even recognize your name, and you KNOW sure as 'ell that they're not going to recognize you with your short-short hair, and hello?  Did you forget that you've gained a treeeeemendous amount of weight since those days?  Oh, and sweetie?  You were no angel yourself at 15."

I say to the demon, "So what?"  and "I looked anorexic back then, I look normal now, bite me, 'you've gained a lot of weight' jackass."  When I'm filled with bravado, that is.  The rest of the time, I just look at the pictures and wonder.

She scribbles.

Writing about writing is a little like listening to someone describe their every dream from last night.  It can be interesting, deadly dull, or horrific, by turns.  Yet I do both, from time to time, and today I plan to write about my writing.

I'm glad that I clicked the link from Mrs. G's blog to NaBloPoMo, because it has forced me to move my writing higher on my priority list.  This is good.  It hasn't helped me to begin fiction writing again, but I'm hoping in time that it will.

I have an addiction to an application on Facebook, called Pieces Of Flair.  Flair looks just like the buttons that we used to pin on our jean jackets in the 80s.  There is flair for everything imaginable, from your pet political causes to your pets, period.  There is a finite limit to the amount of flair that you are allowed to display, which is too bad, because as a result of being addicted to the application I have somewhere around 300 pieces of flair.  A friend sent me one about writing, which sent me on a hunt for more flair about writing.  My favorite one says, "We do not write because we want to; we write because we HAVE to."  That sums up, in one sentence, how I feel about writing.  I was driven to write when I started working on my book, like there was a tow line attached to my keyboard, pulling me back to it constantly.  I'd get lost in my writing for hours at a time.

When I talk about writing, I identify myself as a writer, but I'm not eager to point people in the direction of this blog, because I like the fact that I'm mostly anonymous.  Sure, there are a handful of people that I know in real life who are aware that I blog, and there is a small subset of that group that reads my blog.  Most of them are people that I'd feel free to say out loud anything that I've written about here.  But were my anonymity removed, I doubt that I'd feel as comfortable writing extensively about my mental illness, or some of the more gory details of that disease.  I'm "out" when it comes to my depression, comfortable with looking someone in the eye and telling them that I have a mental illness, but I don't go about proclaiming it from the rooftops.

Part of the appeal of blogging is its therapeutic benefits, allowing me to work out issues by writing about them.  Admittedly, though, a larger part of it is simple vanity; I'm tickled to death that there are people I will never meet who read what I write.

We are all writers; we all write grocery lists, notes to ourselves as reminders, memos, letters.  What then, pushes someone beyond that to writing paragraph after paragraph about imaginary people, or non-fiction?  (Vad skiljer då den tokige frän den vi kallar klok? ~ song lyrics, Mauro Socco, "Det Finns"...translation:  What separates the lunatic from those we call sane?) 

Where was I going with this?  Mostly that I'm just glad that I'm writing more, writing again.  Not exactly the writing that I wish I was doing, but getting closer.

Neue Fruende

~German, new friend. (may not be spelled correctly. Its been a loooong time since my last German class.)

This is the usual Tuesday post, brought to you a few days late courtesy of a hectic, crazy schedule that does not allow nearly enough time to write.

In Girl Scouts (yes, yes, yes, get over it, I was a Girl Scout) we used to sing a song that went:

Make new friends
But keep the old
One is silver
The other is gold

I've made a few new friends recently....local ones, believe it or not....who are great women that I feel thrilled to have met. Some of them share my knitting obsession hobby, one shares my love of the German language, all of them are diverse and interesting folks.

It seems, though, that this comes at the expense of losing one old friend. Which is heartbreaking. And it stops me in my tracks, too. Typing that sentence, and then re-reading it leaves me at a loss for words.

Y'all know how rarely that happens, right?

Suffice to say that I never ever name names here, and she isn't a regular reader of Well Behaved, but she'd know who she was by reading this. By 'an old friend' I mean one that I've had since before high school. Seventh or eighth grade, I'm not even sure which. One of those friends for whom a word or a phrase or even a facial expression bring back memories, evoke a particular time and place. Someone who was there with me during that part of my journey that involved such a confusing time, adolescence, who walked along the same road I did, who was someone for a long time that was the first person I talked to (outside of the fam, natch) each day, and often the last person I talked to before going to bed. Remember that point at which you spent hours on the phone each day, and your parents would ask, "You were in school together all day. What could you possibly have to talk about for 2 hours?" And you'd roll your eyes and say, "Mooooooom, you just don't get it." One of those friends. If I've known her since seventh grade, then this is someone I've been friends with for twenty years.

Whoa.

Anyway. Over the last ten years, she's drifted further and further away, until I would see her only twice a year, maybe. We'd exchange e-mails, and talk on the phone, but it wasn't the same as it had been. Which was sad, but kind of inevitable when you're living more than 500 miles apart, and your lives take pretty divergent directions. That's sometimes called growing up. But the shared experience of youth often keeps those friendships alive even when there isn't much else two friends share outside of that anymore. I always felt that she was just as concerned? Maybe that's not the right word. I always thought that she was as interested in keeping the friendship alive as I was. Because we all know that any relationship, be it friend, significant other, sibling, requires some work by both parties involved.


It has been a slow process, but over the last two years, I've realised that she just....isn't. Interested at all. I've put forth the effort, and the response I've received has been resounding silence. She has family here in Oh-hia-ia, so I know she's in town several times a year. Her Facebook page keeps me up to date with what she's doing....but even there, she was friended with my younger sister (who she didn't really like when we were kids) long before she deigned to friend me.

And I don't like that I find out from Facebook that she's in town. Here's why: my telephone number hasn't changed in about 15 years. Seriously. I've had a cell phone since 1994, and even when all the phones went digital, (remember that?) I kept the same number. I had to fight with the wireless provider, but I managed to retain that number. I've even changed carriers, and kept the same number. Ten digits. Not so much to remember. Or even if you do forget them, the rest of the high school crowd knows that my number is still the same. Call one of them. Send me an e-mail. Hell, even call DH, you've got his number, too.

I joke frequently about our electronic gadgets making idiots of us all. I don't remember phone numbers well these days. My phone has the ability to save lots of speed dial numbers, so most of the people I care about and have frequent contact with are speed dials. Wanna call my sister in California? Yeah, she is speed dial 7. What's her number? I dunno. Without my phone, I am hard-pressed to remember all of her digits. But I don't have to remember, the phone does it for me. The gadget is smart enough that if I tag a picture I've taken with the phone with someone's name, by calling up the picture on the screen I can call that person. Amazing shiz, no? I even have this friend stored as a speed dial.

She was here last week. I know that from Facebook. I even saw her on-line, b/c FB will tell you who of your friends is signed in to the website, and you can instant message them inside of FB. We had a quick 3-4 line chat. I saw on her profile that she was leaving the next day, and I said, hey, we should at least have a drink if not dinner or even just hang out at my house tonight if you're leaving. Cool, she said. I told her that my cell phone doesn't work in my underground office, and gave her the new number at the office. I told her that after 5, the cell phone works fine, and BTW, you've got that number, right? Yeah, she said. I'll call you, she said. Sorry I've been so lame the last few times I've been here, she said. I miss you. Life's busy, and I'm all lazy and stuff when I come to Oh-hia-ia, my family mises me, so it is hard to get together, but I'd really like to see you, she said.

You're shocked to discover that she didn't call, aren't you?

I wasn't surprised, but this time, unlike the other 10 times or so over the last few years, I was hurt.

We haven't had a disagreement. We don't have wildly divergent political or social views. She might even be more liberal than me, so I know the stuff I have on my profile over on Facebook about supporting same-sex-marriage, about how W's an idiot, about my radical feminist ideals, those things aren't offending her. I don't think there's really even a problem, necessarily, other than we've just.....drifted away from each other.

But it feels like a breakup. Like I've been dumped. Like I've been judged and found wanting. Like I'm not cool enough, living in flyover country, to hang anymore. (Although she lives even further in the midwest than I do!) Maybe what I mean there is that because I'm still in our hometown, and haven't moved away like 99.99999% of everyone else we went to school with, that perhaps I'm just not worldly enough. I don't know. It makes me sad. And I despise having to "justify" to someone why I'm still here in the rustbelt. She knows why I'm still here. She knows just about everything about me. And yet, she's walking away.

This time, instead of standing still, looking forlornly back, I'm walking on too. I wish it hadn't come to this, but it seems that I have no other choice.

Were I wise and sagely, I'd have some way to put a perspective on this turning point. I don't. But I do still have great friends from those old days, and a few new ones to fill that hole left by her moving on, new stories to write, new adventures to have with old friends and new.

So often, when my own words fail me, I turn to music to better express what I can not. Although I'm NOT a country music fan, I do like Jimmy Buffett, and this one sums up a little of how I feel about this simultaneous gain and loss.

Hear 'em singing Happy Birthday
Better think about the wish I made
This year gone by ain't been a piece of cake
Every day's a revolution
Pull it together and it comes undone
Just one more candle and a trip around the sun

I'm just hanging on while this old world keeps spinning
And it's good to know it's out of my control
If there's one thing that I've learned from all this living
Is that it wouldn't change a thing if I let go

No, you never see it coming
Always wind up wondering where it went
Only time will tell if it was time well spent
It's another revelation
Celebrating what I have done
With these souvenirs of my trip around the sun

~Jimmy Buffett, Trip Around the Sun, License to Chill, 2004