Not a Lot of Knitting, but a Whole Lot of Thinking

If it's Wednesday, we're talking about reading and knitting along with Ginny. Since last week, life has moved along at a very quick clip. The relentless activity, together with the fact that I'm stalled until I learn to pick up stitches has left my Baby Surprise Jacket mostly unchanged since I shared it with you Saturday.

Yesterday, in a mental health move, I did cast on for Girl's Cap Sleeved Shirt, like the one Carmen made Sarah. I love that shirt--it's a great layering piece and she wears it and wears it and wears it. So, I set about to make her another one, in a pinkish (of course)  Rowan Amy Butler Belle Organic Aran yarn. I have cast on twice now. I'm beginning to think that every time I start a new pattern, I will have to start more than three times to get it right. Pretty sure I'm going to pull this all out and start again.

So, enough about knitting. I have been reading this week, in odd moments here and there. Several weeks ago , when TLC book tours contacted me to ask about The Jesus Prayer, they mentioned that The Council of Dads would also be on tour. In a moment of recklessness, I abandoned my twenty-year tradition of never reading books that even make reference to cancer. (Yes, I even abandoned The Penderwicks a few pages in because the mother--named Elizabeth--died of cancer. My children have read it on their own.) Lately, I am recognizing that I can't run from this disease and I can't deny that it is part of who I am. Better then, to learn about living with cancer and after cancer from wise people who have traveled that journey. And who write phenomenally well.

This book is a page turner. It's the exceptionally well-written story of Bruce Feiler, young man, husband, and father of three-year-old twin girls, who is diagnosed with a rare bone cancer. When face with the possibility that he might not live to raise his daughters, Feiler chose six men who--through their friendship-- had helped shape him and asked them to be there for his daughters in the future. Throughout the book, Feiler intersperses the story of each man's strength and gifts with his own observations on life and with a record of his treatment. It's a truly extraordinary read.

I'm amazed at Feiler's depth and at the articulate men he has befriended. These are men who truly talk--the relationships are deep and strong and meaningful. True, Feiler had cancer. And true, the idea for a council of dads was conceived as a protection and provision should he die prematurely, but at its heart, this book is about living, not dying. It's about living intentionally. Frequently, Feiler refers to his year of chemotherapy and surgery and rehab and misery as "The Lost Year." That year was anything but lost. Indeed, it was lived full of meaning and full of love. He grabbed the gift and the grace that comes with the diagnosis and he lived that gift with grace for all it was worth.

The book stands as an instruction manual for life, a legacy for his daughters. As much as those men in the council will be there for Feiler's girls, Feiler himself will be there, too, in his own written voice, sharing with them the extraordinary insight afforded him by his year with cancer. A life-threatening illness sharpens one's perspective and lends an air of urgency and discrimination to what gets done and what gets said. With the gift of that insight, Feiler is uniquely able to guide other people in establishing their own councils, not necessarily because their lives are threatened, but because life itself is precious and all too often we take it for granted when instead we should live it with a purposeful sense of meaning and mission.

Bruce Feiler isn't dead. He's a survivor. As such, he has left a legacy to all of us who have lived "The Lost Year." He invites us by his example to reflect on the meaning of that year and to honor the struggle it was by always, always living the second chance life with purpose, and always, always investing wholeheartedly in relationships that give life meaning. Personally, he challenges me not to run from the history that is cancer, but to see that in its horror, there is clarity; there is the invitation to live fully.

{comments open}

To the Woman who Cut my Daughter's Hair:

You blew it. For weeks, she had been looking forward to that haircut. A little pampering, a chance to perk up and feel pretty, it was to be a big day out. She has very long hair and haircuts are rare treats. She looked at hundreds of pictures, pondering this possiblity or that. You were one of several people we considered to undertake the task. Since you had done a darling job with Katie's hair a couple of years ago and you are close by and affordable, we decided to take a chance.

From the moment we arrived, it was the wrong decision. You began by telling her all about what was wrong with her hair--her thick, healthy, lovely hair. A half dozen of those bottles of hair products and all would be well you assured me, as you clicked your tongue and told her how really terrible her current hair was. Once we had duly  noted your "recommendations," you moved on to highlighting. Honeyed brown hair is terribly dull it seems. She "needs" highlights. Be so much more beautiful with highlights. Maybe you missed the look on her face, that girl in the chair who came in with every expectation of leaving feeling good about her appearance. You--in your effort to make a sale--you were relentless in your mission to make her feel in need of fixing. After fully decimating her self-image, you moved on to me. I need highlights. too. To cover the gray. And a haircut. And a flat iron.

I'll pass.

Thankyouverymuch.

We left your shop with one very good haircut.

We will not return.

Grateful and then some.

Tuesdays are my gratitude days. Lately, I've tried to post my grateful list on Tuesdays, after posting a Daybook on Mondays. My life has spun in such a dizzy whirl since Friday that all I can muster this morning is, "um, what day is it?"

It's Tuesday, so I must be grateful.

Let me take you back, mostly without pictures because I've forgotten my camera pretty much all weekend. As my extended family sends me pictures, perhaps I'll add them here. In the meantime, my graduation pictures of my own son are  blurry beyond recognition. I've got a good one of my friend, Ruthie. She glows joy. But it would be sort of odd to put her up here and leave Michael out. Besides, she's on the trip of a lifetime in Europe right now, so I can't even ask if she'd like to be my token graduation picture, beautiful as that would be...

Friday, we celebrated Michael's graduation. Michael has six grandparents--Mike's mom and dad, my mom and stepfather, and my dad and stepmother. They were all there to watch him graduate. How amazing is that? I will admit to goosebumps when Pomp and Circumstance was played, but I didn't cry (everyone around me did). I attribute that to the fact that he really graduated in December and we've already processed it. At the end of graduation, I got a text. As much as I hate people who are tied to their phones, I had left several sick children at home and encouraged Mary Beth to text and let me know how things were. I plead guilty to texting with Michael during graduation, also. It kept things interesting while 1700 names were called. 

The text made me cry. It was Paddy.

Patrick is coming home. The Big Adventure has come to a close. And that long year is over. Really, I'm still processing. And I don't know how much I'll share here. He's healthy (except for a broken foot); he's whole; he's grown in so many ways. And in 4 hours and 13 minutes, he will be home. This was a burst of emotion for which I was not prepared on a weekend that I knew was going to be filled with emotion.

Michael talked to Paddy on our way from graduation to the party and so did I. Mike had insisted several weeks ago that we do the graduation party somehwere that wasn't home. This is definitely a departure from the  usual around here and I was a bit bothered by it, but when we hit upon the idea of having it at the local sushi restaurant, I knew we had a winner. Those good people were nearly excited about Michael's graduation as we were and they were genuinely honored to celebrate it with us. Lunch was awesome; the company wonderful and all was well.

Saturday afternoon, we celebrated my youngest nephew's first communion. It was the most beautiful First Communion I have ever been blessed to witness. Just perfect. After, we returned to my sister-in-law's house for a cookout. It's always a genuine party when the cousins are together. Mike and I scooted out early in order to go home, change clothes and drive across the river to Maryland to celebrate my oldest nephew's Bar Mitvah.

His was a huge party at Congressional Country Club. My sets of parents were there, and my aunts, and a couple hundred other people. My sister is, by far, the most amazing party planner in the world. Sh'ed been working on this one for eighteen months and every moment of that labor showed. She did a beautiful job and Mike and I really enjoyed a rare date night. We went home, slept fast, and then awoke to the regular Sunday activities, plus a seventieth birthday party for my mother.

I do wish I had pictures of that one. My sister's house looked so lovely. Huge and many bouquets of spring's finest flowers stood in the centers of poolside tables clothed in hot pink. Brunch was delicious; the cake--a lovely square confection of chocolate draped with white fondant and wrapped in a huge pink fondant bow--was too pretty to eat. But I hear it tasted as good as it looked. I consoled my wheat-free self with several cup of coffees with whipped cream floating on top, stirred with cinnamon sticks. The kids swam. Mike and I thoroughly enjoyed catching up with favorite friends who were neighbors when I was in high school. And, I dearly love my aunts, so it was nice to have a chance to talk away from the loud band of the previous night. Just before we left, my niece, who is graduating this spring, gifted Mary Beth with an entire high school career's worth of formal dresses--beautiful gowns that have just begun to dance. My mother was very happy and the weekend ended on a good note.

I spent yesterday cleaning--going to my sister's impeccably kept and beautifully decorated house does that to me;-). We thought Patrick would be home at the end of the week. I have this thing about children coming home to clean and orderly homes that look like they are ready for most important guests. i figured we'd take the week to get ready. Around dinnertime, though, he called and casually asked if I'd be available to meet him at the airport this morning. Would I?! I'll bring the gang with me. Pretty sure I'll remember the camera, too.

And then, the rest of the week will be devoted to settling everyone in for the summer. For the first time ever--ever--all nine of them are living at home for the foreseeable future. I think I just heard the upstairs bathroom groan. And I'm sure I heard the dining room table sigh a happy, happy sigh.

A place for everyone, and everyone in his place.

Baby Surprise Jacket: Getting to the Flap of 90 Stitches

 From Elizabeth DeHority:

Look at your pattern.  You've done the little cast offs for the neck, and depending on your version, it tells you how many stitches you have and then to continue knitting on the center 90.  Or it tells you to knit 124 stitches and then just turn around!  Either way might be confusing, so let's do it one step at a time.

 

I am a slow knitter, so I had to fudge a bit to get to 158 stitches to do this part.

 

That tangled mess is actually the start and the middle of the same BSJ, just not connected.  You can see it better here:

 

 

I knew I'd not finish the decreases and then get back up wtih the increases in time.  So I did a provisional cast on for 158 stitches, knit a row up (BLUE), then unraveled the cast on and put the stitches going the other way on another LONG circ (GREEN).  when I knit on the green, I'm going to be knitting in the opposite direction from the instructions, back to meet up with the first piece.  Then I can do a garter stitch kitchener to stick the two parts seamlessly together. 

 

 

I actually did this only to be able to show you that tricky line, but it's actually let me get lots more knitting done.  The individual parts are lighter than the whole big mess, and since I'm awfully weak and in bed today, having a light little piece of knitting to rest in my lap was better than that whole big tangle.

 

 

You have two choices for tools for this row.  You can use two spare circular needles, any size, any length

 

 

or you can use a tapestry needle and smooth waste yarn or string.

 

So anyway, you are knitting along, doing these increases, and then you run into a confusing line about working the middle 90.  First thing is to count your stitches.  If you are a little off from 34-90-34, don't stress.  Just do what we do and we'll fix it later.  If you're WAY off, email me at esdehority at aol dot com and we'll work it out.

 

Here goes.  Start your row, and knit until you get to stitch 124.  This should be right around the end of your diagonal line, where your stitch marker might be :-) 

 

"Now what?  I'm just supposed to turn around?  what about those leftover stitches???? "

  

Well, you actually could.  But my way is easier, and ends up giving you fewer pulled edges and a tidier finish.  Plus less stress.

 

Before you turn your knitting around, take those remaining 34 or so stitches, and move them onto a spare circular needle or a Knitpicks cable with a screw-on top.

 

 

Now they are happily waiting for you to get back to them. 

 

Your yarn should be in just the right place behind stitch 124, so turn your work over and go.

 

 

OK, so you knit back 90 stitches or so... until you run into that other diagonal.  Now what???

 

 

This side I did our other option... I slipped the stitches onto waste yarn to keep them safely out of the way.  I might need to use a spare needle to scoop up those little live ones when I'm ready to work with them again, but for now, waste yarn is their home.

 

 

But of course you left your working yarn back at the last stitch in the 90 section, so as soon as those end stitches are safely out of the way, you can turn your work and go.  back and forth, back and forth.

 

NOTE!!!  If you are making your sweater for a toddler and you want the body longer, you should add extra rows to this 90s section.  We need to talk about this more on our next post, I promise!

 

So here's what we have:

 

 

Click on it to make it bigger.  You have your knitting, which looks nothing like mine, because yours has the back and sleeves all on it.  So use your imagination. (The pink and white example at the end of the post is an actual jacket at this stage.) You have the sides on hold, and are going to knit back and forth on the middle 90 to lengthen the whole body of the sweater. 

 

Once we are done with this part, we get to pick up those patiently waiting stitches AND pick up stitches from the sides of the flap we're making.  This really stresses people out... they see sloppy pick up rows on Ravelry sweaters and worry that theirs won't be tidy.  Don't worry.  There are lots of ways to pick up stitches, none of them are irreversible so you can try it until it's perfect... and I think that section definitely deserves a video :-)

Transferring stitches:

Both sides on cables:

The 90 flaps all stitched up:

{This Moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual.  Photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.