What Is Going On?

So, apparently it’s raining in February. Weird.

As of yesterday Firecracker is 18! How did that happen? No idea. Finished Firecracker’s mitts a few days ago, and now, have begun a pair for a sweet pioneer sister in our hall who is just amazing.

(Below is the fascinating inside out look at these mitts)

These tones are so different than what I typically go for, but the sunlight yesterday as I was knitting really showcased the purples that look black in the shade. The sister I’m making these for, she has no idea, so I hope I picked the right colours for her. She seems to have a few things mustard yellow in her wardrobe and a black winter coat so I think this is a good choice. It reminds me of fragrant Asian cooking. It really should be perfect for her.

I’ve mentally committed to knitting at least two more pairs of these, but I’m itching to move on to something else so badly. I will do the two more. But I think, beyond that, any other pairs will have to wait until next fall. Or, I’ll have to stagger them between other projects. But I can say, I think I’ve perfected the Thrummed Mitten.

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Sunday Afternoon Knits

Goal: To finish the pair by tomorrow evening so Kyra has them for Tuesday morning in the ministry.

This is a different pattern from the first two pairs, and I will be altering it for the next pair, the thumb gusset starts a little early in my opinion. Just will start it slightly higher by a couple rows. Otherwise, it knits up easier than the original pattern I was using.

It’s ridiculously cold these days but the sun is out and sets after 5pm now so it doesn’t feel quite so bleak, and also the snow! So much snow. It’s fresh and lovely. Driving is super not fun unless you have a 4×4 & winter tires. And that is why everyone owns at least one truck. If you don’t, chances are you and the ditch will get well acquainted these days. In the minus twenties that would not make for a good stay as you await a tow truck. Amazed how many bad drivers there are this year. Should be mandatory to learn winter driving techniques. First off, slow down. Second, slow down. Third, stay home. Fourth, slow down. Yes. Even the bozo in the Dodge Ram. Slow down or stay home. There is always poetic justice awaiting the ballsy driver who thinks he can do 110km on the Henday in this weather. Hopefully he doesn’t kill a fellow driver as he skids into the ditch. There is truly nothing better than driving by a ditched vehicle that flew past you just moments before, as if you were the idiot who didn’t know what you were doing going only 95km. Haha ha ha ha. Evil chuckles all the home.

As of Sunday—43 Years

So. Since I had solo selfie time this morning, I’m getting this out of the way. I’ve tried to take a selfie around my birthday since I turned forty. I’ve switched phones & lost pictures along the way, but this is my year of selfies in review, which suddenly popped up as an option to make and so I did. It’s kinda cheesy & I can’t seem to edit it properly. I’m technically challenged it seems.

So now I have slightly chopped hair and I actually don’t miss my long hair. I have started to work out for the first time ever, which feels great. I am noticing more wrinkles these days but still no grey that I’ve seen. And frankly, if I can get my body to a strong & healthy place, I couldn’t care less about wrinkles or grey.

I can’t believe I’ve been on this planet 43 years. Sometimes it feels like it should be more, sometimes I forget I’m that old now. Aging will always be a strange thing. Suddenly time has become a mystery of sorts. When I was young, ‘thirty years ago,’ seemed forever ago. Like say, in 1975 when I was born, the Second World War had ended, ‘thirty years ago.’ That was before my parents had even been born! Now, thirty years ago seems like the recent past in moments of nostalgia. 1988, well heck, I remember song lyrics somewhat easily from then. Twenty five years ago is very close feeling in my memory. And yet, forever ago. Time has become a very peculiar thing indeed, where at moments I can’t believe my oldest will be TWENTY this year! TWENTY!

Oh my. My youngest will be seven! This fills me with a rather soupy combination of anxiety & relief. Anxious that life has been stripped out of my bones as I formed these other beings and they too are aging. Relief, that they need me less and less, just as I begin to know, I will need them more and more—back to anxiousness. Life is full of quizzical ironies & fascinating conundrums.

Aging is more than the physical being.

I was assigned a talk last night, the Bible Study part, an invite to the meeting was to be included, and I was working on use visual aids. It went fine, but the school instructor, after commending me, proceeded to say, “as a kid you didn’t colour in the lines did you,” more as statement than question.

Nope. I didn’t. Actually. I did try to colour in the lines. But I don’t care too much for coloring books at all. I prefer blank paper. But, this reference to me as a child self—hahahaha. I forget most days I ever was one. I don’t think much on childhood anymore. I don’t miss it anymore. I don’t crave youth anymore. I am completely fine with middle age. Not the aching body part of it, but certainly the other parts are reasonably good.

I’m tired of being forced to feel I must be what I am not. I’m tired of failure. I’m happy to learn anything and everything I can. I fixate almost never on things said to me, about me, or what I’ve said to others. I mean, I try to be nice. I try to apologize when I should. But man, I’m tired of the gritty stuff. The stuff that I can’t fix or change or make better—nope, don’t care anymore. I love people. I give them the benefit of the doubt whenever possible, but I also am razor sharp at cutting them out of my life when & where I must for my own preservation. I’m becoming a swifter judge of character. I trust less. I have learned to trust my gut above anyone’s opinion. That’s hard. But, I’ve discovered, I’m so rarely wrong that it’s best I listen to my instincts & apologize later if I’m wrong.

I’ve stopped drinking morning coffee in favour of green tea. I’ve learned, I will never be good enough at guitar to worry about it, but to just play when I feel I want to. I’ve learned I can learn most anything reasonably well enough if I had all the time in the world, but, I don’t, so I need to focus on a few favourites and thoroughly enjoy them.

I like being a little ‘out there.’ I do not fit in and I’m so happy for this. I like just being that quirky woman that only a few know well. I like singing & dancing & exercise. I like painting & writing & I don’t read nearly as much as I should and I don’t care. I like cats better than dogs but in certain moments I love my dogs more than I ever loved a cat. I love my kids. Holy moly I love my kids. I don’t just love them, I like them. They are my favourite people to spend time with even tho I often need a break from them too. I love my husband, not unselfishly, he puts up with me & takes care of me & he makes me feel needed and secure, and I need him. We are reciprocal in each our own way. I love my mom & my stepdad like crazy, and they are crazy. I don’t need my dad. I never did. He was a biological truth. That, is not my fault. My brothers and their wives and kids are literally my own. I love them unconditionally. My in-laws on my husband’s side are mine too. They are coo-coo crazy coco puffs & this is what makes life full of fun & love & amazing. You get to explore a completely different way of everything via other people’s minds and moods. I actually miss all these people when we’ve been out of touch for a while, but make no mistake, distance will always make the heart fonder.

I have learned, I love the snow, but the cold I love a little less, and the dark, is not my friend. I love the sun, and summer—but heat, a little less. I love the ocean & the mountains & lakes & trees, sunset, but sunrise I love a little less. Everything is gradient & spirals & spherical in the most beautiful of ways. Pain is always pain. Love is always love. These things don’t fade they just age. Time is so strange to me these days. It truly is.

February 1st: Winter’s Madness

winter has a certain taste, that tongues don’t sense

it feels around for the soppiness of your soul, long fingers of blackened nails scratching to the bottom of whichever cesspool you’ve become

but it’s lovely.

it’s dark & bright & blinding & every time you catch yourself but manage not to fall you tense, then loosen, then tense again—anticipation

I’ve grown adrenaline vines that ribbon my sinew & smirk at me, hurling venom at my weakness

I’m a small shadow on the floor, a shadow cast in snow cloud light so bright & my eyes are aching from the white

I’ll pool here, right here in this lacking light, vitamin depleted & soaked in small beauties such as, a loose stand of hair gallivanting wildly in the wind, a small whisper of pale skin chilled to cherry, a slight sparkle in a dreary eye, a hum just ever so slightly under the smoke of my winter breath

it’s precious to have small beauties in an aging relic of a body

hints of last summer’s sun sweetens the apple

spring faded & autumn rotted, but summer, summer found a way to survive, and how sweet it tastes, there inside the soul, even if it is savoured by winter’s madness