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Showing posts from June, 2014


13 months later.

There will be no post 2 of 2.


In 1976 or 1977 Janis Ian introduced me to the very foreign concept of measuring time in coffee spoons:

Geesh, it would be 10 or more years before I would even grasp what her words mean. What is time to a 9 year old? Everything. Every day is long and short. Every milestone momentous. 37 years later, time is a meandering journey down a gelatinous waterway. My only anchors, my marriage, my knitting, my job. Only my knitting imparts a sense of time.

This spring a random raveller asked if I could spare some yarn from a project I knit in 2011. I found the yarn remants and marvelled at how neatly I had reskeined and stored them. I had forgotten how organized I had kept my craft. It was a stark contrast to the chaos it is in now. My psyche has been overwhelmed for some time, and my knitting, like everything else, has paid a price.

When it comes to my knitting one culprit is my stash. Chaos found me when I ran out of room to…