One thing I wrote about to Liz was this strange phenomenon: that despite my long, growing list of projects, I decided out of nowhere to start knitting. And knitting more. And I haven't stopped knitting.
All these knitting projects have been one-skein or less, which feeds my compulsive nature to finish that skein.
My first project was washcloths, knit from good ol' Sugar'n Cream cotton yarn. Each cloth used just a fraction of a red and white ball, so I made four. And I felt guilty and confused for about the first three of those washcloths. Why was I spending time on my butt making things we already had? There were so many projects on my list! So many ideas that were idling while my hands were too busy to write them down.
It wasn't until the last washcloth that it hit me: this little break from work-work was akin to, I don't know, what athletes do when they train? Take a day off, right? To let their muscles relax and recover before they put them back to work.
My brain was freed from its constant hum of problem-solving and list-making.
And yet, somehow, also, it was free to solve problems, and start sketching out new ideas to put on lists.
With every stitch ... think/ing/think/ing/think/ing. But loosely, without urgency.
Once I finished my washcloths I was fairly decided to keep yarn on a needle. To give my brain that space.
Everything is happening in this way lately: I'm scrambling to figure out what place Thing A and Thing B have, and is there room for Thing C? There's some level of frustration or anxiety or worry about it. But then ultimately there's a click, and A and B and C seem to become, just, normal.
Happy moments from the week
This note! From Emily ... from THREE MONTHS AGO! She'd sent it to me when we were still in Winston-Salem, but just about to hit the road for Portland. We must have started forwarding our mail early, so it took three months for this little guy to make its way to our mailbox. And what a sweet surprise it was.
And if you're lucky enough to get a hand-written note from this woman ... man, then you're lucky.
Good goddamn, the light was so good for this dinner with King. All those facial expressions—if you could hear her, you could hear how she's articulating and emoting all this wonderful gibberish. Asking questions, telling stories, being perplexed.
Love that King.