The Struggle is Real

 A little knitting content, for those who follow such things and for those who don't:. 

Here's one of the (many) things on my needles right now. It's part of Clues 1 and 2 of a Mystery Knitalong Shawl by Romi, and I have to say it's beautiful. I've done several of her designs and she is a master designer, not to mention being a pretty nice person. And I was pretty proud of it and its progress (even though I'm still on Clue 2 and the rest of the knitting world has already finished the total of five clues that comprise this pattern.)

I say "was" because somehow I put it down wrong and a bunch of stitches fell off and here's what it looks like now:

Yes, I dropped something somewhere, somewhere in the middle of a cable and a border and a double yarnover. And, yes, a more skilled knitter than I could probably figure out how to fix all those happenings, but I can't.

Interestingly, Romi teaches a class, and I took it many years ago when she came to Atlanta to teach, about how to fix problems like this but that was many years ago and I have no idea what to do except to tink it.

TINK means to unKNIT something. Do the math and you'll figure it out.

Bottom line, I'm unknitting down to the source of the problem, probably about row 1 of Clue 2. And for those knitterati who are wondering, no, I did not have a lifeline placed. I had even pulled out the dental floss to put one in but I couldn't put my hand on a tapestry needle at the moment and so I just breezed ahead like I knew what I was doing.

The struggle is real.

Random Thoughts in No Particular Order

The election official who checked me off the list of registered Paulding County voters today at the Georgia Primary and complained mightily about all this "dadburned technology" that's changing the way we do things probably didn't vote for the same folks I did today. Is there a Luddite party? Or is that redundant in Georgia?

At my age I'm officially "senior," but while voting at the Paulding Senior Center today, it occurred to me that, until today I didn't know it existed except I knew those white minibuses had to be going somewhere. I'd like to last a few more years before I go there to find something to do or someone to talk to.

There was one person of color working at the election site today. Why did she get the work station situated next to where some doofus used the wrong kind of tape to tape down an electrical cord, resulting in her tripping and me having to catch her? I don't want to get all conspiracy theory on y'all, but Georgia has some pretty devious ways of making sure that black folks don't vote. Just say'in, that's all.

The major downfall to spending all day on a virtual call, staring at oneself on a small screen, is the knowledge that I look very different than I want to. Could that possibly be my chins wobbling or is it a flaw in the camera? 

The problem with reading is that it leads to more reading. My friend has been recommending I read "The Thursday Murder Club" forever but I balked at the price to buy it on Kindle. (I have my standards and I never go above $10 for a bunch of zeros and ones.) She was insistent, or should I say, encouraging, and finally convinced me to join a library in a state I never go to (I know, I know) so I could read it. I did and requested either the eBook or the audiobook version. Within a day I had  my electronic version. I'm enjoying this book! It's not "War and Peace" or even Margaret Atwood, but it's pretty darn good. Today I said to her that I was starting to think I should invest in the Kindle version to own it. Then just to prove to myself how virtuously frugal I was, I looked it up on Amazon and it was ... $2.99 temporarily. Of course, I bought it immediately and bought the audio version too. Because if it was fun to read, think how good it will be to listen to it. (And, btw, buying both versions books cost me more than my $10 limit.)

And speaking of reading, yes, I'm one of those people who cheats on books with other books. I always have an audiobook, a Kindle, and a wood-pulp book going at the same time. And a stack of New Yorkers I haven't read yet. At least. Today, it's a police procedural on Audible, TTMC on Kindle, and in paper, it's "Going Back to Bisbee" by Richard Shelton. Being a fan of most things Bisbee, without ever having been there, I should tell you the book by Shelton is heavy on Arizona and light on Bisbee, but probably one of the most beautifully written books I've ever read. And beautifully researched. Which naturally led me to buy one of Shelton's poetry books, "The Last Person To Hear Your Voice." In paperback because when I read poetry I have to hold an actual book. I'm not sure why.

The next Shelton book will be his memoirs of working with the prison population. And then ... well, who knows?

Enough deep thoughts for today.

FOMO?

 Can one person have too much in her life? Too many blessings? Too much to do and not enough time to do it all?

That's me. It's been five years since I've written here. I've been too busy. 

Doing what? I feel like I haven't accomplished anything!

And, no, this isn't another COVID screed. Yes, the past few years have been stressful but, in many ways, they haven't impacted me much.

I still go to work. My precious older daughter is gone. I have lost a husband I loved but, truthfully, he was lost many years ago to Alzheimer's. I've really lost a beloved task, not a companion.

And I'm still writing...sort of. Still knitting...but not finishing much. English paper piecing? Not in months!

Yes, travel has been impacted. My beloved job with Stitches events has trickled down to a once-in-a-great-while event. CARF has stopped sending me interesting places. I still do CARF surveys but they're all (so far) virtual. Satisfying, but yet ....

Last year friend Debra and I flew to Rhinebeck for our "coming out party" from COVID. After all the fuss and worrying and stressing over details (do I even know how to buckle my plane seatbelt after all these years? why isn't there food on the plane? I can't breathe through this mask--I brought the wrong one! can I find my vaccination card?), it was fine. 

Although some venues were stricter than others, and Rhinebeck itself was reduced in size and attendance, it was a wonderful few days. We met old friends, some from many miles and other parts of my life, we ate our favorite Rhinebeck foods old and new (I'm talking to you, Roasted Brussel Sprouts!), even met a few knitting celebrities.

Then in March of this year, we went to Stitches West.  A great show as always, just smaller. I met old friends and made some new ones. I missed some people.  Again, Debra and I drove around the SF area and ate and laughed and talked to people and maybe bought some yarn. I didn't walk in the Pacific but I got close enough to be sprayed by waves.

And family! There's so much to say about family. New babies, grands growing up and marrying and going to school and, and, and. My family is truly my life. There is nothing I like better than snuggling one of my children, from months old to 35.

My job has been more than I could have expected. I've truly found my passion with the kids of Murphy-Harpst. Every day there is more to be done, less time to do it, and more joy than I could ever have imagined. I actually feel that I'm making an impression on young people who need me. This is my jam, for sure.

So why do I feel unfulfilled? Like I'm not living up to my potential. Like not getting done all the things that need to be done. Not writing that novel. Not moving on to my life without a job. Not traveling to all the places on my list. Not finishing that quilt top. Not, not, not. 

I'm a mass of negatives in the middle of so many positives. 

Am I fearing, not death, but not finishing everything in my remaining years? Or am I just an ungrateful, whiny cow?