Kung Fu Knitting

Well it's my Hobbit name! May Overhill of Nobottle I bet you'd like one, too I found this quote yesterday: The only gift is a portion of thyself. -Ralph Waldo Emerson, writer and philosopher (1803-1882) It's rather apropos for this time of the year, don't you think? But I'd ammend it to say, "The best gift is a portion of thyself." When someone is really there with you, when they give of their time, when they obviously have done something for you that took a lot of thought and energy or when they have truly shared a part of who they are with you, it makes life so sweet and meaningful. And that is truly a gift.

I finished 1, countem 1, freaking sock this year. (But boy has it been stinky year!) So let me show it off in its unblocked glory: This little guy has been sitting around for some time now just waiting for a toe. I finished it the other night at Stitch'N Bitch, and I have to say that I'm a little proud of this sock. I really like the way my yarn turned out with my pattern. There are a couple of variations I'd like to try, meaning that my interest is still piqued. So hopefully the second won't take another year to knit.

I made this one for my mom for her birthday. It's not quite how I envisioned it when I started, but I think that particular vision would be great for a child's hat. This one is whimsical enough for an adult, don'tcha think? Details: US 7, 16" circular needle, Knit Pick's WOTA and Andean Silk (left over KSH and Merino Sock! for the flower, WOTA for the felted leaf). Picot hem that was knitted together as I knit the hat up from the bottom. It looks a little shinier in the picture than in real life ( I adjusted to color so that it showed more true to life).

Just when I am feeling the worst and am looking for something positive to cheer me up, the kids at work seem to pick up on it. (they are so amazing!) Today was one of those days but I ended up playing, I Love You! It's a tag game we made up, but you run around hugging the players while saying I love you when you catch them. How nice is that? Everyone you are playing with wants you to hug them. In fact, although they are running away from you, in reality they are all vying for your affection. :sigh: It's so simple, real and practically artless. I mean there's really only one level of duplicity involved and it's all mutually agreed upon. Not only was I treated to this lovely game, but there was just what I needed: much close and quiet story reading. I mean remember when you were little, what was one of the most reassuring, comforting activities? I remember lying in bed with my father and all my siblings and having him read or tell us wonderful stories. I remember feeling

Though it was December, it was still fall in Atlanta. The sterility of winter hadn't set in. The air was still warm, a little humid and fragrant, almost sweet. Flowers lingered on vines across chainlink fences in alley ways and sidewalk cracks. Some trees still had leaves, but many were busy turning. A few days were quite warm (70's!), and on others, the skies were bright and blue, the sunshine being so much more intense in Atlanta. There are lots of interesting little neighborhoods to explore In Atlanta, and in some of the artsier ones, people have taken it upon themselves to transmogrify street signs into petite billboards. It's a different sort of place that produces "I love you" graffiti, don'tcha think? Or better yet, contains buildings with quotes from Noam Chomsky and Arundhati Roy spray painted on their sides: "Everyone is worried about stopping terrorism. There is a simple solution. Stop participating in it." Of course, this wasn't rea

Everything that I hold dear, I hold it all for you. The light warming my back as I knit in the sun. The smell of a passerby's perfume. (what scent was that?) The laugh I hear across the room. A hand brushed lightly across a knee. The breeze that just lifted my scarf so gently, it flowed over her skin and his and hers. Around the corners and through the city until I know that it touched you, too. It touched everyone. (as did the sun) And I felt you sigh with me. I recently discovered Walt Whitman and I am simply taken by his work. I can't imagine how I had never read anything of his before. And it's such happenstance that I even came across it. Someone left a bunch of National Geographics in a local laundrymat and I happened to pick one up and start paging through it last week. I came upon an article about Walt Whitman and was drawn in by his lovely and evocative words. Key exerpts were paired with photos and a short story of his life. After reading and rereading portions o