About Me

Berkeley, CA, United States
Thirty-something hobby addict and San Francisco Giants fanatic. Battling through living hell is boring and the SF Giants are hibernating so I decided I needed a winter time hobby to save my soul until spring. Enter knitting... Here is what I have learned and continue to learn along the way.

First Project

First Project
yarn spun by Grandma

Friday, January 11, 2013

Just write, don't over think it

Circa 2012 MLB post-season, my life unraveled.  If it weren't for the SF Giants journey to the WS, I may have gone some place dark and never returned.  Most people who have gone through or are going through a divorce will understand the previous and following statements... The SF Giants helped saved my life.  

The back-story
Up until the actual WS, I was listening to the all the post-season analysis and games on KNBR radio because I was too superstitious to watch the televised games.  When the WS began, I had to watch the games but continued to listen to hours of radio broadcasts- it helped keep the tears tied up behind my lashes.  Anyway, the point is that Murph and Mac, Kruk and Kuip, Marty Lurie and PCon, John Miller and Dave Fleming were narrated the moments that kept me sane. Those men were the first warriors against the initial, debilitating wave of pain and sorrow.

After the confetti was swept away, baseball season went into hibernation and the mere thought of the winter holidays incited many inner mental riots.  All of my beloved books and hobby supplies (both essential provisions to my life) were waiting dutifully in my sister's garage for better days.  I knew my mind wasn't calm enough to read a full paragraph so purchasing a new novel (or fifty) wasn't going to help.  I never need an excuse to start a new hobby and by God, I felt I earned the right to one.  

I love the adrenaline rush I get when I decide to start a hobby (multiple-hobby enthusiasts are adrenaline junkies, too).  It is a special moment when I dedicate limited earth moments to learning something new and I wanted to hold on to it for as long as possible, after all, I was hard put to experience anything resembling the feeling of hope.  For good reason though, the moment was fleeting; I remembered that my grandmother had very recently taught me how to knit AND given me yards and yards of her lovely home-spun yarn.  

The beginning
I did not knit well during that first lesson.  My hands didn't respond to the alien needles and almost immediately, were contorted with cramping spasms.  I was stab-yourself-in-the-eye-with-knitting needle frustrated. Needle-less to say but I will anyway, I didn't try to knit for some months after but despite the failed first attempt, I did something peculiar...  When I packed away my life into boxes, I didn't include the home-spun yarn.  I hauled it around while I drifted between my sister's house and a hotel until the day I decided to self-medicate with a new hobby.  It was then the yarn that was always within reach, called to me.  

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