My private life very much resembles my professional life in this regard. Shortly after college (and a brief foray into grad school), I stumbled into a career in Marketing. As a fairly typical Aquarius, and a purple-haired, punk-rock girl at heart, learning to adjust to a corporate culture while maintaining my sense of self has been challenging. I have fallen on both sides of the conformity spectrum across the years and somehow managed to continue growing this career despite my best efforts to thwart it.

I have observed over the years that very, very few companies have a deliberate and focused marketing plan. And many of those that do find it falling by the wayside as they are “forced” to react to different circumstances around them. Two corporate buzz words I hear tossed around a lot are “reactionary” vs. “strategic.” In fact, these words are used so frequently that they have lost meaning for many people (though I rather suspect it is just that they didn’t truly understand them in the first place). We spend a lot of time talking about marketing driven companies versus sales driven companies. We try to convince the sales people of the benefits of a unified message and a strong “brand.” We show them how it affects the bottom line. But then we go right back to reacting when the next crisis arises. And the sales people go right back to doing what they need to do to get the sale. Essentially we are all reacting all the time.

In this type of reactionary climate (whether at home or work), it is difficult to find focus. And it is even more difficult to pinpoint what direction you are rushing off in so frantically. Those vital moments of clarity where you can see what is really important, what matters (or, as they say in the corporate world, what is effective long term or what has lasting impact) are missing. The confusion over what is effective in the moment and what is needed long term only muddies the waters further. Often one of these is ignored for the other. The truth is, we have to balance them both. But in order to make decisions about what is needed long term, we have to know what that is. That is, if we can stop reacting long enough to figure out just where we are trying to get to so darn fast.

This kind of long-term thinking and planning can get very difficult and leaves many people spinning their proverbial wheels. I can’t tell you the number of people I talk to (myself included) who are still trying to figure out what they want to out of this life. They feel frustrated by their current circumstances but unsure how to move forward. So many theoretical options. Very few actual ones. We get stuck trying to determine where to put our energy and efforts. And meanwhile, this busy world full of information keeps clamoring for our attention and offering us more than enough distractions to keep us wandering around and reacting to each new thing without providing any real sense of satisfaction.

My life is nothing if not a constant struggle to hold all of these things in balance. So, a couple of thoughts on avoiding ruts and moving forward while staying grounded:

1. Maintain a balance between what is effective in the moment and what your long term goals are. These actions should not directly contradict one another. If you have to backtrack because you missed a turn or discovered a new route, then that is being effective in the moment while continuing to move toward your goal. Moving in a new direction with no clear understanding of how it will get you where you are going may be a mistake (it might also be very good intuition — sometimes it is tough to tell the difference between the two).

2. Trust your instincts. In other words, listen to that still, calm voice that is speaking at the center of the storm.

3. Vision does not come to you in one single flash of inspiration — there are many lightning bolts and moments of clarity along the way. Keep things somewhat fluid and be open to change. Rigid adherence to a dead dream is a grueling ordeal.

4. The circumstances of life are often beyond your control. What you do have control over is your reaction to them. In other words, we don’t always get to make our path, but we can make the most of our path.

5. Dream big, but maintain a willingness to be realistic — especially when assigning tasks and goals. Nothing kills enthusiasm like a continual sense of failure. Celebrate your achievements along the way and make sure there are enough of them to bolster your spirits.

Alright, that is my big motivational speech of the week. Have a great weekend!

In point of fact, when I became a vegetarian four years ago, it wasn’t my love for animals or the antagonistic tactics of PETA** that won me over. It was seeing, in black and white figures, the vast reduction in my ecological footprint when I eliminated meat from my diet (that link will take you to a quiz that allows you to calculate your current environmental impact and offers suggestions for how to reduce it further).

Having grown up in the land of meat and potatoes, learning to cook good vegetarian food was an exciting (and not always successful) adventure, and one I was not even remotely prepared for. There were many disasters along the way (like the pasta drenched in something like half a cup of oil or the peanut sauce that was so bad I was no longer hungry after just one bite), but there was also a great deal of discovery. Rather than limiting my options, I found that I was suddenly faced with a vast new territory of food, filled with a wealth of new foods, spices and cooking styles that I had never considered before.

As I started familiarizing myself with more and more vegetarian cuisine, I noticed that there was a strong tendency to try and recreate meat-based dishes. And usually (as in 99% of the time) these substitutes did a terrible job of simulating the flavors, textures and appearance. There were some standout exceptions, but generally they were disappointing. And truthfully, once I had given up the meat, getting something that tasted like beef or chicken or something else was kind of, well, weird. I still prefer a veggie burger that tastes like a mixture of roasted veggies and grains to the life-like versions available in supermarket freezers.

Across the years, I have done a lot of studying, reading, experimenting and thinking about food, nutrition, the role of agriculture in various societies, the relationship between eating and health, and most importantly, how to cook meals that are tasty, satisfying and nutritious. I believe in the importance of having a conscious relationship with the food we eat, being mindful of the choices we make and most importantly, approaching our attitudes and beliefs about food with a non-judgmental and compassionate perspective. This means that we recognize that we are doing the best we can within the context of how we have been raised, the cultural messages we have received about food, and the challenges of cultivating a healthy approach to eating in our food-obsessed society. It means doing what you can each day, abandoning labels (they’re never useful) and continuing to move forward with the small, manageable goals we set for ourselves. Whatever those goals are, taking the time to think about what we are putting in our mouths is an admirable start.

For those interested in an excellent resource for vegetarian cooking, I suggest checking out The Low Budget Vegetarian. This book really brought our vegetarian cooking to a new level. Written by an acquaintance of Mr. Knittiot’s, this home brewed cooking primer is now (I believe) being offered on his site as free downloadable PDF. The recipes are decent enough (there are quite a few gems actually), but much more important than that are his thoughts on how vegetarian cooking differs from meat-based cooking. Essentially, meat dishes rely on the fats in the chicken or beef or pork to infuse flavor, whereas vegetarian food requires a different medium. Cooking with oil, the appropriate spices for different world cuisines, when to add them, how to achieve different effects — this is all covered. And with some time and experimentation, it will transform your vegetarian dishes into something that even the most dedicated carnivore can’t help but like. Trust me, we know this from experience.

There was also a really great article recently in the New York Times about Isa Moskowitz of the Post Punk Kitchen. I’d link you to it, but I can’t seem to access it and I am starting to get really frustrated with the New York Times, even more so than usual. If you feel like taking the time to look it up, there are some really good recipes attached, two of which I’ve tried (Butternut Squash Spring Rolls and Spicy Peanut Stew — mmmmmmm…). She also has a couple of cookbooks out that sound intriguing. Since we are a no-refined sugars household, I won’t be getting the cupcake book, but I may be picking up Vegan with a Vengeance sometime in the near future.

**PETA disclaimer: I am not trying to offend upstanding and well-intentioned members of PETA, However, having grown up around people who felt the need to “evangelize” on behalf of their religion using any means necessary to save my soul, including more than enough guilt, fear, judgement and self-righteousness, I am turned off by a group of people who seem like the vegan version of the same. I am far more interested in rational discussions that leave guilt and judgement out of the equation and instead embrace people for who they are and where they are at.

Back at the beginning of the year, prompted by a post on Worsted Witch, I began to think about my new year’s goals in a different way, an ecological way. At the time I meant to post them here, but I hadn’t quite gotten back in the swing of things. Today, while reading Pocket Farm’s post on the value and ingenuity of the victory garden, I was reminded of at least one of them — planting a garden.

Some of you may recall that I had big plans last summer to create a grand, elaborate garden to meet our produce loving needs. However, it turned out to be a much larger project than I had the energy to deal with. This year, I would like to actually get it off the ground. Apparently people who do this kind of thing on a regular basis start their planning now, so…I guess I ought to get going on that.

Somewhat connected to the gardening goal is a desire to learn how to can tomatoes. Mr. K and use very few processed foods, but one of the things that I haven’t figured out how to get rid of is the canned tomatoes. Sometime fresh just isn’t affordable or useful. My stepmom used to get a huge case of tomatoes in the summer and can enough to last us all winter long (at least she did the summer I lived with her). I doubt I can get a whole winter’s worth out of my small backyard garden, but perhaps I can find a local source to supplement. One thing my stepmom did was instill a deep fear of accidentally poisoning myself by doing something wrong. So I have this vague feeling that canning tomatoes is a combination of science and magic, and messing up either will have fatal results.

The other thing we have focused on a lot is reducing the amount of garbage that goes in our trash bin. To further those aims, we are looking to get into the worm business. The Worm Lady sells an excellent vermicomposting solution, which works well for apartment dwellers. One pound of worms can go through as much as 3 lbs. of garbage a week! So, that is on the list of environmental purchases.

There are some other things I want to do, like replace our shower head with one that uses less water, come up with better solutions for conserving energy around the house (I am one of those people who has the bad habit of leaving lights on in other rooms of the house when I am not using them), and participating in the one local summer challenge.

As usual, I will continue to simplify my life, reduce my consumer spending, limit the number of miles I drive (and carpool whenever possible), get more of my books from the library, bring my own bags to the grocery store, buy local products when possible, use non-petroleum based soaps and detergents, clean with all natural products (vinegar, baking soda and castille soap are all I need to keep the house clean and sparkly), support organic farmers and try to be happy and enjoy every moment of my life. It is short after all and you can only do what you can do.

Not knowing what you want is the biggest barrier to getting it. Furthermore, this particular pursuit of happiness is complicated further by the fact that often times what we thought we wanted in the first place turns out to be much different than expected. Earlier this year I started reading a book called Stumbling on Happiness, in which Harvard Psychologist Daniel Gilbert talks about why our brains make it so difficult for us to accurately predict what will make us happy. Apparently we are wired in such a way that makes it darn near impossible to figure out just what we want and how to make decisions that actually lead to true happiness.

As I mentioned before, I had two job interviews this week. I was somewhat lukewarm on the first one. It went well. They loved me, and it always feels good to be loved, but I wasn’t convinced it was the best fit for me. It might have been a comfortable fit, but didn’t comfortable mean boring? Didn’t it mean I wasn’t stretching myself? Afterall, I was looking for something *more*. A challenge. Something to sink my teeth into.

Before the second interview, I spent quite a bit of time pouring over their website (like I always do) and the more I read about the company, the more excited I became. This was the place I wanted to work. I just knew it. I completely nailed the interview, and was absolutely certain that this was the best move for me. New territory. Challenging role. Exciting opportunities. Larger company with many flashy perks and benefits. I mean, this company was really good at marketing itself as a great place to work.

But if there is one thing I know, it is that emotions and thoughts come in layers. The lukewarm feelings about the first place and the excitement about the second were all my initial impressions. And this is where we human beings live about 99.9% of the time — on the surface. In areas that are inhabited by anxieties, societal expectations and our own ideas about who we are or would like to be. Yet below all those initial thoughts and impressions are more subtle nuances. The kind that you have to get quiet to hear.

In my adventures in therapy I spent a lot of time working with my therapist to discern between the rational mind, the emotional mind and the wise mind. The first being that part of you that sees things from a very logical point of view. The second being the one that is sheer emotion — often hard to control and rarely having anything to do with facts. And the later being the part of you where reason and emotion meld and move beyond just thought and feeling into a more intuitive place. It is the part of you that is you, free from external pressures and worries. It has a sense of stillness, a calm at the eye of the storm. It is your voice.

After my second job interview, while I was incredibly excited about the opportunity, there was this element of desperate wanting, a sort of high-pitched note of anxiety attached to everything. There was no calm assurance. This buzzy feeling is often a warning sign for me that I am moving far, far away from anything resembling my wise mind. In the midst of filling in Mr. Knittiot about the progression of events, I happened to mention that I had this feeling that I was trying to grasp on too tightly and that I wasn’t going to get it. I attributed it to the post interview let down.

The next day I got a call. A job offer from the first place I had interviewed at. I was surprisingly excited to hear from them. The offer was better than I had expected. The enthusiasm in their voices was infectious. We talked through some details and everything, and I mean everything, worked out to my benefit. I told them I just wanted to discuss things with Mr. Knittiot before making a final decision and I would call them back the next day.

Now I had a dilemma. Do I jump at this great offer or hold out and see what happens with the other company? A quick chat with Mr. Knittiot, and a couple others whose professional opinion I hold in high esteem, convinced me that I needed to call the second company and let them know that I had been made an offer so they at least had an opportunity to match it. They were very interested, I was told. The HR person started scrambling and by 5:00 pm I was on a phone interview with one of the Sr. VP’s. Shortly into the call, my excitement started to unravel. Unlike the other place where I felt I was being actively pursued for my professional expertise, I suddenly felt like I was having to convince him that I was capable of the job. I realized in hindsight that he wasn’t really listening to anything I said, because all of his questions were answered in the first 5 minutes. His “concerns” I now recognize as a classic ploy (which I have encountered more times than I care to remember) to put me on the defensive, to remind me that they were the ones doing me a favor by hiring me, and, if I accepted the position, to keep me constantly working for the approval I never really had despite being offered the job. I do respect that he was trying to give me a realistic impression of what I was coming into, but frankly, everything just started sounding like a great big pile of stress and misery. The amount of work compared to the salary suddenly seemed a bit unbalanced and all the high-pitched anxiety that was underneath the excitement became clear. In that wise mind moment, all of the confusion and indecision cleared and there was a calm, still assurance. I knew what the next step was. The only thing left to do was call and accept the other offer, which I did the next morning.

Thus ends the unemployment.

As a postscript to the story, the next day, shortly after I called and accepted the first offer, I received a call from the person in HR and the woman I had first interviewed with at the second company. They had received my e-mail informing them that I had decided to go with the other position. You could tell they were just shocked. They wanted to know what had happened on the call and why I had changed my mind. They felt I was such a good fit and you could tell they were just livid with the Sr. VP, because they were certain he had done or said something wrong. The truth is, he didn’t. I am so happy that he said and did what he did, because without it, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to get really quiet and discern what I truly wanted.

Waiting seems to be a central theme for me at the moment, and I have to say that I am doing a much better job of managing my emotions (and expectations) surrounding the lack of resolution than I have in the past. In fact, I am actually feeling pretty, well, um, calm (in between the momentary bits of panic that occur from time to time, that is).

Things that seem to be helping with that:

1.) My husband. Seriously, the man is a saint. Not only does he encourage me to take my time finding a job so that I end up in a place that is good for me, but he does things like remind me to take naps (which I don’t do because I am a terrible napper) and says that salary is less important than me being happy. He also truly want me to have an enjoyable and relaxing period of unemployment. This helps alleviate A LOT of pressure.

2.) My dog. In case you don’t understand just how adorable and life affirming Eliot is, he now has his very own photo set (called “I Heart Eliot”) on my flickr page. If you need a daily dose of cute and happy, you can just look at my dog. I do try to update on a regular basis with new pictures so feel free to check back.

3.) Buffy. I’ve decided to take all this free time and channel it into something really useful, so I am rewatching the entire 7 seasons of the best television show ever to grace the airwaves, for oh, um, the 12th or 13th or maybe 52nd time. Seriously, I’ve lost count of how many times I have seen each episode.

4.) Scarves. I’ve been knitting scarves. It is cold here and in Minnesota, where many of my family and friends still reside, and I have been knitting them scarves. It is good take anywhere knitting and has given me a chance to more fully explore some of the Barbara Walker knitting treasury patterns. I’ve really needed the comfort of having my hands occupied and feeling productive, and a scarf requires less planning than the sweater I am currently trying to design or any number of other projects I am contemplating.

5.) World of Warcraft. I will not bore you with all the details, but the release of the Burning Crusade expansion pack totally reignited the obsession passion. Purl, my Gnomish warlock is back and crazier than ever. Seriously, this girl is losing it. And I love her. In the famous words of everyone’s favorite fictional mobster, “I try to get out, and they pull me back in.” Those of you who have experienced the ferver (yeah, Lee Ann, I’m talkin’ to you — wanna hook up and run around Azeroth sometime?), know exactly what I mean. Yeah, I know, I’m such a sucker.

6.) Pending visit from the Momsuch. Just 6 short weeks after her holiday visit, mom is hopping a plane back to the city of brotherly love to spend a long-ish weekend with her daughter. The fact that it coincides with my birthday and involves me spending two days in NYC where I will attend the Radical Lace & Subversive Knitting exhibit, drool over Habu textiles, watch the Westminster dog show *live* (instead of on TV as I usually do) and eat dinner at one of the best vegan restaurants on the eastern seaboard, is just icing on the proverbial cake.

7.) Yarn adventuring in San Francisco. The upcoming trip to San Francisco, where the hudbot will attend the big annual Game Developer’s Conference (The man gets to watch Shigeru Miyamoto delivering the keynote address — Lucky!), has taken on a whole new level of anticipation with the confirmation that my bestest bud Kaizerin will be winging her way to me from Portland for 4 days of yarn adventuring, knitting, tea drinking and conversations that extend into the wee hours of the morning. All in one of my most favorite cities in the world.

So, you can see, job or no job, this girl has things to keep her occupied in the midst of all the waiting.

Nothing like a little Gene Autry first thing in the morning to put a spring in your step. And since this song has been constantly going through my mind as I contemplate typing, I figured I ought to let it out.

Truthfully, I’ve been ready to jump back into the blogging saddle for more than a few weeks now, but everytime I sit down to write I keep facing this huge void that is the last 3+ months. I’ve been worrying that it will disrupt the narrative flow of my my blog (Yeah, I know, what narrative flow?) if I don’t account for that time. This is, of course, where I get stuck and close out my browser window and retreat back to (somewhat) more manageable tasks. Like my Freeform 365 project or my job search (Hooray for unemployment!) or my spinning for the 100-mile suit project or spending time with my local pals or planning my upcoming trip to San Francisco where Kaizerin (you all remember my knitting olympics guest co-blogger and dear, dear friend) will be flying down to help me cut a swath across the fiber landscape of the city by the bay…

See? Big gaping narrative holes!

Oh, yeah, right and what about that whole “I am sad, life is misery thing” that was going on? How are you feeling woman?!

The answer to this (and many other questions) is a long story with lots of dull details and a fairly anticlimactic, but happy outcome. I know better than to refer to it as an “ending,” because we all know life doesn’t fit neatly into such categories, and just because things have improved doesn’t mean that each day is sunshine and roses. It is that kind of black and white thinking that tends to get me in the kind of trouble I found myself in this past year. So, in the interest of just “getting on with things,” I thought I would make this simple.

I’m back.

Not only am I back, but a lot is happening. Especially on the fiber front (as you may have gathered). So, stay tuned for further details!

I must admit that another factor here is my neurotic little poochie-poo (aka — the Elder Snout, Oopei-choop, Moopey-moo, Moop, Moo, Count Moopula, and officially, Eliot, as in T.S.) who seems to still not be handling the long absences so well. Oh, right, and his neurotic owner who doesn’t seem to be handling them so well either. Also, there is this ever so slight possibility that I may be able to convince my gaming group to gather together for a little roleplaying session on that day and I am finding the allure of that equally compelling.

Anyway, on to the pictures. After Eliot arrived in our house, there were some health issues needing attention, but once his kennel cough cleared up and he had his rabies shot and he got over his reaction to the rabies shot, we were able to get him into the groomer to do something about this mop (which you can see is all matted and messy due to lack of care from his previous people):

The mats and tangles were to such an extent that the groomer was required to give him a complete make over and this was what we brought home:

It took us all a few days to get used to our little bald doggy, but he seems to have settled into his look quite regally and we’re planning on keeping him pretty closely cropped as it really allows for the expressiveness of his face to come through, as in this picture (note the small crocheted mouse in the bottom right corner that he seems to have adopted as his):

Depression is pretty much a fact of life in my family. Not to mention anxiety and other threats to one’s mental well being. One of my family members is fairly regularly hospitalized for her bipolar disorder. This is just on my mother’s side of the family. I don’t really know my father’s family, but lets just say they have “issues.” And really, who doesn’t? I am under no delusions that I am special or unique — at least not in relation to how I feel. Everyone gets sad. Everyone has problems. Everyone has hurdles they need to jump over. The severity, I have discovered, is really and truly relative. If it feels bad, it feels bad. There are no contests about who has the most dire situation.

Anyway, despite all my training, all my tools, this particular ghost had been slowly creeping back into my life for awhile, until one day a week or two ago I said to myself, “Self, you are exhibiting signs of depression. You lack motivation. You cry. All the time. About everything. The critic is throwing a party in your brain pretty much 24 hours a day. You are overwhelmed at the thought of dealing with people and returning e-mails and phone calls seems a Sissyphaen task.” “Hmmm,” I thought. “I guess I must be depressed.” I told Mr. Knittiot about my new discovery and suddenly I saw the lines of strain around his eyes, the exhaustion, the concern. Apparantly I wasn’t the only one to have noticed.

One of the things I commonly do (as do most people dealing with depression) is hide. There is this feeling that what you are experiencing is a shameful thing. A secret. Not something you want everyone to know, or at least not just anyone. I suppose the rationale behind such behavior is that depression is something I have done wrong, something that is my fault. I have failed at being happy. Tell me, why does blame so insistently shove its weasely little head in any corner it can find? And, of course, this game of hide the elephant only serves to reinforce these destructive emotions.

So, I decided to tell people. Just a few people. People who would understand. And the response has been surprising. They don’t react to me as if I have the plague or as though I were a great big whiney baby. They listen, toss out a few bits of advice they have found helpful and in general just accept me as I am. There is concern. There is understanding. This forces me to a point where I must admit that I am fortunate to be loved and cared for by a great many people. A tender, healing balm if ever there was one.

A friend (to whom I am eternally grateful, not just for this, but for many other moments of inspiration) recommended a book she had recently discovered. I immediately went out and picked up a copy. At the beginning of the book is a self-evaluation that rates the severity of your depression on a scale of 0 to 100. I have taken this thing I can’t tell you how many times. And yet I was shocked at the end to tally up the score and discover this — 77.

After the initial jolt of seeing that number staring back at me from the page, I felt an immediate and tremendous wave of relief. Relief because I thought what was going on with me was fairly mild, and I had come to the conclustion that if this was mild discomfort, I didn’t know how I was going to keep going on with this life, because it was just too much. Yeah, self-awareness, perspective, these things pretty much flew out the window at some point along the way.

77, it turns out, is quite the magical number. Now there are plans and actions and steps to be taken and performed. Some of them I am already working on. Others may take time, but are nevertheless in progress on some level. I am comforted by the approaching autumn. Such a hopeful time of year for me.

I realize that for the last couple of months I have very nearly dropped off the face of the planet as far as my blog is concerned. While I am not sure how regular I will be about posting, I do know that I have missed writing for the blog and want it to be a regular part of my life again. I suspect it may be one of those things that keeps me tethered to the ground. I also want you all to know that I really appreciate the kind notes and comments I have received from people who want to keep reading whether I’m writing about knitting or not. Anyway, that is my life in a nutshell. Hope you all are faring well.

As the Summer of Knitting Naturally has worn on, I have found myself experiencing a sense of freedom and relief. At first I couldn’t quite put my finger on where it was coming from. Then I took a step back from the blog and that sensation increased. So I decided to give it some more serious scrutiny.

A not so surprising side effect of the boundaries I set for myself this summer is that is has been much more difficult to buy yarn. Not that there aren’t options, it’s just that they are few and far between and usually only available online. I tend to be reluctant about purchasing yarn I haven’t touched or felt or visually inspected. I say, “Oh, I’ll think about it.” And more often than not, I just never go back and actually hit the “buy it” button.

In the midst of all of this (as usual) I have been in the throes of some serious evaluation of my path and where I want it to ultimately take me. The getting quiet and listening are a big part of that. I have had some revelations and realizations and moments of clarity. These moments, in turn, have caused me to seriously think about my priorities.

Financially, knitting has been my priority for the better part of the past few years. I started crocheting to preserve my sanity in a difficult situation. This led to knitting. And like many things in my life, what was once an activity promoting peace, relaxation and a personal sense of accomplishment, has been turned (by me) into a pressure-filled pursuit of excellence with unrelenting expectations and standards that I can’t possibly meet at the moment. In short, it has become discouraging. And expensive.

I hadn’t really realized how much pressure I felt about the financial aspect of knitting until it was removed from the equation. The pursuit of knitting, like most hobbies (or really anything) here in the US, seems to be primarily about the accumulation of stuff. Notions, needles, yarn, books, etc., etc., etc. And there is very little in this game that is inexpensive. Particularly once you start trying to find materials that were produced organically or sustainably or with some aspect of the earth’s future or the health and well-being of her inhabitants in mind.

While, admittedly, my stash is so small as to be almost non-existant and I like to think of myself as someone who has never been too terribly into the accumulation of things, the truth of the matter is that I struggle against cultural tides just as much as the next person. Living off the grid is still a pipe dream and I am not immune to the marketing messages that bombard me at every turn.

Since knitting became more than just an amusing hobby, keeping up with even a moderate amount of knitting and spinning is a major financial commitment. Every time I find myself with a little bit of cash, I feel I can’t spend it, because I will need it for that next sweater or that book or that [insert knitting purchase here]. Then there are the agonizing decisions such as, if I purchase this book, I won’t be able to afford the yarn for the project, or the needles or something else. Meanwhile the tidal wave of options continues to pour over us and the short-attention-span-syndrome leads to continual project abandonment, or, if you are me, option paralysis. I am afraid to commit to this yarn or that yarn for fear that I will end up not liking it and then I will have no money to get something I really like. Spending money is, generally, an exercise in anxiety for me. So this connection between financial anxiety and knitting has only served to make my fun and enjoyable hobby a big stresser.

In all of this quiet contemplation, I have suddenly come to see very clearly what has been lost to me in my pursuit of knitting. One of my dearest friends in the world told me once that she had made a commitment to less stuff and more doing. In other words, living life was more important than accumulating things. It has taken a little while for the weight of those words to penetrate into the inner sanctum of knitting. Yet, here they are. Somehow the necessity of the stuff has taken precedence over the actual doing.

I know what I want now, and knitting, while it is lovely and will continue to be a part of my life, needs to take a less prominent position in the knittiot’s hierarchy of needs. Or rather, it needs to go back to being that calming, peaceful activity that provided a lovely outlet for stress rather than something that adds to it. Simplicity is the name of the game here.

When the world seems to be unravelling at its seams there is no antidote to despair and hopelessness like a bundle of fur and love.

Eliot joined our eccentric little family on Friday July 21st and he has been busy sleeping, exploring, loving and licking his way all over our lives. At the moment he is snoring away on the couch right next to me, contentedly dreaming his doggie dreams and in general just settling right in as if he has always been here.

I am absolutely, head over heels in love.