Knitting is good for writing


Writing is like scrapbooking. This is what I thought as I began my latest knitting project this morning, a frilly little cardigan garnished with loops that form a fringe on the collar, sleeves, and hem. In between muttering imprecations as I manipulated the yarn around my finger which formed a third needle on which the loop was held, my third eye got going, too, and the mind began to juice up with ideas. That’s the beauty of knitting when your mojo is working. Continue reading

Sex, lies, and knitting*

“Where are you off to this fine morning?” the barista asked.

“Knitting. Stitch and bitch with some friends” I said.

“Oh! So Zen and relaxing. Enjoy!”

I smiled and my third eye beamed beneficently, my inner yogi at peace as I floated my way to Saturday morning knitting. With my fair-trade coffee in an earth-friendly mug, I floated with effortless grace out the door. Ohm. Continue reading


The blogger gets published

At first it wasn’t about the needles. I wanted to be productive while sitting with my daughter as she did her homework. She didn’t really need me there but my presence was wanted for moral support so how could I say no? The difficulty is that I am a fidgeter. I find it impossible to sit still and moral support no matter how vociferously provided is an inactive, passive role. My legs would twitch, my toes tap, my butt shift in the chair and I would exude irritability with every movement. I needed something to do in between the regular dishing up of “You’re doing great, kiddo!” Continue reading

Knitting off-season

Off season poinsettia & socks
Off season poinsettia & socks

After months of on again, off again knitting, the socks are done – almost six months to the day since I started. Of course, it’s summer now and ideally I shouldn’t be wearing them but, weather being what it is, I kept them on after taking the photo. We’re having an Off-Season in Canada’s capital.

A great revelation on why I have such trouble with knitting patterns came to me as I was pulling the works of art on my feet. It’s because they look like math equations with brackets and asterisks and coded abbreviations understood only by the knitterati cognoscenti. Continue reading