I may be on to something

I'm working on a big knitting project right now--the biggest I've attempted yet. I've also given myself a short deadline for completion, for reasons. So I have to knit at least 20 rows per day, with 130 stitches on each row.

That doesn't leave a whole lot of time for writing, I'm afraid. But it is rather satisfying to see something so large emerging from my needles. It isn't perfect--I'm using cotton yarn and it's unraveling a bit, and I have at least two little holes where my stitches don't match up--but on the whole, it's starting to look like what it is supposed to be. Some time tomorrow I'll get to change colors, too, and I imagine that will be satisfying, as well.

I have always found a certain sense of satisfaction in repetitive activities, especially those that produce something at the end. The most satisfying are the kind where you have a pile of pieces at the beginning, and a completed project at the end, like stuffing envelopes or folding laundry.

Don't get me wrong--this isn't how I want to spend all of my time--but I do find such tasks satisfying and sometimes it's a kind of satisfaction that I need. It's especially comforting when I'm overwhelmed or frustrated by more complex tasks to do something simple and repetitive with visible results.

So I guess it's not altogether surprising to find that I enjoy knitting, which is the process of turning balls of yarn into useful objects. I've often spent time while watching TV doing something else with my hands--playing solitaire, surfing the internet, playing video games--and knitting is superior to those occupations because in addition to occupying my hands and taking up nervous energy, it produces something. Often something beautiful.

This may go on for a while.

Only want to knit

I don't want to write, I only want to knit. My current project is a potato chip scarf made from this really beautiful wool-blend yarn I got at Michael's. I can't even describe how beautiful it is--it's thin but fuzzy and it changes colors. So far it's been purple and green and brown and orange, and the colors blend together in a really lovely way. I guess because it's real wool, and the different colors have been spun together so there are very few parts of the yarn that are only one color, and when they transition you end up with two or three colors blended in one part of the yarn.

It's not the easiest yarn to knit with, because it tends to catch on itself, but it's so beautiful and it keeps changing, so I'm constantly excited to keep knitting so that I can see what beautiful color combination will come out of the yarn ball next.

This is going to be a really beautiful scarf. My mom is going to try and steal it.

On making beautiful things

I don't come from an artistic family. Nobody in my family is very good at painting or drawing or making things from wood. Our creative talents are more in the realm of performance--I act, my mother does puppetry, my father sings, my brother makes people laugh and we all write.

Hopper's family, on the other hand, is visual. His father and grandfather were painters, and they all draw and paint in his family. Over the past few years, I've been experimenting some with collage, and I think I have a pretty good eye, but I really don't have a history of making beautiful things.

In the past, I have used my talents to move people. I have made them laugh and cry, and through children's theater I have helped children learn a great deal about emotions, and responsibility, and how to perform. I'm proud of that. But performance is ephemeral, especially on stage. A video doesn't fully capture the moment we created.

But now I'm knitting, and it's really easy, if you buy beautiful yarn, to make a beautiful scarf. I've made a few using the knit stitch and experimenting with different needles. I like the open weave of really big needles. But yesterday I started one using two different sized needles and some really beautiful yarn, and I'm amazed at the fact that I can now make beautiful things. At the end of the day, there is an object that I can hold and wear or give to a friend, and it's a beautiful object that I made with my own hands.

This is a new experience for me.

I also find it interesting that the older I get, the more I find I have in common with my grandmother, whom I called Nana. My Nana was brilliant with handwork--she mostly crocheted--and I still have some afghans she made for me. So maybe I have the ability to be really good at this. Who knows?

This evening, I started a basket weave scarf. It's my first work with a pattern and it's tricky, but so far it's working. Okay, it took me three tries to figure out how to purl correctly, but now I've got it, so it's working.

Anyway, the journey is fun.

Homework sucks

I'm helping Boo with her homework. I know. But she needs the help. She has to type a book report by Monday. She doesn't know how to type, and she doesn't really have writing skills, because she's 9. So the only way this will happen is if I help her.

There's a problem with homework right there: if she can't do it herself, then isn't it MY homework? What is the point, exactly?

She said she didn't want to do it, and I said, "Okay, but then you have to accept the consequences."

"What are the consequences?" She asked (wisely.)

I said, "That's up to your teachers, but the worst consequence I can think of is that they wouldn't let you be in the presentation with the other third graders.

"I guess I should do it then," she replied. "But I'll need some help."

Which brings us to typing a report at 7:20 on a Saturday night.

*Here I must interject that Hopper is knitting right now, which is awesome.*

So it's possible that Boo is learning some responsibility from this, and I have to work harder to stay out of things and let her step up. But I feel like the job of teaching responsibility is put on me by the homework assignment, and while I'm all for teaching my child responsibility, can't I do that on my own without an outside assignment? I give her chores, she takes care of the gerbil, she's required to have manners and to come home from her friends' houses when she says she will. I'm teaching her responsibility. But right now, I want to be doing something other than this.

Why do I have to spend time working on this report when I could be reading with my child, or playing a game, or cleaning the house (or knitting?) It pisses me off that this unpleasant task is foisted on my family. We have enough unpleasant tasks. Just this morning, I had to wake up.

If there must be homework, it should be in the form of giving credit for things the child does at home. At the beginning of the year, the teachers could give the family a list:

• Tell us one creative thing your child does this year.
• Tell us how your child gets exercise outside of school.
• Tell us one generous thing your child does.
• Tell us how you celebrate your culture.
• Tell us what your family does for fun.
• Tell us how your child practices responsibility.
• What are you reading as a family? What is your child reading?

And then, over the course of the year, the child could write little reports, or the family could blog, or the child could teach a lesson in class and the teachers would be able to assess whether these things are being done, and the parents would be gaining skills as parents, and the kids would be practicing the skills that the school thinks are important.

Wouldn't that be better?

Knitting is weird

Last week, Boo learned to knit while at Hopper's mother's house. Boo came home and was knitting enthusiastically when she suddenly dropped half her stitches. I didn't know how to help her, so the knitting was put aside until she went for a visit to my parents, where my mom gave her new needles and wool that she liked better, and the knitting started again.

I decided I'd better learn this or Boo would end up frustrated quite often. I watched a few YouTube videos, borrowed Boo's first set of needles and wool, and started knitting. So far I've made a blob, a wonky doll scarf, and a less-wonky doll scarf. Not bad for two days' work!

I'm not sure yet if knitting is the hobby for me. I suspect that it's too frustrating, and I'll give it up before long. But that's okay--I know the knit stitch and how to cast on and bind off, and I just figured out how to make fringe. If Boo wants to do more than that I won't feel bad sending her elsewhere for support. For now, while she's a beginner, she needs my help and I'm glad I've picked up enough to give her that help.

It's also something I never would have tried if it wasn't for Boo. I love that she has that effect on me. I do a lot of things because Boo's excitement makes me want to join in. Hopefully, she'll always do that to me, and we'll keep having fun together.