Tales of a Novice Knit Wit

So what is it that entices us "young 'uns" into a craft seemingly reserved for grandmothers and aunts rocking by a fireplace? When did knitting, and its close cousin, crochet, start attracting our attention? Is it just the new prevalance of sparkly-soft, trendy-textured yarns and the plethora of stylish patterns now that can be made from them? Or are there other reasons it's now hip to knit squares?

As for me, I bought my first set of knitting needles (hot pink!) at Wal-Mart along with some intriguing looking yarn while visiting a friend in Colorado, back in October 2004. I'd flown out to visit, determined to escape the stress of work, to completely unplug. The house where she was living was perfect: the TV only worked to watch videos, Internet access was dial-up only and shared, and everyone who lived there was coming and going so much "entertainment" was essentially a do-it-yourself project. Just the night before, my friend Celina had completely astounded me by whipping up a golden-tinged scarf, fringe and all, in a matter of hours while we'd gabbed away the evening. Another woman living in the house had also been diligently working away at some brightly-colored scarves she was knitting for Christmas gifts. So, after four days of overexposure, I was sick of watching all this creativity come to life around me. I wanted in.

Celina recommended I start learning on some rather "fat" plastic needles, and I picked out a few skeins of the prettiest yarn I could find. I remember being very impressed at all the different colors and textures vying for attention on the shelves. The yarns didn't seem to be as boring and ordinary as what I'd remembered when I first tried to learn to knit about age 12 and abandoned shortly thereafter. Back at the ranch, Celina showed me how to "cast on" and within an hour or so, I'd made a decent start at a scarf. There was just one problem: I kept getting "snagged" on little colored tufts set along the strand, and I feared I was countering that by tugging too tightly on the yarn as I went along. Celina pulled out my stitches and had me start again with the other skein, and things went much more smoothly. But I hadn't counted loops correctly, so it became clearly pretty quickly I'd have to start again on that one too. But before we did, I insisted on documentation. Here's the proof:

And that's the night I officially became a "knit wit."

Granted, I didn't receive the book with that very title until Christmas '05, but I went a little nuts. I kept knitting that first scarf over the next day, and was delighted to discover that -- yes!-- plastic needles were permitted as a carry-on by the airline. By the time I landed home in Rochester, the scarf was about two-thirds done. I finished it within the week, thanks to the help of another friend, Sarah, whom readers met in Sunday's Freestyle feature. Sarah taught me how to "cast off" and given she had been the one who taught Celina how to knit shortly before Celina moved west, the knitting trend/craze/what-have-you had come full circle. In my exuberance, however, the scarf was extra-long, but that just made it perfect for my very tall friend Sonya. Come Christmas, I'd knitted more scarves as presents, giving them to one of my sisters, my tiny niece, and my mom. Over that winter, two more went to one co-worker and another friend, and a third intended for a birthday present for yet another friend started taking shape.

After interviewing others in my generation who've been bitten by the knitting/crochet bug, and hearing similar stories, it appears we've followed a similar pattern: youthful introduction, lapse into latency, re-introduction, newfound devotion, and ultimately, consistent creation, hopefully with a growing expertise. That's what it was like for East Rochester resident Kristine Colucci, who crochets because she says it's a better fit for someone who is "the least patient person most of my friends have ever met."

"I just need instant gratification," she told me, describing how she first learned from her grandmother back when Kristine was in 7th grade. Like me, like Sarah, Kristine let it slide until later. She picked up crochet again in college one day in junior year when she was "over-stressed," she says. (Speaking of stress, veteran knitter Noma Kent -- whom you also met in Sunday's article -- told me she finds it "soothing" to do something repetitious like knitting after a hectic day. She called it her "stress-meter" because she can tell she needs to relax more if her stitches start off too tight.)

Kristine must have been tracking that kind of vibe, because she said she went straight to the nearest craft store, bought yarn and crochet hooks, came back to her dorm at the University of Delaware and dug in. She'd picked up yarn in each of her friend's favorite colors and pretty soon, an "afghan of many colors" was growing longer and longer across her lap, she said.

Her two roommates and two more girls down the hall were quickly hooked on the new hobby (yes, she did intend the pun!) and she said the five of them would spread out their crochet projects when they plunked down in front of the TV each week to watch "their" show. (Interesting, isn't it, she couldn't remember which show, but she remembers everything else about their little crochet klatch? Something about working with one's hands always seems to spark good conversation.)

Kristine was 19 then. She's 35 now and said she's been crocheting ever since. She considers crochet a perfect pastime because "it's something I can do while my girls are playing or while I'm watching TV." She also told me it's an easy way to fill time waiting for the next ambulance call at the Greece base, where she volunteers.

She's even got a new crochet-partner-in-crime: her next-door neighbor Tracy. The two moms are planning to take a class later this year to advance beyond simple afghans, Kristine said.

Kudos to Kristine for being so consistent. I confess, I haven't been all that consistent myself recently, and my friend Sarah would tell you she's seen that in a lot of individuals she's introduced to the practical art. But there must still be hope, because she senses that even if newcomers don't stick with it, more members of this generation have an appreciation for handmade goods. For example, it's not entirely uncommon for someone Sarah's age to hire her to knit a sweater they want to wear themselves or one they want to give as a gift at a friend's baby shower. Beats Wal-Mart or Baby Gap, she figures. Plus, it tells her they desire "to support something made around here rather than China, Mexico or Sri Lanka," she told me.

I think she's got a point there. Who doesn't love "accessible" art, as she calls it? Maybe that's why so many of us don't mind being knit wits -- novice, veteran or every stripe in-between.

One thing's for sure: just writing about the craze motivates me once again to be more consistent about this particular creative craft. After all, there are some gorgeous wooden needles and yummy yarns in the corner of my room calling my name. Plus, my sister has begged me to knit a poncho for my niece -- she thinks they're adorable, we both know Sky will love it, and she's not about to drop $35 on one from a store when she's seen my stash. Given my schedule, it couldn't happen by Christmas, like I hoped, but a March birthday is do-able. Luckily, with the public posting here, I'm sure to be held accountable. :)

Here's to the Knit Wits!

Popcorn Poetry

Hmmm, it would seem I've gotten a bit lax in the finer arts rumored to be featured on this blog.

Well, here's the remedy for that: a bit of poetry, presented popcorn-style. (As in, a variety "popping up all over.") Feel free to feast on a bit of a fanciful buffet, thanks primarily to the random musings from my Random House Treasury of Light Verse. :)

"Hours of Sleep" -- Anonymous
Nature requires five; custom gives seven;
Laziness takes nine, and wickedness eleven.

"A 'Good Girl's' Prayer for Sleep" -- Rachel E. Dewey
If wicked I be for oversleeping, please let me become horrendously so.
For if short sleep doth leave me peeving, I've turned bad anyhow.

"News Item" -- Dorothy Parker
Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.
(Gee whiz, guess it's a good thing I ditched mine, then.)
"Dorothy Parker Update" -- Dorothy Dreher
Men often lose their senses over girls with contact lenses.
(Hang on, I'm starting to wonder if these dames didn't work for Bausch & Lomb or something.)
"Further Updates on an Unending Bulletin" -- Anonymous
I heard a woman mutter, "Glasses or no glasses, it neither hinders nor it hurts,
For men will make passes at anything in skirts."
(I am now convinced that even poetry has been corrupted by the advertising industry.)

Wait a minute, Sara Teasdale to the rescue!
"Wisdom" -- Sara Teasdale
When I have ceased to break my wings against the faultiness of things,
And learned that compromises wait behind each hardly-opened gate,
When I can look Life in the eyes, grown calm and very coldly wise,
Life will have given me the Truth, and taken in exchange -- my youth.
(There's a bit of reality to counter all that advertising!)

And now last, but not least-- a deep thought for the day:
Robert Frost's "Revelation"
We make ourselves a place apart, behind light words that tease and flout.
But oh, the agitated heart, should someone really find us out.
'Tis pity, if the case require (or so we say) that in the end,
We speak the literal to inspire the understanding of a friend.
But so with all, from babes that play at hide-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away must speak and tell us where they are.


If you want to take Frost's advice, you can now "speak" by posting open comments on this blog.
That's right, the "poetry of passionate discussion" I touted on these very pages in one of my earliest postings months ago can now become reality. Be forewarned, however: the right to revoke commenting privileges has been reserved, so please be on best behavior. Beyond that, let's hear what you have to say!

Lamentations On ... Being 'Grownup'

Is it just me, or does anyone else in the I-swear-I'm-too-young-for-this generation develop the occasional Peter Pan complex?

Monday night was a real bummer. And not just because the roads were bad. Well, that was part of it, or rather, part of what led into it. While it was fun tromping out in the ice-encrusted otherworld this place had become by Monday afternoon to do some on-scene reporting, the actual driving there and back put me behind on the schedule I was hoping to maintain.

Said schedule went something like this:
File storm story by 5:15 p.m.
Leave office by 5:17 p.m.
Arrive at local goodbye/good luck party at 5:30 p.m. Mingle, munch, wish well.
Depart party no later than 6:10 p.m.
Pick up friend by 6:20 p.m.
Drive at reasonable speed for the slick conditions to Henrietta cinema for "Iwo Jima" sneak peek. Arrive no later than 7:20 p.m. Pray hard seats truly had been "saved" by e-pen pal.
Enjoy flick from 7:30 p.m. - end. Meanwhile, pray hard freezing ice has not encased car beyond hope during that time.
Somewhere around 10ish? scrape off car and drive home. Carefully. Ensure friend and self make it back in one piece, safe and sound.

In reality, said schedule was shot to smithereens by about 5:31. However, I didn't fully grasp that concept until somewhere around 6, when I finally finished my work--realizing once again, I will never be able to write as quickly as I hope, no matter how "simple" details seem -- and could leave the office. By then, my friend had called to worry whether it was safe to drive, given all the nightmarish calamaties that could befall us coming or going. Naturally, the weather broadcasts provided zero help balancing fear of the unknown with facts. Therefore, as is wont to happen with females, fear won out. But just to be sure I wasn't about to make the wrong decision, I called the theater hoping they'd rescheduled due to weather. No such luck.

For two minutes I considered scrapping the party altogether, chancing the roads and driving up anyway. Just for the sheer determination of it. (I really wanted to see this movie. Plus it was free. Plus I'd be seeing it earlier than the rest of the general populace.) But then, the mental conversation started in my head. Y'all know how it goes:

You're asking for trouble to drive any further than 15 minutes away. If the roads are nothing but black ice, you could still miss the show anyway and then, what's the point? And driving alone in this weather would be really stupid. It's wiser not to. Better safe than dead. The party's still going, still time to catch the end of it. Plus, a ton of other folks ditched out, because they were scared of the roads so you can be one of the loyal few. Don't be selfish. Do the responsible thing here.

Of course, I caved. Hoped my e-pal would understand and not hold it against me. And of course, when my feet slipped on an icy sidewalk outside the party, it was duly noted as evidence to compliment myself for having done the right thing, the mature thing. But even inside my head, it was said with a sigh.

Ugh, somedays this whole grownup schtick just isn't much fun.

Revised schedule:
Before bed, pray hard Tim McGraw never rewrites the lyrics to "My Next Thirty Years."
Any more "grownup," and it would be devastating to all us dreamers.

Movies & Miscellany

I'm sure y'all were anxiously awaiting word about some more good movies, (I know I was!) and now the wait is over.

I caught "Blood Diamond" about a week ago. Or more accurately, it caught me. The last such provocative film of that nature I saw was "Hotel Rwanda." I'm quite curious whether holiday sales of engangement rings were off/down after that film came out, because I don't see how anybody could look at diamonds the same way again after that.
As ever, Djimon Hounsou is amazing. Nobody does righteous anger like that man. Nobody. On top of which, Leonardo DiCaprio is starting to put his personal copyright on the conflicted character. First he was fabulous in "The Departed." Now this. He'll have no problems luring me into a theater again.

My next guilty pleasure was "The Pursuit of Happyness." I heard the real-life story behind it talked up so much by my sister and one of our Christmas Day guests who had both seen Oprah's show on the subject, I wanted to rush out and see it right then, but that proved impossible. Nevertheless, it was worth the wait. Will Smith's son is quite the little scene-stealer and you're left marveling at little miracles like a $5 bill. It would be fine by me if this hard-luck-meets-hard-work story became required watching for at-risk teens everywhere. I heard it's based on a book, which I am now going to have to track down. Anyone out there know if "Fortune" or any other financial magazine did a "Where are they now?" story on father and son?

I'm hoping I might luck out and be able to catch a sneak peek of "Letters from Iwo Jima" next week, but we'll have to see how that pans out ... Stay tuned.

Oh, and in a plea to my few faithful readers, I have a fun movie-related assignment coming up and I need your help! If you have even the teensiest tidbit of news about a movie star's possible ties to the area, or know good sources that are a wealth of that kind of trivia, please, please, email me at the Messenger (rdewey@mpnewspapers.com) to fill me in. For example, most folks around here know that last year's Oscar winner, Phillip Seymour Hoffman ("Capote") grew up in Fairport, and that director Frank Capra stopped in Seneca Falls once or twice way back when for a haircut and may have used the town as inspiration for Bedford Falls in "It's a Wonderful Life." But not everyone knows Lauren Holly ("Sabrina," "What Women Want") was from Geneva, Bill Pullman ("Independence Day," "While You Were Sleeping," "Newsies") was from Hornell, or that Taye Diggs ("How Stella Got Her Groove Back") supposedly went to School of the Arts in Rochester. Those are the kinds of goodies I'm itching to report, but I'm looking for facts I can confirm such as which year so-and-so graduated high school locally from relatives, former neighbors, teachers, McDonalds co-workers, what-have-you. Thanks in advance for sending me great tips and leads!

In lake-related news, cute little roofs are going up on the newly-walled dock "huts" scattered here and there along the water at Canandaigua's Lagoon Park. Kudos to city parks and rec and the development planners that are clearly determined to hit that one out of the park. Gentlemen, I am quite impressed.

Is it just me, or is the weather weirding out on us here? Nonstop rain? In January? From what I hear, a number of fruit farmers are really worried the plants that are supposed to be dormant this time of year are going to "wake up" prematurely, just in time for a late frost, blizzard or something similar to kill them off. While it's certainly easier to commute than is typical this time of year, I love my sweet cherries and grapes and various and sundry berries of all sorts, and I'd prefer not to have to pay $10.79 a pound for them come summer.

On the athletic front, running is proving to be the easy part in prepping for a 5K this spring. Calculating the figures on the treadmill such that I'll have any kind of reasonable training goal in terms of pacing? Not so much. Math and I just don't jive. (Sigh.)

Well, at least I can take myself out to a good movie as reward.

The Resolution Time (er, lack of it!) Forgot

Right now, my brain is so foggy, I can't remember, but I believe I mistakenly left off one crucial
resolution for the New Year: to get more sleep!

We'll see how that fits in with all my ambitious plans for the rest of life. Of course, all of those have to fit around a schedule busy enough to tire out a chocolate-covered espresso bean (or several) given the numerous work, family, church, health and a handful of somewhat social committments I already have.

I suppose I should start on the sleep thing tomorrow. Oh, wait, it already is tomorrow. (Which, technically, makes "tomorrow" today.) Drat!
Oy vey! That's life in the ReD Zone, or at least how it is after midnight.

Designs on the New Year

Yes, to answer the question I'm sure a few of my loyal friends (at least the female ones) wanted to know, my New Year started with a kiss.

No, not the kind that would make both my real sisters screech: "What!?! You're blogging about it, and you didn't tell me first!"
My New Year started with an Italian kiss, as in the name vintners give when topping off a dollop of super-sweet ice wine with a splash of champagne. After reporting on ice wine yet again this past weekend, how could I not devote a few minutes to the dessert? It was delicious, and I could definitely see where they got the name! So that was one resolution down, and I hope, gets me off to a running start.

The challenge I received the morning of Dec. 31 was to live out the new year by design, not default, and the concept has really stuck with me. I suppose it helped that I heard it after reading a short essay on how the typical resolution to eat better, get more excercise and lose weight in time for swimsuit season generally moves from resolve to dissolve in the span of a few weeks, because people assume that motivation ought to precede their actions. But resolutions only produce results when it works the other way, the writer expounded: action first, then motivation will follow.

I know this personally to be true because I've lived it the past 8 months, and am proud that forcing myself to get up many a morning at what I used to consider an "ungodly hour," in order to get some vigorous excercise has really paid off (especially when combined with laying off the chips, fries and "regular" sodas, and "budgeting" for chocolate, cheesecake or ice cream.) I didn't have to make a resolution to exercise and lose weight this year because I already have. And now that I'm in a consistent routine (I start to feel antsy if I miss more than one day's workout), maintaining that is simply part of my regular schedule. Which means that, by design, I now have a more creative "health" resolution for 2007: to run a 5k (3.1 mile) race. My friend Sarah is already researching my race options.

That brings me to another element that sets successful resolutions apart from mere wishful thinking: accountability. A 5k race was Sarah's suggestion; she's run in a few (and a few longer ones). But a couple other folks also encouraged me to consider it, and between them, I am confident they won't let me brush it off. I expect to be thanking them by name the day I blog about running it. Oh yes, and I read or heard something somewhere that writing down goals so they can be reviewed later significantly increases the likelihood of reaching them. It was some mind-blowing number like only three percent of all people do that, but of those three percent, they report meeting something like 80-97 percent of those goals within in certain, do-able time frame later.

So now, without further ado, my seven resolutions for 2007:
(As befits the ReD Zone, they are in random order.)
1) Run a 5k, probably in Rochester.
2) Blog more by writing less but writing more often (I'm guessing I'll have a volunteer to hold me accountable on this one.)
3) Hang my photos, break out the stoneware and CDs and host friends in my new "home," (preferably more than just a few times) no matter where or what that place may be.
4) Find my signature raspberry wine or champagne. Go looking for said selection along the Seneca Wine Trail.
5) Embrace change by looking inward, upward, then outward, so that "the future" which is actually MY future, becomes less about fear, security or safety and more about potential and promise. Ensure that this includes time to rest and reflect and not just "ram around," as my mother would say. Apply to relationships of all sorts (personal, professional, spiritual). For example, intentionally choose to sacrifice time I could spend doing other things to stay in touch with "friends on the fringe." I'm sure my married sister would also insist one particular aspect of "embracing change" be defined as smiling at cute guys, or something akin to that.
6) Marry more of my writing with my passions, and find more ways to profit from it.
7) Celebrate everything about 7's! (I consider it my lucky number, especially given some of its spiritual implications, so to go from a few random days that end in 7's or are divisible by 7, to a whole year that has to do with the 7 is very cool.) Celebrations might include ice cream, ice wine, popcorn, movies, books, photographs, flowers, music and absolutely must include laughter.

Here's to a New Year by design, not default. Cheers!