Posts Tagged ‘crafts’

Playing With Fire

Well, I knew I was playing with fire, tempting the fates, or however you want to put it, by not having an on-the-go knitting project ready for use. I took my father to the emergency room at 1 am and spent the next five hours there as they got a handle on what was wrong. I had no knitting with me to relieve the anxiety. At 4 am I also became a quasi-patient when I had the most awful full-blown panic attack I’ve ever experienced. The medical staff was quick with ruling out all the big things it could be and finally coming around to a bad panic attack. My poor mother whose health is not that good, I dare say fragile, was left on her own for a bit while I was tended to. But this is what I get for not having a traveling knitting project to calm my nerves.

Dad was admitted to the hospital around 5 am. I was released and able to take my mother home. By then she had completely unraveled and it took me a bit to get her comfortable and feeling okay. Since her open heart surgery she does not like to be left alone. I understand that. But I needed to go home and sleep a bit and change clothing and be with Yarn Rascal who becomes untethered when I am not around. Both Yarn Rascal and I have separation anxiety when we are away from each other.

Today we should find out what is up with Dad. And no, I still haven’t been able to get yarn around needle to start a simple sock project to take with me.

This all came on the heels of the one last craft store in the area closing. It was where I got my paints and drawing supplies and came up with decorative little items to create for the house. No yarn stores, now no craft store—I don’t know what that says about the area I live in but somehow I feel it’s not good.

Making things with one’s hands nourishes the soul, exercises the imagination and strengthens the ability to dream. In difficult times it is relaxing and reassuring to have something at hand that you are making. Somewhere else to turn your attention and get it off repetitive worry. I worry about my mom and dad. I also worry about a society that turns its back on crafts and art.

Anyway, it is off to the hospital with mom to see dad and check in on what the doctor has diagnosed. Sans knitting to work on I must remember to just breathe.

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Yes, that is the signal that the Golden Paw Award was handed out this weekend and only one member of this family can win it and he did.
I now firmly believe that Yarn Rascal not only thinks, but has the capability to formulate and then carry out a plan.

Saturday was windy and warm. The outside temps were near 80 F / 27 C. All the windows were open. When the windows first open after being shut all winter, it is my task to nail down, tack down, pick up, sort and file, or remand to the dust bin all loose papers that accumulated over the winter in the craft room. Yarn Rascal’s second dearest love, next to pure Shetland yarn, is ripping to small, teeny shreds any piece of paper that lands on the floor no matter its importance or insignificance. Last winter was particularly heavy on sketching. Unlike most sane artists who have sketchbooks in which to keep their drawings, mine are on loose paper and may or may not find their way into a file folder depending on a number of criteria.

But Saturday I was clearly out of my mind. I didn’t realize I was out of my mind, I just thought I had an incredibly long agenda for the day and somehow it began by my running late. So when I pushed open the window in the craft room I failed to secure any of the paper that was around. In my mind I was already three steps ahead of where my body was. Mind and body separation is never a good thing for me. It’s precisely the slip up Yarn Rascal patiently waits for day in and day out. So my feet were in the craft room but my mind was in the basement planting the terrarium I decided to use, as one would a canary in a coal mine, to see whether I had it in me to snip and train plants to grow in miniature before I went into the big expense of bonsai.

Training and reining in of live things is not a strong point of mine. Yarn Rascal runs wild because I don’t want to impinge on his personality. The deer eat every thing in the outside gardens because they have a right to live too. That brings me to plants. The only plants I’ve ever trimmed and trained in my life are my roses and I only do that when they are looking like they are dead. Cutting a plant that is alive is somewhat painful for me.

Nevertheless, most of Saturday I spent in the basement with potting soil, mud, plants, rocks, and moss creating a natural landscape that looked like it was already years old in a large antique bowl I scavenged from a yard sale years ago. Yarn Rascal spent part of his Saturday in the craft room shredding paper like he was the head of the CIA and about to appear before a congressional committee. But when he stopped shredding, the little imp gained access to the yarn vault. That moment of entry was the pinnacle of his weekend because the minute he breached the doors there lay the Shetland Yarn. It’s the same snaggle of yarn Yarn Rascal has ruined played with before. I keep it intentionally unguarded in the yarn vault as a distraction for when he gains entry. For once he has the Shetland, all other search and seizure halts.

Thus it was with mud and moist potting soil covering my hands and arms up to the elbows and pieces of moss entwined in my hair that I heard the thump, thump, thump of an insanely happy puppy tail at the top of the stairs behind me. Lo and behold, Yarn Rascal’s face was like a child’s on the 4th of July watching fireworks. In short, he was besides himself with delight as he clenched the matted, snarled mess of yarn in his mouth. Dear sweet little Yarn Rascal didn’t realize he’d been set up. I quickly cleaned my arms, hands and hair and began the chase he so desperately loves. By the time we finished running, little one was exhausted. He dropped the yarn to drink some water whereupon I swiftly grabbed it up. But by then his little tongue was hanging down to his feet. He barely had the energy to stretch out on the floor by his dish to relax. I, on the other hand, still had a mess to clean up downstairs.

This is how the terrarium turned out.

After planting, I learned that one can get special miniature plants made specifically for terrariums that maintain their smallness. These are not those plants. (Sigh).

After planting, I learned that one can get special miniature plants made specifically for terrariums that maintain their smallness. These are not those plants. (Sigh).

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