How To Tell if You Are a Knitter

Last night we had a pretty formidable ice storm. After surveying the wonderland from the safety of my bedroom window, I leapt into action and dressed for the day. I settled on my favorite destroyed jeans, a t-shirt, and a Pendleton wool shirt that makes me feel like Johnny Cash. Here I am, ready for a day of pattern-writing:

Notice anything unusual about my Johnny Cash wool shirt?

How about now:

Yep. Those are stitch markers. I hooked them through the buttonhole on my shirt last time I had it on (who remembers?) to avoid losing them.

And then forgot all about them until today.

Knitting has become part of my body. An integral part of my everyday goings on. To the degree that I (and those around me) don't even notice. Three people and a dog saw me this morning before the first photo, and not one commented on the stitch markers. Okay, I'm letting the dog off because he might have tried to tell me.

And this is by no means new. I once had a hair stylist nimbly remove a cable needle from behind my ear. I'm forever stabbing myself on errant DPNs in the depths of my handbag. And don't get me started on the stitch markers. They are found in every conceivable crevice.

Yep, Knitting, I belong to you. Whether you want me or not, I'm yours. I've been assimilated. I hope it works out the way we both want.


Last August, I missed the boat by failing to prepare the Christmas Pudding. Again. See, I was informed by my Christmas Pudding Teacher that to do it properly, you really need to have the thing put together and resting comfortably in the deep freeze by the end of summer, or there's no point bothering. I use this wisdom as an excuse, annually, to neglect making the Christmas Pudding. To those of you who are better-organized, Shut it. No one likes a braggart.

However, since the pudding mold was lying fallow (again), today I seized the opportunity to press it into a different kind of service:

This year, I made it into an Advent wreath. By adding a couple of pounds of dry beans, four candles, and some filched greenery, I have redeemed myself in time for Christmas.

Today is the first Sunday in Advent, and I'm reminding you in time to do the same. Any four candles will do, and stealing evergreen fronds in the name of Jesus is its own kind of religious observance; try it and see if you don't agree.

Light the first candle tonight, and read a few lines of scripture. Here's a place to start if you need help: Advent Devotions

If you're feeling wiped out after the hubbub of Thanksgiving, or twitching under the pressure of all those shopping incentives, try a little reflection on the reason for the season. It always renews my feelings of hope. 

God Bless us, Every One.


For the Good of the Order, I offer today a definitive answer. Isn't that reassuring? Unfortunately it's not about knitting, for definitive answers are thin on the ground in the realm of string. But this is almost as good.

As I bet many of you have, Gentle Readers, I have more than once struggled with a particular First World Problem: How do we match a lampshade to a base? Use The Force? Trust the manufacturers? Call an expert? White-knuckle and hope? 

No, my friends. At last, I have learned that there is an actual formula! Thanks, Maths! It is with profound relief that I present:

The Answer:

Thank you, Ballard Designs

Thank you, Ballard Designs

If you click on the above, you will be taken to the font of lampshade-selection-wisdom. Now all you have to do is remember that you found the answer on somebody's knitting blog once. Good luck with that.

You're Welcome. May we all sleep more soundly now.