I hardly know. The three-day weekend has been chaotic: crazy wind/snow storm, kids fending off boredom, people working on the roof at the construction site, a Brownie Leader/Co-leader meeting, birthday parties up a mountain. Now, I have to find tips on teaching a Brownie troop how to knit ~ just knit. Nothing fancy. I doubt they’ll be leaving with the ability to do Aran knitting. We’ll be lucky if we get identifiable geometric shapes.
The only car we have between us is now sporting a shattered rear window due to the afore-mentioned storm. A tree limb crashed down onto it. That’s about all I care to mention about it. I’m up to my knees in disgust over the situation.
What does one do when confronted with so much . . . nonsense?
Knit. Or at least try to.
And then there’s the festering guilt of not painting. It isn’t necessarily an artist’s block. I’ve got plenty of ideas. It’s sort of a studio block. In this tiny humble abode that we’re renting, there’s no room to just leave works in progress out. On some pieces, I need to live with them while I’m working on them (which would explain why all the yarn and needles as well as wheel and spindles are lying about). We need to have a rapport. We need to have conversations. We need to figure out what direction we’re going and what impact we’d like to have on the unsuspecting viewer. The Work In Progress and I develop a relationship over time until we decide we’re done, when another brush stroke, another addition would mar the Finished Piece. That means having it out and seeing it everyday. My kitchen is also my studio. I’ve propped things up on the counter and the working kitchen table so that we could talk over a cup of tea or while I’m making dinner. The hazards are great between flying food and the antics of cats, so it’s risky business having work lying about. If I don’t want tomato sauce and paw prints incorporated with a watercolor in progress, it’s best to stow it away until I can work on it. Then it’s out of sight out of mind . . . that doesn’t get a painting done. Made all the worse when one has made personal deadlines and commitments. The Guilt bubbles to the surface.
The fiber arts are easier. The basket is filled with yarn and a Work in Progress by the hearth. The spinning wheel has a spool of something going on and is sitting in my living room waiting for that night-time-TV-watching hour to spin. Spinning and knitting are less cerebral. Painting requires solitude and a meditative environment. Spinning and knitting are multi-tasking and social, as shown by the resurgence of fiber klatches, groups and guilds around the world. Knitting begs for a party with brie, if you please. Spinning and knitting might be perfect for AD/HD because one can handle a few projects at once. At present I have the Fair Isle bag, the moebius scarf (yes, still) and the spinning wheel with some mohair/wool blend going on it. And I’m thinking of breaking out the Turkish to spindle up some of the Welsh top I bought after seeing the otolaryngologist (thought I’d never use that word in a sentence again ~ I can’t wait for a good Scrabble game). It’s busy work I can enjoy to get me through to bed time with some sense of peace and sanity.
Painting is simply a whole other ball game. I haven’t been stepping up to the plate . . .
Well, as Scarlett O’hara said, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”