Mr. Cocky Pants and Lady Samson

A few weeks ago I measured my pal, Satish, for a new sweater I planned to make him for Christmas.  He's one of the biggest University of Michigan fans I know, so of course he was elated when I said I could knit a blue pullover with a gold "M" on the upper left side.  Surprised at how much he has grown in the last two years, I exclaimed, "Wow!  I'd better get to work on this pronto."

Days later I had a conversation with Satish's mom during which Nidhi said, "He's so excited about his sweater...he even asked if you could finish it by the end of October."

"I wonder why?" I replied.

Then, while driving Satish and Danta home from school, we got to talking about prospective Halloween costumes.

"I'm going to be an Avenger!" Danta exclaimed...after which he had to explain to me what that meant.  (Since I no longer teach preschool or first grade, it's hard to keep up with the latest superheroes.)

"How 'bout you, Satish?" I asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror.

He shrugged.

"Would you like to be a Michigan football coach?"

"I've considered it," Satish admitted. 

I knew he'd never ask me to do a rush job on his gift, so I volunteered.  "Well, your sweater's supposed to be for Christmas, but I could try and get it done in a couple of weeks.  Would you like that?"

He brightened.  "Yes!"

"Okay...how 'bout this..," I offered.  "The back is almost done.  I'll get to work on it this weekend and let you know by next Friday if I can finish it or not, so you'll have time to plan a back up costume."

"Deal."

"What else would you wear?" I asked.  "A whistle and a ball cap?"

"Yeah," Satish nodded.  "And cocky pants."

I giggled.  "You mean like the ones I have on?"

"No...they're more brown."

I knew he meant khaki pants, but I didn't correct him.

"Why that color?"

"Coach Harbaugh wears them," Satish explained.  "So now all of the coaches have started wearing them, too."

"Sounds like a plan."  I smiled. 

In the past few days, I've spent every spare moment working on Satish's sweater and am delighted to say I just finished sewing the blue and gold "M" on the front...a day ahead of deadline.  And I know that it's big enough for him to wear for at least two football seasons...maybe more.  Then he can pass it on to Danta.  

Well, maybe not.  

In typical fashion, Mr. Contrary requested that his  sweater be green and white a la Michigan State.  

In any event, I'll be giving my head and my hands a break for the weekend, so here's a repeat of last year's Halloween blog, "Lady Samson."

Hope you and yours have a safe and happy celebration!

Lady Samson

Originally published on October 31, 2014

Outside my window, in the midst of howling wind and a rainy/snowy mix, I can hear the shouts and laughter of children braving the weather to go trick-or-treating.  For the past three years I was with my pals, Satish and Danta, and their family, but this year it was not meant to be, so earlier today I passed out treats to little ones I know in my neighborhood.  Now I'm happily sequestered in my office until Halloween is officially over.

You see, it's not one of my favorite holidays.

Sure, when I was a kid, I loved dressing up, loved pretending to be someone who represented my unconscious alter-ego at the time.  If memory serves I was once a gypsy, a hillbilly, and a hobo.  The thirty-five millimeter film reveals my three-year-old self as a tiger, complete with a blackened nose, thanks to my mother's careful application of her mascara. 

But my favorite part of Halloween was when my mother would cut the top off of our pumpkin.  Then I would eagerly shove my hands into the gooey mess of seeds and pulp, pulling it out by stringy handfuls so I could horrify my sisters.  There are pictures of me stripped to my tidy whities gloriously grinning with my arms elbow-deep in the muck.  They still make me laugh with delight and a glorious awareness.

Then and now I've never minded being a terrific mess as long as I can clean up afterwards.  And that counts for more than what you can see on the outside.

This past year has been a bittersweet one as ghosts from past life experiences have snuck up behind me, spooking me with their relentless repetition.  Yes, I've had moments of indescribable peace, but they've been interspersed with days of debilitating grief.  It's been a year of loss and a messy one at that.  Not that I haven't experienced this kind of thing before.  Live long enough and you'll start to notice patterns that repeat themselves.

Still, in all this time I can see a slow evolution...a strengthening of my spirit as I allow myself to drift in a muddle of confusion, to cry and ask why and finally let go of needing to know all the answers.  I can feel my alter-ego becoming more conscious through each lesson and each opportunity to reframe it so that I can learn what I need to learn and move on.

In all this time, I've been growing my hair...and I don't think that's a coincidence.

Last spring I was teaching a yoga for kids class with a group of lively preschoolers.  All of them had shoulder-length hair or longer; a couple even had tendrils drifting halfway down their backs.  As we rolled up out of a ragdoll pose, Nina shook her head and gently pushed her hair off of her face.

"It feels really good to do this," she beamed, tilting her head so the blonde locks dusted her upper back. 

"Yeah," piped up Emmie as she mimicked her friend.  "It really does."

"Yeah," echoed Milly and Brianne as they tossed their heads from side to side.

Nina looked at me knowingly.  "And you know, Katie, it feels really good when I'm naked."

"I'll bet," I said, winking.  At the time, my hair barely dusted my neck, but I had to giggle at Nina's forthright discovery. 

Since then I've discovered that the longer my hair grows, the more I allow my feminine side to flourish.  I can now pull it back into a French braid or twist it into a clip.  In the morning I love to wake up knowing I don't have bed head and can run a brush through my locks with more than one styling option.  The silver stripe over my left temple looks bolder and I no longer feel the need to hide it.

Perhaps I'm like Samson...and as my hair grows, so does my inner strength.  For certain I know that my ability to handle waves of sadness has become more stable and enduring.  I'm able to recognize an emotion without repressing it or shoving it where it doesn't belong.  I can keep my own counsel and still know when to reach out for help and a shoulder to lean on.

A few weeks ago I dreamed of teaching some kids at our local art museum.  My little charges were painting landscapes at their easels, fat brushes bursting with color in their tiny hands.  I smiled as I meandered my way through the rows of preschoolers when I happened to look up and see a man from my past.  Raji stood at a distance with his own group of children.  I was startled at first as he was completely bald.  Where a thick mane of wavy dark hair used to adorn Raji's crown there was now a shiny pate. 

As I tucked my own long, dark hair behind my ears, he smiled at me, but said nothing.  I nodded and smiled back, then turned my attention once again to my children...as did he.

Waking up the next morning, I knew that Raji no longer had any power over me, but neither did he seemed to be weakened for having his hair taken away.  I suppose it was simply my unconscious self wanting me to wake up to the fact that I'm finally done with that chapter of my life.  That I no longer have to plow through my pain with vicious determination.  I can soften and creatively go with the flow while I paint a colorful new way of being...and still keep growing.

I plan to let my hair unwind as it will over the next year or so.  Perhaps by next Halloween I'll know what it feels like to have wavy tendrils dust my naked back, metaphoric or otherwise.  And perhaps I'll shift from embodying a feminine version of Samson as my alter-ego might want to try out Lady Godiva instead.

I'm certain the ride will be a fascinating one.  

Better than socks

          It's a gorgeous sunny day in Toledo, Ohio that's amplified by the mountain of white outside my office window.  We were hit with a major storm last Sunday that dumped over a foot of snow and left three foot drifts swirling around my house.  It was incredibly beautiful though.  While I watched it steadily fall outside the picture window in my living room, I curled up beneath a polar fleece blanket while soft music played in the background.  As snowflakes swirled in air and kids in the neighborhood threw snowballs at each other, my hands were busy winding yarn into neat balls of wool that I will soon be making into a hooded scarf.

          In my little world on a snowy day, there's nothing better than knitting.  And let me tell you, it's a relief to be able to pick up my needles again in the midst of a long winter.  As you might remember, I took a long hiatus last summer when my hands simply wouldn't cooperate.  (Read "Why I quit knitting...for now" here.)  What I thought would be a week or so away from my knitting projects ended up lasting over four months...the longest I've ever been apart from my wool and cotton blends. 

          Yes, I eventually found other ways to occupy my spare time - not that there's been all that much of it since September.  I spent long hours reading, watching documentaries, researching, and preparing for yoga classes and workshops.  But when the holidays rolled around, I realized how disheartened I was that there were no handmade gifts to give to my friends.  Usually a plethora of hand-warmers or gaiters or toys have flown off my needles and into the hands of my loved ones...but not this year.  

          What a gift to take the time during the winter break and pick up my needles once again...this time to make some socks for my friend and editor extraordinaire, Joyce.  While shopping at a craft store, a couple skeins of purple sock yarn serendipitously found their way into my hands.  Later that night, while Christmas carols played in the background, I eagerly got to work.  Mind you, I hadn't made a sock in over a year.  Still, I found it was just like riding a bike.  Since a yoga student had taught me how to make them ten years ago, I've created more than fifty pairs.  That's a lot of practice, so of course the pattern easily pulled itself from my memory banks as I cast on sixty-four stitches.  Several hours later, I was thrilled to turn the heel and carefully pick up stitches to make the gusset, all the while reveling in how easy it was to pick up where I had left off so long ago.  

          Five days later, the socks were finished, ready to meet their new owner.  As I tried them on to see if they matched, I remembered something a friend asked all those years ago when I was struggling to learn how to make the gusset:  "Why in the world would you spend all that money and take the time to make a pair of socks when you can just buy them at the store for a fraction of the price?"  She obviously didn't know the warmth and comfort of a hand-made wool and alpaca blend.  For from my very first pair, I was hooked.

          And so are a bunch of folks I have gifted in the years since then.

          I have a fond memory of hanging out in the lodge at Esalen, winding up some sock yarn while my friend, Craig, sat dutifully holding the skein of 100% wool across his hands so it wouldn't get tangled.  He had carefully chosen the colors himself and I promised that upon my return to Toledo later than month, I'd dedicate myself to knitting him the best pair of socks he's ever owned...and as there was a little yarn leftover, I made a pair of baby booties he could pass on to a friend who had a little one at home.

          During a phone call later that year, Craig told me, "I think of those socks as a work of art...and I wear them all the time."  That's one of the best compliments I've ever received...and one I always remember when casting on a new pair.  

          My friend and accountant, Lynda, does my taxes every year and I've knitted her a pair of socks in a variety of colors to thank her.  Satish and Danta were given some holiday socks years ago, although I imagine they've long outgrown their snowman and Santa's elf footwear.  I've lost count of how many socks I've made for others and am always delighted when cold weather arrives because inevitably I receive a phone call or an email thanking me for the wonderful gift of warm and comfortable feet in the midst of a wicked Midwestern winter.

          Just yesterday my veterinarian called to thank me for the pair I had made for him shortly after his stroke six years ago.  "They still keep my feet warm and I had to thank you again for making them for me!"  Later in the evening Joyce emailed to thank me for her purple socks and to let me know they're keeping her comfortable as the temperature plunged after a clipper system made its way through Toledo, dropping another three inches in the process.  I smiled to myself as I looked at my own feet, donned in a pair of cheerful green-striped woolies, a pair I had made years ago.  I still remember how excited I was that, even though the stripes were a bit complicated, I could get them to perfectly match. 

          "What does that matter?" a knitting student asked a few years ago.  "Your feet are never together to know the difference."

          "I'm a yoga teacher," I smiled.  "When I stand in mountain pose, my feet are right next to each other.  I like the structure of matching socks...it makes me feel more balanced."

          We both laughed out loud and I commented, "As you can see, I'm easily amused."

          And truly...I am.

          It doesn't take much to make me feel at peace these days.  I delight in a nourishing bowl of homemade soup.  A warm bath.  A contented cat sitting on my lap.  A sunny afternoon that lights up my whole house.  A long day of silence which feeds my spirit and opens up a place inside that knows how to be content with the simple things in life.

          Of all the things I can knit, footwear is my absolute favorite.  But what's better than the socks themselves is the joy in making something that is a gift beyond warmth and comfort.  With every stitch, I weave in whatever is happening in the present moment.  The music in the background.  The soft snowflakes falling down and settling on the earth.  The warm mug of peppermint cocoa.  The delicious scent of a lavender candle.  The silly cat playing with the ball of yarn as it unwinds.  So even though they may not know it, when my friends slip into their new socks, they're gifted with the sights, sounds, scents, tastes, and textures of the environment in which they were created.  But maybe they are aware of all of those things..and that's why years later, my friends call or write to thank me for the gift that came from my heart and keeps on giving.  

          Perhaps that's what "made with love" is all about.

For all the experienced knitters out there, here's a simple sock pattern I created...

Socks on Two Circular Needles

Materials:  2 size 2 or 3 circular needles (I prefer the 24 inch length)

                    2 skeins of Kroy Patons sock yarn, 50 grams each

                    2 markers, scissors, safety pin, and tapestry needle

 

To Begin

• Cast on 60 stitches on size 2 or 3 needles. 
• Divide the stitches evenly between the two circular needles. 
• Knit in K2 P2 for about one inch (or desired length), then in stockinette stitch until total desired length to begin heel (6 to 7 inches). 

Heel Flap

*Working back and forth on one needle with only 30 stitches. 

Row 1:  slip 1 stitch as if to purl, then K1, slip1, to the end of the row

               ending with k1

Row 2:  slip 1 as if to purl, purl across row to last stitch, knit last 

                stitch          

*Repeat these two rows for a total of 30 rows.   Keep track by using a

                  row counter or by tallying

Heel (When slipping stitches, follow knit or purl in row)

Row 1:  K17, K2 tog, K1, then turn

Row 2:  slip 1, P5, ssp (slip 2 sts.  then purl together), P1, then turn

Row 3:  slip 1, K6, K2 tog., K1, then turn

Row 4:  slip 1, p7, ssp, p1, then turn

Row 5:  slip 1, K8, K2 tog., K1, then turn

Row 6:  slip 1, p9, ssp, p1, then turn

Row 7:  slip 1, K10, K2 tog., K1, then turn

Row 8:  slip 1, p11, ssp, p1, then turn

Row 9:  slip 1, K12, K2 tog., K1, then turn

Row 10:  slip 1, p13, ssp, p1, then turn

Row 11:  slip 1, K14, K2 tog., K1, then turn

Row 12:  slip 1, p15, ssp, p1, then turn

Row 13:  knit 18 stitches

Starting the Gusset

• Continuing on with the same needle, with a crochet hook, pick up and  knit 15 stitches in the loops along the heel edge. 
• In the corner between the heel and next needle (instep), pick up one stitch. 
• Place a marker here.
• Then continue on with the busy needle (the one with the yarn) and knit across half of the instep stitches (15 stitches).   Now drop this needle and slide the stitches to the middle. 
• Go to the other end of this needle and slip 9 stitches to the end of the non-working needle (the back end).  There should now be 40 stitches on this needle. 
• Begin with the other needle.  Knit across the remaining instep stitches (15 stitches).
• Place a marker here.
• With a crochet hook, pick up and knit one stitch in the instep, then pick up 15 more stitches from heel edge and knit them.
• Knit the 9 heel stitches.  You should now have 40 stitches on this needle as well. 

Gusset

*Knit the initial round like this:  K9, K14 through the back loops, K2 together (marker is here), K 15; go to next needle and K15 (marker is here), ssk, K14 through the back loops, K9.  This is one round.  Place a safety pin in the heel to mark the beginning of the rounds.

• Round One:  K21, K2 together, K1 (marker is here), K15; on the next needle, K15 (marker is here) K1, ssk (slip 2 stitches then knit together), K21

• Round Two and all even rows:  Knit the round

• Round Three:  K20, K2 together, K1 (marker is here), K15: on the next needle, K15 (marker is here) K1, ssk, K20

Continue decreasing on odd numbered rounds, knitting one fewer stitch before the K2 together and after the ssk

Foot

When you have 30 stitches on each needle, knit all the rounds until you are two inches less than the length of your foot.  I usually knit until the sock length is to the middle of the big toe.

Toe

Round one on each needle:  K12, K2 together, K2, ssk, K12

Round two and all even rows:  Knit the round

Round three on each needle:  K11, K2 together, K2, ssk, K11

Round five and all odd number rows:  Knit one stitch fewer than before and after the decreases.  When you have 10 stitches on each needle, knit one more round. 

Then, knit 5 stitches and shift remaining 5 stitches to the other end of the needle.  Now you are knitting flat as you were at the beginning of making the sock. 

Note:  When you shift, there will be 10 stitches on each needle.  To prevent “donkey ears,” slip the end stitch closest the end of the needle over the stitch next to it.  Do this 4 times, on the end of each needle.

Kitchener Stitch

This stitch is used to weave the two seams together so there is a continuous row of stitches.

The two needles are held side by side in the left hand and the working yarn is broken, leaving a tail three times the length of the seam.  Thread the tail onto a tapestry needle, held in the right hand. 

Draw the threaded needle through the first stitch on the front needle as if to purl but leave the stitch on the needle.  Then draw the threaded needle through the first stitch in the back needle as if to knit, but leave this stitch on the needle also.  Do not pull the yarn too tight.

Work the seam as follows:

1. Bring the working yarn through the first stitch on the front needle as if to knit, then slide the stitch off the needle

2. Bring the yarn through the second stitch on the front of needle, but leave this stitch on the needle

3. Bring the yarn through the first stitch on the back needle as if to purl and slide it off the needle

4.  Bring the yarn through the second stitch on the back needle as if to knit, but leave this stitch on the needle

**Repeat these four steps until all the stitches are woven, and then weave the tail into the toe to finish.