I know that happy, perky, little bitch is hiding somewhere around here, but I just can’t seem to find her. Over the years I’ve learned that nobody wants to hear about problems or listen to people complain. One very close friend even requested that I stop contacting her because my conversations depressed her. That particular request was crushing, not only because she was someone very dear to me, but also because I spent hours listening about her own trials. The truth is, life gets overwhelming for everyone at times. Some people turn to God, some people shop, others use drugs or alcohol to help them cope. I used to clean, but that seems defeatist in a house full of teenagers because hours of hard work can be undone in several minutes, which makes a bleak outlook even more gloomy. The key to any successful therapy is gaining a sense of power or control over situations. Immersion in hobbies of a fibery nature is my preferred therapy now. The caveat with fiber therapy is that projects don’t always work out as planned. I’ve spent many an hour creating a whole lot of ugly. Even so, wasting my time creating fugly knitting is much preferrable to pointless cleaning. It’s true that clutter makes me anxious, and therefore, knitting doesn’t alleviate that particular source of anxiety, but, if the knitting is hideous enough to be funny, then I can get a good laugh before frogging it back to oblivion, and in my experience, frogged projects remain yarn. They’re in a final, constant state of being… unlike a vacuumed room.
If you’re still here, then don’t worry, I shan’t air my complaints. Instead, I’ll focus on a few, small triumphs from the past few days. First, here is a wee little hat made with left-over sock yarn.
Second, after many failed attempts to create gluten-free cookies that weren’t tongue-scraping awful, I finally made the perfect peanut butter cookies yesterday!
They contained a combination of oat and rice flours, butter, eggs, salt, vanilla, baking soda and peanut butter. They tasted and felt like real cookies. That last point is crucial, because many G.F. products are pasty and gritty. Sadly, I didn’t record the amounts of each ingredient used.
Good thing the third, I discovered that the bobbins on my new wheel can hold an amazing amount of yarn. This is 3.5 ounces of 100% alpaca, spun into a loosely plied worsted weight yarn that will be knitted into a hat.
My dad’s birthday is next week, and it’s become sort of an unwritten rule that I give him a new hat each year to mark the occasion. He’s a real trooper, accepting each head-piece graciously. He seldom has need of hats, but I don’t know what else to get him. It’s my belief, and my mother’s too, that he is the most difficult person on the planet to shop for. Hopefully we can find some really good pickled herring and I’ll bake him some pulla to go with his newest cap.
In the meantime, I do need to clean a few things around the house. It’s doubtful that I’ll uncover Pollyanna in Mt. Laundry, but we’re running out of clean clothes. Also, I dread the thought that someone might stop by and recommend we be featured on Hoarders. I’m beginning to think that Pollyanna beguiled Sven into running off with her. She has fat ankles.