art therapy

On Friday in DC I spent several hours in the National Gallery. As I stood in front of the Cassatts and the Degas and the Monets, I couldn't stop the tears. Here's what I decided: I need to get out more. It has been far too long since I've stepped foot in an art museum. Alone was good (very good!) but next time I want to bring Liam. So next week the two of us have a date at the Art Institute. We'll take the train, have a picnic lunch and take a little tour of the Impressionists. I can hardly wait.


Before leaving for DC, I whipped up this cute little hat for a baby shower. I am proud of it on several levels. It was the first baby hat I knit in the round. The first pompom I've ever made. And the first time I started following a pattern then changed it and did my own thing. And it worked!

The pattern I adapted is Gnomey Hat from Hello Yarn. I skipped the ear flaps, skipped a few knit rows near the top (on accident) and added the pompom. I used Felting Natural Yarn from Bernat, and I loved how it was slightly uneven and chunky. Did I mention that I'm proud of this one?

p.s. Mark, I am knitting your hat. I promise. I really am.

what we're making

This sweet little head-warmer is for a new neighborhood addition, on his way from Korea. More than 20 neighbors showered soon-to-be new mom Jae this weekend and I contributed this hat. I made a mistake with the pattern and knit every row of the main part of the hat when I should have been alternating knit and purl. Oops. I didn't discover the mistake until I was more than halfway finished. Luckily, it turned out fine.


I borrowed this design from one of Liam's planet drawings. I love how it turned out. And it was so quick and satisfying to make. I think the onesie angle might be the ticket to a "Liam & mom shop" on Etsy. Stay tuned.


Over the last week, I have been finding these planes everywhere. Andrew has unleashed his secret talent for paper airplane design and we now have a whole squadron. The impressive part is that they really fly. Really well. Not just straight, but swooping and looping. I just love how you never know everything about a person. Even when you think you've been living with someone long enough to fully discover, there are always fun surprises.

knit, purl, pray

The diagnostic imaging waiting room is a scary place to sit. It's like the whole room is holding its breath, everyone hoping, praying that their unspoken dread won't materialize on screen.

Today I sat with my cousin and her husband as he went in for various scans to determine the extent of his already diagnosed cancer. A few weeks earlier, when oncologists and CT scans and carcinomas were completely out of the realm of conversation topics, I taught my cousin to knit. Although an insanely busy yet extremely capable working mom of three young high-energy girls, she thought it would be nice to have a productive yet mindless activity to do in her "downtime": sitting through one daughter's ballet class, waiting for her plane to board on a business trip, pausing for a stoplight.

Although I have taught probably 20 people to knit in my lifetime, I am not a particularly proficient or productive knitter. I have at least a dozen sets of needles, more than 50 random skeins of yarn and 10-20 half-knitted scarves, sweaters, hats and blankets abandoned and unraveling for one reason or another. I always think I like to knit but once I get into it, I get bored or frustrated or tired. The projects (i.e., scarves) I have finished have all been gifts (save one) and have all been fun to start and grueling to finish.

Part of what I did when I sat with my cousin today was to help her unravel some mistakes in her scarf and restart her knitting. As I sat in that scary waiting room, repairing her project and working some yarn of my own, knitting felt different. Each stitch reminded me of what praying a rosary must be like. Because when you're living in the utter chaos of not knowing, clinging to any scrap of hope you can find, every stitch, like every breath, becomes a prayer.

"Knitting seems like a good way to pray," I said to my cousin as we sat together, fumbling with our stiches, waiting.

"Yeah," she said thoughtfully. "It a lot easier to pray while you knit than it is to pray while you're reading a magazine."

Maybe this is what every diagnostic imaging room needs, not a bunch of People magazines, but a knitting teacher to ease the dread by helping waiters find a better way to pray. All I know is that I plan to keep my knitting out for a while. With all the praying there is to do, I expect to have one long scarf very soon.