Bouquet of needles

My grandfather got up from his seat at the table and left the room. I had no idea where he went: all I knew was that he was getting something for me. He returned and set a box in front of me that I had seen earlier that day. It was a long box with screwdrivers featured on the top of it. I had disregarded it earlier because it had tools on the cover.

I guess I never thought that there could have been anything else in there besides tools. My grandparents never did either. They had always thought there were tools of some kind in there and never bothered opening it. I lifted the lid, and my grandma smiled at the awe written on my face.

Inside this tool box were quite a collection of knitting needles. Big, small, wooden, plastic, metal… you name it. “I’m sorry we didn’t get these to you sooner,” my grandma said. “We always thought that the box was full of screwdrivers and never thought to open it.”

“Are these yours, Grandma?” I asked. She let my grandfather answer my question.

“They were my mom’s,” said Papa.

So there I was. Holding a box full of knitting needles that have seen more than I could ever imagine. They had aided my great-grandmother with her hobby, and had probably created a sweater or two for Papa when he was younger.

It’s neat how a hobby can bring people together. My love for writing brings Jordan, my mother and me together, and then there’s knitting. Knitting is the one hobby that my mom and grandma and I can relate to. And if Great-Grandma were still alive, I’m sure she’d be the one to give me tips and pointers in the big world of knitting. It’s cool to use her needles and think that at one point in time she was probably sitting in a rocking chair knitting while a younger version of my grandfather looked on. Right now I am using a pretty blue pair that are relatively wide, and I cannot help but wonder as to what she used them for. I guess I will never know.

On my vanity sits a green vase with a bouquet of colorful knitting needles spilling out of it. Mixed in this vase are the needles I bought myself, and the ones that my great-grandma bought way back when. I will never have to buy myself another pair of needles as long as I live.

Don’t “go with the flow”

These days I live in a world where people quote lines from movies constantly. Maybe I am bitter about this because I do not tell stories or quote movie lines very well, but it gets annoying when I ask a question and someone responds with a line from Stepbrothers or Juno or The Dark Knight. It’s as if there are no more original thoughts anymore… it’s like everyone has their own personal screenwriter. I guess people just piss me off in general.

Am I the only person in this world with confidence? When I first brought my knitting to school, everyone laughed at me – but was I discouraged? No. I kept bringing it to school despite what people thought or think. If you like something, don’t be afraid to express it. Liking something makes you who you are and what’s wrong with showing who you are? Watch me walk down the hallway in what people call my “hooker” boots and my adorable Tripp skirt. Sure, people will stare, but do you know what they are really thinking? I think that they are wishing they could do something like that; dress like that; be who they really are. I can tell when someone has their shield up…and it’s kind of disappointing. I am kind of sick of taking the initiative. There are too many people that just “go with the flow.”

I have a friend who has changed a lot in the past year. Sure, I have changed too, but I haven’t changed what I believe in or my sense of humor or anything. My friend (he has been a friend for years) recently discovered his love for God. He goes to this church that sucks people in (at least, I think they do) every Sunday, and for the extra teen things that they do. I think of it as a cult. Going to church (should church be capitalized? ‘Cause I really don’t think it should be) so often has changed him completely. It’s as if he thinks he needs to be righteous all the time and do the right thing. If we gossip around him he gets pissed off. Oh, but when he wishes to gossip, it’s okay. I really miss who he was before he became super religious. Before he started bugging me about going to church. I feel like he has a wall up, and it needs to come down. I wish to knock it down, but we fight everyday over stupid things, and I never get the chance. I am very opinionated, and he can’t seem to accept my opinion, so he gets all cheesed off when I say mine. When he says his, I consider it. I don’t really know about him anymore. He is a completely different person these days. I don’t know what happened.

Anyway, yeah, people piss me off. Most people are selfish and it drives me nuts. I may not seem like it, but I think about other things besides myself. I am concerned about world hunger (which is why I visit the Free Rice website often), the economy – I was even thinking about how I was complaining about having to wake up early to go to school this week. Then I thought about it and here’s what I came up with: here I am complaining about going to school to be with friends when there is some kid who has to wake up early to go to school and gets beat up everyday and comes home covered with bruises that his/her parents don’t even notice. Yeah, suddenly waking up early to go to a place where I have friends and am at no risk whatsoever of being beaten up (unless I piss someone off) doesn’t sound too bad.

I have scratched the two resolutions I wanted to tackle. I can’t just quit everything cold turkey – I will ease into breaking free from my habits. Right now I am trying to be extremely thoughtful. And people still piss me off.

SQUEE!!!

I am no longer mourning the loss of my lovely Pumpkin. He has passed on, I have moved on (shedding tears, yes) and tried to keep living life (which really wasn’t all the hard, I am sorry to report).

Every Christmas Eve we have our Family Christmas. We wake up, open the presents that we bought for one another (I had Jordan’s name this year – yes, we pick names), and then laze around utilizing whatever it is that we received. Well, this year it was all mixed up. I woke at thirty minutes after eleven, quickly added fringe to both Jordan’s and my daddy’s scarves, and then went downstairs. Everyone was up except for Adam. I decided to take a shower while I waited for his awakening.

After I got out of the shower, my parents were almost out the door by the time I made it into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. “Gotta go run to Wal-Mart!” they said. I didn’t think anything of it.

I settled down with my coffee (don’t worry, I always put more creamer into it than actual coffee – maybe I shouldn’t even be drinking it!) in the Family Room and readied myself for the endless marathon of Man Vs Wild that was stretching out before me into infinity. My parents took off, and I sat around watching Bear and letting him teach me survival techniques. Except for the time we switched the channel to TLC (and watched that crazy family with almost eighteen kids!) because we had seen the Man Vs Wild episode that was showing, our TV stayed on Discovery Channel until my parents got home.

They pulled in, we muted the TV and went into the other room to open presents. My dad was first (him being the oldest), and so I went and got my finished scarf for him and let him open it. After that, my mom told me to wait for Trevor, and I noticed something moving in a crate near the tree. I instantly teared up and was yelling at Trevor to get in the room QUICK. As soon as he got in, I rushed over to the crate (the one with the big red bow on it that I failed to notice when I grabbed the present for my dad – I don’t even know how that happened) and opened the little grey door. Out came this tiny little grey, tan, and white kitten. I burst into tears and couldn’t stop gushing over this cute little thing. “Hey, Em! You better get the toy out for her that’s in the crate too” came Jordan’s suggestion. I kneeled down and looked in the crate, ready to reach out and grab said toy. Instead, there was a pair of tiny little eyes staring back at me. “OH MY GOD!!! TWO?!?!?!?!” Yeah, I started crying – I was so happy that I got the one – well, two – things that I wanted.

Welcome to our family little Ruby and Eloise. Already we have started calling Ruby “Rube” and “Rubes,” and Eloise has now been dubbed “Elle,” “Ellie,” “Weeze,” and “Weezie.” I have taken many a photo of them with my camera, and have spent a lot of today watching them play in the bathroom (where they are staying for now). It’s going to be fun to watch them grow up!!!

Welcoming winter

After hearing Kim panicking over who could and could not attend her shindig, I made suggestions, called a couple of people, and then settled down with Gemma Doyle for a little while because I knew that the matter was out of my hands. Whatever happens will happen. So be it. I looked up from the realms in the book to glance at the clock, and I found that it was 6:16. Said shindig was due to begin at 7:00. Oh boy.

I deserted my heated blanket (which was set on the highest power it could go – 22), and warned my daddy that his assistance would soon be needed for a chauffeur to Kimmie’s house. I ran upstairs, grabbed my camera, rushed back downstairs, plugged it into the computer and made sure that the little green light was glowing, and then I scurried back up the stairs to throw some clothes on and leave my comfy PJs behind. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, decided against wearing my favorite old pair of jeans for fear that they would split if I bent over (they are pretty ancient), and finally settled on my favorite new skinny jeans. I pulled on a pink Tinkerbell tee shirt, shoved my latest knitting project into my bag, removed Pandora from her home (my iPod), and had almost made it out of my bedroom when I passed my boots on the way out. Hmm…I should probably wear those tonight…I’ll have to walk up her driveway and last time my feet got soaked in my Vans. And so, my boots joined the collection of items that I held in my arms to take downstairs.

I found socks (mismatched of course because I desperately need to wash all of my socks), pulled them on, zipped up my boots, grabbed my camera, and I was ready to go. Oh yeah, and I grabbed my earmuffs – those are important.

My daddy dropped me off at the end of Kim’s driveway, and I trudged my way up it – mentally patting myself on the back for thinking to wear my lovely boots.

Now, Kim called her little get-together a “movie night.” Usually whenever someone has a “movie night” we never end up watching a movie. That is exactly what happened. Tallon and Damen were obsessing over how hot Kim’s house was (almost eighty degrees, I believe), so, collectively we made the decision to take a walk.

As soon as we got outside someone (Tallon, I think) said, “hey! Let’s go sledding down the hill right here!”

Instantly inspired, Kim went into the garage and pulled out a toboggan. And so, the “movie night” turned into a “sledding night.” Now, this “sledding night” had a little twist to it. It just so happened that absolutely NOBODY was prepared for this. Damen didn’t even have a coat, and Taylor was the only one with gloves (though they were fingerless). After out first trip down, I was even more grateful that I decided to pull on my boots. Everybody else was wearing canvas shoes.

We went down and down and down and down again, nearly hitting various obstacles in the way. (For example: a tree or a fence.)

We retired to the summery weather indoors (thank you, woodstove!!!) and enjoyed some hot cocoa that helped us forget about our soaking wet pants and freezing bodies. “Hey, let’s do it again!”

“Hell yeah!”

So, again we made our journey out into the cold that stood still. The snow glimmered and was dented by out footprints and toboggan prints. After another joyful ride through the snow, Damen announced that his ankle was bleeding. We decided that we’d better go back inside before even more spilling of bodily fluids began.

We stayed inside again for awhile. We crammed many a chair around the round table that was not big enough for us (it was missing it’s leaf – because it’s winter and there are no more leaves outside so why should there be one in here?!?!? hehe) and drank more hot cocoa and talked. About twenty minutes to eleven o’clock, someone made the decision that we should do it one more time before leaving. So, again we sailed down the hill laughing all the way (ha ha ha!) nearly hitting said obstacles every time. Damen almost flipped over (his bleeding had ceased), Tallon bailed on us, and I accidentally kicked Tallon where the “sun don’t shine” with my hooker boots. Whoops.

My mom came to pick me after eleven, and the first thing she asked was “what movie did you guys watch?”

Does she not know the rule of “movie night?”

“Knitting up the wazoo”

I have been “knitting up the wazoo” a lot lately. Maybe it’s because Christmas is so close and my goal of creating twenty works of art in one month is coming to an end. Maybe it’s because I have… six things? to knit by the day before Christmas Eve. No pressure, Em.

I started knitting within the week after my birthday (over a month ago). Now I am the knitting expert, and can knit and purl without even looking at my work. I can cast on and cast off with my eyes closed and have come to own three pairs of needles within the past month. I went from one who always dreamed of knitting, to one who everyone comes to with their knitting problems and questions. My mom asks me for my help (she refreshed her memory of knitting when I learned how to), and I have been asked to cast on some yarn for a friend of mine, though she ended up frogging what I casted on. I have made about eight – or more…I’m not keeping track – regular scarves (all piled on my desk in my room), and now I am experimenting with the stockinette stitch, and making other things besides scarves. (Scarves are boring and take too long to make, even though I whip ‘em up like nothing.) All I need is to learn the knitting lingo and some new and interesting stitches, and I am on my way to scarves, hats (once I get longer needles), and even totes and bags and such.

My teachers are getting somewhat annoyed with my constant “click-swishing.” Yes, I even bring my knitting to school – where else am I to knit up things for my family without them finding out? Everyone laughed at me and asked “what the HECK are you doing?” the first day I brought the needles and such to school, but now it’s just the norm. “Oh, Emily’s knitting again – I wonder what she’s making now?!?!” Some people want me to teach them how to knit and others are telling me that they knew how a while back and just stopped. Well, a knitting club is to be started soon (assuming I can live to tell the tale after these past two hectic weeks of endless “click-swishing” come to an abrupt halt). One of my friends seems mesmerized whenever I pull out my needles and yarn… it’s rather creepy, actually.

I should probably be upstairs finishing the scarf I just started five hours ago (yes, I am nearly finished). After that, I must make a secret something for a friend, another secret something for another friend, and then I’ll start on another scarf. By Monday, I wish to be carrying with me the yarn I bought to make my dad a scarf. That is, of course, assuming I get all of my other tasks finished first.