I’ll Let The Darkness Curse Itself

I think I’m constantly on the look-out for beautiful and meaningful things.  I like gentle calm, softness and tenderness, things of purpose that are approachable.  Sure, every once in a while things need to be cracked soundly in half with tornado fury.  Kali, there we  go!  Things get broken, and new things are made from the pieces.  Look at Rome, after all!  I don’t really have a point to make here.

Once Ed wondered why the internet was seemingly being taken over by knitters, and that knitting, such an ancient art, has found a home on the web, such a brand new technology.  (I don’t know if Ed used the word “web”, I just didn’t want to use the word “internet” twice in the same sentence.)  Much in the same vein, it’s struck me that a little family that I’ve only heard of through the internet is so firmly stuck in my heart now as to be a nearly tangible bump under my skin.  That sounds like a harmful growth, and that’s not how I meant it.  If anyone else has ever read The Alleluia Files, you’ll know what I mean when I say it reminds me of The Kiss.  I cry for this family, I giggle at old posts.  I can feel some non-physical part of me pulling so hard for this man’s lovely wife that sometimes my breath catches in a little “oh”.  Reading through comments other people have left, I came upon this site and I was overwhelmed with I don’t know what.  But it overtook me, and at 5:03am this morning I cried again and lit a candle.

 

Ok.  So my scarf for the Knit Your Bit KAL is coming along nicely.  I need only to finish Dad’s sock #2, Mom’s Fuzzy Feet #2, Bananne’s hat, a square for Firefly’s project, and the  KYB scarf before I can begin knitting for myself the gorgeous scarf that graces the cover of Vogue Knitting’s holiday issue.  I truly believe that this scarf is what my alpaca from my Secret Pal wants to be.  Why else would it have steadfastly refused to be knitted into something else?  I can picture myself strolling through New York with JungleJim, wearing this scarf and trying so valiantly not to complain about being nearly frozen to death.  And speaking of my demise:

 Kathy: At age 58 you will die fighting the Global War on Terrorism in Mexico.

 And that’s reasonable. I’ve always said I’d move to Mexico if that wretched woman HRC were to be elected President.  This also makes me think of the Aztec calendar and the date it predicts as the end of the world.  I leave you with this so that you, too, may prepare yourself.