Crying, Tinking

Tinking on the Porch

A few years ago, I went to upstate New York for a month-long writers’ conference. So many good things had converged to make it possible for me to attend the conference – a fellowship, time off from work, a small amount of discretionary cash in my bank account – that I felt that the universe was converging around me and that I was somehow Meant To Go. Hurrah for me! Etc.

As soon as I arrived, I was terrified and, confusingly, homesick. At 30 years old. I wanted to be at home, in my nice simple job with my nice boyfriend (now husband) and all the daily distractions from writing. I kept crying, as if I was 10 years old at sleep-away camp. I called a friend and she pointed out that, whatever was being kicked up by this time to myself, I’d probably just have to work through it. “But I keep crying!” I wailed, and she said, “Well, I guess you can just make a list of everywhere you’ve cried up there.”

I cried in the dining hall, in the snack bar, in my room, at the gelato place in town, over savory crepes near the dorm where I was staying, in my car, between workshops, late at night, early in the morning, around noontime, until I was finished. Somehow I’d calm down enough to go to classes and readings, so I wasn’t completely off the wall. And I felt a little braver about emotions after that: I’d cried all over that small town, and hadn’t been sent to a mental institution or broken into a million pieces.

I’ll probably have to start another list this year. For the second time in two days I have cried in public. Today it was watching “Mamma Mia” at the AMC Hoffman. What a cheeseball I am! How humiliating! Why couldn’t it have been at “The Visitor” like one friend recently? Or at home alone? On the other hand, there was lots of singing and dancing to cheer me up.

Well, anyway, the universe has subtle and not-so-subtle ways of keeping me right-sized.

I got home and found that I had made some errors while knitting in the movies, and that Andy had gone out on some Andy-Pampering-Weekend errand, and that I had left my keys in the house. Then the thunderstorm arrived. I sat on the porch and tinked several rows and cowered at the lightning. Andy got home and all was better (and drier).

CPH on Sunday

Work on the CPH continues: I have finished the armhole bind-offs and decreases, and I’m approaching the shoulder bind-offs. I am going to try the wrapped stitches and three-needle bind-off for the shoulders; I’m eager to see how it works out (and I really don’t want this sweater to be any bulkier than it has to be).

We are approaching a critical point for my yarn ADD: once the back is finished and I’ve started the front, I usually yearn for greener pastures. I am committed to finishing a sweater with this blighted yarn if it’s the last thing I do, but did consider frogging my CPH in honor of a Danielle Sweater (no rav lnk – weird) from the Yarn Girls’ Guide to Beyond the Basics (rav lnk).

So far, I have not succumbed. It’s a day at a time proposition. So far, today, I still choose to knit the CPH. We’ll see what tomorrow brings…