I may actually finish someone's birthday socks before their birthday this year.
But I have been a little bored and restless. All my usual activities like heaving around fabric in my sewing room scheme making is too heavy. I even think my iron is too heavy. Don't get excited, I have no intention of actually ironing anything, it just eliminates fusible interfacing. My sewing, not quite a week post op, isn't really in gear yet.
This is how bored I am:
- I have read the spam in my spam inbox
- I have done some alterations because they require only hand sewing in the La-z-boy.
How do post-modernists ever recover from surgery like this in glass and chrome apartments with those hard angular sofas that are about as comfortable as a flight of stairs? Losing your reproductive organs is a job for the La-z-boy. You can trust me on this.
My alterations have involved a gabardine coat's lining that was for some reason too long inside the sleeves and hung down around the centre back hem. Why I wonder, why? Why does those things happen sometimes when you measure it and it's all even?
One of the mysteries of life.
Which brings me to the meaning of life as nailed down by me late one night last week.
Basically it's two parts. And quite short.
I think it took Saint Augustine and Kierkegaard longer when they wrote about the same subject, but they weren't blogging or this behind in their sewing. And knitting.
I don't think there is much point in wondering, or worse worrying, about the existence of God and the state of your faith, or perhaps your inability to find it. I think we should take the emphasis off the faith we have and consider that maybe the faith is coming at us the other way around.
It's not if we have faith, it's that somewhere there is faith in us. I think we only get into trouble when we stop believing we are believed in. Life wants to go on.
My life has been full of amazing saves.
Of course terrible terrible things happen. Anyone who hasn't observed that only the good die young hasn't been paying much attention for instance.
My first husband's entire family on both sides was wiped out in the holocaust. The impact goes on for generations. But you know I looked a Miss Heidi this week rolling around on the floor, smiling and I thought this kid was just born happy. A smile is her default. If it doesn't come around in this round, it will eventually.
We do a lot in life. Work and ambition and mistakes and things we can't go back and undo and achievements. We spend our time doing so many things.
Well as I hung out in the hospital I thought about the things that mattered to me then. My daughter coming and bringing me trashy magazines (I had to google the Kadashians, now there's a bunch that needs some common sense), my friend from work who came my first night and made me laugh and laugh, my darling husband who made me lobster and brought it on a tray, I could go on and on.
It's the people. We are here for each other.
Those are my best times, that's what I came here for.
My dad said to me once that all that matters is what you do for each other. He was right.
Now that doesn't mean I don't think that we all work in soup kitchens every night, although I am sure the soup kitchens can use us, but it does mean that we have to make sure we don't isolate ourselves, and that can be such a habit.
We are just not meant to be alone or leave each other alone I don't think. We are supposed to stay connected in whatever way we can do it.
Maybe that's why living in a family feels whole to me, why I teach, why I blog even.
I just think it's what I, at least, am supposed to be doing.
Now back to knitting socks.