My Drawers Are Showing

I never make New Years Resolutions. I feel like they are negative in two ways: First, the act of making them implies there is something deeply wrong with the way we've been doing things, and Second, they set us up to fail when we can't manage to change ourselves at some cellular level. No, thank you. I'd rather believe that I'm taking stock of my choices more often than once a year, and then set lofty goals at least that many times, too.

If your dreams don't scare you, they aren't big enough.                                                           - Ellen Johnson Sirleaf

But this year, I accidentally made a kind of resolution, in that I issued myself a challenge, which happened on our about January 1.

It all started with The Bins.  The Rockstars (not) who built my kitchen failed to add any cabinets to an entire wall.  Which means that not only is there no work surface over there, there is no place to store any of the crap that goes in a kitchen. Like food. And storage bags. And just, well, kitcheny stuff.  So nine years ago, when we moved in, I hacked a "temporary" solution:

Shelves from Target, a repurposed toy box, and a gazillion wooden bins from the clearance aisle (which were pink and purple when I bought them...gag).  It works marginally well, as long as I don't try to re-label any bins from what they used to be, because it turns out my family can't read chalk.  The main problem is that open shelves and bins are, um, open. And lots of nasty airborne gunk from the kitchen lands in them every day. Long story short: There I was on Boxing Day, T minus 3 hours from the big party, de-gunking the inside of every single bin. You know how parties always end up in the kitchen? I just couldn't risk having a party guest see the bottoms of my bins. Spaz much? Epic.

So big and disgusting and time-consuming was the de-barfifying of The Bins that it got my wheels turning. See, every nook and cranny of my house (and I bet yours, too) has a box, basket, shelf or drawer in it. And every one of those probably requires attention.

Ewww.

But rather than allow myself another hysterical dirt-purge, I decided to issue myself a challenge, instead.

I'm going to see if I can clean out a drawer, basket, shelf, or other nook every single day of 2015. So far, it's really easy - there are so many to choose from! Want to join me? Here are the rules:

1.    Pick a drawer, any drawer. No obsessing about where, when or how; no master-planning or list-making, or project management. Just grab some container and give it hell. Could be a pencil cup or the whole coat closet - match the job to your level of enthusiasm.

2.    Set a timer for 15 minutes. Otherwise you'll (I'll) obsess over every ball of lint you (I) discover. The idea is to work fast and be ruthless. When the timer goes off, set it for 15 more minutes and knit. Repeat alternating between working and playing until the container is purged. So far, I haven't purged anything that took longer than 2 repeats.

3.    Take everything out of the container and dust/dump/vacuum it out. Then make three piles: Throw Away, Give Away, Keep. You know how this works. Just grit your teeth and remind yourself you can do anything for 15 minutes. And when you're done, you get to knit.

4.    Put back everything you're keeping, in some sort of rough order (again, no obsessing). Throw out the actual garbage, and put the giveaways into a box destined for charity, as soon as it is full.

5.    Only one project per day! It feels so great to free myself of stuff that's been dragging me down that I find it really hard not to take on more than I should. But the point is not to spend any more time and energy than is necessary each day, so I'm only doing one at a time.

Here's the drawer I picked today. Middle one in my bathroom. Can't see/find/remember anything in there. It won't open all the way in this photo because there is a logjam at the back. What I learned:

1.    I can declare amnesty for myself and release the following into the void: Bad cosmetic purchases, things other people gave me, and broken things I haven't fixed yet.

2.    I may have a hand lotion problem. No fewer than 17 different products were found in this drawer, many of which I know do not actually work.

3.    Hair accessories are not eternal. It's okay to free myself of the "Bump-It", the sparkly barrettes Lindsay loved when she was three, and the ponytail elastics that have lost their snap.

While there's still a lot here, I can now see the bottom of the drawer, and I have pertinent information about this drawer, going forward; i.e., No, you don't need any more hand lotion.

And here is what I tossed.  Fully 1/3 of the drawer's former contents. Things which were actually keeping it from closing properly on the first try. Stuff that made me sad because it reminded me of mistakes or excesses. Ballast my ship does not need. 

Is it possible that 1/3 of my whole house needs to be jettisoned? Maybe so. I'll let you know. 

Join me! Let's show off our drawers! And of course, tell me how it goes in the comments!

I Wish You a Mary Christmas

My Dear Gentle Readers,

Thank you so much for sharing another year with me. As we say farewell to 2014, my wish for you you is that you receive the same blessings I have:

That you get to do work you love, and which gives joy to others.

The unwavering support of your family and friends.

The courage to dream big dreams.

An occasional reminder that you aren't perfect; because you don't need to be.

All the yarn you need, and the time to enjoy playing with it.

I am so grateful for you, my knitting friends.  Mary Christmas!

Here; Let Me Help

Gentle Readers, 

Today's post is an open letter to everyone who loves a knitter, whether you are also a knitter or not.

At this time of year, I'm often asked (on the sly, and with some hesitation) by the spouses and families of knitters, what sort of something would make a good present. There certainly is no shortage of great, knitterly things out there, but knowing the magical hearts desire of your very own knitter can be a challenge.

So, for those of you who love a knitter (or maybe a whole flock of them), here are a few special things I know I could never do without, and I think every knitter deserves:

We knitters think this should be obvious, but it might not be, if you don't knit.  Our craft takes a long time to create. That's one of the many things we love about it: this one thing in our lives doesn't require us to hurry. And we love doing it so much that we feel sorry for ourselves when we don't get to. You can tell this is happening when we start to act snappish and twitchy: You might think we forgot to take our medicine, and you are right. But the medicine we need is a chance to just sit still and knit. If you love a knitter, the best gift you can give them is time to play with string. Promise to do the dishes/laundry/goat-milking at some regular interval that will provide meaningful, reliable knitting time for the one you love. Then really follow through: when it's time for the chore you've chosen, be there to do it with a smile on your face, reminding your knitter that you meant every word of your promise.

Where does your knitter like to knit? If you're not sure, look around the cozy spots in your house (fireplace, TV, bathtub) for stray needles. See if a chair is nearby, and look for other traces of knitting activity: open knitting books, stray charts, stitch markers, empty coffee cups. If these elements are present, you've probably located the knitting lair. Now take an objective look, and ask yourself, could anything be done to improve this area for your knitter? Is the view of the TV unobstructed? Is there a table nearby to rest that pattern on? How is the light - might a bright new floor lamp make things nicer? You don't have to build an art studio for your knitter (though if you want to, that would be really nice). Vacuum the seat cushions (check for spare needles first!), fluff the pillows, dust the tabletop and add a little vase of flowers. Then put on some music your knitter loves, maybe light a candle, and then GO AWAY. Great Present. Don't wait for Christmas to try this one.

Now this one is hard to get your head around, if you don't knit, but trust me: it's really crucial to your knitter's well-being. Knitters need Other Knitters.  Your knitter needs to attend events where new friends can be made, knitted projects shown off, and general communing with string happens. No matter how much your knitter loves spending time with you, unless you can wax poetic on the virtues of the short-row sock heel, your knitter still needs other people who speak the language. CLICK HERE for a listing of many, many wonderful knitting events that your knitter would love to attend, then arrange to send them. It's a big deal, I know, which is why your knitter might be inclined not to do it for themselves. You'll be thanked in ways you cannot imagine, if you encourage and support your knitter's interaction with their community. And you'll be spared from learning more about sock heels than you need to. Win. Win.

Indian Lake Artisan Needles: Yes, please.

This might have been what you thought of first, when considering the possibilities for knitting gifts. Good Job: You're Right! The hard part for non-knitters can be understanding what these things even are, never mind how many and what sizes are on the wish list. If you want to get it right, you have two choices:

1. Secretly ask one of your knitter's cronies what their dream tools are or

2. Stealthily ask your knitter what things are and what they do, *and this is important* don't wait until holiday shopping time. In order to really knock your knitter's handmade socks off, you'll have to show a little interest when they aren't expecting it.

If neither of those options will work this time, don't worry.  Take a stack of bills, and stuff them into an envelope labeled "For Knitting". Your knitter will take it from there, and you will have triumphed.

Everywhere I take my knitting collection, I'm asked where I got my fabulous labels. Which always causes me to launch into the following sermon:

"If I could ask one gift for every knitter, it would be that everyone have their very own personal label to sew into each of their finished projects. In addition to identifying the maker for posterity, there is something really wonderful about the act of officially taking credit for your hard work. Knitting is the one craft which offers true mastery at every level of expertise, and all knitters should proudly sign their names to their masterpieces."

CLICK HERE to design custom knitting labels, either yourself, or with help from the pros.

The only thing knitters love more than yarn is knitting books. If you don't believe me, take a look around the places where they like to relax: A quick study of my own environment revealed knitting books in the following locations (I swear I am not making this up):

Stacks covering both ends of my desk

On, around, and under the living room sofa

Filling 4 full-height bookcases

Piled on both nightstands in my bedroom, in addition to the bookcase at the foot of the bed, and all over the floor around it.

Several rogue volumes arranged on the kitchen island, where I was (allegedly) stirring something, and reading at the same time.

Disclaimer: I didn't check any of the bathrooms, because neither of us want to know about that.

The point is, your knitter has a wishlist of books as long as both our arms; I guarantee it. If you're lucky, an official inventory has been created at some big online bookselling website, and all you have to do is ask.  If not, refer to the envelope-of-cash technique explained under "Tools", above. Your knitter will know just what to do.

I hope these ideas will help you find the perfect surprise for the knitter(s) you love. Feel free to forward, link and post this list wherever you think it might help a soul in need. And please, leave a comment if you know of any I forgot!