Half Baked

         This past Sunday I was on a hiatus from my usual post at Yarnology in order to visit my cousin Lisa’s family in Kenosha, Wisconsin. Kelly graciously gave me the day off and I ventured down in my little Chevy Malibu to join my other cousin Erik, my sister, and my brother-in-law at this little gathering. Kenosha, as most people know, is right on Lake Michigan and we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to explore a little down by the marina. The weather was cooler than it had been in weeks and all of us relished the feeling of the breeze blowing in from the dark expanse of water. It was picture perfect, the sailboats bobbing lazily in the distance while close to shore waves slapped against rocks. Though we all knew that Michigan existed on the other side of that blue horizon, it felt for a time as if we had been transported to some ocean coastline with only the promise of foreign lands looming in the distance. The magic of the moment had to come to an end as we turned our backs on the lake and headed home for some pizza and cousin bonding time. Though there are only four cousins on my dad’s side of the family, our group has grown considerably and now includes my sister’s husband Nate, Lisa’s husband Adam, and their two children Carl and Lena. Now that we’re all grown and living in different cities and states, getting together is certainly more challenging. But when we do have an opportunity to visit one another, it’s as if nothing has changed. Our sibling-like relationships have stayed intact, fueled by the memories we have of growing up together. My mini road trip came to an end on Monday afternoon as I drove home to Winona. I rolled down the windows and cranked up the music, taking pleasure in the wind whipping my hair from its ponytail and the sun shining in through the window. It was an enjoyable drive. But then I got home and looked in the mirror, only then realizing that my left arm and thigh were burnt to a crisp while the right side of my body remained pale and healthy looking. I’m attempting to view my uneven coloring with humor, but I confess it looks slightly ridiculous. There’s no way that I can get it evened out before work tomorrow, so anyone who comes in to Yarnology try not to laugh too hard even though I look a bit like a half-cooked lobster.

          Though this post doesn’t have much to do with knitting or my job as a Yarnologist, I figured it wouldn’t be a bad thing to write about other parts of my life. There is more to me than yarn and needles, as ludicrous as that sounds. Yarn didn’t completely leave my mind during this little vacation, however; I did try to go to the Kenosha yarn shop while I was in the area. Unfortunately, Fiddlehead Yarn is closed on Sundays and I was unable to check it out. They should really follow Yarnology’s example and open their doors on Sundays for yarn loving tourists like me. :-)

Limbo

You know how they say that life imitates art or art imitates life? I feel like I’m the living embodiment of that saying right about now. My life, while wonderful, is at a bit of a crossroads. I’m making the transition from dependent student and child to a self-sufficient working adult. Or at least attempting to. Currently I find myself in limbo, trying to push forward yet hesitating. There is a part of me that is dragging its heels, unwilling to wholly let go of the convenience and safety of childhood. But this is warring against another, bolder side that’s ready to take on the challenges of life, no matter how much adversity I am faced with; it is she who is responsible for my staying in Winona even now after my college career is ended. Instead of moving home to my sleepy Illinois town of Marengo, I decided some time ago that I would continue enjoying everything that Winona has to offer: the theatre and film festivals, the coffee shops and museums, and river and bluffs we’re surrounded by, and of course the little yarn store I just happen to work at. While the decision to stay was a relatively easy one to make, the means on which I’ll be living are a little more… how can I put this poetically… ambiguous. At the moment I have enough, more than enough even. I’m happy, healthy and in the scheme of things I don’t have much to worry about. But I confess that I lie awake sometimes while my mind creates countless scenarios in which I fail to accomplish the things I most want to do, and therefore fail in providing for myself. The morning brings a clear mind and my usual sunny self, but the shadow of a doubt always exists even on my brightest days.

But how does this deep, pessimistic chatter relate to art, you ask? Well, this limbo I’m in has begun to extend past my circumstances and into the pieces that I’m knitting. In all of the projects that I’m currently working on I’m stuck. In my defense, I’m waiting for back-ordered yarn to arrive to continue with one of them, but I have no valid explanation for halting my progress on the others. For some reason, my feet are dragging and I find myself unwilling to work on or finish the things on my needles. Yes non-knitters, most of us crazy yarn people have upwards of two or three projects going at once. I have attempted to explain my procrastination with several unconvincing excuses such as: this project is too boring, I really hate this pattern, it’s too hard, this is taking too long, and (my personal favorite) I just got this new yarn and I can’t wait even the smallest amount of time to work with it. So yes, I have completed several other things during my time of project stagnancy, but those unfinished items are still there quietly mocking my success. Alright, I might be getting a little carried away, but my frustration at their unfinished state is growing. And unfortunately I only have myself to blame for this. Mirroring my attitude toward my transitioning life, I want to move on, but my other less logical side is unwilling to take the necessary measures.

Limbo really isn’t the best place to be. I’m hoping that I’ll soon snap out of it, finishing and figuring out what I need to both in knitting and in life. It will take planning and determination, but I won’t stay in a state of unknown and immobility my entire life. There are so many new patterns to try, yarns to create with, and experiences to have. Possibilities stretch out before me and while it’s a little frightening, my heart also leaps with anticipation. I can only hope that soon my two warring sides will come to terms with one another and then I might be able to move from this place of limbo and settle into the life I will create for myself.

Christmas in July

          It’s the first day of July and I’m trying desperately to figure out where exactly time is flying to. Despite the 90 degree weather, it seems as if this summer has barely gotten underway. The long list of things I was planning to do hasn’t shortened much, and I am all too aware of the upcoming school year. With its commence our peaceful, picturesque Winona is changed into a busy college town. Why haven’t I taken advantage of the quiet coffee houses, or spent time on the practically uninhabited campus of Winona State? I can feel my window of opportunity for enjoying summer pastimes getting smaller as the days tick by.

           Part of my “problem” (which in the grand scheme of things isn’t much of a problem at all) is that I’ve been spending too much time in that darn yarn store. Not only do I have to work there (the horror!), but I find myself stopping by while doing errands, driving down to visit coworkers, being pulled in with the temptations of new yarn and possible projects. And it doesn’t even end there. I take this addiction home with me. Instead of taking a walk around the lakes or laying outside with a book, I end up spending many evenings watching How I Met Your Mother on NetFlix and casting on with that new yarn that just HAS to be knitted with right away! It’s a rough way of life; not everyone could handle it, but I do what I can. : )

            Last summer my knitting mainly consisted of Christmas presents that I was getting a head start on. It was the first Christmas since I started working at Yarnology and I was excited to be able to create handmade things for my family. I was a little ambitious, deciding to give a knitted gift to over 20 people, and I got started right away. There was a list, a plan, and I ended up finishing all of those projects, plus a few others before Christmas while working and going to school as well. At times I was stressed, worrying whether or not I would finish everything in time, but it was fun and gave me an excuse to buy yarn. This year I feel unorganized. I had the same plan: I would decide what to make for everyone, jot it all down in a tidy little list, and get started so I could have gifts stockpiled by December. There was just one problem: I got distracted. I procrastinated a little bit and then the store relocation was happening, new projects caught my eye, and before I knew it thoughts of knitting for other people were pushed out of my mind. Suddenly, I was making things for myself (shocking, I know). My Christmas knitting has taken a backseat, and though the holidays are still almost half a year away, I’m feeling a little guilt. Knitting for other people, finding the perfect project for someone I love, is one of my favorite things. But, I confess my motivation is severely lacking. Perhaps I’m being too ambitious, thinking I can top the gifts I gave last year. They were well thought out and made with consideration. I know that if I give myself a chance I can really do something special, but as the summer slips away I feel increasingly behind schedule. Inspiration comes when least expected, as I have learned in the past, and I’m hoping that it will again. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me to get outside and enjoy some sunshine before the snow starts to fall. And here in Minnesota that will happen before we know it. : )

Operation "Yarnology Relocation"

         The past few weeks have been… interesting. They’ve been stressful. They’ve been exciting, exhausting, hectic, nerve-racking. And fun. What is the reason for all of this? Well, I’ll tell you: Yarnology is moving locations. A few months ago, our wonderful Gaby (part owner of the store) and her husband bought a building in downtown Winona, just a block and a half from where we had already set up shop. Since that time there has been some major work done inside and out and it is finally, FINALLY coming to a close tomorrow!! All of the hard work has paid off; all of the support from customers, friends, and family will be evident in this amazing place that has been put together in hardly any time at all.

            June 8^th, just this past Saturday Yarnology was pretty much the same as it always has been. Any customer that walked in would have seen Gaby, Kelly, and myself calmly knitting and crocheting in our “living room”. They would have heard Mumford and Sons Pandora radio playing quietly in the background, and seen the confident and calming colors of skeins of yarn resting in bins around the room. What they would not have realized was that the three quiet crafters were secretly bursting with anticipation for the clock to strike 5:00 p.m. Saturday was our last day open for business in our old location; the minute that OPEN sign came unplugged it was go time. Yarn came off the shelves at a record pace and was loaded into clear garbage bags to be transported down the street. Mannequins were disrobed and stored away to be moved last when everything else is in its place. Books were packed to capacity, snug in boxes waiting to be taken to their new home. Overall it was quick work. Besides the three of us there were several other Yarnologists and friends who had volunteered to do some grunt work. In two hours we cleared all the shelves, cubes, hooks, and whatever other means of displaying yarn we had contrived. Things were certainly packed up, but the space was still filled with things waiting to take the journey down the block. It seems that you never truly realize how much stuff you have in one space until you try to move it all. Sheesh. When we finished all the work we were able to do that day, it was a bit overwhelming, looking around and seeing how much more we had to accomplish. But luckily we had fresh strawberries and vanilla ice cream to comfort us (thanks Donna W.!!) while it sank in that this was just the beginning……

            Today marked the second day of operation “Yarnology Relocation”. The action started before I arrived (you might not believe this, but I’m not too handy with the power tools or the very large, heavy furniture. I know, shocking. Ha) and when I walked into the new space most of the shelving units were already in place just waiting for fluffy, colorful things to fill them up. Though the weather was hot and the air conditioner decided to stop working a couple of days ago, the volunteers that were busy putting things in their places didn’t seem to notice much. It was so exciting to watch as it all came together. Little by little we unloaded pick-up truck beds and vans filled with boxes and furniture. Back and forth, back and forth we went from one block of 3^rd street to the other. Now that I’m looking back on the day, I can’t help but think about all the wonderful people who gave up their time and energy to pitch in with this move, and it just makes me grin. These of course include some of our loyal customers who came by to help us move the 100-some bags that we had filled with yarn! I’m sure it was a sight to see, a dozen or so people lined up from the van/SUVs we loaded up to front door of the new store, handing down bag after bag of yarn until it came to rest in a pile of its companions. Many hands make a quick end, a lesson my mom has always taught, and today I was able to see that in action. It truly is amazing how much we were able to do in one day. And it’s all because we came together and worked hard for the love of this store and its people. I truly felt blessed and proud and humbled to be a part of it and to be able to call a good many of those wonderful people my friends. I’m sure you’ll get tired of hearing me say this, but this job means so much more to me than the paycheck I receive every other week. Don’t get me wrong, that’s nice too. But I know I still would have been one of those pairs of hands, passing yarn down the line even if it wasn’t my job. Being a part of something special makes you special, right? (Wait, did I just quote Glee? haha Oh well!) And that feeling is pretty great.

           We officially open the doors of our new store location on Tuesday, the 12th. We have A LOT to do, however, before that happens. I confess, thinking about that list of to-dos makes me a little anxious, but like I’ve been taught to believe, many hands make a quick end. And it helps when laughter, smiles, and coffee are shared throughout the day. Wish us luck in the last stage of moving. And come visit us once we’re settled in! All of us at Yarnology are looking forward to it!

                             Gaby and Jeannine next to the MOUNTAIN of yarn we packed up.

Bags of yarn!

The store's empty... almost.

Our yarn train in action. :)

So many bags of yarn!!

And here I am after all the hard work, posing with our Noro wall.

           

Car Trouble

          Prior to 8:00 p.m. tonight, things were going just swell for this Yarnologist. After a fun day shopping with Amanda, I worked a four hour shift at the store where I was able to chat with the wonderful people who came for Thursday night knitting, help pick out colors of yarn for a project one of our regulars is going to start, and seam up the poncho I’ve been working on for a couple weeks. I felt happy and productive. Listening to our knitters talk and laugh while making progress on their needle work is one of the best and most amusing parts of my job; our Thursday night “group” never disappoints. This all changed, however, when I got to my car… which refused to start. At this point in time we’ve decided it’s the battery (maybe??) and my dad is coming up to Winona tomorrow to help me. As we walked home from the parking lot outside of Yarnology, Amanda, friend/ follow Yarnologist, and I determined it’s ridiculous that we know nothing about cars. Seriously, why did I not pay attention when my dad or step-dad or uncle was tuning up my car or checking it for something? My dad has tried explaining certain things but I end up nodding in false concentration while making a list of things I like more than cars. Stupid me. And now I’m sitting here twiddling my thumbs and waiting for my daddy to come rescue me. Those early feminists are rolling in their graves as I type.

            So I’m frustrated and worried about my car and trying to decide whether or not to eat or knit my feelings away. Why can’t everything just work out the way I want it to? ‘Cause life just doesn’t work that way. I’m learning this very quickly. I confess that while I was sitting there in the parking lot, attempting to coax my car to life, I was tempted to pull out the yarn-bombed jeep we have in the back of Yarnology and drive that home. I’m sure it works better than my car does right now. Can you imagine me cruising down Main Street in that thing? Ha! Yeah, that would be pretty awesome.

When in Grief...

           Knitting is comforting. I’ve said it time and again, and wholeheartedly believe in this philosophy. When we’re stressed, anxious, sad, or frustrated the repetitive nature of knitting can relieve some of these feelings, taking our minds off of the things that are troubling us. And I always love seeing my project grow and knowing that I’m being productive; I’m accomplishing something even when other things just aren’t going my way.

          This past weekend, however, was a rare occasion when my philosophy failed me. On Saturday morning, the 26^th of May, two of my dogs had to be put to sleep. The days following have been very difficult as I’ve been feeling some guilt and sadness over what had to be done. The shock of the whole situation hasn’t left me. Both Saturday night and Sunday I sought comfort in my work and attempted to lose myself in the back and forth, in and out motion of the needles and yarn. But before long the images of my poor puppies came back to me and I couldn’t to continue. It seemed I couldn’t find peace of mind anywhere. So instead of trying to distract myself, I thought I’d write a little in the attempt of coming to turms with their passing.
            Schissy, some mix of herding dog breeds, was almost sixteen years old and had come to our family when my Dad and step-mom still lived on their dairy farm. We no longer live there, but moved to Sparta WI after struggling with the many expenses that can crop up on an old farm. Schissy belonged to a neighboring farmer who had inherited her from an elder family member. He chained her to a tree day and night and couldn’t seem to understand why she was barking and howling all the time. One day she got loose and for some reason or other ran straight to our farm. She immediately hit it off with the dog we already had and they became fast friends. When the neighbor farmer’s wife came by to pick Schissy up she asked if we would like to keep her. The lady’s husband was getting so sick of all the noise that he was going to shoot her. We didn’t hesitate and soon she was a part of the family, sleeping in my parent’s bedroom and awkwardly herding cows in the wrong direction. See, deep down she knew that she was supposed to do something with those big black and white things, but she had never been trained and just sort of ran them in whatever direction she felt looked best. After returning to our barn one day covered in cow manure my dad laughed and said she was a little schissy (the German word for… well, sh**). The name stuck. We firmly believe that our dogs only understand German (however broken mine sometimes is), and so our dogs aren’t really dogs at all, they’re hunde. We always referred to Schissy as the “tante hunt”, or aunt of the rest of our dogs. When our first dog had a litter of puppies, Schissy had as much or more to do with their bringing up than the rightful mother did. She scolded, herded, licked, and protected those puppies like they were her own. Down to her very last day.

          My Schnappi was one of those puppies that Schissy bossed around. The baby of our first dog, Schnappi has been mine almost since she was born. My sister and I visited my dad on the farm a few weeks later and we were given the opportunity to choose our very own dogs out of the ten that had survived. At that time we thought that Schnappi was the runt, though she grew larger than many of the others. She was brindle in color, like her mom, but had a thicker coat almost like a German shepherd. I can remember holding her in the palm of my hand and gently rubbing her tiny silky ears. Even then they were a little too big for her head. She never grew into those big floppy ears. It was one of my favorite things about her. Schnappi’s name was originally Maxine Anne (don’t ask me how I came up with that at the age of nine; my cat, adopted around the same time is Agatha Jane. It seems I have a thing for old names… haha). When Schnappi got a little older we noticed her doing something strange when she was excited or happy: she would snap. Never maliciously done, these snaps, or schnaps in German (are we noticing a pattern here?), were her way of saying “I love you”. Eventually, her nickname trumped the one she was christened with in the beginning. Schnappi spent the first few years of her life on the dairy farm running with the other dogs through the woods to chase coyotes, playing with us outside in the summer, and curled up in front of the wood stove in the winter. Though I only spent every third weekend with my dad during that time, Schnappi never forgot me or the fact that she was mine. We had an understanding; I knew that dog like the back of my hand. After twelve years that never changed. Schnappi was one of my best friends and will always be my baby. Which is why, when I got the phone call that she needed to be put to sleep, I didn’t hesitate to go and be with her. She needed me there as much as I needed her to know I loved her and hadn’t abandoned her. When the moment came I laid down next to her and told her how she was the best girl, the best baby and that I loved her so much. I talked to her until she was gone and then I buried my face in her fur and let go of all the tears I had been holding in. I confess, it was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do, but I don’t regret being there for a second.  

         Though it’s been a few days since my hunde slipped away to the big farm in the sky, the sadness is still there and will be for quite some time, I’m sure. Eventually I won’t feel the sharp pang that comes when I think about them and the memories won’t be bittersweet but will only make me smile. And of course, my knitting will once again provide solace.
     

 
        This is Schissy in better days. She used to be quite the chubber. :) But SUCH a loving dog!

My beautiful Schnappi.

Schnappi and I cuddling a couple years back. :)

My dad on the farm with our dogs.

           

Yarn Bombed

My job is never boring. Honestly. Even on a slow day at Yarnology there is always something to keep us busy and entertained. The creativity never ceases to permeate the air and that usually results in fun, often wacky projects. Today was one of those days. This past week I was visiting my home town, spending Mother’s Day with my mom and seeing lots of friends and family. After being gone for so long I wasn’t sure what would be waiting for me when I walked through Yarnology’s doors. There’s always a possibility of being greeted by new yarn, new pattern books, new designer bags. But today, that wasn’t the case. That’s way too predictable. There on the floor of the shop is my friend and fellow Yarnologist Amanda in the process of covering an old Fisher-Price car with swatches of yarn. Hmmm. Not your usual work-day activity. Then again, this isn’t your usual place of work. To make a long story short, it was our job today to “yarn-bomb” this car which will be featured in an upcoming window display (regulars to our shop, just you wait! It’s going to be awesome!).

           For anyone who doesn’t know what yarn-bombing is, I’ll try and explain myself. Yarn-bombing is basically harmless graffiti. It’s also referred to as yarnstorming, guerrilla knitting, urban knitting or graffiti knitting, according to Wikipedia (I know, I know, I’m using Wikipedia. Didn’t I learn anything researching papers in college? Obviously not.) Knitters go around to different public places and wrap, cover, adorn things in yarn or knitted pieces. It’s more fun if you do this in secret, preferably at night in order to catch the unsuspecting citizen off guard. Who wouldn’t be surprised to drive down the street and see benches, trees, and light poles decorated in colorful fiber? That’s the kind of thing that makes an average day just a little bit better. Yarn-bombing a public place is technically illegal. Technically. It has become amazingly popular recently though, and you don’t often hear about anyone getting in trouble for it. The fact is, this type of “graffiti” is ten times less troublesome than spray paint or chalk and let’s be honest, it’s pretty darn cool. Winona has seen occasional yarn-bombing in the past and I’m sure there will be more in the future, so keep your eyes out for anything colorful and fuzzy in places where it’s not supposed to be. Some of our customers have taken notice of the craze and one regular gifted us with an actual yarn bomb. Literally. A bomb… made of yarn (ha!).

        I sat there this afternoon, crocheting swatches of yarn onto this car, and I confess, I couldn’t help laughing to myself. Yes, I WAS getting paid to yarn-bomb a car. How great is that. Another reason why I can’t help loving my job.

These are just a few examples I found online that I just needed to share! :) Hopefully they will inspire some crafty people to start yarn-bombing!