Feral Knitter

Oh, Baby, I OWN This Road!

It was an uneventful and rather dismal drive south from Seattle to Berkeley--leafless tress, lots of heavy fog in Oregon, dreary clouds and smog in California--but I do feel like this is my stretch of I-5. I've got a local's knowledge of where things are: the bridges of Portland (and how to position oneself to get through the city's traffic jams); home made tamales for breakfast in Canyonville at Ken's Sidewalk Cafe; Sailor Jack muffins from the Market of Choice deli in Eugene or Ashland; Jumpoff Joe Creek; the yellow roadside sign of a bear and her cub when you'd expect the more common jumping deer image; the friendly java stand in Ashland; the best rest areas for lichen gathering--or wool gathering when the road makes a person rather sleepy; the glorious stretches of river that follow the freeway in southern Washington; the intent cranes fishing in the rice ponds of central California; the looooong descent from the Siskiyous that tempts drivers to speeds that attract the inevitable State Patrol cars; the first glimpse of the Carquinez Bridge over the North Bay.

Yeah, I know this road all right! I'm still kind of tired and I haven't yet unpacked the 22 boxes that arrived this morning via Fed Ex Ground. (Boy, do I love Fed Ex! The cost to ship my stuff was less than the cost of renting a trailer, I could specify a delivery date, and they called to tell me when they'd be here within a 1.5 hour window.) Berkeley is trying to make me feel at home: it's raining like the dickens right now. I've done the shopping for Thanksgiving dinner, and I think I'll take a nap now.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Saying Goodbyes Gives Me a Headache

OK, I've got a headache and I'm feeling pretty sad. I've been saying goodbye to too many people, eating too much sugar, and lifting things that are too heavy. But the house is clean (or almost: I'll be doing a final sweep and coffee pot cleanup on my way out the door), the boxes have been shipped, and the car is half way packed. Shadow and I took a nice walk along Lake Washington today, enjoying the view of the mountains with fresh snow on them--the very best thing about winter in Seattle is that particular view!--and Mount Rainier was its usual calming presence in the distance.

I have been rather stoic about this whole move thing, but I'm actually grieving a bit. Leaving Gingko is harder than I thought it would be! I'm very proud of my daughter and I'm glad that she is fully capable of living independently, but I enjoy her company and never really thought about the fact that she might live far away from me. Denial. At any rate, she is now majoring in classics: Greek and Latin. It must be genetic--John's undergraduate degree was in classics, and my college work in ancient Near Eastern languages involved studying Greek as well. Just call us the Dork Family.

My sister Tori came this weekend to help me get ready. I always enjoy her visits and I'm also sad that we won't get to see each other as often--she lives in "the middle of nowhere" in central Washington, three hours from Seattle.

Plus leaving my knitting community here is not easy! Luckily I will be up for Madrona Fiber Arts in February and can re-connect then. (By the way, my classes at Madrona are sold out, but I will be teaching the color class in the Seattle area later in February. Please e-mail me for preliminary information.)

I know that once Shadow and I get on the road tomorrow, these dark feelings will recede and I will begin to anticipate being with John again and seeing my friends in the Bay Area. I hope to resume my knitting adventures with more enthusiasm once I settle in!

Delusion

I like to think of myself as a simple person who is not easily swayed by advertising or general consumerist trends to shop mindlessly to fulfill some nameless inner longing for purpose or authenticity.

So how the heck did I accumulate so much stuff up here in Seattle, where I have been living a (I thought) pared-down lifestyle???

Let me begin by offering a timeline:

• August 2003 We--me, John and Gingko--are living in Seattle in a 1100 square foot house.

• September 2003 John starts new job in San Francisco.

• January 2004 We purchase 1340 square foot house in Berkeley.

• June 2004 At the end of the school year, Gingko and I move to Berkeley to join John. Moving company points out that our 40+ boxes of books are not normal. We don't care.

• August 2005 Gingko and I return to Seattle so she can complete her high school. I break my ankle and return to Berkeley for several operations and 4 months of no walking/driving. Gingko lives with family friends in Seattle.

• March 2006 I move into student housing in Seattle with Gingko.

• May 2006 We move into my aunt's furnished home.

• September 2008 Gingko, now 19, moves into her own apartment!

• November 2008 I attempt to pack up my belongings to move back to Berkeley.

I now realize why I feel so tired a lot of the time! At any rate, the last five years have been a real roller coaster. There have been any number of car and plane rides between the two cities--and every transfer of one person from one place to another involved carrying "stuff." John got used to requests like this: "Honey, in the middle plastic container under the bed you will find some purple yarn. Or maybe it's in the other plastic bin. Look in both of them. There are two kinds of purple yarn--I want the kind that feels smooth and has the Cascade 220 label. Not all of them have the label anymore, and some are wound in balls while some are in hanks. Oh, a hank is yarn that is not in a ball. At any rate, can you bring that yarn up when you come this weekend???" In this way, stuff has managed to migrate northward at a greater rate than it has been returned south.

This accumulation has been exacerbated by my tendency to not consider buying fleece or yarn as buying "stuff."

And how on earth did I end up with 8 extra tubes of toothpaste in the bathroom cupboard? For two people? Not counting the opened tube we are using and the tube in my travel bag.

Result? Despite the fact that Gingko has moved into her own apartment, taking kitchen stuff and clothing and books and sundries, I still have to deal with the following statements of excess: One car load of things for charity; one dump load of things that can't be salvaged (the poor patio table glass top shattered in a recent wind storm and the skeleton was broken; non-working lamps; odds and ends from the basement; an shapeless dress form made of duct tape--a good idea but frankly NOT a good idea); boxes upon boxes set to ship via UPS; and a car about to be filled with the drum carder, spinning wheel, current knitting, TV, heavy books, Gingko's paintings, and other things that aren't easily mailed.

I'm making progress and hope to be packed up by the end of the weekend, leaving me a week to clean the house and say goodbye to my friends. Although I am very happy to see the end of my separation from John, I am also rather feeling rather mopey right now.

And I'm making new vows about mucking out the house in Berkeley....

 

Change

You can't stop it. It's the only thing you can count on. Things change:

• The leaves changing color and dancing in the wind as I drove down to Oregon to speak at the Tigard Knitting Guild and to teach workshops over the weekend. What a kind and curious and welcoming group of knitters! I had a great time and, as always, learned as much as anyone in the class.

• Packing to move back to Berkeley. I leave Seattle on November 24th--I'm so happy to be settling in with my husband, but so sad to be saying goodbye to my hometown and my friends up here. Gingko is settling into her apartment, though, and it's time for mama bear to head south. I deliberately held off thinking about this until after the workshop weekend in Oregon--now I'm sorting and packing, putting piles of papers into recycling, gathering bags of clothing and books for charity, sorting yarns into boxes to be shipped to California. And crying a bit.

• Heading off to volunteer at the polls today. This has been an emotional election period for me--I have been brought to tears often by the stirring voices for constructive change that we've heard the last few months. You know where I stand: Obama/Biden!

Sometimes change happens to us--and sometimes we bring about change. Vote!