crochet

My Next Project

I am still very busy making new items to sell here, on Facebook and on my ETSY Page. Everyday, I crochet, update blogs and websites and think about what I will work on next.

I have perfected my fingerless mitten pattern. For now, this image is of my fingerless mittens Mirasol Sisa Yarn in Stardust which is 60% lambs wool and 40% alpaca in the first stage: The Basic Mitten.

Fingerless Mittens INCOMPLETE
crochet

Fingerless Gloves

My creation is completed. As with any new crochet project, there are issues that must be resolved before I can offer the pattern for sale: Tweaks in wording and verifying that I didn’t miss a step.

These gloves were made with scrap yarn, so I am working on the real thing now, with real yarn purchased for the specific purpose of creating a pair of PERFECT fingerless glove. Well, as near perfect as I can make them.

I am not a machine. There may always be variations in stitches, or tiny imperfections that add to the overall beauty of the project. Anyway, enjoy the next step in my crochet creation project.

I used Red Heart Soft Yarn in cherry red, Patons Beehive Baby Sport Weight Yarn in Angel White and Susan Bates Silvalume crochet hooks size G and H

Fingerless Gloves in RED AND WHITE
Uncategorized

Creativity

Creativity means different things to every individual.  For me, creativity is the act of CREATING something, using just the power of my not-inconsiderable brain.

cre·a·tiv·i·ty
/ˌkrēāˈtivədē/
noun
  1. the use of the imagination or original ideas, especially in the production of an artistic work.

I have wasted many, many hours scouring the Internet for crochet patterns to match the vision I have in my head of items I want to produce.  What a load of rubbish!  What I mean is, I am working really hard to reinvent the wheel.  Why would anyone want to do that?

I have created my own patterns for crocheted items previously. Click here and here for examples of patterns available for digital download through my Etsy Store.

So, I am now working on a pattern for fingerless gloves, or more precisely, fingerless mittens because there is a thumb hole, but not individual holes for fingers.  I have ripped out stitch after stitch in an effort to create my patterns.

This it the first half of a pair of mittens:

IMG-2991
Fingerless Mittens Stage One

Yeah, I know what you’re saying.  It doesn’t look like a glove or a mitten or anything else recognizable.  Well, maybe half of an orangutan mitten, but why would anyone want to put mittens on an orangutan?

I agree.  Stay tuned of the next iteration of my invention!
crochet

I Have Been Very Busy

I have been working feverishly to create items for my online store that can be found here and here.  I have sold several items on ebay recently and have even sold some items directly to interested individuals.

The key was finding what people wanted to buy and not concentrating on what I wanted to make.

Also, price control has become an issue for me.  If it is priced too high, no one wants it, even if the item is hand-made.  If it is priced too low, then the entire market for hand-made crafts is diluted.

Pictured are Fingerless Gloves/Wrist Warmer Steampunk or Boho Style: Red with black ruffle trim and large vintage buttons, Fingerless Gloves/Wrist Warmer Steampunk or Boho Style: Blue chenille, lace trimmed with vintage white/rhinestone buttons, Ear Warmer in shades of teal and gray, and an Ear Warmer in shades of light gray with a large crocheted flower.

All of the items are hand-crocheted by me and listed for sale on the internet.

Blog Entries, Road of Change, Writing

Excuses, Excuses

Okay.  So here’s what’s been going on in my life that has rendered me unable to post another chapter of my novel…

First, I sneezed a couple of times uh… caught a summer cold  uh… came down with pneumonia and then spent a couple of days, no weeks, months under the weather…

Okay, here is the real story:  An airplane fell from the sky and crashed through my office window completely destroying my laptop, my tablet, my phone, my empty journals, all my pens, a typewriter and lots of light bulbs.  Oddly enough.  *notices no one is believing that story, either. *

Fine.  You win!

I HAVE WRITER’S BLOCK!  ARE YOU HAPPY, NOW?  ARE YOU HAPPY YOU MADE ME SAY IT?  (Dramatically illustrated by the typewriter with a blank sheet of paper and a notebook with pristine white pages in the photo below

elijah-o-donell-760367-unsplash
Photo by Elijah O’Donell on Unsplash

It’s just that outside is so beautiful with the bright sunshine, the pretty flowers, the brilliant green grass, the summer breezes.  Who wants to write, expressing the darker innermost thoughts of a couple in the midst of a tragedy in their marriage when the sky is so blue?  Who wants to dwell on such deep negative thoughts and ideas (even though I know how the story ends) when the house finches and chickadees are clustered around the bird feeder, feasting on the seeds I gave them?  How can the world be horrible when the tomatoes are changing from bright green to bright red even as I write?

I will wait for a rain storm or an earthquake in a faraway place or the darkness that come right before the dawn to write another chapter in my novel: The Road of Change.

In the meantime, patience, dear readers.

 

Road of Change

Road of Change: Santa Fe to Arizona

The next morning after a hearty breakfast, we set off without too much fanfare.  We said most of our goodbyes the previous evening. As we loaded up the car, I half expected Snow to jump into the car with us, but she stayed glued to Barbara’s thigh on the chaise lounge.  I ruffled the fur on her head and kissed her fuzzy face, promising to see her in a few weeks when we got back home. She wagged her tail and gave me a little yippy bark, which I assumed meant “See you later.”

Matt made sure we had plenty of water and snacks that don’t melt in the heat.  I assured him the Road Service provided by the car company was in working order.  He reminded me to start looking for a gas station as soon as my tank was down to half.  One last kiss for Matt and Barbara and we set off for Phoenix.

I drove the first leg of the journey.  It is my car, after all. Chris spent time looking over the owner’s manual on my phone.  He played with the satellite radio and found a jazz station he liked. He adjusted the passenger seat until it was what he called the “perfect comfy,” for him. He set the memory for his seat preference. He played with the AC vents, the windows, and the internet settings on the display between the seats.  Finally, he announced, “The only way this car could be any better is if it drove itself.”

“Well, it does.  It lets you know when you are straying out of your lane and it has that automatic system that slams on brakes if you get too close to an object in front of you.”

“Not to mention cruise control,” Chris added.

“All the toys are included,”  I reminded him.

Then, Chris asked,  “You want to take a side trip to the Grand Canyon?  I have never seen it.”

“Me, either.  Yes, let’s.” Chris entered the new information into the GPS. “So, it says 7 hours to the Canyon.  We’ll have to get a hotel. Let me see if we can get some reservations.”

While I drove, Chris searched the internet.  He made calls to four places before he finally announced, “Okay, we have reservations at the Grand Hotel which is about 6 miles from the state park entrance.  I guess you heard that I got us one room.”

“I heard,” I said and made no further comments.  I just agreed to spend tonight and every night for the rest of the trip with my husband.  I hoped it wasn’t a bad idea.

We stopped at the You-Are-Entering-Arizona sign to take the selfie.  For the first time, Chris and I did a proper selfie, heads close together, smiling with the Arizona sign behind us.  I emailed it to Mr. Cartwright, Lily, to my sister and to Barbara and Matt.

We stopped at fast food restaurant on the interstate and both of us got a salad for lunch.  We shared one hamburger and did not order fries. As we approached the car Chris said, “Can I drive?  Please, please, please.” He looked about fifteen years old, so I said, “Sure. It will give me a chance to play with all the gadgets on my car.”

“I really like the color, by the way,” Chris said.

“Thank you.  So do I.”

           In a repeat of Chris’s investigations, I played with the satellite radio, the AC vents, the GPS, the seat settings and anything else within reach.  I called the car’s concierge and a friendly lady answered the phone. “Hello, Mrs. Archer. My name is Amy. What can I help you with, today?”

“Amy, what is a good restaurant for dinner near the Grand Hotel at the Grand Canyon?”

“Do you prefer casual dining or something more upscale?” Amy asked.

“Upscale.”

“I have two choices for you.  El Tovar is more upscale and the Coronado Room is a little less so.”  She gave me details on both and the asked if I wanted to make reservations at either.  I selected El Tovar and she asked me to hold. Within three minutes she came back and announced we had dinner reservations for 10:00 PM.  She asked if there was anything else she could do and I told her no.

“Oh, my gosh,”  I said to Chris.  “Unbelievable fun. Amy is like a personal assistant.”

Chris laughed at my enthusiasm.

We arrived at the Grand Canyon just before dusk and watched the sun go down over the distant horizon.  The stars popped out and gave us a view of the sky I had never seen before. A man standing next to us told his lady friend, “You don’t get a lot of light pollution, so you can see more stars.”  He kissed her and they walked away arm in arm.

My view of the canyon was limited and my imagination filled in a lot of the blanks.  I wondered if seeing it in the daylight would live up to my expectations.

Chris and I got back into the car and drove to the restaurant in silence.  I almost felt like I was leaving a part of me behind on the rim of the canyon.

We were seated immediately when we arrived at the restaurant and ate dinner in near silence, eat of us only talking when necessary.  

Back at the hotel, Chris went into the bathroom and got ready for bed.  I took my turn, putting on my pajamas, brushing my teeth and my hair. Chris waited for me, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You were deep in thought at dinner,” Chris prompted.

I sat beside him on the bed.  “I thought about the canyon and how I felt very small, but still a significant part of the whole universe at the same time.  Humbling. Also, I desperately miss Lily and Snow. I didn’t really mind leaving Snow with Barbara, but it is almost like another part of my family is gone from me; like I have no one left.”

“You still have me,” Chris said, quietly.

Did I really?  How could I trust what he said.  He told me he broke up with Kathy and that is definitely a step in the right direction.  I couldn’t shake the feeling that his affair was my fault. Not because I was older or bigger, but because I neglected my husband.

“There is something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” I said.  “But I don’t want to tell you what it is, yet.”  I blew out a sigh. “Chris, I love your singing voice.”

Chris’s eyes grew wider. “I didn’t know you ever heard me sing.”

“You do, mostly when you think no one is listening.  You sing show tunes, like that one for South Pacific.”

“Lillian loved show tunes.  I was raised on Oscar and Hammerstein.”  He paused and said, “Anne, you have done a remarkable job of holding this family together.  I wasn’t there for you to share you grief over losing our son. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t stop to think that grief doesn’t end for you on the day of the funeral.  It didn’t stop for me, then. I guess I didn’t take time to consider that you would be feeling the same way.” He paused for several moments and I thought he was finished talking. But then, “Snow will be back with us when this trip is through and so will Lily.  We are still a family, even though a separation from all of them for a short time was necessary.” He ended with, “I love your cute curls.” To prove his point, he gathered a handful of my hair and kissed it.

I got up to walk around to the other side of the bed and Chris sang in his glorious baritone, “‘Once you have found her, never let her go.  Once you have found her, never… let… her… go.”

arizona-welcome-signs

Road of Change

Road of Change: Santa Fe,The Next Day

Santa Fe The Next Day

The first stop of the morning was a bank where I collected a cashier’s check for the amount I was willing to spend on the car.

Chris, Matt and I arrived at the car dealership just as they opened.  Our young salesman waited for us at the entrance and he asked if I was ready to buy the car.  I told him only if we could agree on the money.

He started his salesman spiel just like I expected him to do. I cut him short and gave him the figure I would pay.

The kid acted flustered for a moment and then left us to collect the sales manager.  The sales manager asked if I wanted to test drive the car again and I told him, “No. I’ve seen the car. Are we going to deal or not?”

The sales manager started telling me about the cost of the car and overhead expenses.  I stopped him and showed him the cashier’s check. “This is what I will pay. Not a penny more.”

The sales manager looked at the check that was actually nearly $10,000 off of the list price and then told the salesman to write up the contract.

Two hours later, I drove off of the lot in my shiny new 2018 Octane Blue Metallic Mitsubishi Eclipse Cross.  The dealership helped me to customize the mirror settings, the seat position, the GPS, the satellite radio, and a hundred other features.  I just hoped I remembered half of it. The owner’s manual looked like an unabridged dictionary, so I uploaded an app on my phone with all the instructions for operating my new car.

Noon and Matt treated us to lunch at a chain seafood restaurant that was next door to the dealership.  As we left the restaurant, Matt said to Chris, “Stay one more night and then you can hit the road in the morning.”

Chris replied, “I was hoping you would ask,” and then to me, “I’ll ride with Matt.” The two brothers walked toward Matt’s car obviously, they had more to talk about.  Whether it was Matt’s idea or Chris’s didn’t matter. Maybe in talking to his brother, Chris could get some of his issues sorted out.

I got into my new car.  I deeply inhaled the new car smell, ran my hands over the dashboard, the steering wheel and the seats. With the touch of a button, I started it up and verbally instructed the GPS to provide a map to Matt’s address in case I lost them in traffic.

By the time I arrived at the house, I had a better feel for the brakes and the steering. I totally enjoyed driving my new car and was well pleased with my purchase.

Before I could get out of the car, Charlotte ran out of the front door and said to me, “We’re going shopping.”  She climbed into the passenger side and told me to turn right out of the driveway. “Wow! I love this car. I can’t wait for Ernesto to see it.  I think we will get one, too.” She spent a few minutes investigating the dials, knobs, vanity mirror and glove box.

“Where are you going to live after you are married?”  I asked her.

“Ernesto and I have an apartment downtown.  He is living there full time and I will move in right after the honeymoon.”

“Where are you going on your honeymoon?”

“Nowhere special.  Disneyland for 3 days.  We would rather spend our money on buying furniture for the apartment.”

“Very wise.  My wedding was unbelievably lavish.  My mother spent so much money in order to impress her friends.  I don’t even remember having fun during the reception. There were mostly people there I didn’t know.  The decadence is embarrassing. It was the wedding my mother wanted for herself, I think. Anyway, I should have done what my sister did–a very small wedding and reception.  She and her husband paid for most of it themselves.”

“That is kind of what Ernesto me are doing. We only have about 60 people coming and most of them are his family. Dad paid for my dress, the cake, the flowers and the photographer.  Ernesto’s family is furnishing the food and the decorations for the reception.

“So where are we going and what are we buying?” I asked her.

“Mom thinks your clothes are deplorable, so she instructed me to get you some new ones.  She gave me her credit card.”

I frowned at my choice of clothes for the day. “I bought these yoga pants to travel in because they are comfy and I can wash them in the hotel shower.  I do have a couple pairs of of jeans with me, but I have gained a little from eating nothing but fast food and my jeans are tight enough to be uncomfortable.”

“We’ll fix that,”  Charlotte said.

“Look, I can pay for my own clothes, but I would certainly love some fashion advice and shopping company.”

“Mom insisted, to thank you for the afghan and the dog. Besides, we can give Dad and Uncle Chris a chance to talk.  Mom would have come with us if she were feeling better.”

We arrived at one of those outdoor malls and hit the shops, trying on clothes, drinking gourmet coffee, and buying plenty of treasures.  I bought two new pairs of designer jeans, a variety of colorful tops, sandals, a straw hat, turquoise jewelry and three shirts for Chris.

By the time we got back to Matt’s house, the guys had dinner waiting–A cool pasta salad and fresh fruit.  I just had time to visit the bathroom before joining the others at the table. The dinner featured a domestic setting and light conversation.  A perfect final evening in Santa Fe.

We played Trivial Pursuit after dinner with Ernesto the clear winner.  

We said a tearful goodbye to him because he would not be here to see us off in the morning.  “I will see you in November, for the wedding,” he said. He kissed Charlotte and aimed for the front door.

Julia left us to go to her room to finish the paper she had due the following morning.

Charlotte went to bed because she had to work tomorrow.  That left Chris, Matt, Barbara and me in the living room.

As usual, Matt took the lead.  “I am going to be sorry to see you go, but I think the two of you need more time to get things worked out.  I want you both to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Chris said.  

I wasn’t as ready to jump into a promise that I may not want to keep, so I hesitated.  Matt directed his stare at me. “Well?”

“What is the promise?”  I asked.

“Nothing you will find a hardship.”

I was wary, but I nodded my head.  Matt said, “Before you two go to bed at night, spend fifteen minutes talking to each other.  Really talking and listening. No fighting. No arguing. No judging. Tell each other how you feel.  What you feel. And you are required to tell each other one thing you love about the other.”

“What do you mean?”  Chris asked.

“Find something about Anne that you love and tell her what it is.  Like, uh, I don’t know. Maybe ‘Anne, I love the way your nose wrinkles when you sneeze.’ Or, ‘Chris, I love your pinky toe on your right foot.’  Everyone has something lovable about them. Find it in each other. And you are required to tell each other that you love them as the last thing you say before going to sleep.  See, not too hard.” Matt stood and held his hand down to Barbara who grasped it and rose from the chaise.

“See you in the morning,” Barbara said.  

I stood up to go to our bedroom and Chris followed me.  “No time like the present,” Chris said. He sat on the bed.  “Anne, I love the way your nose wrinkles when you sneeze,” he said to me.

I must have looked at him like he had suddenly grown two heads because he said, “What?”  A deep frown crossed his face.

I took a deep breath and then said, “Okay, we have to start somewhere.  Chris, I love your right pinky toe.”

We both laughed and Chris said,  “That really didn’t hurt too bad.”  He paused and then said, “Anne Archer, really, I love your eyes.  Your eyes are the most beautiful I have ever seen.”

I looked at him in wonderment.  “I never knew you felt that way.” He shrugged a shoulder and gave me a crooked grin. “Chris Archer, I love how you stand up so straight.  You have amazing posture.”

“Lillian would love to hear that.  She told me ten thousand times to always hold my shoulders back and my head up.  I guess her parenting worked.” I smiled at him, imagining Lillian’s voice in my head telling him to straighten up.

“The other part of the promise is to talk about how we really feel,”  Chris prompted.

I nodded and sat on the bed beside him.  “Okay. Barbara said something to me that I just didn’t realize.  She said I should ask you to join me when I am cooking, going to the grocery store, picking Lily up from school.  Whatever. I thought it was easier to do all those things by myself. I prided myself on my independence and self-reliance.  We probably shouldn’t do that when we are married.”

Chris said, “That’s what Matt told me.  We are on the same team. We can be self-reliant, but still include our spouse in everything.  He said to not just do things with each other, but for each other. Like him looking up information about what to cook for a person on chemo.  Like him reducing his work hours so he can be here to help Barbara.”

“We both screwed up this marriage,”  I said.

“Yeah, we did.”  He replied. “It’ll take both of us to fix it.”

“I know,”  I stood up and Matt grabbed my hand.  

“Anne, I love you.”

“Chris, I love you.”  I walked to the other side of the bed and slipped in between the sheets.  

That night, I spooned Chris from behind like always.

Road of Change

Road of Change: Santa Fe, Second Night

Once again, Chris and I slept together in the same bed.  Right before I fell asleep, I realized I had not thought about being angry with Chris all day.  We spent the whole day together, eating, laughing, cooking, talking and buying cars. No harsh words or rancorous barbs tossed about.

I rose from the bed after I heard Chris snoring to beat the band.  I slipped out of the bedroom and made my way to the patio. I needed time to process all that transpired.

I sat in a chair and pulled my knees up to my chin. The night was chilly, so I pulled my knees closer to my chest for warmth.  A breeze tugged my hair and blew the sand around. Plants rustled with a dry sound. No wildlife sounds. No bugs, no frogs, no coyotes.  I could hear traffic from the nearby city and a plane made its way across the sky. Quiet and peaceful.

When the patio door whispered open, I turned to see Chris standing in his pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,”  I replied.

He said in a chair beside mine and asked, “Contemplating the night?”

“Not really.  More like soul searching.”

Silence fell sharply between us.

“We sure are getting a good look at the sky tonight,”  Chris commented.

I nodded and regarded the sky with him.

“Anne, do you want to marry me?”  Chris asked suddenly after several minutes.

I turned to watch his face in the moonlight.  I saw expectation, fear, and vulnerability. It was so tempting to simply melt into his arms, but I hesitated.  

“I am not ready, Chris.  The anger is too deep.” I whispered.

“Do you want to divorce me?”  he whispered back, like a little boy who is as afraid of the question as he is of the answer.

“I am not ready for that, either.”

“Anne, I emailed Kathy and told her to move on because it was finished between us.  I emailed Dan to tell him that I would fire her as soon as I got back and why, and he told me she turned in a resignation and walked out of the office.  Her parting shot was asking Dan to tell me to screw myself. In so many words.”

I watched the desert for long minutes and then I asked Chris, “When did you email her?”

“Somewhere between Tallahassee and Mobile.”  

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You wouldn’t have listened or you would have thought it was a game of some kind.”

“You’re probably right. Chris, I am glad you did that, but it still doesn’t fix everything.”

“I didn’t think it would,” he said.  “It was just the first step in fixing me. She has texted several times and emailed.  I have deleted all her texts and blocked her number from my phone. I blocked her email address, too.”  He gazed intently at the night, not facing me. “Can you ever forgive me?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,”  I told him, truthfully.  I rose from my chair and returned to the quiet house.  I padded softly to the bathroom and then returned to the bed.

Chris returned in about fifteen minutes and I pretended to be asleep, keeping my breaths deep and even and my eyes forced shut. I felt his eyes on my for long minutes.  Finally, he sighed and got under the blanket.

Sometime in the tiny hours of the morning, we fell asleep back to back instead of spooning.
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Road of Change

Road of Change: Santa Fe Morning (continued)

Soon after the breakfast dishes were done, Matt, Chris, Charlotte and me piled into the Cayenne to find another car.  

Julia stayed behind with Barbara and promised to have my laundry washed and dried by the time we returned.

The dealership looked like many others I had seen, all white and chrome.  A young man met us at the door and asked how he could help after introducing himself.  I told him I wanted to see the 2018 Eclipse Cross and they had one in the showroom. The salesman went over all the features of the car and I felt like I would need a degree in engineering just to drive the thing.

The five of us got into the car, my family plus the salesman, and went for a test drive.  It handled much easier than the Cayenne and I said as much to Chris. He took over the test drive and agreed.

Back in the showroom, we started negotiating for the best price.  Lillian gave us enough money to buy the car four times over, but there was no need to be frivolous.

The salesman gave us a price, ran back and forth to the manager and we still didn’t get much of a deal.  Finally, I told him that we would be back the next morning and we walked out of the dealership with the salesman looking like he had just lost the sale.

“Why did you do that?”  Chris demanded once we were back in the Cayenne.

“The guy was been a hard ass and wouldn’t deal.  Now, because he thinks he has lost the sale, he will be more reasonable the next time we come in,”  I said.

“Really?  We won’t have to start the negotiations over?”

“No, we won’t.  You never take the first offer or the second.  I went back three times before I bought my CRV.  I ended up with over $7,500 off the MSRP.”

“You can negotiate for my next car, then,” Matt said.

I told him, “Your next car is the Cayenne.  Now, what will you give me for it?”

“No way I am negotiating with you,”  Matt said. “I will end up giving you all my money plus the deed to my house for a car I have inherited.”  We all laughed.

Back at the house, we ate sandwiches for lunch and then I helped Julia fold my laundry.

She was thrilled we were staying one more night.  In fact, I would have loved to stay for a lifetime.  Maybe Santa Fe would be a good place for Chris and me to retire.  Ernesto arrived in time to help Matt and Chris make dinner. Charlotte, Julia, Barbara and I looked over the wedding plans.  Charlotte had a wedding book with pictures of everything she wanted for the wedding.

Her cake looked like it was covered in paper Mexican flowers in bright blue, pink, yellow, orange, and purple. The fondant was exquisite.

The reception area beside the chapel where the wedding was, would be lavishly decorated with bright Mexican flowers and two bridesmaids were going to wear cotton fiesta skirts with lace trimmed peasant blouses and sandals.  Traditional Mexican food was on the menu and Sangria and tequila would freely flow.

Ernesto intended wear a black suit with silver conchos down the sides of the pant legs, a jacket trimmed in silver conchos, a bright blue sash and bright blue bow around his neck.  He would wear a black sombrero and white guayabera shirt trimmed in white lace.

After seeing her wedding plans, I looked forward to the fiesta more than ever.

Charlotte’s eyes danced as she described the wedding. “You and Uncle Chris have to wear Mexican clothes.  I can give you the name of my dressmaker and she can make a shirt for Uncle Chris and a dress for you. It will be fabulous fun.”

We gathered at the table for dinner, adding an additional chair for Julia.  We ate quesadillas and enchiladas, and Matt produced a flan for dessert. After dinner, we played what Matt called Monopoly-To-The-Death followed by lively charades after Matt soundly beat all of us.

This was not a family to gather around a TV set and just watch.  We talked, interacted, had fun. Even Chris joined the fun and played charades like a champ. At midnight, we all headed for bed.