Elliot’s picked up a phrase from one of us, he’ll snuggle up to me and say “Grammy, shall we read a book to pass the time?” or “Poppy, do you want to build a tower… to pass the time?” or “Auntie Banda, do you want to colour to pass the time?”

I love this idea he has of time – that every day we get up and we do things as time passes, and then we’re out of time for the day, but that’s cool because you have a tower, a book, a picture. He must think this way because one of us presented time like that, asked “what shall we do until it is time for the next thing to happen?” This fits too, since Ellie has only a limited concept of time in general – he’s still only four so benchmarks work better for him. He’s more likely to understand that something is happening after lunch than to grasp the concept of two hours. If you ask him what time it is he can tell you the numbers on the clock, but if you ask him what time something will happen he’ll say “3pm.” (We are all unclear on the significance of 3pm, but everything happens then.) If you inquire about how much longer until something happens he either tells you “a few minutes” if it’s soon or “Seventy twenty hundred” if it’s going to be a while. (These are not exact numbers. Sometimes soon is “seven minutes” and once in a while an event will not be going to occur for “nine and fifty years!”)

Last year at this time I decided on a year long project, a big theme to help pass the time. A long range goal, something that would carry me month to month with a sense of continuity and movement, no matter how weird the world around me got. My knitting serves a lot of purposes in my life, and I was comitted to working all the angles. I wanted it to be the perfect project for the year if restrictions lifted and I started travelling for work again (Oh, the innocence) and the perfect project for if – well I didn’t know what the year might bring so it was something that had to be really chipper. I decided it would be sock based, because I’ve always though that no matter what happens to you a knitting a pair of socks seems to work out fine – and since I thought this year would be the year of our rainbow baby (the baby born after pregnancy or infant loss) that a rainbow theme would be perfect.

It turns out that this wasn’t the year for our rainbow – and I almost lost my cool on this big project when that pregnancy was lost but it turns out that I was super clever when I picked it, because this kept feeling right, and hopeful and positive and like… Like things have just got to change eventually. Truly, it is hard to be down about your life and its direction if every project gets you one step closer to a rainbow colour-wheel of socks. Every pair not only passed the time, but felt a little bit like building something, and that felt pretty darn good for this knitter, even on this little scale.

I can’t tell you how satisfying it was to add another pair to the pile as the year wore on, I’d giggle as I laid a pair on the stack and while away some time deciding what colour was missing or what I should knit next.

When I was done, I took it apart and mailed it away in bits for Christmas gifts- and people I love are now wearing parts of my privately constructed rainbow on their feet as they all walk forward into next year and thinking of that makes me smile. I knit a walking rainbow. Take that, pandemic.

I was reflecting this morning on the way things used to be, which I know isn’t a very helpful point of view for either the midst of a pandemic or the weird week between Christmas and New Years when nobody really knows what’s going on or what day it is anyway. It used to be that our family celebrated most of the 12 days of Christmas, and round about now I’d be organizing myself for my mum’s big party at her place, looking forward to seeing Tupp and Susan, and embracing how I’d come up with my share of appetizers for 50.

Needless to say the minute those thoughts entered my mind I shut that (*&^ down. Now is not the time – almost two years into a pandemic that’s breaking a lot of hearts at present – to get anything remotely resembling wistful. This is a time when you look straight ahead my poppets, so the minute that I felt my spirits start to fall into what my dear friend Judith would call “a decline” I drank a big glass of water, changed into my running stuff and headed out for a cold, fierce run. Two things about this, first – to the knitter who recognized me on the street as I was hitting the 3.5km mark – I apologize for not being far more personable and for not telling you that your festive red, white and green scarf was very pretty. It was- and I thought that and several nice things in the moment, but in my defence I was barely clinging to life and oxygen, so know that whatever it was that I gasped at you was a poor outward reflection of my inward feelings, but there is really only so much that a knitter in her 50’s is capable of saying at that point. Second – “Come and get your love” may be one of the greatest running tracks ever.

We are out the other side of Christmas here – our current version being only one day, and it was very nice. I am not going to even go to the place where I say that it was “nice for a pandemic version” or “nice considering what the restrictions and risks will allow” nor will I tell you that we just about set fire to brunch because the right people weren’t here to do the right jobs, and that there are few pictures because the rhythm of the thing was all funny. At this point, please take it as read that we desperately miss the folks we can’t see right now, and that all our versions of things this year were scaled down, but we’ve decided to focus on what we’ve got, rather than what we don’t, because most of us don’t run, or at least not enough to deal with those feelings.

Instead we found a lot of happiness in the things we were able to do- a teeny tiny version of our gingerbread party, just enough to make memories for Elliot,

Tree trimming at Auntie Banda’s house after she joined our bubble,

A lovely quiet Christmas Eve.

We moved our traditional Christmas brunch outside so we could welcome Ken (we have a patio heater we bought to make this a little more realistic and we’d like to thank the Toronto weather for being mild) and knitted twinkly stars made it cheerful,

Elliot was everything else we needed to be happy (every time he opened a gift, big or small, he said “I’ve been wanting this for YEARS!”) and our Christmas dinner was sweet and small and we all fit around the table this year, and we pulled our crackers and wore our paper crowns which was really rather thrilling for Elliot, since he has been trying to have the Christmas crackers on every table we set for a month.

I took a particular pleasure this year in presents mailed far and near – especially all the Starry Lights (rav link) – just about everyone that got one sent me a picture of where they’d placed it, and I loved that. (It is worth noting here that I knit nine. NINE of them, and I am not sure I am done. Say what you want about me, but I really know how to get on an obsession.)

Sea Ink (rav link) was finished in time to be mailed north – it was a glorious knit. I used Eco+ in black (never again, lace in black, never again) and the finished project is HUGE and fantastic and I have no doubt that when the box was opened, and the thing wound round the recipient, that it worked just the way knitted things are meant to.

Like mailed love. Hang in there petals – love the ones you’re with.

I’m sitting here at my little desk trying to figure out what to write. I promised myself I would. I put it on a to-do list and that means I definitely have to, but absolutely nothing of any interest has happened in the last few days, with three exceptions, so I think I will tell you about those.

1. Despite the incredulous tone some of you took in the comments I still think that this Christmas knitting plan borders on the possible, and there’s even visible progress.

I admit the progress is a little easier to see if you’re either here or supernaturally interested – but I am both so it’s clear to me. First, the shawl is bigger, and I had to start the second ball of yarn which is pretty exciting. There are just 36 rows to go, although they are ever increasing, but let’s leave that bit out because it competes with the optimism. The hat’s gone, that’s because it’s done. The advent socks have six stripes on each and it’s the 6th of December, so can’t hope for better. Last time there were four skeins of sock yarn that were just skeins and now I’ve got a cast on, a cuff and one sock knit to the heel, that’s much better, loads of positivity there. Elliot’s sweater is several centimetres longer – almost at the hem, and then I’ll be on sleeve island for a while but honestly, he’s four. His arms are shrimpy. The Starry Light (rav link) is gone and there’s a new string of lights there – but it’s even better than that, one whole other star was knit in the interval. (That’s three I’ve knit. I told you I don’t know how this ends, I find them really, really compelling.)

2. Elliot and I made a whole bunch of other Christmas presents together, and that’s a big green square on the spreadsheet. I am thinking about making it a neon green because anything you convince a four year old to do should be something you get extra points for. Also, if anyone knows how to get wax out of a carpet I’d be into hearing about it. (I tried an iron and paper towel but frankly, it’s a lot of wax.

3. Finally, I read all the comments on the last post as they came in, and it was not at all what I expected. I don’t know what I expected you to say, and I’m not sure there’s a nice way to say this, but I’m so glad so many of you are struggling the way I am. That doesn’t sound right of course, I’m so sorry that things are hard all over, but these last months have been so ridiculously trying that hearing other people say that they’re tired, and sad and sick of it, and thought it would be over and aren’t emotionally prepared for the pandemic version of another stinking holiday is wildly reassuring. If we all feel this way, it must mean there’s some sort of normalcy in the reaction, if not the circumstances. It feels good to be in it together, to know that as always, the blog gets it and that we can all just go forward together, imperfect beings that we are.

PS. I am serious about the wax in the carpet thing.

Traditionally, one of my best things is Christmas. I practically make a hobby out of it every year and you’d think that this year would be no exception, but I am not really feeling it just yet. Last year I think I leaned really hard into the whole Covid holiday theme, really busted a move trying to make everything as good as it could be even though we couldn’t gather. I dropped off gingerbread to everyone who usually comes to the Gingerbread Party so we could do it over Zoom – we had backyard visits and distanced everything and I mailed cards and ornaments to feel close to people we couldn’t see and it wasn’t the way things should be, but it was a strange and terrible year, so it felt like I met expectations because frankly, nobody had any.

This year I thought about doing all those things but when I imagine spearheading the whole thing I just feel… exhausted. Anyone else? When I think about finding creative and novel ways to show people I love them when I can’t be with them… I am just so tired. All of this is compounded by the way that some people can gather more than we’re able to – so dropping of the kit for a virtual party when they’re on their way to a (very small) in-person one feels silly. I’m really super grateful that (so far screw you Omicron) we can gather more than we were able to last year. There will be one or two more people around our table and I’m working towards celebrating that as much as I can. To that end, I decided to shift into high gear and fake it until I make it.

The tree is up, I’m working the spreadsheet and making reindeer themed pancakes and going for walks to count the Christmas lights and today I gathered up everything I intend to knit before Christmas to try and scare myself into the festive spirit.

It is a big pile and perhaps the spirit of Christmas dwells within me yet because I look at that pile and I feel hope.

In that pile: A few twinkle stars (this number may grow. I am oddly obsessed and can’t predict where it ends.) A sweater for Ellie that’s about a third done, my advent socks (I got the 24 stripe set from The Cozy Knitter). Four pairs of large men’s socks, none started. One hat, almost done, and a super large Sea Ink. (Rav link) That behemoth is about halfway done.

Oddly, looking at that pile, I am unconcerned. I don’t know whether it’s because I feel like I have loads of time, or because a few of those pairs of socks are optional – kinda, or if it’s because it doesn’t quite feel like Christmas yet.

I’m going to buckle down and get to knitting in earnest and see if that makes me feel a lot more festive. Nothing like a Christmas deadline to get your bells jingling. How about you? Anything making this second Covid Christmas feel great to you? I’m open to suggestions.

If this works, it will be a minor miracle. If it works I’m almost positive it won’t look right, or that a few things will be wonky so if they are, know that it is wondrous and spectacular that I have managed to come up with something wonky and a little off at all.

While I’ve been gone this time, the blog and my email moved to a new server, and it’s been a smidge traumatic as the blog disappeared and reappeared and my ability to email went with it. There was one particularly horrific evening as the entirety of everything went up in smoke with a hint of worry about the situation with my backups. (To be clear, I had them – I just had the timing on them set up funny thanks to a really strange conversation with a tech guy I had a few years ago where it is clear in retrospect that one of us had no idea what was going on. I’m not sure which of it is is, so I henceforth I hold both of us blameless.) It looked for a few hours like I might not get the blog back – all almost 18 years of it and I was pretty freakin’ distraught. (It is worth noting that I had no such feelings about the horrific backlog of emails in my inbox and yay verily did wish for a little while that it would all be gone and I’d get some sort of start at a fresh life.)

Happily for the Blog (and sadly for my inbox) everything worked out properly, and here we are, though “here” is very different all of a sudden. Due to some deficits in my character that make me slow to adapt and reluctant to change things that are working, I have been editing these posts and sending them to you using software that was completely geriatric. The kind of software that when you call the server migration team and tell them what you are using, there’s a low whistle of awe. The exact kind of awe and shock you’d expect if they’d just witnessed a large and extinct bird swoop over their desk and land on the coffee machine before pooping right on the router.

The person in question, when they had regained their composure you understand actually said “You don’t say… ” and then trailed off rather helplessly. This is all a long way around saying that I am sitting here typing and nothing is where I left it. Pargraph? I have to press a button to get a paragraph? What’s wrong with hitting return twice? (Trust me do not do that. I’ll have to do some sort of tutuorial to find out why.) This all makes me suspicious that when I hit post (oh, wait. I have to find that button) I will get a surprising result, but what the hell Knitters, we have got to start somewhere with new things, and I guess today is it.

So, here we go. I finished some socks! These are Woodland Walk (that should be a link, if the godesses deem me worthy) and the yarn is… gosh I wish I knew. Well aged stash to be sure, and short one little ball band. If anyone recognizes it, let me know. (Right, now I’m going to try and post a picture. I personally don’t have high hopes, it’s taken a while to get this far.)

Well. Whatever. They’re great socks. I’m going to go have a knit. I really hate new things.

(PS. You don’t hit “post” anymore. Now it’s “publish”. We’ll see.)