If you're not knitting, the terrorists win

(My mostly on-topic ramblings about knitting. And life in general. My life in specific.)

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Location: Indiana, United States

I'm a middle aged mother of 2 grown children and wife to a man who doesn't seem to mind my almost heroin-like yarn addiction. I spend my time writing, knitting, and generally stressing out.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Happy Mother's Day

Mother's Day always makes me think of my mom, of course. As you know, she passed away when I was young, before I became a mother myself. She would have loved my kids, though. She would have loved their humor, generosity, intelligence, kindness, fearlessness, good looks, and sense of justice. All things she held in high regard. (I, by the way, do not have all of those qualities. And no, humor is not the missing one.)

I have told you on past Mother's Days that Mom was the one who taught me to knit and crochet and read and write--all things that have serve me well in my life. I've told you that Mom's theory on reading was: All reading was good. It made you think about why you liked it or didn't like it or how you would make it better. It made you decide whether you agreed or disagreed or it made you think about whether you should or shouldn't agree or disagree. It made you look at things through others' eyes and maybe examine or re-examine your perspective. This, too, has served me well.

I don't think I've told you that I have my mom's sense of humor.

Mom loved goofy pictures. She took plenty of them when we were kids. There's a picture of me pretending to be hanging on a cliff at Yosemite (It was actually a rock several yards away from the cliff that I was standing behind, but it looked scary because of perspective.) But, like the adult me, Mom didn't really like to be in the pictures herself. In fact, once her kids come along, there aren't a lot of photos of my mom unless it was some special event like the trips we made to California to see my grandma. It's sad, too. My mom was a beautiful woman. I don't know why she stopped being in photos. I imagine she, like me, probably just didn't even think about it.

My mom loved a stupid joke. What kind of animal should you never play cards with? A cheetah! And word play. (Keep in mind that my mom grew up in an environment where you did not want to be labelled as "egghead" or "bookworm", even though she was very smart, so it was very daring that she was so amused by this.)When I was a kid, there were comedians on TV who would do skits full of malopropisms. ("I went to a wedding and then to the conception afterward." "I think you mean reception.") And the Marx Brothers. Groucho could always make Mom laugh.

So, here's to Mom. She deserves top marks.


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