Happy New Year!

It’s our James Bond year! (Was I the only fool suckered into going to see A view to a kill because Duran Duran sang the theme song???)
Yes, I know, I’m a few days late… But trust me, you would thank me for not posting a few days ago! After all, this is supposedly some kind of knitting, spinning blog, right; not some type of therapy.
Good thing I’m not superstitious about ‘New Years’, I spent the first few hours in tears, and New Year’s day covered in vomit. Sounds like it was a good high school party, no? Well, It isn’t what you think. Plus, I was never one of those types to get drunk and cry, I left that one up to Rob. He was the drama queen back then. The vomit came from my young, ah! the glamorous life I lead. The tears, well, apparently, I slid down the dark PMS abyss. Add the power of hormones to the magical change that is supposed to happen with the turn of the new year, multiply that by the expectations I have for myself, viola, tears.
If I was 20 years younger I would have been held up in a dark room listening to Cure records smoking cigarettes and writing bad poetry and doing stipple… (And you know, with having two sick kids to contend with, this seemed like a really great option.)
Instead, I threw myself at the mercy of my spinning wheels.

I’m not one for resolutions at the beginning of the fictitious calender change; but I do have a bad habit of looking backwards over the year and finding all of my faults. The thing that bothered me the most was I felt like I wasted the gifts that were bestowed on me in 05. It was a difficult year, but the amount of personal growth that was granted to me by the universe was astounding. I feel like I’ve almost betrayed my compassionate path. I feel like what I do is totally trivial given the state of the world. In my heart, I hope that isn’t true. And I know I can take steps to correct that, if it is the case.
Out of all that came my Fiber Friday.

It is called ” 58,408 ”
185 yards
10 ounces
apx 11 wpi
2 ply,
One ply of black wool top & mohair locks with an itty bitty ply of wool, nylon and silk sari.
The topic this week was Grief.
58,408 is the number of Iraqi civilians killed since the resident and his cronies decided to stomp up in there. For what? Money and oil? When the greed of a few men can cause that much human suffering, and not be held accountable for such shameful acts; we truly live in an unjust world. I wonder how they can sleep at night? (Perhaps large quantities of sleeping pills washed down with alcohol? )
I know, you must be thinking “……and this ISN’T depressed?”
Believe me when I say you would not like to have read anything I would have posted a few days ago, before my new favorite cure for hormonal induced insanity…
For those of you who want in on the cure, take 3 to 4 pints of neopolitan dynamite (I would highly recommend 4, just to be on the safe side.) Put this on repeat, (Thank you Brenda & Muggle!) and do something you find joy in. Stir well and often.
I think that will be a new mantra for this James Bond year; Find the joy.
♥