Holey Slippers

I love my slippers. Ever since my first trip to Ukraine, I have been a huge fan of slippers, house shoes, whatever you want to call them. My traveling friends and I used to find the ugliest pair for sale in outdoor markets and we'd send them to each other via snail mail. 

Over the years, I learned to make my own and some lucky pals are actually the recipients of handmade ones nowadays. Some of my favorites are these granny square slippers and these heavy duty felted ones. 

Then I felted the blue pair on the left and I gave them to my mom (knowing that she also loved this pair I made for her.) To give you an idea of how giant these are before felting, the pair on the right fit me perfectly and I'm a US shoe size 9.5.

Now, my pair on the right has a few holes in them. 

It was enough that this pair eventually wore holes in them after one winter. ONE. 

(You can actually see the light streaming through the hole on the right heel.)

 

I guess I kind of expected my orange pair to last forever. I did not, however, expect to feel the cold floor under my left toe when I stumbled into the kitchen earlier than usual this morning because the Peanut didn't get the Daylight Savings memo. 

There's only two things left to do. 

1. Turn the heat on. The weather got below freezing last night and I don't want the Peanut to turn into a popsicle, after all. 

2. Knit a new pair of slippers. These holes might be beyond repair. 

I should probably add a third thing: 

3. Buy more yarn for new slippers. 

No Words

Years ago, I made a phone call at 3 am from Texas to England that would change my life forever. 

The details of that phone call are a story for another time, but in the end, I found myself working on a magazine in the UK — with 'JH' as my editor. 

My own life would have looked wildly different if this man hadn't taken that phone call and offered me an internship and later job. Somehow, he saw something in me that others over the years never did, or would never admit to. My high school English teacher told me I was the worst writer he’d ever seen. 

JH seemed to think otherwise.

For years, I wrote editorials, columns and sidebars, researched, edited and proofread stories, all while listening to him tell me how good everything would look on my resume someday. 

But this — this kind of story was never meant to be included on that list. 

My former editor, mentor and pseudo-uncle, JH, passed away this evening.

It seems only fitting that I write something in his honor. After all, this is the man who launched me on a writing career. Yet here I sit, staring at a screen that looks a little fuzzy through my tears, somewhat at a loss for words.

However, JH taught me a few tricks over the years. Write — even when you don't want to. And, a lot of writing is simply rewriting. In this case, the following is adapted from a letter I sent to him a few weeks prior to his death.
 
Years before I ever met JH, I scribbled a few goals and dreams into a journal. One was to work on a magazine overseas. It seemed unlikely based on my high school and even college track record. And yet, I will never forget sitting at my desk in England, watching him jet off for some conference somewhere on the other side of the world. His words to me as he took off for the airport were, “I want to make sure you could run this magazine in case I drop dead.”

Thankfully, he came back very much alive, but he reminded me that he actually believed in me and my generation. And let’s face it, running the magazine didn’t scare me nearly as much as the thought of him not being around to champion the likes of me.

From stuffy offices in England, to sheep fields in Scotland, planning meetings in Germany, non-Christmas dinners in Wales, aboard a ship in West Africa and even in Ukraine (where our paths never actually crossed at the same time, but he understood nonetheless the reasons I loved it there…), somewhere along our travels and work together, he became more than a mentor to me. He became family.

And I have to give him credit for his perhaps unintentional matchmaking skills. Because of my job, I attended a media junket with Mercy Ships in Norway. Because of that trip, I later joined the organization, where I met the Sailor. We got married and we now have the adorable little Peanut.

Over the years, JH edited a lot of my writing. He'd brag about a good article I wrote and then joke that it only became great once he edited it.

During my time onboard the ‘Love Boat’, I remember sending him articles I wrote for Mercy Ships. Usually he’d have a bit of advice — or say things like, “Your writing is coming on.” It was the same as before -- he held back ever so slightly on giving me any bragging rights.

One time though, he actually paid me a genuine compliment — and it meant more to me than a thousand trite ones. He simply wrote: “It is redundant for me to say your writing is ‘coming on’. It has arrived.” I printed out that email and glued it into my journal for both posterity and proof.
 
Even though JH heard countless tales of how he influenced people over the years in the weeks leading up to his death, I think that was just a glimpse of the impact he made. There's still more to the story. And I suspect that along the way to hear more of the tale, he’ll be receiving a similar compliment to the one he gave me all of those years ago: “Well done, JH. Well done. You have arrived…”

 

Little Golden Books

Thanks to the Literary Library Baby Shower, I haven't had to purchase any books for the Peanut.

Until today.

The antique stores beckoned -- and even though I have plenty of Pyrex, I thought it would be fun to head out and at least browse. 

Browsing at antique stores is a bit like going to a museum without having to pay an entrance fee. As an added bonus, you don't have to wait for the gift shop at the end of your tour to make a purchase -- everything is for sale.

Today's trip yielded these Little Golden Books. 

 

They will go right on the shelf next to The Sailor Dog. 

I loved it when my mom read to me and I hope the Peanut grows up with a fondness for books like his Mama and Grandma. 

I think we're off to a good start!

Crocheted Nurse Doll

Over the summer, while I was expecting the Peanut, I crocheted this little doll for my friend's soon-to-be-three-year-old. 

I stashed it into a package and as soon as I popped it into the post, I realized I never took any photos of the doll. The recipient's mama was happy to oblige when the gift arrived. 

The nurse doll comes with a crocheted baby, chart and stethoscope. Perhaps my favorite part? The booties that look like either blue clogs or those slippers operating room staff wear! My friend is a nurse, and just had her second baby about a year ago, so I thought this would be the perfect gift for the big sister. And apparently she loved it. Crocheted dolls are great --  you can't break 'em!

The pattern can be found for purchase here via download. I purchased a hard copy of the booklet at a Jo-Ann Fabric and Craft store earlier in the summer. 

As a side note, I feel like I'm emerging from the 'newborn fog'. The Peanut is starting to give me a bit more time with both hands, and I hope to return to more regular blogging soon. In the meantime, thanks for sticking with me through fewer posts these days!

Sweater Weather

I love the fact that my mother-in-law taught me to knit. And I know she loves the fact that I even asked her to teach me in the first place.

Last time the Sailor flew through South Africa, she sent this little gem back with him: 

Last time I was in South Africa, I made her a pair of socks. (I know, I know, she could have just made herself a pair of socks and I could have knit the Peanut a sweater. But isn't this much more fun?!)

Today finally felt like Fall... so it's time to break out the hand-knit sweaters.

I don't have the pattern for the one my mother-in-law made. Knowing her, she just made it up as she went along. You can find links to the garter stitch grey sweater here, and the green cardi here. 

Of course, if you're looking to make yourself something for the winter, I highly recommend the Central Park Hoodie. You can find mine here. 

I admit that I love warmer weather. But if it has to get cold, there's nothing better than hand knit sweaters to get you through the weather.