There is so much stuff to blog about, so many projects I am so proud of but haven’t shown yet, and so many plans and half a “flash your stash” that could be posted, and even more new fiber, and not only one, but two new spindles …
But this is so overwhelming that I think I am showing you what I am working on right now. 😉 (Would you like to see the other projects, too?)
But before, please allow me to tell you something important. (You can totally skip this part if you’re only here for the knitting. Scroll down until you see the small line I have made. The part about knitting follows.)
In 2016, I turned 30.
“30” is a huge deal to a lot of people – and, oddly, a number that seems to fill quite a lot of people with dread. They think that “30” means that your youth is almost over – after 30 comes 40, after all, and you’re not “young” when you 40. “30” also means getting married and having children, and making career choices and being considered “grown up” and if you still haven’t finished that university degree, then you’d better get your arse in gear, because, man, you’re 30, and you really should get it together now. A colleague of mine turned 30 last May, and he was making a great fuss about it – because he took the birthday wishes with a face as if his dentist had given him a coupon “for 1 root canal treatment”. “30 is so grown up“, he said when I asked him what was actually wrong with it, and he made it sound as if it was something completely horrible. When I told him that Philipp had already celebrated his 30th birthday, he asked: “And how does he take it?” (Fun fact: Said colleague got married last year. You can’t possibly do a more adult thing in my book.)
Now – I think, that this is bullshit. I love being 30. When I was 18, “30” seemed aeons away, which is natural, of course, but I wasn’t in a good place at all health-wise, so “30” seemed completely out of reach. Now, I have reached it, and my birthday brought me a strong notion that yes, I am in charge of my life, I am grown up, I can do whatever I want, and that no, I do not have you to like my choices to be happy and satisfied.
I know that this may seem odd to a few of you (because you should reach this point as early as you can), but I have been mistaken for being 30 since I was 20, because I was “too serious”, “too by-the-book”, not “lively” enough for 20, I didn’t like going to parties during my student years, I don’t drink, so I never had to show up somewhere with a hangover, I was in a steady relationship (it’s been 12 years now. TWELVE!), and sometimes, I was sitting in my apartment and thought that I had it all wrong, because wasn’t I supposed to be out every weekend and coming home in the small hours and loving it, because if I didn’t do it now, I would bitterly regret it at 80, even if I didn’t want to do it now? (I was also told that I looked as if I was in my 30s from very early on, but that’s a story for another time.)
Since my birthday, these thoughts have been put to rest. I don’t give a damn if anybody finds it odd that an ideal Friday night for me means sitting down with a cuppa tea, my knitting and my laptop, either watching Let’s Plays, or reading, or chatting with a friend and writing on my stories (or our story, for that matter), and I love it that way. For the first time in years, I do not feel the urge to apologise about me being an introvert (or an ambivert, because I really like people, and I love my jobs), and while I haven’t finished my PhD, and I haven’t made up my mind whether I’d like to have children or not (I like children, but right now, I’m not overly enthusiastic about the idea, so I’m opting for “no”), I still have time, and I like who I am and how I am and this is enough.
Now, on the evening of my birthday (or rather, the Saturday after), I took my family out to a Vietnamese Restaurant Philipp and I have been to quite a couple of times now (we love it. The food is amazing). My grandparents have never eaten Vietnamese food before, so it was an adventure for them (it was also a bit odd that they don’t serve knives at the restaurant, but you’ve got forks and spoons if you prefer them to the chopsticks, so they were fine), and my sister came, too, along with her new partner. 🙂
As we were getting out of the car, I put on my latest pair of mittens I had made for me (made from a ball of alpaka yarn Philipp gave me as an anniversary present a few years ago) to show them to my gran.
The pattern is called Nalu Mitts, a freebie on ravely by Leila Raabe – and my father looked at them and spontaneously said: “I’d like a pair like these, for when I’m smoking my cigar on the balcony.”
Now, talking about being surprised! My father rarely requests something handknit – it has only happened once, so far, and I had never pictured knitting mittens for him. But, fine … I went, and bought four lovely balls of “Merino Soft”, an aran weight yarn by Wolle Roedel.
A quick search on ravelry unearthed Cigar, a knitty pattern that is – I kid you not – especially designed for cigar (or cigarette) smokers, because it is partly a fingerless mitten (for thumb, index- and middle finger) and a glove for the pinky and the ring finger. Woo-hoo!
While I didn’t manage to knit them before Christmas, I cast on on the 15th, and this is how far I have come:
I have to say, I love them. The mittens seem huge, but my father has large, broad hands (his hand circumfence is 22cm, that’s 8,8″), and I measured out his hand and he tried the mitten on before I did the stripe section. To finish the first mitten, I only have to finish the ring finger, the pinky, and the thumb (and sew in some ends), and then I can cast on the second one … I’m really happy how they are turning out. 🙂
Take care, everybody, and have a lovely weekend!
All the love,