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Posts Tagged ‘yarn’

After a frustrating morning trying to be intelligent serious on my new writing blog,   THOUGHTS IN YELLOWWOOD FOREST , I decided to return to my comfort zone and check out my WordPress Blog for the morning, where I found a comment from Lyda on Pollyanna, linking me to her poem “Shakespeare Rainbow”  Pollyanna’s Blog Poetry Corner « Pollyanna Rainbow Sunshine and the Needles of Doom.   Whew! Take a breath here.

Polyanna dug through the garbage can of search terms, at her Blog, to create artwork. (See link above for full poem) I am particularly taken with the following lines in her poem:

plying hand dye,
dead brain cells

I feel like someone, be it the searcher or Lyda, has seen the inside of my brain. Not a pleasant feat! As I read these lines, I picture all these little threads of hand dyed yarn tangled in the recesses of my dead brain cells. Gosh, is this what happens to a knitter as she ages? Her attic becomes nothing but a tangle of yarn.

Now,  I stand and pronounce to the world. “I have a brain disorder. I see things that no one else sees and I enjoy it.” Yup! That’s right. I enjoy my little visions. My family has puzzled over them for years. They used to be in color. I saw a purple door floating in the air once. Now, they are in black and white.

The other night I turned off my laptop, and before shutting the screen, I was able to watch a cartoon in black and white on the actually blank screen. Usually, this happens at night and I’m wondering if it is a medication causing it. Or, perhaps a flashback from a “medication.”

I wake often during the night and sometimes see little black floating triagles floating through the air. Other times I can lay there and watch a moving cartoon in black and white. Now, if I can just get them to play a cartoon of my book, I’d be all set. At least I don’t hear voices.

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I spent several days at my oldest daughter’s house last week.  I love education/learning, and  could be a full time student. So, I was very excited to attend my daughters “Master of Education” graduation ceremony at Notre Dame. She actually received her Master’s degree from Indiana University but the pomp and circumstance was at Notre Dame. The trip was my mother’s day gift to myself.

I love solitude and the four hour drive was great. I listened to one CD Cannonball Adderley’s finest hour, and drove in silence during the rest of the trip.  I am the kind of person who needs quiet time. I disappear during family reunions to recharge. The amount of noise produced by a room full of people is incredible and I sometimes think my head will explode if I don’t get away. I’ve always felt that I would thrive at the top of a mountain by just sending my work down. It should speak for itself anyway.

The solitude of my childhood may have contributed. My brother was six years older, and my sister did not grow up in our home. We lived semi-rural, with a farm behind us and empty lots on each side. TV was a constant. One of my favorite things to do now, is to turn off the tv, the minute other people leave the house. I do love movies though and Sharon, my daughter, and I spent the time together watching “chick flicks” and knitting.

Knitting is a new passion for her. Her teaching partner got her hooked and she is determined to do it with perfection. I take a bit more of a relaxed attitude with knitting. It is a hobby. I am perfectionist in my painting, and make many things I do more difficult than they should be, but have found out that you may see every imperfection, but others don’t usually. It doesn’t stop me, but I try. At this time my daughter  has four tiny needles surrounding the opening of a pink sock. She gave me a sock kit for Mother’s day. I usually knit sweaters. So, I strained my eyes with my new book, needles and fantastic yarn.

The yarn is varigated and I love the colors. “No” I answer my daughter, “I do not care that one sock is starting blue variegated and the other is starting more green.” (As I said, I am not a perfectionist. Intentionally, not. We did go visit a yarn shop and it was a feast for the eyes. I love colors anyway. I begin my paintings with washes of pure color. When I was “on the art circuit” and painting ten or more hours a day, I would be talking to someone at a reception but my mind would be painting their face. “Hmm, a bit of Thio Violet here and a shadow of green there.” I have been told that other people do not see these colors in flesh, but the world is a riot of color for me.

And, one more thing, as long as I am rambling. My daughter’s sixth grade “gifted” class has done some reviewing of my young adult novel. Good reports so far and some wonderful critiquing. My daughter has also made some suggestions and I was able to come home with a new idea to add to the book. Thought of, during the quiet moments in my car.  Hope you all take a few moments of silence to recharge your brain.

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