Waiting... awkwardly...

When was the last time you sat in a waiting room that didn't have a TV in it?  Or maybe there was a TV on, but the volume was too low to actually hear it.  Did you sit there feeling a little stupid as you watched a silent picture?  Feeling only slightly less stupid realizing that the person in the next seat over was watching the silent TV too?  

This was my very odd experience last week at my dentist's office.  

To get to the point of this post...  TV or not, when was the last time you sat in a waiting room without pulling your cell phone out to check for a text, or to simply help you pass the time?

This past week I challenged myself to do just that.  Just sit. In a waiting room.  For an undetermined amount of time without distracting myself with my phone.  

I didn't last more than five minutes before sheer awkwardness drove me to finally dig my phone out of my purse.  It wasn't boredom that made me look for my phone.  It wasn't that I felt compelled to check on something.  It was simply that I grew overwhelmingly awkward sitting in a silent waiting room, in the midst of people also sitting there - most on their phones.

It didn't used to be this way.  I can remember years ago sitting quietly, maybe closing my eyes to deepen the experience of soaking in the quiet. I remember when life was busy with kids and their activities, having occasions to sit alone, quietly in a waiting room and actually enjoying it.  I remember sometimes carrying a book with me if I expected  to be waiting for very long.  I remember picking up magazines on a nearby table to glance through, and once (at a dentist's office) I even remember when the receptionist offered to make a copy of the article I was reading.  I guess she noticed I was engrossed when I was called back more quickly than I expected to be.  

This week, in the waiting room of a lab, there weren't even magazines.

The Quest Diagnostics waiting room I have had the experience of visiting in recent years is a sadly stark space.  I don't think there is a window to look out of.  No music. There is definitely no TV.  There isn't even a person whose job it is to check people in.  Even that little bit of activity can at least give one the opportunity to people-watch without looking obvious or rude.  All that is in this dreary waiting room are chairs around the perimeter (that on this day were mostly full), and a kiosk awkwardly placed across the room from the door - just waiting for the next person to walk in and across the gray-carpeted floor to check him or herself in.  Watching the back of someone silently checking himself in on a touch screen doesn't make for very interesting people watching.

So I looked around, smiling if someone made eye contact.  Finally, folding my arms over my purse I began to hopelessly look at the walls for something my eyes could land on. There were three pieces of paper tacked to a bulletin board close to where I sat, but the print was so small I couldn't read them without getting up and going to see what was printed on them.  They didn't look interesting enough to bother. 

I shifted my body.  I changed my gaze.  I looked at the carpet.  Then, glancing in different directions, I tried not to look shifty.  

Feeling shifty, I closed my eyes.  Having nothing at all to listen to, I felt odd sitting like that - imagining I looked like I was praying.  Which would have been a perfectly fine thing to do, but I was so overcome by my awkwardness actually praying didn't even cross my mind. 

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.  I opened my eyes and pulled out my phone.  

I checked for texts.  Nothing there.

I texted a friend (a few years ago, I began texting one long-distance friend whenever I found myself in a waiting room - I thought it was a unique genre of texting, even if it was a little weird).  

She didn't reply.

Since I didn't have earphones, I couldn't watch a video, so I googled something.  I have no memory of what inane thing I typed into the search box.  What I remember was how disappointed I was in myself that I didn't have the fortitude to not pull my phone out and pretend I had something interesting to do on it.  I had failed the challenge.

Setting aside, for a minute, my utter disappointment in myself, I'm suddenly remembering I have Solitaire on my phone.  And some word game. I rarely play games on my phone, so it didn't even occur to me.  Is that what other people are doing on their phones when they look completely immersed in something fascinating?!?  I've always assumed other people have gobs of friends or family texting them.  Or I've figured they might be doing some important work on their phone. 

Are they actually just playing games?!?

In my next post, I'll explain where this topic has sprung from, but for now, seriously...  when was the last time you just sat silently in a waiting room, not watching TV, not playing on your phone?  Instead, just sitting with your thoughts.  I'm sure a few of you have.  But no worries if you haven't, or have no desire to.  It's just a question.  A serious question.  But not one with any criticism implied. 

While I failed on my last attempt, I'm already looking forward to the next opportunity I have.  I am determined to succeed.

Promise of spring...

The roller coaster of late winter's changing weather is upon us.  The pattern repeats:  a string of unseasonably warm days followed by frigid temps in the teens.  

It snowed a bit yesterday as we left a funeral service.  It seemed fitting. 

Today I see 70°F in the 10-day forecast!  That seems impossible.

But there are signs of spring. Garlic planted late last autumn, is popping through  saturated soil, teasing me to start thinking about the garden.  

Though, as of yet, no asparagus is coming through the leaf mulch we put down in November of last year.  

 

And while strawberry plants are starting to stretch from their winter's nap, I'm not sure I want to uncover them just yet.

In this late winter season when it's too wet (and most days, too cold) to be working in the soil, I try to content myself with inside business. 

My friend, Lynne, who brought her own sourdough bread for our dinner and a movie night recently, inspired me to consider that I should really learn how to make this delicious bread.  A few down-to-earth bakers on YouTube have just about convinced me it doesn't need to be as complicated as it often looks to be.  I bought rye and spelt flour for making a quick starter.  Now, I just need to commit to trying.

And in between half-hearted cleaning and decluttering, I'm pretending that crocheting another blanket is something productive to do.

Indeed, there is no need for another blanket, but it is undoubtedly satisfying to move yarn between fingers, while a crochet hook twists colorful strands into a playful pattern of granny stitches.

While this large granny square blanket is more than half-way finished, the rounds go slower and slower the bigger it gets.  No promises or predictions on when it will be finished.  Just pleasure in the making of it.

More doilies...

Today we woke up to a brand new winter wonderland.  And the birds were excited by it all day.

~~~~~

Putting away blanket-weight yarn for a bit, I pulled out some crochet cotton for two new doilies - from the book, 99 Little Doilies...

Somehow, it escaped me that I had made #44 before, but interestingly, made in this peach ivory color, a new name emerged:

Crinoline

And because (I think) I'm working on a collection of little doilies made in the above Ivory Peach color, and a dark brown/gray color called Hawk, I quickly produced #54 below.

Photographed on a lighter background, I might have come up with a different name, but on this gray cloth, this doily is giving me garden/soil vibes.  

Meet Cherozem

Cherozem (the doily) reminds me of the dark prairie soils in north west Indiana where Greg and I first lived (and planted our first garden).  Greg was a soil scientist (who mapped the soils in that part of the state in the early '80's), and he tells me the name used for the soils there is Mollisols. It's rich and dark, and great for growing things.  Cherozem is a word used for this soil in Russia and Ukraine, and maybe Canada?  I think Cherozem is a prettier name than Mollisols, so Cherozem it is.  The emphasis is on the first syllable in case you want to try to pronounce it.  

And that's it for today's YOP post.  If you're at all interested in YOPping, or just being part of a world-wide network of fiber crafters, you can check out the group on Ravelry by clicking the Year Of Projects graphic below.  If you're not already a member of Ravelry, you'll have to create a free account to get any further than the home page.

Look at all those cardinals!  I counted 14 males.  There are probably that many females in the trees and on the feeders.

Dahlia #2...

 I have finally finished my flowery-colored Dahlia Blanket!

I think I remember expressing intentions of finishing this by the end of 2024, then January of 2025.  For some reason, though, l temporarily lost interest. But in the last week, my crojo returned as mysteriously as it had disappeared, and I have finally finished this blanket of many (supposed) Dahlia colors.

Even though my interest waned for a little while, overall it was a pleasure to crochet.  And I am also very glad to be moving on.  

Using a variety of worsted weight yarns, mostly from my stash, I approximated a lot of the colors the designer (Lucy at Attic 24) used.  Lucy tends to make her colorful creations in Stylecraft DK weight yarn that comes in a huge range of colors.  Where I didn't have similar colors in my stash, I worked in colors I thought would play with what I did have.

I finished the border according to the pattern, but finished the last round with a crab (or reverse single crochet) stitch.

I really like this neatly rolled edge as a fun border on a blanket of playful colors.

And that, dear reader, is all I've got for this YOP update.  

It looks like we've got several storm systems crossing the U.S. this week and next weekend - with snow and ice for a lot of people, and maybe tornadoes for some.  I knew it was too much to hope that our recent warm weather last week meant winter was wrapping up.  I hope you all stay warm and dry!

Early February thoughts...

It's February, and I already feel the year slipping away.   

Okay...  maybe it's a little early to start lamenting the year going by too fast, but I do often feel a sense of desperation for how time seems to disappear faster each year.  Does anyone else out there reading this relate?

Something I've been doing for a few years now is recording life in journals/planners of a sort - something I create as I go. I tend to peter out by summer (which is a great disappointment when I look back at my journals), but each year I stick with it a little longer.  Fortunately, I record stuff on my phone's calendar, so at least I can look back for the dates that important-to-me things happened.  Being more of an optimist than not, every January I start a journal like this, and hope it will have staying power.  One of these years, maybe...

Before starting to fill my February calendar, I thought I'd take a moment to enjoy a clean calendar page.  Clean slates, fresh starts, opportunities are what I see above.  I tend to have little set in stone when turning over a new calendar page, but it doesn't take long before the days fill up and all those opportunities either start being realized, or they fade into the airy cloud of good intentions.

While we've turned chilly again, and snow is in the forecast, it was unseasonably warm the first three days of February.  Sunday was in the 50's and Monday was 68°F!  In the sunroom on Groundhog Day, I enjoyed how glorious were the colors I was crocheting with, as I sat like a cat bathed in sunlight, basking in its warmth. 

While true spring is a month and a half away on the calendar, and probably longer than that in temperatures, it was spring in my heart for a few days.  All stresses melted away, as thoughts of what I might plant in the garden tickled my imagination.

While the month started out very nicely here, and in spite of crooning over how great the warmth felt, I am not ready for the busyness of spring.  I have more cocooning to do.  More cooking of hearty meals.  More getting things in order, and house cleaning before we start traipsing in dirt and dust from outside all over again.

And breaking into all these pleasant things is the knowledge that there are many still suffering from hurricane damage in the southeast, and fire damage in California, and all kinds of pestilence and harms around the globe.  I sometimes struggle when life is going well for me, knowing it is hard for others.  Do you this too?  It seems a form of survivor's guilt.  Not productive except that it prompts me to pray and help when and how I can.  

How is it in your corner of the world?  Are you filled with the hope of coming spring, or struggling through the dreary cold of winter?  Or somewhere in between?  Every February I seem to find myself somewhere in between - this year glad for merely chilly temps instead of the bitter cold we had a few weeks ago; not wanting spring to come too early, but also eager to see things growing again.

As long as the earth endures, 

seedtime and harvest, 

cold and heat, 

summer and winter, 

day and night will never cease.

Genesis 8:22 (NASB)