Knitting Lace on Father’s Day

Well, this was a day.  I’m watching Design Star.  It is the beginning of the season and I get to watch these people walk all over each other to make the hippest, chic-est, most elegant rooms (and yeah, those qualities may not co-exist well).  These are decorating features that I like:  thick carpets with no sculpting; hardwood floors; pewter; bronze; bright colour; walls full of paintings; uncluttered mantels (you might not be able to see this in my house, because one sister has loaded me up with dustable objects that she takes out of their hiding places and displays on my mantel when she visits); boxes, carved or rustic; musical instruments; bookshelves (lots); things that have more than one use; ottomans (no tacky covers); ceiling fans; living plants; high ceilings; and, of course, yarn.  I can list things all day.  The fact is, my home is not a magazine spread.  I have family members who dread coming over because there is evidence of my work and my play all over the place.  I don’t see the point in putting stuff away when you’re going to use it again tomorrow.  Unless it’s soy milk. 

 

I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the fact of Tim Russert’s death.  He has been such a prominent part of my political observation experiences that I can’t imagine the coming presidential election without him.  As a matter of fact, his absence gives me a shadowy sense of foreboding.  I am always concerned about how the media portrays candidates and their families, supporters and campaigns.  Russert could be relied upon for fairness and thoroughness, and there isn’t much of that these days.  His interview questions often reflected what I’d want to ask, but would never have the political savvy to frame properly.  I learned a lot about documentation from those videos, articles, and speech transcripts he would whip out and show to individuals who had long forgotten their previous words.  I’ve lived with the hope that people would be reasonable in evaluating statements that had some data behind them.  I may be wrong in that, but it gives me optimism that our citizenry could, given enough information, choose wisely.  Who is going to pull out those facts and talk about them in plain language now?

 

I am sorry for Tim Russert’s family.  It is wonderful that he had a close relationship with his child, and that his son can go on with happy memories.  If my parents had died as soon as I graduated from college, there would have been so much hurt and unfinished business that I would still be in daily therapy.  I am grateful for the extra time, and the repaired relationship. 

 

I knitted another round of lace today.  I love the top I’m making.  I’d kinda like to go into a retreat for a few days and just knit and ignore the world.  That is why hotels exist, right?  I am months overdue in making that reservation. 

 

Father’s Day dinner was okay.  No catastrophes, good food, one or two stunts by people who shall remain unnamed.  Anybody who says I kicked my leg up higher than the table to show off my Sunday Crocs is just being mean-spirited.  (Yes, I had on long pants!)  As usual, we were the loudest people in the room.  It’s just hard to laugh quietly and really mean it. 

 

Hope your Father’s Day was good, whether you were celebrating or remembering. 

 

Peace.

 

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One Response

  1. I love your laughter line, and will probably steal it! 8^)

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