The first time I tried spelling this word, rhythm, was in middle school. Our teacher tried to put me on the spot during an outing on a school bus and asked me how i would spell this. Of course I had trouble.
I didn’t know how to spell it back then and I don’t know much about rhythms in general. My kids probably suffered because of that. As an unschooling parent, rhythms might have come in handy. But that is not me.
At the beginning of every school year I would write down a schedule for ourselves. That lasted about as long as a brand new notebook that loses its shine after page 2.
Rhythms are still not my friend. Having them or the lack of them.
Let me explain. I go to bed late, after midnight, so I can indulge in Connections, Strands, and the Spelling Bee. Then I try to sleep. If that doesn’t work, I read.
Of course therefore I get up late, and miss most people’s mornings. Not today. We had a delivery. Dishwasher. Any time between 9 am and 1 pm was supposed to be its arrival.
I jumped out of bed around 8:30 am, ready for the delivery. And waited and waited. Of course there was no sense in getting anything started, as that was asking to be interrupted. More waiting.
In the end it all worked out. My anxiety of are they really going to install the dishwasher and uninstall the old one and haul it away? was unnecessary. The nicest man was full service. Even moving our fridge out of the way. Because it didn’t even move one centimeter when i tried pulling and Stephen immediately pulled off the freezer handle. You can imagine how we looked to this guy.
Now it’s getting late and I’m trying to psych myself up for bed. An earlier bedtime to make up for the morning loss of sleep. Instead I’m getting more and more confused and discombobulated, or are these the same things?
The rhythm is missing, a rhythm I didn’t know I even had. My body was thrown out of whack. Could be my age, and I would have more gracefully dealt with it when younger. But now at 70 I can’t fool myself so easily.
It’s like when the time changes twice a year. That’s harder and harder to adjust to also. But I’m counting on being in shape again tomorrow.
In the meantime I have regained my knitting shape. After more than a one-year hiatus with hand arthritis, I beat it. The arthritis. I kept on moving my hand and fingers any chance I had. And one day my hand closed all the way again, and I was able to chop away at vegetables and grab my knitting needles and yarn. And I haven’t stopped since.
Having a grandchild on the way is good motivation to knit. But my love of little knitted animals and their clothing has reached new levels. What did I miss in my childhood that I’m making up for now?
Let me end here with photos of some recent creations. The animals themselves are early prototypes while I was still learning. But they serve well as models for the clothing.
Finally mastered boots. More to come.
I’m not a good finisher, so these were languishing around waiting to be sewed up.
These too ended their time out.
Found the perfect yarn and had to make this outfit I saw on someone else’s page.
Even little animals get choices before going out.