The Art of Losing Isn’t Hard to Master.

Dear Martha,

I am old.

At some point, I lost my twenties. I have pinpointed that it took place some time during this year, but it’s difficult to be more specific. This inability to keep track of time, I understand, is part of getting old.

Instead of spending my weekends going to bars, dancing, flirting and brunching on Saturday mornings –  empty yes, but entertaining and age-appropriate –  I became one of those people who spends their weekends going to my peers’ weddings, bridal showers, and of course the baby showers that quickly follow for the very efficient ones.

Now, I realize I sound a bit silly when I say this (sheepish even – this is a knitting blog after all), but I think I can see it, too. This loss of my twenties is not so much in the form of wrinkles, polygrip for my teeth or even laugh lines, but Martha, as my mother lamented to the rearview mirror while she carpooled to UBC in ’69,  “I have lost my 18-year-old glow.”

I console myself by knitting shawls and scarves in garter stitch stripes. Old people like me don’t like a draft around the neck, you know.

witty caption...

I can't bear to face the lens...

I didn't actually think i was sulking when my mother took this photo.

I might look pleased with my scarf, but I'm secretly pouting on the inside at the thought of being nearly 30.

I originally knit this baktus shawl  in gray and black after I saw mistybliss’ version on ravelry. But the resulting stripes were too harsh against my scandinavian colouring. I am much happier with the very subtle contrast provided by the pink and natural.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Before I knit these consolation shawls and after reading your last post, Martha (and quickly ripping back my penguin sweaters – a foolish endeavour, I now know), I began knitting for Someone Else. Again.

Mette, my cousin Michael’s fiance, had a bridal shower coming. After trolling ravelry for a gift that would satisfy both knitter and recipient, I settled on Purl Bee’s Wedding Washcloths, Lace-Edged Pillowcases from Weekend Knitting and Ripple and Lace Leaf Linen Basket Liners from The Knitter’s Book of Yarn.

I had forgotten the deep affection I harbour for Mandarin Petit.

I had forgotten the deep affection I harbour for Mandarin Petit.

I covet these...oh wait, i already made myself some, too.

I covet these...oh wait, I already made myself some, too.

Bread never had it so good.

Bread never had it so good.

Martha calls this picture the perfect knitting still life.

Martha calls this picture "the perfect knitting still life."

Ever the shameless selfish knitter, I have enough leftover to make myself one of everything I gave away.

The brown satin ribbon only partly soothed the injustice of having to give these away to Someone Else.

The brown satin ribbon only partly soothed the injustice of having to give these away to Someone Else.

By ‘enough leftover,’ I might mean that I purchased a skein of french blue linen for my own basket liners.

My love of this french blue Euroflax developed after seeing it edge your crisp linen Vintage Dresser Cloth from the latest Mason-Dixon book, a pattern I didn’t look twice at until you began knitting it. Your ability to see the beauty in something before everyone else continually amazes me.

Your old friend (har har),


Every Wednesday night before knitting, Martha comes over to my house for dinner, Garden Party tea and to catch up on the week that passed. I look forward to it all week long.  This is what I will miss most when she moves away.

June 3, 2009. Uncategorized.


  1. Siga replied:

    I love your blog and do not know why I hadn’t come across it earlier.
    This post speaks right to my heart. Oh, the dreaded thirties – they’re so close by…

  2. elizabeth replied:

    Ha! I’m well past looking up to thirty, but still consider myself young! I think you can keep some of that 18 year old glow, it’s visible in your eyes.

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