Kiss My Knits!

Pattern: Waves from the top bookmark by Sivia Harding.
Needles: Size US00 / 1.75mm
Yarn: Caron Impressions 50% silk 50% wool embroidery thread
Ravelry page here.

Notes: Left pic is the front, right pic is the back. This was exactly according to pattern, but I did use an Excel chart for the lace which was created by a user on Ravelry, Krystalclear2006. Before blocking, it was about an inch wide and curled up like a fiddlehead fern. Afterward, it was two inches wide and laid beautifully.

However, while my mother called the bookmark “very nice” the book was clearly the star of the show. It contains a story that my grandmother used to tell my mother when she was a girl. That story is “The Gradual Fairy” which has, through the years, come to be called “The Seven Little Breezes.” Because of this, it took all my Google-fu to come up with the name of a book containing the story. But find it I did, and thanks to Abebooks.com got a copy in time for Mother’s Day.



When I first thought of this, I thought it would make a great birthday gift. Then I re-thought that. Here’s the story I told my husband.

“I remember seeing a documentary a long time ago about Richard Feynman. Before the end of the documentary, Feynman died. He and his friends had been planning on going to Tuva because it was the geographic center of Asia. At the end, a protege of his pulled all this merchandise down from the top of a closet. “Tuva or Bust” and other T-shirts like that which he’d had made up. And he said that he had no idea why he had saved all this stuff to be a surprise. He regretted having done it because now his friend would never see them. Ever since then, I’ve always thought twice about holding onto gifts for later, because you never know what circumstances might prevent you from giving them. Why wait?”

My husband, observing what I hadn’t, said, “And then you had a dream about not being able to give your mother a book.”

At which point, I slapped my head. I’d been thinking about deep philosophical meanings for the dream, and duh. I had a dream about not being able to give my mother a book right before I was going to give my mother a book. A book of short stories, which I had a dream about finding a way to get to her anyway.

My subconscious is strangely literal sometimes. It just goes to show that sometimes there’s subtext, and sometimes there’s just… text. Heh.