My 1970s naval gazing continues…
I’ve been reading some fiction of the era…
This book in particular makes me think of lives I might have led if I were born a decade earlier and stuck with my circle of art friends – and the life feels more comfortable – there are missed telephone calls, visits when messages can’t be left, and letters written then received once feelings have already passed…
But it is not my life, nor anyone’s these days even if trying to shrug off social media and pocket phones as much as possible.
(And I have to admit, I picked up this book in the library booksale largely because of the woman draped in the beautiful textile on the cover…)
I started another pair of combo socks that I planned for a few months ago.
And I had to put them down.
They were starting to look way too much like 1970s vans.
And even though if I saw one, I’d be like “Whoa, check out that van!” in a somewhat admiring tone, I wouldn’t really like it, and I never did – they were creepy to me even back then.
Early in our relationship, N told me he sewed a van in a home ec class and I momentarily thought him a bit creepy for it too, but in the end more so endearing, though I can’t convince him to sew another now…
So they will sit for a bit – I don’t want to wear 1970s vans, but they make me smile thinking of N’s story, but then they creep me out…
The only other option for that offending yarn is to overdye it – it is alarmingly dominant in this project, and I could possibly get it to step back if I held it with a slightly larger yarn, but that still wouldn’t eradicate its browns with near neons and the smell of weed and coco butter and polyester with stale sweat wafting off of it…
So I started another pair instead – with yarn made up of my favorite colors…
ASTITCHMATISM 