Saturday, 16. December 2006
The road we follow.
I have never been a teenager who knew what road to follow, or had very strict thoughts about what I liked and what not. As a result, I ended up with a little bit of everything: Some country, some folk, some jazz, some rock and some pop. Some comfortable, some dressy, some punk and some modern clothes. Some new, some old, some ugly and some plain unclassifiable furniture. Some classic, some unnecessary, some fun and some despisable knowledge. A little bit of everything.

I was easily led on a road, but also just as easy strayed away from it again. I did not live, I floated along, blown by the wind from side to side, yet always tightly anchored to my family.

Teenage fights? Oh yes, many. Because I thought I wanted something because everyone else wanted it... No mind of my own. Except for once, where I probably stretched the boundaries farthest of all us four children (Yet). Travelling alone to Texas for a week with five days notice, 18 years old. Oh yes, sometimes I made wise decisions on my own (Although "Wise" was not the word my mother would have used, had she talked to me about it).

Then came a time in university where I tried to live up to my dream picture: Little bars, studying all night, cooking with room-mates, smoking pipe (ick!), and also dressed like most others on the theology faculty - when I was there, of course. It all ended with a crash: I was put into hospital, stayed there 6 weeks, went home to live with my parents and stayed there for almost two years.

Today, I *think* I know what I want. Space. Time. Music.

My flat is starting to fill with beautifull second-hand furniture (Except for my dining table and chairs. I could find plenty used dining tables, but chairs? Heh.) One of my dearest furniture pieces is this:

The wooden cupboard beside my old chair with a funky fleece throw I got for my birthday

It was my grandmothers uncles, and I am certain that it was handmade once upon a time. The top part is missing - a mirror - because this was "the bathroom" way back. There would be a large bowl on top to wash oneself in, and in the copboard and the drawer there would be all the utensils used for washing and dressing up.

Now it is housing my WIPS and various knitting tools.

The road we follow?
I go back in time. Furniture with a story behind it, like my couch table:

It is excellent for posing knitted things on - and secondhand, og course

It was quite battered, but it only cost me 8$, so I did not complain at all. The knitted thing that hangs off of it is one half of my scarf. I finished it yesterday, but must wait until I can spin more, but to do that I must card more, and to do that I must be at my parents home. Which I am not.

Most of the things I do are going back in time. I learn how to play the organ (Who does that anymore?) and I have even discovered a love of empire-waisted tops. I talk slowly, keep all things orderly, sleep and dream sweet dreams, keep my eyes open for the one or other way to earn a bit more money to spend on organ scores.

I also give unexpected gifts (which my mother could attest to, had I unlocked the comments):

Gauntlets(?) for my teacher. No pattern. Yes, the table runner is handmade patchwork, handsewn, and I put the colours together myself. The pattern was for a machinesewn blue-and-white spring thing, but I wanted a christmas thing

They are good for playing organ - I tested one already. Most of the old stone churches here in Denmark are not heated - rather frosted - and it can be quite a chore to play in the winter months. Since my teacher is a male, fingering grey baby-alpaca on 3mm needles seemed like the way to go. Not that I had many other choices. My stash is shrinking. Probably until the day I have almost used it up, and can go buying from project to project.
They were started yesterday in the evening, while reading. Too bad the book was not two gauntlets long, only 1½. Hrmph. I must loan thicker books, I think, even though this one was a good four inches thick. The trick to reading while knitting is to have a small project, a couch to slouch in while having the book on your knees, and, foremost, a book that stays put! An old, well-read one. I could not manage to knit, read, and hold the pages in place all at once.

Have a really nice day.