I long to be a part of Shetland Wool Week…
I was completely enthralled by this story about Shetland Wool Week. Imagine being an avid knitter, being obsessed with yarn and wool and sheep and windswept cliffs and then going to Shetland to be with YOUR PEOPLE!
It sounds fantastic. You get to knit inside cozy cafes with other delightful people who are all wearing amazing sweaters. You get to visit a sheep farm. There will be workshops on weaving and felting and dyeing and something called steeking, which I’ve never heard of, but isn’t that the point? To find out what it is? And did I mention the sheep? I would very much like to meet the sheep.
And…this is the best part…every year, participants are sent a pattern so that they can knit the OFFICIAL WOOK WEEK CAP before they arrive!
How glorious! Everyone in their fabulous matching-but-not-quite-matching caps! I would have drawn you a picture of the whole crowd but I did not have time, so here’s a photo:
Is that not THE BEST? Don’t you want to be one of them?
But I will not be one of them, because I don’t knit, and as much as I wish I did knit, I’m not well-suited to it. I’m imprecise. I like to make mistakes and move on. I do not want to count and do things neatly and undo them and redo them when I mess up, which would be often, no matter how much I practiced.
Also, I do too many things with my hands already and my hands are always on the verge of some potentially debilitating injury, so I think it’s unwise to throw knitting in the mix. And—I have enough hobbies.
But I love everything about the IDEA of knitting. The only hand-knitted garment I own (a sweater that my aunt knitted for my dad decades ago) is something I love and cherish. (I’m also completely in love with Delia Barry, age 83, who has found a new career for herself knitting authentic sweaters for the movies.)
That got me thinking about the other things I would like to be but will not actually ever be. It’s not that I can’t, it’s that I won’t, because of my own weird package of quirks that I’m not going to do anything about.
I wonder if any of you have a list like this? If you do, share it the comments. Here are two more of mine:
Cold water swimmer
I love the idea of jumping into a cold, clear river or ocean or lake. When I watched Bad Sisters, I envied those sisters plunging into the freezing Irish Sea and then wrapping themselves up in their (probably hand-knitted) sweaters and robes and drinking tea in the sand.
I always want to be in the water, especially in natural bodies of water, as opposed to swimming pools….but cold water is not just cold to me, it’s repulsive. Intolerable. The water must be warm, and for some mysterious reason I don’t live in Tahiti, which means I do not put my body into the ocean nearly as much as I’d like to.
In New Zealand we swam with dolphins in a cold ocean, wearing wetsuits, and my fragile cold-intolerant self also required booties and gloves, none of which translated to a sensation that I’d describe as “warm” once we were in the water, but there were dolphins everywhere, and also the delightful sensation of floating in an ocean, far from shore, with the waves and currents and tides working their hypnotic magic on some pre-human, amphibian part of my brain. I would do that again anytime, but it’s not exactly the same as being one of those bold and uninhibited women pictured above who just strip down and plunge in. I don’t think I’ll ever be one of them.
Avid cyclist
Everything about cycling appeals to me. Human-powered transportation is the best transportation. That feeling of gliding, almost flying…magical. Also, bikes are just fundamentally cool. David Byrne rides a bike, and he’s extremely cool.
The thing is, sharing the street with cars is nerve-wracking. Even in Amsterdam, where we cycled along well-protected bike paths and only encountered cars and buses at intersections, there were some hair-raising moments.
I’m happy to cycle along the bike-only paths that only exist here and there. The Netherlands has a network of bike-only paths that more or less take the place of freeways, allowing you to cycle from one city to the next. Love that. Would totally do it.
But here in Portland, on an everyday basis? Between the hills (I know, ebikes), the six months of rain (I know, rain suits), and the cars, whizzing by mere inches away, separated only by an optimistic green stripe on the pavement? It’s just not happening.
Somewhere, there’s an alternative version of my life…
In which I hop on my bicycle, pedal out to the North Sea, meet up with my wise and witty compatriots, strip down, jump into the ocean, and then climb out, wrap myself in a sweater (or even a sweater robe, maybe?) that I knitted, and pass around a thermos full of tea.
Do you have a list of things like this? Things that you could do, paths that you could take, but you’re just not going to, because of your own weird personal quirks or because you’d rather do something else or because you just can’t be bothered? But you still kind of like the idea of it?
Do you ever think about that other version of yourself, the one with the bicycle and the hand-knitted sweater? Maybe you even harbor a secret little crush on that alternate version of you, one that will never turn into a real relationship, but is still kind of fun to nurture along? Or is this just me? Truly, I’m curious. Tell me.
Would you like to paint a wintertime night sky with us?
For only five bucks a month, paid subscribers get art lessons delivered straight to their inbox—and live zooms! We’re doing one next week where we paint a very loose, abstract night sky. It’s a great way to experiment with watercolor and really push what you can do when you make a big, glorious mess!
Also, these kinds of projects make great holiday cards or gift tags. Do a bunch of them! Cut them up! Give them away!
Here’s a link to the growing archive of art lessons. If you subscribe now, be sure to check this page and read Art Lesson #11 (going out in a few minutes) for a supply list and Zoom link for our get-together on Thursday, Dec 7 at 5 PM Pacific, 8 Eastern. (the video will go out to subscribers after if they can’t attend in person).
The Bit at the End
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In my imaginary life, I am a roller derby girl named Reaping Beauty and I kick ass on the track. I also boldly take on neglected 100+ year old houses, roll up my sleeves and restore them to their former glory. Then, in the evening I sit down and play my acoustic guitar and sing along in a lovely mellow contralto. In reality, I can do none of these things ...😆
Yes, haha, I feel seen! I recently signed up for a (not inexpensive) coveted spot in an all day Sashiko course because I love Japan and write about Japan and really would love to stitch intricate works of art on vintage scraps of hand-dyed indigo fabric and swaddle myself in them. But the thing is, I really don't enjoy hunching over stitch work, it makes my neck hurt, and as you said, I have enough hobbies! I literally made the decision yesterday to cancel my enrollment, and your post helps me celebrate that choice. I think we all have something to learn from our aspirational selves about what we value.... and it doesn't mean we have to do _all_ the things.