Welcome to Our World!

So, last Thursday I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of the newest addition to our Pretty Knitty family. He was not due to arrive until Thanksgiving Day, so I was confident in working ahead for the blog, and I wrote a post about the anticipation. That post went live about 5 hours after his birth...not enough time to re-write the blog, and not very many pictures yet, so just the anticipation went live last Saturday.

This means that I really need to make up for lost time this week! After all, look what happened last Saturday!

A baby!  A brand-new little life came into our lives, and met his Pop Pop for the first time...

A new little life who makes this cute couple an adorable family...

A new little boy to snuggle and cuddle and kiss and spoil...

A new little man to watch football with the guys on Thanksgiving...

A new little Nugget to nestle into Gramma's hug...

So fresh and so new, but only small for a short time. Pardon me, friends, if the blog is short...I have so much snuggling (and baby knitting) to get to!

Welcome to the world, and the blog, our handsome new little Nugget of love.

I hope that your holiday was as lovely as mine,  and that your holiday shopping is well underway. Shop local today, friends!

Thanks for stopping by, and Knit in Good Health! (After all, Christmas is almost here!)

Happy Thanksgiving!

From our porch to yours...

with baby snuggles!

If only I could bottle these, and carry them with me! 

Happy first Thanksgiving, little Nugget! 

I hope your day is full of your favorite things, and that your tummy is full of all the turkey and trimmings (if you like that sort of thing).

Thanks for stopping by, and Knit in Good Health!

Almost Turkey-Time!

Turkey Day is coming. So is my grandson. I do not know when exactly, that is largely up to him. No matter when that baby comes, though, I am hoping to have turkey ready for his parents on Thursday...or Friday...or Saturday...I mean, whenever they are ready for a meal!

There is nothing quite like the impending arrival of a baby to remind you who is really in control of it all. The mama is not in control.  The dada is not in control. The grandparents and the dog are certainly not in control. This timing is all up to that little guy, and the Big Guy. I am so thankful that God is in control, because my sense of timing really is not that good. 

Thank you God, for the promise of new life as we enter the holiday season. Thank you for creating people so full of love that it spills over until we create more people to love. Thank you that the love in our hearts is created with the capacity to multiply through children and grandchildren, never diminishing or running out. Thank you for loving us so much that you gave your one and only son to forgive our shortcomings, when human love is not enough to right a wrong or fill a void. You are a good, good Father, and I am thankful to be loved by you. Help me to love well, and by your example.

Watch over the parents-to-be and the newest additions to families all around us, and especially right now for my daughter and her son. Watch over labors and deliveries and new little lives as you bless us with more love than we can even imagine. Grant them health and hope and home-fires burning bright, because sometimes life here is hard...but it is always better with love. Thank you for love. 

I do not know what is in store for your holiday season, but I am fairly certain that mine will be full of baby snuggles (and dog cuddles and catonlap), and I am looking forward to it. Please forgive me if I seem distracted as I anticipate all of that. I promise that I am trying not to be a turkey as I wait!

Happy Thanksgiving Week to you, blog peeps, and on to the Christmas fun! I am excited to see your dinner on Facebook and Instagram, followed quickly by lights and trees.

Until then, thanks for stopping by, and Knit in Good Health!

Yes, the dog is wearing a sweater.
And yes, she is quite done being pregnant!

My Red Mittens

These are my red mittens. 

I love my red mittens, because I love their story. It starts with red yarn, received nearly nine years ago, part of a Christmas gift from a sweet friend that I love dearly. It continues as the yarn helps me write one of my first knitting patterns, Mittens With a Flap, and I knit it into those mittens. When I first received the skein, I knew almost immediately that it was destined to be mittens. And it did become mittens, and I love my red mittens! I love them so much that I take them outside in the cold, gray rain to take their photo. Then I post the pictures on all manner of social media. I want everyone to have a pair of red mittens to love!

My red mittens, though I love them, they are not perfect. They have seen some life, some wear and tear, and they have been repaired a time or two. I have even re-knit the thumbs into a turtle-neck style, so I can have my opposable digits free for texting if I like. Truth be told, the thumbs have sustained the majority of the repetitive stress injuries, and I keep wearing through them as the steering wheel slips through my hands at every turn. Each winter, I go in search of the last bits of this yarn to repair the thumbs. Usually I find it.

A couple of years ago, I could not find the yarn. My thumbs were actually in good shape, but there was a place on the right palm that was nearly worn through. I did the only thing I could do. I repaired it with the first yarn I found, and made plans to re-do the repair when I located the red yarn. 

Eventually, I did find the yarn again, but I never have redone the repair. Could be lazy-knitter syndrome...but as I pulled out my red mittens yesterday for their first drive of the year, I once again looked at that repair, and I don't think lazy is a factor. I actually think that I prefer them just as they are, even with this very visible flaw. My mittens, you know, are not the only part of me that is flawed...and I like me pretty well, flaws and all.

I am squishy in places that should not be squishy. My hair does not dance in the wind, shining with the vibrance of youth. One of my front teeth was chipped pretty good, and it has a visible repair that is just "out there" every time I smile. There is a sizeable scar at my left hip, where another repair was made, and the fingers of my left hand are not as straight as they should be. Like my mittens, my patience wears thin from time to time, as I let this life full of imperfect people slip through my fingers. As it turns out, I am not the only one who is flawed. Still, there is something to be loved in each of us, just like my red mittens.

When I wear my red mittens, I remember that I am a smart and talented woman who can knit and write knitting patterns for other knitters to enjoy. I remember that I am loved by my friends and family, and I am liked by knitters I have never met in person. When I wear my red mittens, I remember that I am vibrant and I have a lot of life left in me. I look forward to the warmth I receive and offer to those around me. I remember, and I am thankful for all of those things. My life is good, and my red mittens are just one tiny reminder, especially on the cold, wet, yucky days that come around.

When frost chills me to the bone, physically or emotionally, I can always reach for my red mittens and what they represent to me - love, kindness, joy and comfort. I'll say it again here: Everyone should have a pair of red mittens.

Thanks for stopping by, and Knit in Good Health!

Three Stages of Bacon

This morning, after preparing a pomegranate for my sweet hubby, I decided to also make the bacon that has been in the fridge for a couple weeks. You see, I have had a rough week, and I am sure that he has put up with more bad attitude than normal. I feel really bad about that, and I wanted to make it up to him a little...so, today is a bacon day.

As the bacon was sizzling, and I was doing my best to not let it burn (no judgement, please...bacon is tricky), I started to think about the three stages of bacon. 

Bacon in the package does not do anything for me. I see the bacon, but cannot smell it. I think about the mess it will make if I cook it, and I move on. Cold bacon is slimy and a little bit icky even. Bacon in the package is inert to me.

Bacon in the pan, however, affects me. The smell, the sizzle, the sight of the fat browning slowly...bacon in the pan gives me a shiver. Bacon in the pan is just a little bit dangerous. Not too scary, but it will burn you if you are not careful. Bacon in the pan makes me stand up and take notice of life as I look forward to its salty goodness!

Bacon on the plate is comforting. Still a little bit dangerous (if you eat all the bacon, every time...well, heart attack!) but definitely not as dangerous as the bacon in the pan. You know it is going to be good, even if it is a little bit overcooked! Bacon on the plate will not make anything catch fire, in the literal sense, but it lights a fire under Sweetie on a Saturday morning!

In the end, leftover bacon on the plate goes back to the fridge, where I often forget about it. Chilled bacon is just as yummy as hot bacon, especially in a good salad. Even so, for me bacon in the fridge is once again inert and forgettable.

All this thinking about bacon got me to thinking about life. It's like that for everyone, right? (Lie to me. I need to not be alone in this. Bacon is pretty big in my life.)

So right, bacon is like life. Where am I in my bacon life? Am I bacon in the package? in the pan? on the plate? Well, I know where I would like to be.

I want to be a little bit dangerous while affecting the people around me in a good way...not by burning them. I want to sizzle and smell good and brown evenly. I hope my friendships carry the aroma of encouraging words and acts of kindness. When I am really cooking in a room, I would like people to look forward to spending time with me, without worrying about the fat splatters. Someday I will be safely on the plate, or in the fridge, where the mess will not matter that much anyway.

Sure, some days I will be icky, raw bacon in the package. That is where I have been most of this week. Cranky Pretty has tried to keep it to herself, for the most part, and be inert. It has been difficult, and she has not always succeeded, which is why we had a bacon day. There was so much napping in the package!

One day, I will be bacon on the plate, or in the fridge. I will be silenced, either figuratively or literally, because nobody lives forever on this earth. What will my legacy be? Will people continue to go on, changed by the bacon stages of our lives and how they intertwined, or will they forget all about me?

I suppose it does not really matter...ashes to ashes, bacon to bacon bits, and all that jazz. But while I am here, I will keep trying to sizzle and shake things up a little, looking forward to life. How about you?

Oh, and I will knit. Mental note: keep the yarn away from the bacon...unless you want bacon-scented knits...not necessarily a bad thing...lol!

Thanks for stopping by, and Knit in Good Health!