I had been reading Yarnstorm off and on for a year or so (I tend to read blogs I don't have "direct links" to off and on; when I get busy with things, I scale back on blogs, and then, when I get a chunk of free time* I get caught up.)

(*Like yesterday - I was running some analyses on another computer, some of which took 15 or 20 minutes to complete)

I like a lot of the things she makes, and I enjoy the commentary.

I think one of the reasons I like reading blogs - at least, blogs where it's not just a "hey, I made this thing" and "hey, here's this other thing I made" - is the glimpses into Other People's Lives. Because I have a life different from a lot of people - single, no kids, working solitary a lot of the time, living in a town where there's really ZERO craft-scene. So it's sort of nice to get a window into other people's thoughts and how their lives are working out. (And I do have to say I kind of envy the people who have copious local resources, and who have s-n-b groups, or who have crafty friends close to them.)

A couple of things Jane said recently made me think.

First, in her post on "stitching peace and quiet," she talks about how women of the 1930s seemed to do a lot of "fancywork" - especially those flower-women.

And she remarks that the women may have been creating a small, orderly fantasy for themselves - a world where they didn't have other constraints on their time, where the only concern was looking at the flowers.

I think that's true. I always assumed (drawing on my knowledge of 1930s American history) that the embroidery was a Depression-thing, that it was something cheap and cheerful and perhaps one of the few affordable things that could be used to beautify the house at that time. (And there's a remarkable amount of embroidered linens to be found at antique and resale shops, now, because of that). I also think people had more TIME and fewer DISTRACTIONS in previous years. I know sometimes I have to tell myself to turn off the computer and go make stuff. That would not have been the case pre-computer.

One of the antique shops I frequent regularly has a little sign up on the wall next to the bookshelves full of vintage books. I don't remember the exact wording, but it's something like: "In the 1920s and 30s, and even into the 40s, few people had television. Books were a major source of entertainment. Enjoy some of these vintage books in today's world." (I think he also has stats up there about how many different title were published in a few of the years of that era).

The idea being - people have always found ways to "escape" and forms of solace in a busy, confusing, and sometimes unpleasant world. I think perhaps the resurgence of craft has come because many people have realized that for them, it offers a more complete escape than the various electronic distractions.

I know that there's a certain fantasy world I go into when I'm working...I visualize sitting in my big comfy chair in the winter, reading a book and wearing the socks I'm currently knitting while the wind howls outside. Or as a crochet or knit yet another toy animal, I can remember and almost escape back to the feeling I had when I was a kid and I made up personalities and "backstories" for my various toys.

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In an earlier post, she wrote about "small pleasantnesses". In particular, she quoted a story where a woman didn't understand the concept of the little things that make life, well, more worth it, somehow:

Just the day before, I'd been reading about Gwen Raverat's Uncle Lenny and how he enjoyed a ginger-nut for his elevenses when the young nephews and nieces visited. But his wife teased him that he wouldn't be able to have any when they'd gone, and the children were 'dreadfully upset'. GR could see that Mildred 'cared so little for bodily joys, that she could not understand how small pleasantnesses like ginger-nuts can add up together to make life solid and good'.

Yes. Yes - the idea of life being "solid and good" because of the dozens of little joys you can fit into a day.

(And I have to say - I'm grateful I don't really know anyone quite as bad as Mildred on that count. I know a few people who have gotten into the "tiresome" phase of dieting, where everything good must be weighed against the calories it contains or the exercise it will take to burn it away, and unfortunately that sometimes slops over into comments of "Oh my gosh, you're eating THAT?" to other people. And I know a few people who are puzzled by my willingness to pay $5 for a bar of artisanal hard-milled soap [never mind that it lasts 3 times what the squishy soft-milled bar from the wal-mart does, and smells nicer on top of it]. But I don't know anyone who actively denies the plesures of life to others. And that's good.)

And I think about my own personal list of "small pleasantnesses" - the things that, as I said, make life seem more worth it. The things that can salve hurt feelings (and I do wish one of the things they had told me about becoming an adult - and I suppose this was in the Instruction Manual I never got - is that it's still possible, though perhaps not as easy, for one's feelings to be hurt. I kind of thought that at 18 or 20 or maybe 35 one had completely grown out of it) or make a day that's gone badly a little better:

a good hot cup of some kind of good tea

a stack of interesting new magazines to look at

a book coming in the mail (or any kind of mail-order package for that matter)

a book of projects with beautiful photographs of them to inspire you (like the new Interweave sock book)

nice chocolate, like maybe Green and Black's chocolate (and that's another place where some folks look at me like, "Baroo?" when I say I really don't care for Hershey's any more after trying Green and Black's)

ironing off and folding freshly-washed quilt fabric

clean sheets on the bed that have come out of my linen closet so they smell like the lavender soap I store in there

good soap - the hard-milled kind, ideally the kind with Real Botanical stuff in it. I'm particularly partial to either lavender or to lemon verbena or lemongrass

having dinner cooking in the slow cooker and coming home to a savory-smelling house and dinner being almost totally ready for me

fresh green beans out of the garden

nice soft "slidy" wool sockyarn that's comfortable to knit with (Lorna's Laces is particularly good on this count)

hand-dyed "artisanal" small-batch sockyarn

good cheese (I don't like highly-aged cheese or bleu or Stilton but I do like a nice cheddar or Gouda)

calendulas and zinnias

finding something vintage-crafted or vintage craft supplies at an antique shop or resale shop

having my stuffed, knitted 'critters' around to look at and to sometimes pick up and surreptitiously hug.


A woman I know was once talking about someone else SHE knew, and how this person never seemed to be content. The woman remarked: "Poor dear, she doesn't know anything that makes her happy." Poor dear indeed - I think one of the nicer blessings of life is when you do know exactly what makes you happy, and that thing is something that is attainable. Like a nice cup of tea or fresh sheets on the bed.