Upcycled Krups Cup Holder

I saw this Krups cup organizer in the thrift store for weeks before I thought of something to do with it. I kept leaving it behind, regretfully, after mentally disqualifying it for tasks- the dividers don't go all the way down so it's no good for make-up or little kitchen items or stationery. But it called to me from the cluttered office/crafts corner. It called to me. And then I figured it out- floss! 

I've needed to organize my floss, but have been a little stuck on how to do that without buying something single purpose from the horrifically depressing crafts aisle at my local Wal-mart, (the only real crafting option in my small town.) I'm pleased with the result. 

I cut pieces of Amazon boxes to about two inches square, (no need to be perfect. I hit that with my good-enough stick.) and wound up all my floss and put it in roughly ROYGBIV order. I like the idea that if I ever went crazy Hoarders with embroidery supplies, these could stack. 

And I like that I didn't buy some plastic crap. 

Have any of you had any fantastically clever crafting organizational ideas? Share! 

Difficult Female Relationships

I am almost finished with my second Hitofude Cardigan, (available on Ravelry.com for less than $2!) just in the nick of time. My mother's birthday is on Tuesday, and I'll have just time to block it and express mail it to get it to her in time.

I made my first Hitofude for myself a few months ago. It's a great project- mindless enough for long dark evenings in front of the t.v. but interesting enough to keep me somewhat engaged. It's made in one piece, rather like an envelope, so when you cast off, it's done except for the weaving in. It's a great pattern. I made it in a cherry red bamboo that I bought from some Chinese seller on e-bay and it turned out really well. It's very stretchy, and the arms are an odd kind of short, but all in all I like it quite a lot. It doesn't scream "hand-made," which is so important, no?

Well, mama wanted one too.

I grew up with my mom and my grandmom and know a thing or two about difficult female relationships.
I distinctly remember how crabby it made my mom when my grandmother wanted to have the same things she did. Mom would buy, say, a green and tan Dooney & Bourke purse and nana would get the same model in navy and tan and mom would retreat to the basement and grumble about how she could never just have something of her own.

Mom's about the age nana was then, and now gets really excited about having the same stuff as me, which makes me wonder if it's some kind of developmental milestone. It's silly to think we stop developing at adulthood, right? So just as there are developmentally appropriate behaviors to watch out for at certain points when we're growing up- caution around strangers, questions about Santa Claus and where babies come from, puppy-love, etc- I increasingly suspect there are developmentally appropriate behaviors for growing old- voting conservative, caution around stairs, wanting to have the same purse/earrings/sweater as your daughter, etc.

I said, "Sure, ma," happy to not have to make the excruciating decision of "Which Project Next?!!" which involves so many decisions about needles and yarn and I'm tired just writing that. I decided to order the same yarn. I was happy with it, it drapes well and washes well. I asked what color, please? And she responded, "Ecru."

My heart hurt a little. But mama wants ecru, mama gets ecru. It's just that there are so many pretty colors in this world! But mama wants ecru.

It was with great relief that I got her frantic e-mail a day later, changing her mind- she wants periwinkle! Periwinkle is a color I can work with. Periwinkle looks great on her. I approve! I approve!

The next hitch in the giddyup was there wasn't a good periwinkle in the yarn I'd decided on. There was an infantile sky blue, a terrible lavender and nothing in between.

So I just picked a color I thought she would like, a beautiful delft-ish blue that reads "classy," reminds me of the wallpaper in our dining room when I was growing up, and which I know will bring out the blue in her eyes and the white in her skin.

In other words, I picked out the color for her. After telling her she could pick it out herself. Because I decided I knew better.

Which is a behavior that drove me nuts when I was a kid. From both of them. The three baffling years nana decided mom collected antique tea cups. Mom, who knew I didn't need glasses, I just wanted to be more like my friend Angel. The year my vote for a chocolate birthday cake was, without discussion vetoed because eight year olds actually prefer carrot cake. "Oh your mother told me you were a small, but I just KNEW you were an extra large." And on and on.

So here I am, making a matching sweater for my mom at her request, a request which would have infuriated her three decades ago, and I've chosen a wildly different color for her out of a probably misguided notion that I know what she wants better than she does, a behavior which, if reversed, would infuriate me.

One of the things I love about knitting, and fiber crafts in general, is it makes me feel connected to all the women who've come before me. When I make a sock my hands are doing what women's hands have done for centuries, for thousands of years (in some parts of the world) and I feel part of something ancient. This sweater has also made me feel connected to the women in my family, part of the cycle of love, and exasperation that binds us together and tears us apart simultaneously and forever.

Love you mama, and happy birthday.