Young Scarf

When I was 10, my father finally put aside his Ph.D. studies and got a job for the first time. That year, we bought our first house and that Christmas, my parents finally sprang for a Christmas tree. A week before Christmas, my dad came home with a giant turkey provided by his office to all the employees as a sort of Christmas bonus. My dad's first name happens to be Young and his co-workers had played a little joke with his turkey crate. Instead of "Young Turkey," someone had added " 's" to the "Young." My brother and I thought this was the funniest thing we'd ever seen. We ate "Young's Turkey" for Christmas dinner.

Since my dad keeps making sad little comments about how many things I've knitted for my mom and how I've knitted nothing for him, I am knitting him his very own Young Scarf:

I'm using Noro Iro and the Braided Mischief pattern by Teva Durham in Scarf Style. At first, I thought about seed stitch, but my hands are not that deft right now for whatever reason and I found it fiddly, especially with chunky yarn. I moved over to a broken rib pattern and was seriously displeased with the curling. I figured I should look through Scarf Style since I've only made one pattern out of it so far and it was like seeing the pattern for the first time. The sample in the book is knitted with Felted Tweed, but the Iro is so much squishier.

I also read this:

I cried a lot. I haven't seen the film version yet, but I hear it's equally heartbreaking and moving. Jean Bauby was the editor of French Elle when he suffered a massive stroke in 1995 that left him paralyzed. The only part of his body that he could move was his left eyelid. Using this one movement, he and his nurse figured out a method of communication by which he eventually wrote this incredibly uplifting and beautiful memoir. The title comes from this passage in the book: "My diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mind takes flight like a butterfly. There is so much to do. You can wander off in space or in time, set out for Tierra del Fuego or for King Midas's court. You can visit the woman you love, slide down beside her and stroke her still-sleeping face. You can build castles in Spain, steal the Golden Fleece, discover Atlantis, realize your childhood dreams and adult ambitions."

I am always in awe of those who refuse to give up despite the awful things that can happen in this world. A year ago, when I was in the depths of despair, I read some poetry by Wislawa Szymborska and found the following sentence: "Not without its charms is this terrible world; not without its mornings worth our waking." This book captures that idea so perfectly.

I also couldn't stop myself. I knitted a sock. Monkey pattern again, this time with Socks that Rock Lightweight in Scottish Highlands:

I think the pattern complements the dye job beautifully. The hills are aliiiiiive with the sound of muuuuuusic.