Will Knit For Love

This sabbatical thing has worked for me. I left chaos in search of peace. I roamed, wandered, explored, and relaxed. I reconnected with my need to create. I rediscovered knitting. It excites me. I found that something that keeps me going. I knit. Daily. All day some days. It helps that it's winter and raining out. My goal is to finish a project each day. And I only knit two things; hats and fingerless gloves!
I finally get the eccentric artist thing. Evon and her knives and linoleum, Ray with his pen and fish. Not that I'm comparing my skills to their level of artistry, just their of obsession for their craft. But they at least can make a living from their product. I sit in my home, knitting an average of 8 hours a day and IF I ever sell my products, I may be able to buy a bag of dog food for the boxer pacing in front of the door. Yet, I continue to knit. It's what I do. I've seen my friends whispering amongst themselves. The kind of whispering that stops when I enter the room. I think they're planning an intervention.
I'm into stripes now. Everything I've knit before is brand new again because this time I'm doing it in stripes! Separate bright, bold stripes. Soft stripes that blend together. Colors that fade in and out of each other. Stripes! Bulky knits! Worsted knits! Smooth yarn, bumpy yarn. I slide it in and out of my fingers, in love with the warmth and coosh of the fabric I've just made. I'm giving it life. Personality. Visually appealing and kinetically satisfying.
I get half way through one project and my mind is all ready wandering on to the next piece. I can't even stay committed to my current creation. My gawd! Good thing I only knit small items. There are so many options out there! Same pattern, smaller yarn, deeper stripes, whole different outcome! New images race through my mind at a pace that makes me loose track of what I'm currently knitting. I have to rip out the last two rows because my mind was writing a different pattern.
Harley's whinning at the door. The sun is shining. I put the knitting down and grab his leash. He jumps up, spinning 360's before he lands. He acts like he hasn't been out in days. Oh, maybe he hasn't. As we walk through the neighborhoood, I look at the color combinations of the houses. I make note of those I like and those I don't. I picture a hat sitting there with a yard and carport. " Hmmm. It could work. Love the green on top of the brick." I work out a brick pattern in my head. I give it a peaked top to resemble the chimney poking out the roof. We meet up with a nice lady walking her black and white collie mix. I like the way his patches create a pattern of contrast. I make another note to self. On the beach, the winter surf is rolling in new logs. The sand is littered with them. All variations of blacks, browns and beiges, some green from the newly departed trees, ripped from the shore's tree line, roots exposed, being devoured by the ocean. Layers of the beach, all before me, become the landscape for a hat.
I snap myself out of it. I've only been unemployed for five months but I fear I'll never be happy as a clock puncher again. How can I survive making hats?! I should put an ad in the personals: "Will knit for Love." Sounds pathetic. I just need to figure this out. How do you do what you love and love what you do and make the money follow? That's a lot of hats. Some people measure frivolous spending with lattes. I measure mine with hat sales. "Nice jacket! It only costs four hats!"
Time to get back to work. I pick up my number nines and look over my yarns. A swarm of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, blacks, and browns flow through my brain like blood in my veins. I cast on 96 stitches and watch as the pattern emerges from my fingers. Another days work.