My stash runneth over

Knitters have a special term for all their extra yarn: stash. For a knitter, good stash is like a full tank of gas and the weekend off, a box of chalk and a clean sidewalk, potential and memory singing their sweetest harmonies.

So here it is, Thanksgiving eve. Yarn has accumulated like blessings in my life, from tangled bundles created in the FSM's own image to lofty alpaca that feels like whispers in a kitten's ear. There is yarn everywhere: slipping out of drawers that can't quite close, recently leaping out of my tote bag in the dark and rolling along the street like a drunken hedgehog, and napping in mixing bowls and unpacked boxes.

When I started thinking about the blessings in my life this year, I looked around at all this yarny abundance. That's how it's been lately: much muchness. Lots of yarn and lots of gratitude. I have friends and family who have helped me untangle some gnarly snarls of my own making, and not just once. It was a tough year, with lots of change, most of which I resisted in a completely unzenlike frenzy. I expected it to be the worst year of my life, and acted as befit my unpleasant destiny: unpleasantly.

Instead, what I'm feeling now, is that I have never felt more blessed. I made some really, really bad steps, but in falling, learned how many hands are here to catch me. It's not easy being my friend—this year especially—but damn, you guys aced it.

So, thanks. I am truly grateful beyond measure.

And I'm looking forward to knitting all this yarn.