You know how sometimes you pop your head up from your life, look around, and think, "Well, HUH. How the heck did that happen?" I had one of those moments on Friday.
I was at Andrew's grandpa's house, and he had a stuffed bear wearing a Get Well Soon sweater. It was being aggressively loved by a great-grandchild, and one of the adults realized unraveling was happening.
They asked me if I could fix it. I could, but I didn't have a yarn needle, so I took it home with me for repair.
I was sitting at my dining room table, repairing this crappy stuffed bear sweater, and I had a moment.
How the heck did I become the person who knows how to fix sweaters?
How did I become the mender, the maker, the knitter, the creator?
It's mostly knitting, but not exclusively. Case in point: In the background of that photo, you can see wax paper. That's because I was making Christmas ornaments earlier in the day. I spend a startling amount of time making things. This is surprising since I spent the first 25 years of my life living almost entirely inside my head, devouring books and thriving in academia.
Life is surprising and weird, folks. Huh.