Jennifer D. Munro blogs at www.StraightNoChaserMom.com. Her humorous stories about sex and the sexes are collected in The Erotica Writer’s Husband. Her dark fantasy stories are collected in The Strangler Fig. She is a freelance editor whose essays and fiction have appeared in numerous publications, including Salon.com; Brain, Child; Best American Erotica; and The Bigger the Better the Tighter the Sweater: 21 Funny Women on Beauty and Body Image. Whether fiction or nonfiction, she offers a candid, mirthful exploration of sex, body image, infertility, gender roles, and marriage. She has taught writing classes for Hedgebrook, Hugo House Literary Arts Center, King County Libraries, and the Edmonds Writers Conference. Her writing projects have been supported by various Washington and Oregon State arts organizations.
I finally finished knitting a super cute Eastern Market Bag. With scant yarn left, I made the strap two-toned. I ran out of yarn altogether before I completed the bottom, so I substituted a muti-colored cotton, which I think “makes” the bag. I rarely exactly follow a pattern. Now I’ll have to figure out how to carry the bag upside-down.
In my June, July, October, and November 2020 journal entries, I mentioned needing to finish knitting this bag.
In my mid-March 2021 journal entry, I mentioned needing to finish it and three other projects before starting the “red hearts scarf” or the “selkie wrap.”
How many unfinished knitting projects do I have, anyway, I wondered? Also, how boring is my journal?
Last night I ushered for our community theater’s performance of Dracula. My job: check every patron’s vaccination card to verify they’d been fully inoculated against Covid-19 before they were allowed entrance to the theater. (They could also show proof of a negative Covid-19 test result, issued by a government entity or health provider, within the last 72 hours.) They should also be masked and would remain masked for the entire show. The theater’s entire last season had been cancelled because of the pandemic, so this was the compromise in order to have any season at all. Patrons were notified of the requirements when they purchased their tickets and had been sent a reminder email before the show. The restrictions were on the website. In other words, there should be no surprises.
I decided to learn to crochet during the Covid-19 pandemic not because of boredom after months of quarantine, but because of this:
I saw no fruit in the so-called Fruit Garden CAL Blanket and didn’t know what CAL meant, but, I HAVE TO MAKE THAT, I thought-yelled when it crossed my screen during my rabbit-hole internet searches for macramé wall-art patterns.Read More »
In 1998, when new friends found a cache of memorabilia collected by a fan of serial killers, they thought of me. They dragged a couple of garbage bags and a suitcase of the soggy collectibles over to our house in the Irish Channel of New Orleans.
With our recent move out of the Land Of Microsoft and Amazon and into a small town and a house built in 1900, I’ve backslid–coincidentally with a pandemic–into the distant past, like as far back as the 80s, even. At this rate, I’ll be grateful to have zippers by year’s end. Not that I can zip any of my pants, anyway.Read More »
The “Lovely Feathers Neck Warmer” comes nowhere near the neck, and it doesn’t look like any feather I’m familiar with, not even a flamingo’s. Obviously I agree it’s lovely or I wouldn’t have chosen the knitting pattern.
I never knit patterns with the colors specified by the designer. My motto is, “Why knit something that looks like you could buy it in a store?” So far I’ve reached my aspirations in spades. The motto might be, “Why knit an accessory that makes you look sane when you could look eccentric instead?”Read More »
I’ve come to understand one of the primary reasons I’m passionate about knitting: As I knit, I visualize the person the garment is intended for. If it’s the holiday season, I visualize friends, family, and a flock of juvenile-service professionals who will get to choose from a knitted pile of accessories.
This is a relief after a quarter century of writing: nobody wants a draft of a bad poem in their holiday stocking—although the Man I Married might have preferred a slim sheet of paper over the seven-foot-long scarf I knitted him as my first ever knitted project.Read More »