Memories of the Knitting Nazi

    You all remember my beloved maternal grandmother, the one I refer to as the Knitting Nazi. There are so many memories of her in my life. She would come for a visit for two weeks and stay two months. She drove my mom crazy with her digs at my dad.


    One of my favorite stories, and I actually witnessed this, is the time she was laying on the couch in her nightie and robe, covered by an afghan. Her hair was a mess, and she was complaining that she wasn't feeling well at all. My dad needed to go out for something. He stood at the door and jingled his car keys. Grandma sat up, bolted off that couch, and in less than five minutes was at his side, fully dressed with her hair brushed, face made up, and her purse on her arm asking "Where are we going?"! 


    When she couldn't take care of herself any more, my mom and her sister decided to move her to a nursing home in Florida, near my aunt. She would look after her and make sure she was OK. That left us to pack up her belongings in her little apartment in upstate NY. One weekend my mother-in-law and I went up, to go through what was left and see if there was anything I wanted.


    Apparently, my aunt told grandma about this. I heard from my mom that she was telling people that I had gone to her place and stolen her things. It makes me sad to think she thought that of me. She had dementia by that time, and wasn't all there. But it still made me sad.  


    Anyway, she passed away a while ago. I recently went through a bag of her stuff that was in my closet. I found a box of embroidery thread and notions. In there was a tiny pair of scissors. They are really good scissors. I've had them next to my bed since then. Yesterday I decided to put them to good use. I remembered that she used to have them on a chain stitch necklace around her neck. She said, that way you always know where they are and don't have to go searching for them.


    So, I crocheted a long chain and put the scissors on it. Now I have a scissors necklace too. It's in my notions bag with all the other things that crafters need like stitchmarkers, little crochet hooks, yarn needle, and a small tape measure.

Knitting and memories

    I was thinking about my grandmother a little while ago. The one who taught me to knit when I was 10, whom I lovingly refer to as The Knitting Nazi. I was washing dishes, and she frequently enters my thoughts during that particular activity. Maybe she is the reason I hate doing it so much. She was a particularly unpleasant person when she got old, and I remember telling her I hated her when she made me wash dishes when I had a friend over to play.


    That train of thought reminded me that when I was a kid,  I hated that all the silverware was in the bottom of the sink. Do you know that as soon as I moved out on my own, I found a large plastic tumbler to be kept by the sink, that I put all the dirty silverware in. I put a few drops of dish detergent in there, and fill it with hot water. That way, the silverware isn't all in the bottom of the sink, and if I need a spoon I can wash just that one spoon. I have one there to this day.


    I managed to get some knitting on the legwarmers yesterday. I don't know if I'll be able to today, as Hubs and I are spending the day together, culminating in dinner out tonight. I'm looking forward to that.

The Tale of the Sock Fairy

    When I was a young girl, I noticed that every year for Christmas, my maternal Grandmother sent socks as gifts to everyone in the family. Well, she also usually made us kids knitted mittens that were waaaay too big, and I always got a bag of Hazelnuts. I loved them, and still do.


    By the time I was a smart-ass teenager, I was referring to her as The Sock Fairy. Which was fine with my family, until the one Christmas Grandma stayed with us. She heard us refer to her as such, and was mortally offended. She got all huffy, and said that if we felt that way, she would never get socks for us again. And she didn't.


    It kind of became the family joke, who the sock fairy would be each year. Mom took over for a while, and after I got married, my mother-in-law became the sock fairy. I must say, she wore the title with pride. Each and every year, along with our other gifts, we always got socks.


    Well, before Christmas came in 2010, my mother-in-law passed away. And that year is when I became the family sock fairy. I have taken to it with enthusiasm. I get socks for everyone, even my son-in-law.


    And yes, this is the Grandmother who taught me to knit, whom I lovingly (not) call the Knitting Nazi.