Author: Betsy

Now In Stereo.

| Betsy

This Christmas card, from Fine Cell Work is by far, my favorite Christmas card this year. Maybe even of all time.

I like the humanity it brings to what is normally thought as inhumane or deviant. I like that it highlights a part of our communities that might have been forgotten about, people who might have been forgotten about. I like how it communicates quietly that the holidays just aren’t for the ones who are out shopping in malls or wrapping presents and setting up the tree.

The holidays are for the lonely, the forgotten, the abused, the ill, too, and not just for those who try to make this holiday “the best one yet!” And they’re not about money and acquisitions and wish lists. They’re about recognizing love and joy and kindness…wherever they might find you.

Fine Cell Work is an charity that teaches needlework to inmates and sells their work. From their site,

Fine Cell Work is a Registered Charity that teaches needlework to prison inmates and sells their products. The prisoners do the work when they are locked in their cells, and the earnings give them hope, skills and independence.

Savings reduce the likelihood of offenders returning to crime. Prisoners often send the money they earn from Fine Cell Work to their children and families, or use it to pay debts or for accommodation upon release.

The inmates are all instructed by volunteers, many of whom have been taught at the Embroiderer’s Guild, the Royal School of Needlework and the world of professional design. Once trained, they can be responsible for difficult commissions done to deadlines, and support other inmates who are still learning.

Much of their finished work is traditional, but my favorite piece is a cushion of a prison calendar. After going to a sale of theirs in London a few years back, it’s been a pleasure to watch their online shop grow in designs and medium. Their work is always well-done, so I wasn’t surprised to see this excellent holiday card pop up in my inbox!



And in book news:

Today! (December 9)
*An interview I did with Open Mind was broadcast, and will be repeated again on December 14!

Tomorrow! (December 10)
*I’ll be talking about how you can use your craftiness for good at 7.30 in Raleigh at Quail Ridge Books!
*After the event, I’ll be doing a live interview with the wonderful Feminist Magazine on KPFK in Los Angeles, which will be broadcast online and on Pacifica Radio! I’m the last person interviewed on the show tomorrow, so listen up around 10.40 EST!

lovely little surprises.

| Betsy

Sometimes it’s good to ride in the countryside. The other weekend we came across Shangri-La in Prospect Hill, North Carolina while we were delivering cupcakes to a wedding at a firehouse.

It was the best thing to discover on an otherwise slate-free Saturday afternoon. We spent the next 45 minutes wandering around this little tiny village wondering about the man who crafted it, what he was hoping to build, what his vision for Shangri-La was.

It’s amazing what you can find when you keep your eyes open.

From Roadside America:
Henry L. Warren was a retired tobacco farmer who kept building this collection of 27 leprechaun-sized creations until his death at age 84 (in about 1977).

Shangri-La was conceived by Henry in 1968. The first few buildings were constructed in his side yard next to his house, and the miniature town kept growing. At the same time, he used his creative energy to incorporate 11,000 arrowheads into the walkways of his home.

A sign in front says “Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man.” His wife told us: “As long as he had a cigarette and a Coca-Cola, he’d keep building.”


Also, check out this lovely review of Knitting for Good! over here at Supernaturale!

writing, knitting, brushing.

| Betsy

1. Coffee at my new favorite coffee shop Morning Times
2. Knitting with nostalgia
3. Why taking a photo pre-party is a much better idea than post-party

This week has been a pretty normal week, good news, bad news, work, play, tea, knitting.




After a few nervous days, there has been movement from hospital to rehab for someone close (thanks for your emails) and good news from doctors.

I met two wonderful women separately in one day who reminded me about why its important to go for what you love doing and how it nourishes your soul and the world around you.

I watched the pilot episode of The A-Team on Hulu and fell in love with Mr. T all over again. As they saved the day, I knitted a shrug for a dog that was supposed to be completed months ago.

Watching TV shows from my youth is always part nostalgic glee and part annoying confusion as I remember watching those episodes, but then jumble them up with similar shows like MacGyver, Buck Rogers and The Dukes of Hazzard. After several decades all the good guys winning and saving the kidnapped heir/girlfriend/visiting cousin/hapless bystander blur together into one giant melee of good vs. evil, where evil was more farce than actual evil.

Last night I went a 40th birthday party prom complete with tiara and due to forgetting my camera, was only able to capture the aftermath of several hours of wine, Diet Coke, waterproof mascara, dancing to the Eurythmics, and singing all the wrong words to Sinead O’Connor on the drive over to Durham.

It was a normal, average week. Not quite over yet, but soon, in time, we’ll wake up on Monday morning and do it all over again. The good, the bad, the work, the play, the tea. And maybe even, the knitting. And it’s pretty freakin’ awesome. Happy Sunday.

72 hours.

| Betsy

Here’s a photo of the view from my window as I was leaving the beach on Sunday. It was a sunrise that was quick and fast and steady despite the wind whipping at the trees.

We said our goodbyes and headed back north, thick in the rain that was our constant companion for over 400 miles. Looking at this photo and knowing that in just 72 short hours someone I love very much (who was looking at it, too) was going to be in the hospital makes it even more beautiful. And more delicate and more raw and more sacred.

Why is it universal that we all don’t know how much we love someone or something until it is challenged or lost? Why is it universal that we all know this and remind ourselves of it, but still, the shock of possible loss strikes us nearly powerless? Is it that, in the interim, we forget the sanctity and beauty of love and closeness?

Do we try and ignore the inevitable to keep up with our daily chores? Do we disregard it because to feel the fragility of everything would weigh too heavy and too dear?

Things like these are what I wonder waiting for updates and reports from doctors. I wonder why the acuity of life is only heightened when loss is on the line. And if there is a way to contain that sanctity and hold it close always without the weight of sadness and positive thinking and fingers crossed.