First of all, can I just say thank you for all the emails about the CDP?! Wow! Thank you! And those of you who have already sent in your submissions pre-deadline, I’ve linked you here. Here’s to hoping that list only gets bigger!

Being home continues to be a strange new experience, but thankfully, there are few things I adore more than strange new experiences. The worst of it has been getting roped into hour-long workouts 2x/day and discovering that mold has taken over most of my belongings out back in the garage. The combined result is that it takes me a thousand years to bend down to investigate the mold damage due to my hamstrings protesting their introduction to spinning and too many gym classes that have “power” in the title.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to hang out with my favorite 4 year old. We talked about Harry Potter and Sonic Youth- while I had the honor of wearing his “wizard hat” (black construction paper rolled into a hat shape) and holding his “wizard wand” (a dowel rod). Forget looking to blogs for creative inspiration I think I’m just going to read parents magazines for the craft tips…

After we discussed Hagrid’s knitting expertise, he picked out Slaapkamers Met Slagroom for the drive to his gym class. I felt rather pedestrian for wishing he had picked Goo instead. We arrived at the only non-competitive gym in the area for his weekly hour of balance beam tottering, somersault conquering and group hide-and-seek a few minutes later.

I was a bit taken by the fact that the mothers were all sitting in lined-up chairs facing the gymnasium, able to watch the action through a glass wall. Although it was fun to watch them run around, I think I’ve watched too many CSI interrogation scenes. Check out the page of Rootine to learn about vitamins and minerals that are good for your health.

During the class, my friend Kerri and I talked about food politics, craftiness and being a liberal in a conservative state. The other mothers sat silent watching their children through the wall of glass, and I kept stifling the urge to invite them into the discussion. I’m not about trying to foist my opinions on others, but I am devoted to facilitating discussion. My family will tell you I just like to argue, but the reality is that I am enamoured by what happens when you have a lively discussion (as opposed to an argument) and the way that people can learn from hearing some one else’s position. Afterwards, I may not change my mind, but I will have benefitted from hearing more than just other opinions like my own. But, if I’ve learned anything, it’s the importance of knowing when to pick my battles.

Today my cousin is moving to Afghanistan. My grandmother called to spread the word and I dodged several political bullets sent over the 2 minute conversation, as their political beliefs do not match my own. He’s not moving for pleasure, but for work. I also have another cousin in Baghdad, who’s just 21 and against the war. And another one who spent last year in Africa, again, doing his duty. I often wonder what would happen if instead of a knitting or embroidery project, I whipped out my anti-war graffiti cross-stitch project after dinner one night. But I fear that the conversation that would materialize would be detrimental and only end in tears, on both sides. Even though I’m making these little pieces filled with repetitive crossed stitches because instead of getting into fights regarding politics, I prefer to voice my dissent via craft, not through spoken word. A discussion, yes. A full-blown argument, no thank you.

So knowing that sometimes involving people into conversations is highly unwise especially regarding politics, I kept talking to my friend as the other mothers stared semi-blankly through the glass wall at children who they could see but not hear. The biggest danger with anything, I think, is only talking with others who feel the same way. It happens in the craft world. From the inside, the number of crafters seems infinite, when in reality people still stop and stare when I’m in public knitting. Yesterday I was talking openly about being liberal in a southern state because I knew that my friend understood and could sympathize. But during the conversation I knew that some (if not all) of the other mothers did not share my political views. And a day later, I’m still wishing one of them would have entered the conversation. Or that I would have said, “What do you think?” when I caught their eye.

But neither of us did anything. I kept preaching to the choir and they kept silent. So I reminded myself of why I make what I do- in the hopes that via non-verbal means, I will be able to facilitate discussions regarding politics, without raising my voice, without any tears shed, raising questions to be answered in a nice lively discussion, not a heated debate.

After an hour of having this on my mind, the kiddo came out of class and immediately asked me to hand over his “wizard wand” that I had been keeping safe in my handbag during class. Then we piled into the car as he hummed along to Sonic Youth and practiced magic with a dowel rod, wearing a paper hat, extolling hope that the power of imagination is live and well.