Worry Dolls

Have you ever heard of Worry Dolls? They were trendy among my friends and I when we were kids. West Sonoma County, what can I say? Kids, as in, no real worries yet. They were little tiny cloth and yarn dolls, maybe an inch or so long, handmade in Guatemala. They come in a little bag. You're supposed to tell them your worries at night before bed and while you sleep they go out into the world and handle your problems. Cool idea, no? Damn, where are my dolls now? There was someting meditative about handling them, twisting and turning them between my fingers and transferring my worries somewhere other than my heart. Said Guatemalans know what they're doing, huh? I've realized that my knitting is very like those worry dolls. I twist and turn the yarn into fabric, concentrating worry, sadness, or flat-out fear into the stitches. Unfortunately, no one's going out while I sleep to handle my business, but that's okay. Can't win 'em all.

So I've had a nice weekend so far. I'm adoring my house, clean and set up differently. It feels better somehow, and it felt good to start with. I've stayed home all weekend, other than running reasonably fun errands. I was supposed to meet Gotti at 11 but it isn't going to happen. He's one of my best friends and he's never even been to my house, he never makes the trip up here, so I'm not going to kill myself to get down there tonight. It's nice to stay home and relax for someting different....

I've decided that I'm in love with Eric Clapton for Layla (the accoustic version) and Cat Stevens for If You Want To Sing Out (think Harold and Maude). Ohhh, and Annie Lenox for Pavement Cracks. Beautiful.