the opposite of learning
I've decided that the opposite of learning is forgetting.
Several mornings a week, as I sit at the table and drink my daily vitamin shake, my six and a half-year-old grandson gives me a memory test. Sometimes he shows me each of his little die cast airplanes and sees if I remember the name of each. He has dozens, and he knows them all. Sometimes he sets up his dinosaur models and tests me on the names of each of those. Each time I remember a few, but I forget the names of most from day to day -- even though he names each for me, speaking very clearly and explaining the distinguishing features of each.
As he learns, I forget.
On the other hand, as he learns, I also find out about all sorts of bits of information that I didn't know and didn't know that I didn't know. Of course, I forget most of it, but, at the time when he is explaining to me that whale sharks eat plankton, I find it interesting, both that I never knew that and also that it doesn't matter that I never knew that.
I forget. He seems to remember everything, and I think it's because being home schooled enables him to pursue learning about what interests him, whether it be tornadoes, fossils, war planes, or road construction. And, at the same time, he's learning that math, science, history, reading and writing are necessary to his understanding of what interests him.
His mom posted a unique perspective on what she has discovered that is important for kids to learn on her own blog.
We are definitely a bunch of avid learners in this extended household. Unfortunately, I am forgetting as much as I'm learning.
Hopefully, my son, who is on a learning curve regarding moving this blog to WordPress, will soon finish the job so that he can then forget it.
Soon. My new look will be up soon.
And, with it, a new photo of me, which my daughter is going to take for the little blurb about me that is going to appear in Vicki Howell's upcoming Craft Corps book.
And you thought that I was just a blogger. Live and learn. Except for me. I live and forget.
five things
Ex-Lion Tamer tagged me for posting five interesting things about me.
I had to do some serious thinking about this, since these days, my life is about as interesting as a bowl of cold oatmeal.
1. I once accidentally left a pink satin teddy in a bed at a New York City hotel where my daughter was waitressing/singing.
2. For more than twenty-five years people assumed that I had curly hair because I always had a perm.
3. Last night my mother and I stayed up until 2 a.m. watching "Lilies of the Field," and I realized that I had never seen the movie before! Sidney Poitier was totally HOT!
4. I hardly ever read non-fiction. I am usually reading two fiction books at the same time and listening to a third on my MP3 player as I fall asleep. Understandably, I often don't remember the stories a month later.
5. I started two craft businesses thus far in my lifetime, doing craft fairs and selling to folks who found out about my wares by word of mouth. The first I called "Self-stones," and I turned tumbled stones into various simple accessory items and packaged them with a description of the magical lore and healing properties associated with those stones. The second was called "Sass & Chic," and I sold shawls that I crocheted in a spiral from a pattern that I designed. Here's a photo of four, two of which I embellished with washable pony beads.
Of course, I never really made any money from either craft business. But I had fun.
I need to figure out how to have some fun in the future.
saved by a craft
Sometimes these days I think the only way I have stopped myself from strangling my brother and/or my mother is by picking up a crochet hook or a pair of knitting needles and going at it with a new hank of yarn.
I realized recently that I am a "process" craftsperson rather than a "product" one. I have at leave five projects started that I've set aside because I got to points in the patterns that required a lot of attention to detail. So I've started a lightweight crocheted afghan for when I move in with my daughter and family. It's the same stitch over and over again -- striped using two related yarns. There is something about the rhythm of the hand movements that's mesmerizing, mentally relaxing. I can sit in the middle of a raging familial storm and block it out with the repeating stitch mantra. It's certainly better for my health than drinking.
Oh, I have finished projects -- like this and this and this and this.
But that was all before I moved my mother and me in with my brother. That was before my mother needed 24/7 care. Then I had the mental energy to focus on the details of form.
Now I just need something to do with my hands, something to intrude between my world and my brain. Something that I can easily put down if I have to.
So, it's
Yarn over hook.
Insert hook in the next stitch to be worked.
Yarn over hook.
Pull yarn through stitch.
Yarn over hook.
Pull yarn through all 3 loops on hook ..........
