Will Gnomies never cease?

I was surprised to note that during my recent illness and weekend time-away-from-blog, someone found my page by googling ‘hanging with my gnomies’.  I guess the phrase is becoming ever more popular, as we’re all suckers for corny jokes.  Is that a function of age?  I can remember my dad boring and annoying me consistently with his corny puns, but now that I’m almost out of my 20’s (ack! adulthood looms!), he’s occasionally funny.  Is this an early form of dementia?  Will I someday find even Airplane! (the only movie I ever had to stop watching out of boredom) entertaining?

Some people say that Frank L. Baum’s Nome King was based on the idea of gnomes.  I don’t understand how.   They’re both tricky?  I mean, isn’t it dwarves who work with precious metals and gems usually, rather than gnomes?  Don’t gnomes just steal?  And since when do garde-variety gnomes look like rocks or fear chickens?  Eggs as poison, indeed!  I mean, I’m all for fantasy, but it gets a little ridiculous when your theories try to cross about 5 different fantasy worlds.


My mad grandmotherly skillz

I’m trying to get another Podunk Jo done, so this might be a little short. I was thinking today about what I might want to do this morning to get my three-day weekend started right while Mike was still sleeping. Knitting was the first thing that came to mind.

While it;’s true that I usually knit on the bus a little – I like to keep my hands busy – and I hadn’t done so in the past week since I’ve been reading so much, it still came as something of a shock. I am a grandma. I like to knit. On the weekend.

Some of you know about my future life goal of being a crazy/eccentric old lady, possibly with cats. However, I had intended that to come about as a part of my natural life, with the passage of time. True, I had already mostly achieved the crazy portion of my goal. I just didn’t expect the grandma part to catch up with me so quickly. Hello! I’m not even 30 yet.

I guess a part of my trouble with the whole concept comes from the traditional feminine tasks that I genuinely enjoy doing. I like being able to do things, to make things. I may need to know how to make my own socks some day, when the economy collapses. Hence, I knit. I may need to fix my clothes. Hence, I can sew. You know, useful stuff to know that people look at you funny for, or admire you for, claiming they could never do that/find the time. Thanks! Really!

It’s not that I’ve necessarily neglected the ‘male’ do-it-yourself skills. If I’m ever on a desert island, I have the carpentry skills to make myself a hut, or even something more extensive. I know how to purify water and start a fire and all that boy scout crap. Although, now that I think about it, that sort of thing has become rather effeminate as well. I know some geeky technology stuff too, though that’s also probably a less manly skill. Oh, and Mike taught me a bit about how to throw a knife, so that’s another manly skill in process. I don’t know anything about cars or engines really, but do I have to in order to be considered manly?

I guess the point is that I feel like an old lady for knitting.  I can’t seem to get over that ‘traditional role’ value for it in my psyche.  Maybe it’s partly because my mother doesn’t knit and my grandmother does.  Maybe that value was unconsciously instilled at a young age.  And despite whatever new, trendy, fashionable aspects knitting has today (yak), that’s not what has attracted me to it.  What I really like about it is a sense of independence I can get from it.   The “I’m going to make you an ugly sweater and you’re going to like it” sense.  The ability to make something for myself, as well as the ability to do things my way, are both key.

I guess that is sort of grandmotherly – not in a traditional sense.  In the powerful sense instead – the kind of grandmother who’s a little crotchety and on-edge, and will never go into a nursing home, and knows her vices and savors them.  I guess that’s the kind of crazy grandma I want to be.  Hurrah for one step closer.