Penelope Loves Lists » Random Ruminations

Why knitting is the perfect hobby for a Penelope

Meredith — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 16:00:51 +0000

All through my 20’s, I searched for a hobby that fit me. I’m not super creative or artsy or terribly good with my hands, so many hobbies were out of reach to me. For others, there was too much “gear” needed. I don’t have a sewing room, or a scrapbooking corner. And I didn’t want to hassle with all the stuff.

Then, all of a sudden, knitting became all the rage and I decided to take a Learn to Knit class at my local yarn store. That was that. I was hooked.

I’ve been knitting now for 5 years now and I’ve become more and more convinced that it’s the perfect hobby for the Penelope Personality.

Here are several reasons why I think so:

It teaches you to be OK with really sucking at something when you’re first learning. And that’s a lesson I’ll bet you can use.
It’s easy to stop and start. You don’t need to get out a million things to work on it and then put them all away again.
It’s totally portable. No more wasting time doing nothing while you wait for your doctor’s appointment.
Knitting doesn’t take much physical space. It’s easy to “contain”.
I’ve met more Penelopes in the knitter community than in any other sub-group of society.
It means you can constantly multi-task. Feel lazy watching TV? How ’bout knitting a scarf for your best friend while you watch Law & Order? Now you’re not lazy, you’re a caring, productive friend.
You can be as creative, or not, as you want. You can follow a pattern exactly and choose the exact same yarn the designer did or you can make the project your own. Love that sweater, but hate the stripes? No problem. You can knit it in a gorgeous, champagne-colored yarn. Or vice versa. It’s a great way to be creative when you’re not naturally artsy.
There are so many beautiful, non-Granny things you can knit. Seriously. Here are just a few:

Cabled Scarf called "Dryad" from Brooklyn Tweed

The Austin Hoodie, knit by SixOneSeven

The Summer Icicle Tank by Monday Morning Knits

Heck, it even looks great while it’s in process:

Knitting in progress by SixOneSeven

If you think you can’t knit, you’re wrong. It’s that simple. I’m SO not crafty and yet I can knit and purl with the best of them.

Have I interested you? I hope so.

If you want to learn to knit, the very easiest way is to register for a class at your local yarn store. Just google “yarn store + your city (or metro area)” and you’ll find one.

The second best way to knit (and one that so many people have used) is to learn to knit virtually. From the comfort of your own computer screen. A great place to start is Monday Morning Knits. Knitting Guru and designer Melissa Monday has gifted us with the attached Learn to Knit PDF and you can visit her site for some great video tutorials that walk you through each step. Having trouble? Email her. Melissa is passionate about helping new Penelopes become knitters.

Click here to download the Learn to Knit PDF.

Ok. Off the soap box. Whew!

Now, tell me, what’s your hobby of choice?

Thoughts on being a Control Freak

Meredith — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 16:00:06 +0000

I have always identified as a “control freak”. I’ve reveled in the label, actually, especially when it comes to my career. I’m good at what I do. I know what result I want and exactly how I want it achieved. I’m a demanding perfectionist, and things have to be just so. I’ve done well by making the most of these traits.

I also have terrible trouble delegating, even to people I trust immensely. I struggle to “let go”.

All because I’m such a tireless, passionate, devoted control freak. I’m following in the footsteps of other famous control freaks: Madonna, Peyton Manning, Martha Stewart, Leona Helmsley. (OK, maybe not so much that last one.)

Photo by .faramarz

Could it be that I’m afraid to let go of things? Not because they can’t be done as well by someone else. But because I’m afraid they CAN be done just as well. Or better?

And that might mean I’m not useful, or uniquely talented or…worst…it might mean I’m not irreplaceable.

And that might mean people won’t like me or be impressed by me or love me.

And that scares me more than I care to admit. Even to myself.

Maybe being a control freak isn’t so impressive. Maybe it’s just fear masquerading as confidence and capability.

How I (barely) survived finding a slug in my shower : an ode to Anxiety Cleaning

Meredith — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 16:00:19 +0000

Last Saturday morning, I woke up, stumbled to the bathroom, glanced in my shower and there was, I kid you not, a slug.

I know.

This bothered me in ways I can’t even explain. (And probably don’t need to to any of you.) Why was it there? How did it get in? What’s wrong with our plumbing? Aren’t slugs immensely dirty? Why was it coming into MY shower? My sanctuary? My cleanest of clean places? WHY? WHYYYYYYYY?

So, after getting rid of the slimy thing, I did what any Penelope would do: I Anxiety Cleaned.

You know what that is, right? It’s not just normal cleaning. It’s weird, obsessive, marching around with a determined look on your face cleaning. It’s the kind of cleaning you do at weird times because you’re compelled to do it. It’s cleaning every damn baseboard in your house because “how the HELL did they get this dirty and how are we living this way? Why are barns cleaner than our home?”

It’s cleaning behind things like toilets and microwaves. And refrigerators. It’s getting the sucker thing on your vacuum out and sucking every single object in your home and thinking “Hey, if it doesn’t get sucked in, it can stay.”

It’s the kind of cleaning you do when you look up and realize every living thing that shares your home with you- husband, children, pets- has disappeared. All afraid of getting in your way and incurring your wrath. You’ve literally scared everyone away.

You know this kind of cleaning rampage. You’ve done it. You do it to gain some semblance of control in a very, very dirty, uncontrollable world.

This was my morning that day. I was in a fit – a fury – a swirling hurricane of cleaning. For 2 hours.

When I finally did look up and realize my house was empty, I looked outside and there was my husband and son, both washing my car in the driveway. On a hot, sunny Saturday morning when I’m sure they both wanted to be sitting in the shade sipping some tea or watching some World Cup. I melted.

I asked J why he’d chosen that moment to wash my car and he said “I knew you were upset about the slug. I figured the best thing I could do is try to help your brain stop itching a bit. And a clean car does that for you.”

Cue the chorus of “awwwwww”. I know. He’s sooooo good.

What I realized that day was that my family knows me, loves me and wants to help me feel not so crazy. And that a slug in the shower is NOT the end of the world.

{I still put Comet around the drain before bed every night, though. If a bugger gets in, he’s damn well going through Comet first.}

3 Tips for Taking Back Some Control in an Uncontrollable World

Meredith — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 16:00:35 +0000

There are several things over which I have no control: I can’t control the fact that things are always busy and there will always be work and chores and meals to prepare. I can’t keep bad things from happening in the outside world. I can’t control the actions and thoughts of others.

I can, however, keep these things from infecting my home. Here are 3 ways I simplify my life by controlling my thoughts, moods and words.

1) I can reframe my thoughts.
Instead of being irritated when I see my husband’s shoes left in the living room, I can turn that moment into something different. I can think: “I’m grateful that my husband is in my life and that we share a home together. I’m grateful we can afford shoes. I’m grateful that we have an organized closet in which to put these shoes. And, really, how many other things does he do right all the time?” And then I just put the shoes away and am left with a feeling of love, rather than irritation.

via Flickr

2) I can decide I’m going to be in a good mood.
What’s that line? “If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy”? That’s a nugget of truth if I’ve ever heard one. I set the tone for the day for my family. Is it going to be a good day? Are we going to laugh? Are we going to have fun? Or, are we going to walk on egg shells all day because Stabby Mommy’s come to town. I choose. Period.

And I have the ability to choose to be in a good mood, even if it’s not always easy. I can remove myself for 15 minutes and talk to an encouraging friend or listen to 4 songs that really pump me up, or go for a walk or meditate or eat an “It’s It”. Whatever it takes for me to be responsible for your own mood.

Or, if removing myself isn’t possible, I can make a decision that I’m going to fake it ’til I make it. I can force myself to smile. Seriously. Study after study has shown that the physical act of smiling releases happy hormones that then make you feel happy. I can read a funny book to my kids, or do a silly dance from the late 80s just to embarrass them (which always puts me in a good mood). It’s not going to be immediate, but after a few minutes, my mood will start to match my intention.

3) I can keep my mouth shut.
One day, it occurred to me that I didn’t have to give voice to every single thought that crossed my mind. Wow! That’s life-changing! I can decide that I’m not going to litter my family’s ears by complaining all the time. If I don’t have anything nice to say, I can say nothing at all. Seems obvious, but it made a big difference to me, my mood and those around me.

I don’t always succeed in doing all these things as well as I’d like (in fact, I fail more than I succeed), but I’m convinced that the very act of trying is making my life simpler, and happier.

This post originally appeared as a guest post on one of my favorite new blogs, Lists in My Pocket.

Wasting my time wanting to be liked: a rumination on insecurity

Meredith — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 16:00:05 +0000

Periodically, I get into these weird obsessive jags. They can be about a topic (am I doing a good enough job as a mom?) or a physical symptom (is one arm longer than my other?), or a food (brussels sprouts every day for a month) or a person. This time, it was the latter.

I started thinking about a person I’d met a while ago and with whom I connected immediately. I was excited because, frankly, it’s not always easy for me to make new friends. I like this person a lot and we’d been talking frequently for a while. Then, I noticed I wasn’t hearing from her quite as much. Then, not at all. I’d reached out, but hadn’t heard back.

Putting my big girl pants on, I thought “Well, she’s busy, I’m busy, who knows what’s going on in her life? I’m sure it has nothing to do with me.” Then, the big girl pants started to come off a bit and I started thinking “Maybe she’s mad at me. But why? What did I do. Or not do?” Obsess, obsess.

Then, it devolved into full-on, level 10 friendship insecurity. And that’s an ugly stage. I thought “I was wrong. There was no connection at all. Nobody likes me, everybody hates me.” Yeah. Ugly.

And, all the while, the non-8-year-old part of me is sitting back being flat out embarrassed by this mess. Thinking “You’re a successful business woman with a wonderful husband and several smarty-pants kids and a great family and tons of supportive friends and a fun blog and what’s your deal, Mrs.?” (My non-8-year-old self sounds suspiciously like Sharon Osbourne.)

It’s not as if I don’t already know the selfish and damaging nature of being an Over-achiever People Pleaser who always needs everyone to like her. I do. (By the way, loved Annie’s post on that issue.) Through this entire thing, I was absolutely aware of the insane irrationality of my thinking.

Obsess, obsess. Nothing life-changing, just low level churning. Obsess, obsess.

Then, one day out of the blue. I get a voicemail from her. It’s a long message saying she’s just calling because she misses me. She’s thinking of me and loves me and just wanted me to know I am important to her and she’s so glad she met me and when can we get together?

Oy.

All that wasted low level mental energy. Spent. Gone. Never getting that back.

Double oy.

And you know the absolute kicker to all this? I’d like to believe that, having learned this salient lesson, having even freaking BLOGGED ABOUT IT, that this won’t happen again. That next time, I’ll not waste a moment thinking negative thoughts. That I’ll just assume everyone loves me all the time.

Won’t happen. Ugh. Sometimes I annoy the heck out of myself.

PS: I’m thrilled to be guest posting today on a great new blog called Lists in My Pocket. Her Simplify Series is really thought provoking- I hope you’ll check it out.

How Penelope Finds a BFF

Meredith — Sun, 30 May 2010 16:00:37 +0000

I’m honored to have Rachel Bertsche from one of my favorite blogs, MWF Seeking BFF, guest post for us today. She’s a Penelope herself and brings an interesting perspective to how we make (or struggle to make) new friends.

There are certain things Penelopes love: lists, plans, tidy schedules and unbreakable rules.

When trying to make new friends, there are certain things that don’t always work. Lists, plans, tidy schedules and unbreakable rules.

When I started my search for a new best friend, I drew an outline in my head:

Step 1: Meet with someone new every Monday.
Step 2: If the first girl-date is a success, follow up for a second date.
Step 3: Schedule follow up dates for Wednesdays.
Step 4: If said potential friend doesn’t follow up after date two, move on.

It was a great plan. (Or a crazy one, if you’re not a Penelope. But since I’m writing this for an audience of my own kind, let’s call it great.) Except for one thing. As it turns out—surprise!—making friends is not baking a cake. It’s not building a home. There is no recipe or blueprint for a delicious, sturdy bestfriendship.

I can’t designate Mondays as the only date night because I have another person’s schedule to consider. What kind of friend says “I can only meet you on Monday”? And there have been women who I really like, ladies I think could be The One, who have two kids and crazy work schedules and can’t always be counted on to reach out. And that doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t like me. It may mean they are so frazzled that they can hardly remember to wear a bra let alone extend an invitation to a new friend and schedule dinner.

I’d love to say I’ve thrown caution entirely to the wind, that I’ve tossed my friend-making outline into the fire. But any Penelope would know that’s a lie. We don’t let go that easily. But I’ve adjusted. Found the middle ground. I try to be flexible in my schedule, if still strict about marking every appointment in my handy iPhone calendar. I say yes when a potential friend calls to say “let’s go on an adventure. I want to get my fortune told!” (Penelopes don’t do psychics) but still wonder what the appropriate attire for such an activity would be.

I seek out formulas for upgrading from acquaintance to friend to BFF (a life-coach once told me you need to see someone twice a month for three months before you’ll consider her a friend. How handy! ) but accept that if those requirements aren’t met there’s still be friendship to be had.

A pretty big chunk of forging real friendships is loosening up. Because if we’re willing to share the messy stuff underneath all the Penelopeness, and that friend sticks around anyway? Well then she’s probably a keeper.

Naysayers would argue you can’t take steps to make friends. They’re convinced friendships are organic, they just happen. Not me. I don’t do go-with-the-flow very well. I think you can make a map for anything. Just as long as you’re willing to veer off course once in a while.

*******

About the author:

Rachel Bertsche left her oldest and dearest friends behind when she moved to Chicago for love. Now that she’s settled in the Midwest, she’s on the hunt for a new best friend. She says if there were no such thing as online predators, she’d post a want ad on Craigslist: “MWF Seeking BFF: Must live in Chicago. Must not bring her dog to lunch dates. Fluency in Entertainment Weekly preferred but not required.” Instead, she’s doing it the old-fashioned way-getting out there and introducing herself to one potential Bestie at a time. Her blog, MWF Seeking BFF, chronicles her quest. MWF Seeking BFF, the book, will be out in early 2012.

Why It Sometimes Sucks to Be a Penelope

Meredith — Wed, 26 May 2010 16:00:13 +0000

Today, something different. We’re going to get a little real here because I’ve got stuff on my mind.

Sometimes, it sucks to be a Penelope. The Organized One. The Together Chick Everyone Can Rely On. It can suck. Over the course of my life, I’ve been teased by classmates, resented by co-workers, I’ve even lost a marriage over my Penelope ways.

I also hate snarky, back-handed compliments like “it must be nice to always have it so together, huh?” Mainly because I know they don’t mean it. They’re just waiting for me to miss an appointment or forget a birthday or forget to pick my kids up from school or…or…have a mental breakdown. (Pardon the paranoia.)

I hate that having my shit together makes other people mad that they don’t. Even if the fact that they can’t get to the dentist on time is so completely NOT my fault.

I hate the name-calling, too. You’ve all heard it. You’ve been called a “perfectionist”, a “control freak”, a “neat freak”, “anal retentive”. And not in a good way. All because you make lists and put things away in alphabetical order.

Well, you know what I say? Screw ‘em. I’m going to The Container Store.

UPDATE: On a happier and less crabapple note, I wanted to announce the winner of the autographed copy of “The Happiness Project from this giveaway post:

Jackie! With this comment about what makes her happy: “Roses in every room of my house make me deliciously happy !! (I live on Gretchen’s blog) and have shared it with my children & friends. ”

Congrats, Jackie!

On my mind: being able to plan can be a pain in the butt

Meredith — Fri, 07 May 2010 17:59:55 +0000

Here’s what I’m thinking about today: sometimes, being able to plan major life changes is actually harder than just having things happen and dealing with them the best you can.

Like, trying to decide if you should get a new job, one that you’re more passionate about than the one you have. Or, trying to decide if you should have a baby or go back to school, or…any number of huge things. I have several friends who are at this kind of crux point in their lives right now and we’re all talking about what a huge responsibility it is to be able to plan.

When things happen unexpectedly, you go into Penelope Crisis Mode and you do what needs to be done. You deal. And things work out, one way or the other.

But, if you have the luxury of pro-actively making big decisions, you can spend hours listing pros and cons, thinking about “what ifs” and “worst case scenarios”. And that can lead to mountains of fears and then to decision paralysis. Or, it can for me.

I think sometimes life just happening, and then dealing with it, can be easier in a weird way.

On My Mind: blog posting frequency and promises to myself

Meredith — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 16:59:46 +0000

Before I started Penelope Loves Lists, I set down two rules for myself:

1) I would write in my own authentic voice and not in some voice or style I think people might like better.
2) I would consistently post just two times per week on set days.

The first rule was so that I would learn to trust my own instincts, which is hard for me, and the second rule was that, given that I have 3 children, a husband and a pretty intense day job, I knew that posting more than that wouldn’t work for me.

The Big “But”: Buuuuuuuuut, once I started, and traffic and readership started rolling along at an amazing clip, I started getting lots and lots of requests from people to post more. And, just in the last week, I’ve seen two people link to this site saying it’s their favorite new blog (Great!) but then follow that up immediately with a complaint that I don’t post enough. (Ouch!)

My inner 13 year old started to whisper in my ear that maybe my two times per week schedule wasn’t enough. (That inner 13 year old is the same nasty chick who also whispers that I’m not as attractive as I should be and I’m chubby and yes, maybe I’m a fraud overall. She’s a real piece of work, that one.)

I caved into her and put a poll on the site asking if you guys want me to post more. And a whopping 75% of respondents said yes!

These people have a point. So much blog advice from the Big Bloggers says that, if you’re really serious, you must post at least 4-5 times a week. And I want to do a good job on Penelope Loves Lists. I love it immensely and, further, I want to always work hard and do my best at anything I do.

The Real Reason: And, here’s the kicker: I desperately want everyone to like me. All the time. And if I post more, maybe you will like me more. And that’s a Siren’s Call for me. I’ve done countless dumb things in my life in an effort to get people to like me. I know that it never works. Not 100%. And yet, it’s hard me for to just tell myself no.

The reality is, there’s simply no way I can post 4-5 times per week. I’d go crazy, put out crappy content, burn out and quit completely. And I don’t want to do that.

So, here’s where I need to put my Big Girl Panties on and honor my promises to myself, even if it terrifies me to do it. And it does.

The Decision: Here’s what I’ve decided: I’m going to continue to post consistently twice a week, on Sundays and Wednesdays. These are posts that are prepared carefully and in advance, according to an editorial calendar. And, if I have a particular itch to do a quick additional post on the fly at some other point in the week, most likely Fridays, great.

But I’m only going to promise myself twice a week. I’ll try to honor that promise I made to myself in an effort to learn to value myself and to hold my priorities dear, even in the face of my lifelong, sucking insecurity.

Let’s see if I can do this.

On my mind: attention is love

Meredith — Fri, 23 Apr 2010 22:48:14 +0000

I’ve been incredibly challenged and inspired by the comments on my last post where I talked about learning to stop multi-tasking and that being busy doesn’t make me valuable. You might take a second to read those. Good, good stuff there.

What’s on my mind today is this from reader Max:

“I’m reminded of the quote from John Tarrant Roshi: ‘Attention is the most basic form of love.’ Giving my full attention to something – it doesn’t matter what! – is where the joy is.”

So, I’m actually loving my kids more if I stop cleaning/bustling/buzzing/making lists of things to do (all of which, by the way, I do for them) and just spend time with them. Talking, cooking, reading together, listening to music. Anything that we can do together where I can just pay attention to them. Or my husband, or my friends, or my Mom.

I’m not always good at that. Feels too slow to just sit and “be”. And then there’s the very loud To Do List looming. Sheesh, that thing is mouthy!

But Max is so right. Attention is the most basic form of love.

So here’s the weekend challenge: can you spend some time over the next two days just paying attention to those you love? Or, to a project you love? Can you stop letting everything else crowd them out? Can I?