Disco Enlightenment

So there I was yesterday morning - cross legged on my tranquil early morning living room carpet - and in toddles Liam. I generally suggest that we do "sitting" together when this happens, and he was content to hang out quietly in my lap for - oh - 10 seconds. Then he got bored and came back with something to entertain himself whilst waiting for Mom to attain inner harmony. His keyboard. The electronic toy wonder that a certain in-law thought would be a great gift since we are a musical family (never mind that we own an actual acoustic piano), the keyboard with the special button that plays Christmas tunes to a cheesy disco beat and the other button that speeds up said beat to a frenetic rate (so that kids will learn what, exactly? Button pushing? Bad taste in music?) I can rise to the challenge, I thought. Breathe through Jingle Bells. Breathe through Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Suddenly I understood why the vast majority of books on meditation (well, all the ones I've read anyway) are written by men. Men who either have no children, or have wives to keep them out of the way while Dad attains enlightenment.

No wonder we knit.

Oh, and while I'm in a curmudgeonly mood, why does Modular Knits consist virtually entirely of scarves, a couple of hats and 2 or 3 shapeless poncho thingies when the write-up in Vogue Knitting shows a darling little body hugging shell? Can it be true that every innovative color and construction technique out there is fit only for making long rectangles and "oversized" garments?

I'm done. Back to inner peace now.