Fogged Glasses and Felting Fibers

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Speaker 1 Most mornings, I wake up knowing I've got a full day ahead of me: projects, calls, writing, planning.

Speaker 1 And instead of letting it overwhelm me, I take a deep breath and say my favorite mantra: first this, then that.

Speaker 1 Brain Edge from Nature Sunshine has become part of that ritual.

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Speaker 1 Welcome. to bedtime stories for everyone

Speaker 1 in which nothing much happens.

Speaker 1 You feel good

Speaker 1 and then you fall asleep.

Speaker 1 I'm Catherine Nicolai.

Speaker 1 I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens.

Speaker 1 Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim.

Speaker 1 We give to a different charity each week. And this week we are giving to AdoptiPet of Fenton, Michigan.

Speaker 1 Adopt-a-Pet finds loving families for homeless dogs and cats, as well as assisting people in the community with their personal animals.

Speaker 1 We just adopted a very sweet two-year-old dog from them about a month ago, and we are so grateful to have Harriet in our family. You can learn more about them in our show notes.

Speaker 1 For ad-free and bonus episodes, click subscribe in Spotify or Apple or go to nothingmuchhappens.com.

Speaker 1 Since every episode is someone's first, I'd like to say a little about how this works.

Speaker 1 For many of us, especially folks with ADHD or busy brains, total silence at bedtime isn't actually relaxing.

Speaker 1 When the world goes quiet, The brain often goes hunting for stimulation.

Speaker 1 And a calm voice gives it something gentle and predictable to follow so it can settle.

Speaker 1 And this is completely normal. It's not cheating and it's not a bad habit.
It's actually good sleep hygiene. Now I'll tell the story twice and I'll go a little slower the second time through.

Speaker 1 If you wake later in the night, just start another episode. You'll drop right back off.

Speaker 1 Our story tonight is called Fogged Glasses and Felting Fibers.

Speaker 1 And it's a story about an evening spent working on a project among friends. It's also about a tote bag full of spools of colored thread.
The moon reflected in a car window. A saved seat.

Speaker 1 A black and white movie. The quiet, companionable sound of knitting needles clicking.
And a gentle nudge to direct more attention to the things that make you grateful and content.

Speaker 1 Okay,

Speaker 1 it's time.

Speaker 1 Get as comfortable as you can.

Speaker 1 Pull the blanket up over your shoulder and let your whole body relax.

Speaker 1 All shall be well.

Speaker 1 And all shall be well.

Speaker 1 and all manner of thing

Speaker 1 shall be well.

Speaker 1 Take a deep breath in through your nose.

Speaker 1 Let it out your mouth.

Speaker 1 Again, breathe in

Speaker 1 and out.

Speaker 1 Good.

Speaker 1 Fogged glasses and felting fibers.

Speaker 1 My scarf was wrapped all the way up over my head,

Speaker 1 and every breath fogged my glasses in the cold night air.

Speaker 1 I hitched my tote bag up onto my shoulder.

Speaker 1 I kept sliding down the slippery fabric of my parka,

Speaker 1 and one one sock was threatening to slide under my heel, inside my winter boot.

Speaker 1 I remembered something I'd read the day before,

Speaker 1 scrawled on a sticky note,

Speaker 1 tacked among flyers on the bulletin board at the coffee shop.

Speaker 1 It just said, Yum or yuck.

Speaker 1 And it made me stop with the cinnamon shaker in my hand,

Speaker 1 hovering above the foam of my latte,

Speaker 1 and consider what it might mean.

Speaker 1 I mean,

Speaker 1 I guess it meant just what it said.

Speaker 1 In this moment,

Speaker 1 was I looking at the world

Speaker 1 and saying yum

Speaker 1 or yuck?

Speaker 1 And of course, with my hot cup in my hand,

Speaker 1 it was easy to declare yum.

Speaker 1 But I found it coming back helpfully into my head a few more times over the course of the day.

Speaker 1 When the snow was piled up on my windshield,

Speaker 1 I had to stand out in the cold for a few minutes to scrape at the glass.

Speaker 1 I'd been grumbling under my breath,

Speaker 1 and noticed the reflection of the moon

Speaker 1 in the passenger window,

Speaker 1 and looked up to see a wide open sky full of stars.

Speaker 1 Yum, I'd said,

Speaker 1 when I'd trudged to the library,

Speaker 1 only to find that the book I was desperate to read had been checked out, and that I was number 47 on the wait list.

Speaker 1 I'd been about to declare it a definite yuck

Speaker 1 when I stopped to consider that this meant my neighborhood was full of people who loved the same series I did.

Speaker 1 That the author I'd been following since her debut novel a dozen years before

Speaker 1 was now a best-selling writer.

Speaker 1 And how good that must feel.

Speaker 1 Yum.

Speaker 1 So even now, as my socks lipped all the way to my arch

Speaker 1 and my ears stung with cold,

Speaker 1 I looked down the sidewalk

Speaker 1 to the lit doors of the theater.

Speaker 1 Where other thoroughly scarved, tote bag-carrying crafters were stepping through with smiles on their faces.

Speaker 1 And I said, under my foggy breath,

Speaker 1 yum.

Speaker 1 It was crafters night at the movie theater downtown,

Speaker 1 and it looked like it would be a good-sized crowd for it.

Speaker 1 I don't remember how I first heard about it.

Speaker 1 Maybe another notice notice on the same bulletin board at the coffee shop.

Speaker 1 But I had been coming since last spring

Speaker 1 whenever I could.

Speaker 1 It was once a month on a midweek evening.

Speaker 1 They showed a movie, something that fit the season.

Speaker 1 and kept the lights in the theater up so that you could see your embroidery or knitting clearly.

Speaker 1 I pushed through the doors and stepped into the warmth of the lobby.

Speaker 1 I scooted to the side a moment to unwrap my scarf,

Speaker 1 tug my sock back into place,

Speaker 1 and wipe my glasses.

Speaker 1 The lobby was bustling with excited cross stitchers and crocheters,

Speaker 1 and the scent of fresh popcorn filled the air.

Speaker 1 At a trestle table near the concession,

Speaker 1 there were a few of the event organizers,

Speaker 1 welcoming those who were here for the first time

Speaker 1 and handing out the craft of the evening

Speaker 1 to those who'd come without anything to work on.

Speaker 1 That was something I really loved about this event.

Speaker 1 Even if you didn't have a project going, you would, by the time you left.

Speaker 1 They designed beginner-friendly crafts that went with the night's movie.

Speaker 1 Tonight it looked like they'd prepared a collection of tree ornaments to make from thick cardstock,

Speaker 1 folded and glued into place.

Speaker 1 I smiled down at the suitcase covered in stickers from all over the world.

Speaker 1 The bell that Suzu points to at the end of the film,

Speaker 1 and the moon on the lasso

Speaker 1 that George promised to pull from the sky.

Speaker 1 There were glue sticks and a bunch of the round-ended scissors I remembered from elementary school in a cup to borrow.

Speaker 1 Even though my tote bag held more than enough work for tonight,

Speaker 1 I was so charmed by the paper ornament craft

Speaker 1 that I took one of them in as well.

Speaker 1 Even if I didn't make it here,

Speaker 1 it would be fun to do with my nephews later.

Speaker 1 I stopped at the concession stand for a soda and a soft pretzel dotted with mustard,

Speaker 1 then made my way into the theater.

Speaker 1 I don't mind doing things alone.

Speaker 1 I enjoy taking myself out to dinner or wandering the museum and shops downtown at my own pace.

Speaker 1 But I still felt that moment of awkwardness

Speaker 1 as I stood in the aisle of the cinema, trying to decide where to sit.

Speaker 1 People were scattered through the seats,

Speaker 1 some alone and some in clumps of friends.

Speaker 1 A woman at the end of a row caught my eye and tipped her head toward an empty seat beside her.

Speaker 1 She had a few friends in the rose around her,

Speaker 1 and they all made space,

Speaker 1 shifting their totes and skeins of yarn.

Speaker 1 That awkward twinge disappeared, and I felt like I'd just walked into the cafeteria

Speaker 1 with my lunch tray in my hands

Speaker 1 to find that someone had saved me a seat.

Speaker 1 Yum, I thought.

Speaker 1 I settled myself in,

Speaker 1 said hello, and fell into easy conversation about the movie we were about to watch

Speaker 1 and the projects each of us were working on.

Speaker 1 My pretzel was chewy and deliciously salty.

Speaker 1 And once I'd finished the last bite and wiped my fingertips clean of any errant dabs of mustard,

Speaker 1 I pulled my tote bag onto my lap and started to take out my embroidery hoop,

Speaker 1 my needle and thread.

Speaker 1 I didn't have a specific plan for my design.

Speaker 1 I'd been

Speaker 1 sort of doodling,

Speaker 1 if you can call it that.

Speaker 1 Doodling with the needle and pretty colours of thread,

Speaker 1 stitching acorns and coffee cups, and a wandering set of paw prints

Speaker 1 around the edges of the even weave.

Speaker 1 The movie started,

Speaker 1 and I watched for a few moments

Speaker 1 as snow fell thickly on Gower's drugs and Martini's bar.

Speaker 1 Throughout the theater,

Speaker 1 the steady sound of clicking knitting needles echoed.

Speaker 1 With the lights still up

Speaker 1 and so many moving hands,

Speaker 1 people didn't feel the need to be silent

Speaker 1 and instead chatted in low voices.

Speaker 1 The woman beside me was felting,

Speaker 1 a craft I was smitten with,

Speaker 1 but hadn't yet attempted.

Speaker 1 As I separated my strands of thread,

Speaker 1 she walked me through the basics.

Speaker 1 She had a felting needle.

Speaker 1 With tiny barbs that would catch the strands of wool.

Speaker 1 She slipped a few finger protectors on with a wink,

Speaker 1 saying she'd learned the hard way,

Speaker 1 that it was better to wear them than not.

Speaker 1 She had a collection of wool fibers in different colors.

Speaker 1 She was working on a miniature mince pie for the holidays

Speaker 1 and already had a golden disc of fibers for the bottom crust.

Speaker 1 She began to poke chocolate brown and dark cherry strands together

Speaker 1 to make the filling.

Speaker 1 It's basically

Speaker 1 strategic tangling, she said.

Speaker 1 She nodded at my hoop

Speaker 1 and asked whether I was making a scene or would stitch out a phrase.

Speaker 1 I thought it might be a scene

Speaker 1 more of my favorite cozy symbols.

Speaker 1 A scarf and mittens,

Speaker 1 snowflakes and books in a stack.

Speaker 1 I imagined them like a border around the edges,

Speaker 1 a wreath of winter comforts,

Speaker 1 when I suddenly knew the words I wanted to put in the center,

Speaker 1 that simple mantra

Speaker 1 that was shifting my perspective.

Speaker 1 One small moment at a time.

Speaker 1 Yum

Speaker 1 or yuck.

Speaker 1 Because maybe I couldn't stop ice from building on my windshield

Speaker 1 or my sock from slipping down in my boot.

Speaker 1 But there were dozens of moments every day

Speaker 1 when I could redirect my attention.

Speaker 1 I could choose not to take the discomfort personally.

Speaker 1 I could lean into the sweet spots.

Speaker 1 Which seemed to appear more often

Speaker 1 the more I looked for them.

Speaker 1 I threaded my needle

Speaker 1 and began to stitch.

Speaker 1 Fogged glasses and felting fibers.

Speaker 1 My scarf was wrapped all the way up over my head,

Speaker 1 and every breath fogged my glasses

Speaker 1 in the cold night air.

Speaker 1 I hitched my tote bag up onto my shoulder.

Speaker 1 I kept sliding down

Speaker 1 the slippery fabric of my parka.

Speaker 1 And one sock was threatening to slide under my heel

Speaker 1 inside my winter boot.

Speaker 1 I remembered something I'd read the day before,

Speaker 1 scrawled on a sticky note,

Speaker 1 tacked among flyers on the bulletin board at the coffee shop.

Speaker 1 It said

Speaker 1 Yum

Speaker 1 or Yuck

Speaker 1 And it made me stop

Speaker 1 with the cinnamon shaker in my hand,

Speaker 1 hovering above the foam of my latte

Speaker 1 and consider what it might mean.

Speaker 1 I mean,

Speaker 1 I guess it meant just what it said.

Speaker 1 In this moment,

Speaker 1 was I looking at the world

Speaker 1 and thinking yum

Speaker 1 or yuck?

Speaker 1 And of course,

Speaker 1 with my hot cup in my hand,

Speaker 1 it was easy to declare

Speaker 1 yum.

Speaker 1 But I found it helpfully coming back

Speaker 1 into my head

Speaker 1 a few more times

Speaker 1 over the course of the day.

Speaker 1 when the snow was piled up on my windshield,

Speaker 1 and I had to stand out in the cold

Speaker 1 for a few minutes to scrape at the glass.

Speaker 1 I'd been grumbling under my breath,

Speaker 1 then noticed the reflection of the moon

Speaker 1 in the passenger window

Speaker 1 and looked up

Speaker 1 to see a wide open sky

Speaker 1 full of stars.

Speaker 1 Yum,

Speaker 1 I'd said,

Speaker 1 when I trudged to the library,

Speaker 1 only to find that the book I was desperate to read

Speaker 1 had been checked out,

Speaker 1 and that I was number forty seven

Speaker 1 on the wait list.

Speaker 1 I'd been about to declare it a definite yuck

Speaker 1 when I stopped to consider

Speaker 1 that this meant my neighborhood was full of people

Speaker 1 who loved the same series I did.

Speaker 1 That the author I'd been following since her debut novel a dozen years before

Speaker 1 was now a best-selling writer

Speaker 1 And how good

Speaker 1 that must feel

Speaker 1 Yum

Speaker 1 So even now

Speaker 1 as my sock slipped all the way to my arch

Speaker 1 and my ears stung with cold.

Speaker 1 I looked down the sidewalk to the doors of the theater,

Speaker 1 where other thoroughly scarved,

Speaker 1 tote bag-carrying crafters

Speaker 1 were stepping through the doors

Speaker 1 with smiles on their faces.

Speaker 1 And I said,

Speaker 1 under my foggy breath,

Speaker 1 Yum.

Speaker 1 It was crafters night

Speaker 1 at the movie theater downtown

Speaker 1 and it looked like there would be a good sized crowd for it.

Speaker 1 I don't remember how I first heard about it.

Speaker 1 Maybe another notice on that same bulletin board

Speaker 1 at the coffee shop

Speaker 1 but I'd been coming since last spring

Speaker 1 whenever I could

Speaker 1 it was once a month

Speaker 1 on a midweek evening

Speaker 1 they showed a movie

Speaker 1 something that fit the season

Speaker 1 I kept the lights in the theater up

Speaker 1 so that you could see your embroidery or knitting clearly.

Speaker 1 I pushed through the doors

Speaker 1 and stepped into the warmth of the lobby.

Speaker 1 I scooted to the side a moment

Speaker 1 to unwrap my scarf,

Speaker 1 tug my sock back into place,

Speaker 1 and wipe my glasses.

Speaker 1 The lobby was bustling with excited cross stitchers and crocheters

Speaker 1 and the scent of fresh popcorn filled the air.

Speaker 1 At a trestle table

Speaker 1 near the concession

Speaker 1 there were a few of the organizers

Speaker 1 welcoming those who were here for the first time

Speaker 1 and handing out the craft of the evening

Speaker 1 to those who'd come without anything to work on.

Speaker 1 That was something I really loved about this event.

Speaker 1 Even if you didn't have a project going,

Speaker 1 you would by the time you left.

Speaker 1 They designed beginner-friendly crafts that went with the night's movie.

Speaker 1 Tonight, it looked like they'd prepared a collection of tree ornaments

Speaker 1 to make from thick cardstock,

Speaker 1 folded and glued into place.

Speaker 1 I smiled down at the suitcase, covered in stickers from all over the world.

Speaker 1 The bell that Suzu points to

Speaker 1 at the end of the film.

Speaker 1 And the moon on a lasso

Speaker 1 that George promised to pull from the sky.

Speaker 1 There were glue sticks

Speaker 1 and a bunch of round-ended scissors, the kind I remembered from elementary school,

Speaker 1 in a cup to borrow.

Speaker 1 Even though my tote bag held more than enough work for tonight,

Speaker 1 I was so charmed by the paper ornament craft

Speaker 1 that I tucked one of them in as well.

Speaker 1 Even if I didn't make it here,

Speaker 1 it would be fun to do with my nephews later.

Speaker 1 I stopped at the concession stand for a soda and a soft pretzel dotted with mustard.

Speaker 1 Then made my way into the theater.

Speaker 1 I don't mind

Speaker 1 doing things alone.

Speaker 1 I enjoy taking myself out to dinner or or wandering the museum and shops downtown at my own pace.

Speaker 1 But I still felt that moment of awkwardness

Speaker 1 as I stood in the aisle of the cinema,

Speaker 1 trying to decide where to sit.

Speaker 1 People were scattered through the seats,

Speaker 1 some alone,

Speaker 1 and some in clumps of friends

Speaker 1 a woman at the end of a row caught my eye

Speaker 1 and tipped her head toward an empty seat beside her

Speaker 1 she had a few friends in the rows around her

Speaker 1 And they all made space,

Speaker 1 shifting their totes and skeins of yarn.

Speaker 1 That awkward twinge disappeared,

Speaker 1 and I felt like I just walked into the cafeteria

Speaker 1 with my lunch tray in my hands

Speaker 1 to find that someone had saved me a seat.

Speaker 1 Yum, I thought.

Speaker 1 I settled myself in,

Speaker 1 said hello,

Speaker 1 and fell into easy conversation about the movie we were about to watch

Speaker 1 and the projects each of us were working on.

Speaker 1 My pretzel was chewy and deliciously salty.

Speaker 1 And once I'd finished the last bite

Speaker 1 and wiped my fingertips clean of any errant dabs of mustard,

Speaker 1 I pulled my tote bag onto my lap

Speaker 1 and started to take out my embroidery hoop,

Speaker 1 needle, and thread.

Speaker 1 I didn't have a specific plan for my design.

Speaker 1 I'd been

Speaker 1 sort of doodling,

Speaker 1 if you can call it that.

Speaker 1 Doodling with the needle

Speaker 1 and pretty colors of thread,

Speaker 1 stitching acorns and coffee cups,

Speaker 1 and a wandering set of paw prints

Speaker 1 around the edges of the even weave.

Speaker 1 The movie started,

Speaker 1 and I watched for a few moments.

Speaker 1 A snow fell thickly on Gower's drugs

Speaker 1 and Martini's bar.

Speaker 1 Throughout the theater,

Speaker 1 the steady sound of clicking knitting needles echoed,

Speaker 1 with the lights still up

Speaker 1 and so many moving hands,

Speaker 1 people didn't feel the need to be silent

Speaker 1 and instead chatted in low voices.

Speaker 1 The woman beside me was felting

Speaker 1 a craft I was smitten with,

Speaker 1 but hadn't yet attempted.

Speaker 1 As I separated my strands of thread,

Speaker 1 she walked me through the basics.

Speaker 1 She had a felting needle

Speaker 1 with tiny barbs that would catch the strands of wool.

Speaker 1 She slipped a few finger protectors on with a wink,

Speaker 1 saying

Speaker 1 she'd learned the hard way,

Speaker 1 that it was better to wear them than not.

Speaker 1 She had a collection of wool fibers in different colors.

Speaker 1 She was making a miniature mince pie

Speaker 1 for the holidays and already had a golden disc of fibers for the bottom crust.

Speaker 1 She began to poke

Speaker 1 chocolate brown and dark cherry strands together

Speaker 1 to make the filling.

Speaker 1 It's basically

Speaker 1 strategic tangling, she said.

Speaker 1 She nodded at my hoop

Speaker 1 and asked whether I was making a scene

Speaker 1 or would stitch out a phrase.

Speaker 1 I thought it might be a scene.

Speaker 1 More of my favorite cozy symbols.

Speaker 1 A scarf and mittens.

Speaker 1 Snowflakes and books in a stack.

Speaker 1 I imagined them like a border around the edges,

Speaker 1 a wreath of winter comforts

Speaker 1 when I suddenly knew the words I wanted to put in the center

Speaker 1 that simple mantra

Speaker 1 that was shifting my perspective

Speaker 1 one small moment at a time

Speaker 1 yum

Speaker 1 or yuck

Speaker 1 Because maybe I couldn't stop ice from building up on my windshield.

Speaker 1 Or keep my sock

Speaker 1 from sliding down inside my boot.

Speaker 1 But there were dozens of moments every day

Speaker 1 when I could

Speaker 1 redirect my attention.

Speaker 1 I could choose not to take the discomfort personally.

Speaker 1 I could lean into the sweet spots,

Speaker 1 which seemed to appear more often

Speaker 1 the more I looked for them.

Speaker 1 I threaded my needle

Speaker 1 and began to stitch.

Speaker 1 Sweet dreams.