My mother told me once that she had her talk with God whenever she started a new sweater: 'Please don't take me in the middle of the sweater.' And as soon as she finished knitting a sweater, and it was blocked and put together, she already had the wool to start the next sweater so that nothing bad would happen.
In general, I pack really simply. Every shirt that I pack is going to work with every pant that I pack and every sweater that I pack. So, I can mix and match easily.
Having a holiday weekend without a family member felt like putting on a sweater that had an extra arm.
Youth is the time of getting, middle age of improving, and old age of spending; a negligent youth is usually attended by an ignorant middle age, and both by an empty old age.
If you were ever dumped after knitting a guy a sweater, consider the possibility that the problem was with the sweater, not you. The recipient probably took one look at the thing, imagined a lifetime of having to pretend to like (and wear) this sweater and others of its like, and saw no choice but to flee into the night
It is the fear of middle-age in the young, of old-age in the middle-aged, which is the prime cause of infidelity, that infallible rejuvenator.
If you're 90 and look good in a mini-skirt, go for it. What is 'age appropriate'? Such nonsense. My mother lived to 106, so what's middle-age? Seventy is the new 50.
Today age segregation has passed all sane limits. Not only are fifteen-year-olds isolated from seventy-year-olds but social groups divide those in high school from those in junior high, and those who are twenty from those who are twenty-five. There are middle-middle-age groups, late-middle-age groups, and old-age groups - as though people with five years between them could not possibly have anything in common.
Whenever I go on holiday, I like to time travel and imagine what it must have been like 500 years ago. I love the Tuscan landscape, which is reminiscent of a Claude Lorrain painting.
Posterity preserves only what will pack into small compass. Jewels are handed down from age to age; less portable valuables disappear.
Going down (descending), I realized, was like taking hold of the loose strand of yard on a sweater you'd just spent hours knitting and pulling it until the entire sweater unraveled into a pile of string. Hiking the PCT was the maddening effort of knitting that sweater and unraveling it over and over again. As if everything gained was inevitably lost.
Wherever I go - like, I go to elementary schools, I go to middle schools - wherever it is, if it's in Florida, if it's up in New England, I just feel like wherever I am, the kids always go crazy whenever they see me.
Some friends of mine got me a sweater for my birthday. I'd have preferred a moaner or a screamer, but the sweater was OK.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because I don't have to do anything except bring wine and go to my sister's all day and go to the movies with the family. So, actually, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, but there's not much comedy material on Thanksgiving. Melatonin really isn't that funny.
I have a feeling there is no ideal situation, unless she could go back in time and be 22 again. I think some of it is just kind of the shock of realizing that you're approaching middle age, or that you are middle-aged and kind of coming to terms with that in whatever incremental ways.
It's always been my expectation to be the top guy, the face of the company, the one with all of that responsibility. But that should be everybody's goal. I didn't get into this to just be in the middle of the pack. If you want to do that, go work in a different line of work. This isn't the place to camouflage yourself.