Leaving the Sidelines and Riding into the Red Hood

I don't really like T.V. all that much. I mean, I like it fine, but I usually would rather be doing something else. That is why, if my husband would like to relax in front of the television on any given evening, I can usually be found knitting madly next to him on the couch (or eating a really huge peanut butter chocolate ice cream sundae); I get really itchy sometimes if I am trying to sit still and watch a show. Unless the show is good. Really good. Grimm good.

There is no question: I am a fantasy lover. Any other story genre offered to me gets left behind when given a choice (except for those fabulous British dramas...if they are in the mix, I may have to flip a coin...to the death) I love the romance of fantasy. The creative characters (from childhood I have wished I was an elf), the often gothic, life and death love stories, the "old-fashioned" battles (swords and arrows are sexy...let's face it), and the excitement of imagining other-worldly abstracts--what could be. What may be.

Grimm fits this bill.

Perfectly.

Not only does Grimm fit my need for television fantasy shows that don't suck (this need has been largely looked over in the past by T.V. producers), it is just a great show. It is filmed here in Oregon--and mostly in Portland--but enjoying seeing familiar places and names (most of the time...there is no Portland Harbor, and that scene was filmed under the Astoria bridge in Astoria...) is not all there is to love.

A few of you may remember me talking about my fairy tale escapades, during which I checked out the "real" fairy tale stories from the local library as though I were Sandy Duncan eating them like Wheat Thins "right out of the box, one after the other!" I just had to know what really happened in those stories; after all many of them were written during some very dark times in history. This turned out to be a very enjoyable experience. In fact, I loved some of the stories so much that I purchased several books for my own library, including Rumpelstiltskin, Cinderella, and a large volume of the complete works of Grimm.

The fairy tale aspect of the television show of the same name might be even more icing on the cake for me, but there is more to love than the icing on the gingerbread house.

Even if you don't love the imaginary the way I do, Grimm is still a great show. For me, the series started out as simply a clever, novel idea. But the feeling of the show changes as it goes along, until it becomes a rich, multi-layered story with great character development and many foreseeable opportunities to open new, smaller storylines and subplots. There are also many secrets and hints to a greater, overarching plot that I believe could culminate in an ultimate, great ending someday (not too soon I hope).

Grimm brings suspense, uncertainty, a little dose of reality (after all, what would you do if you could suddenly see "monsters" and you were forced to continue living as if things were normal while you came to grips with it, and able to tell no one?) and great intrigue--especially those of us who get into the peculiarly fantastic.

While at the height of the enthralling throes of joy brought on by catching up on this fabulous show, my daughter came to me and requested a red poncho to wear to school for the fall weather. Something not too long and loose enough to move around in to be able to hold her school bag.

This was the opportunity I could not pass up. I happily knitted Annie a Red Riding Hood Poncho while watching my newest fav series, using as a base a pattern from The Knitters Bible: Knitted Accessories  by Claire Crompton. She has a lovely poncho which I added a garter stitch trim to, and a braided detail at the shoulder. I also did not shape the hat, so it would slouch in the back. After all, W.W.L.R.R.H. do? She'd slouch it--adds drama.

So, while enjoying the truth about the "big bad wolf" on T.V., I was knitting a protective article of outerwear for my small 12-year-old girl.

Now I feel like I am part of it. Cast of Grimm, I'm right there with you guys. Of course I promise not to become one of those weird fans who sees you in town and walks up to you like I know you. At least I think I won't.

One thing is for sure: You can count on me for Friday nights at 9p.m. Of course, I will always have my yarn and needles in hand. After all, old habits--er, addictions--die hard. But the only thing I will be itching for is the sound of the clock striking 9.