While we’re talking of yarn and all things knitterly, it occurs to me that my coming out party for my recently completed Porpoise Wrap is well overdue.
So here it is, in all it’s glory, and accompanied by its sister, the Wallaby Wrap.
And I love it.
The last two days have been... decadent. That’s the word. Decadent.
I return from two days at Stitches West and I am a new human being. No, a restored human being. I am a dandelion soaking up the sunshine after a long rainy season.
Do you ever feel like you’re ducking lightening bolts, hopping from one scorched spot of earth to another just ahead of the next blast? Like maybe some lesser god has it out for you in some idle, lackadaisical kind of way?
Perhaps I’m being melodramatic. Maybe it’s more like a cosmic game of frogger and I’m the one in the webbed feet dodging traffic.
It’s not just me. It’s going around. I have at least three other close friends who were hit with major career decisions in the last week. Moments of truth. Two-roads-diverged-in-a-yellow-wood kind of deals.
Alright, I know this isn’t going to last. This sunshine thing streaming in the window? Not for us. Not yet. We don’t get to keep it. I know that. You know that. You’d think the birds and the trees would know it too. We go through this every year at this time. False spring. In essence, California is faking it.
Really, I’m not even ready for it. I’ve got a porpoise wrap blocking (yes! blocking! done!) in the back room, for crying out loud, and the weather better at least let me wear it once before it goes all springy and optimistic on me.
It seems like it’s getting darker every morning when I wake up instead of lighter. I imagine it’s just because of the rain clouds that are stapled over California this winter, but it feels like we’ve started revolving the other way, tilting away from the sun and back into winter.
I’m in the throws of organizing my tax info, totaling up columns and hunting down receipts.
+ The government is going to give me money.
- I’m moderately disorganized.
+ My tax guy comes tomorrow to move along the process of the government giving me money.
- I’m still moderately disorganized.
My kid has reached the age of never-ending questions. I feel like the mommy edition of the magic eight ball. Shake me up enough and I spit out answers like yes, no, and ask again later, more or less at random.
Lately, the daily drill has felt like, well, a drill, I guess. Work, cook, clean. Throw in worrying about bills and scrubbing cat barf out of the rug every other day or so, just to keep it interesting.
Kids Luke’s age – which is three years old, as he’s apt to tell everybody within earshot – are fairly famous for discontinuous conversation nodes. You can be discussing lunch, a thirty-second silence ensues, and then he’s telling you about the elephant that wanted red pants and you’re struggling to catch up. Don’t bother trying to connect the dots from A to B, he’s already moved on to a monologue on lego architecture and he never looks back, darling. It distracts from the now.
I’m finally done with the rain. The depression from the weather hit me later than most, I think, but today the sadness of the swamps sank in.
Another dreary morning at the office. I like the work and I like the folks but for various reasons, it’s a bleak place right now and by 9:30, I want close my eyes and be away. Next best thing: I jack one side of my headphones into my iPhone and the other half into my head and let genius spin my morning.
We found the ground,
but that damage was done.
It's cold as you fade into the sun.-Remy Zero, “Fair”
Jesus, the sky is falling.
