KnitCrush

35

And here it is. This day that I've been quietly dreading, way back in the recesses of my consciousness. It's my birthday, I feel quite old, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

I'm 35 today, and for some reason it feels like the crest of the hill. I realize that I'll probably feel this way, only moreso, at 40, & I'll probably think that feeling this way over 35 was silly when I look back at it, but this is how I feel right now, so there you go.

It's been a rather odd ride. I haven't been "through it all," by a long shot, but I've been through a lot that I never thought I would go through. Did you do that, too-- have plans for your life that went all wonky, much to your surprise, even though you were there?

I've done things about which I am not proud. I've also done things that leave me with a deep feeling of satisfaction & accomplishment.

I've hurt someone's heart (I've learned that whether it was intentional or not really has no bearing on the situation). I've had my heart hurt as well.

I've made decisions that altered the course of my life that didn't seem like huge decisions at the time they were made. I've had decisions made for me that made me feel small & unimportant, and I took those situations and grew a backbone.

I've tried several new things. At some of them, I failed to a despairing degree. At others, I failed to a hilarious degree. And, at a few, I've excelled.

I've learned how much I enjoy Alone Time, a real epiphany for me. I also found my home-away-from-home, far from my actual home, in a place I'd never heard of let alone ever thought of visiting. Some days I miss Orkney to a startling extent.

I made a family, tried my damndest to hold that family together, and finally let go of the idea of that family for the sake of my boys. In the end, I was the only one clinging to it, & it truly was no longer a family, just a shadow of What Could've Been. Now we've made a new family, which I never thought would happen.

I am blessed to be surrounded by loving family & friends, and I hope that I can be but a fraction of the loving support & kindness that they have all been to me.

Maybe 35 isn't so bad. I've been looking at it as "my life's half-over," an Eeyore-like mood that just isn't like me. Maybe as long as you love on those around you as much as you possibly can, you've done the best possible thing you can do with your existence.

(There. From Eeyore to Pollyanna. Much better.)

One of the Many Reasons...

... Why I love this guy. This is how Matt spent his Sunday, in between coming in to check on Snappy. The poor Putt-Putt-To-Work car hasn't been going anywhere, so he's been working on it.

I don't think that people who work with their hands get enough respect (and not just because I married one--I've always felt this). This man can fix anything he sets his mind to fixing. I love that he asks me to come out to the garage to keep him company; when I do, he doesn't laugh at all of my questions about what-does-what under the hood of a car. I've learned a lot, actually. He's better at explaining things than I am (go ahead, ask him a knitting question. He'll try to answer, but considering the woeful explanations I've given him, he doesn't really stand a chance).

So, let's all say a little prayer that he's able to get the Putt-Putt car going again after he has more time to work on it again this coming weekend. We need it moving! Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

A Bigger Umbrella

You know how when it rains, it pours? Well, in the last two days, The Welder and I have determined that it is indeed pouring and we need a bigger umbrella. Or perhaps an ark. I'm speaking figuratively, of course, as it's still too cold here to rain -- any precipitation would be frozen, frozen, frozen. So many things have gone wrong here in the last two days. However, many, many things have not, and I'm trying to focus on those things (I'm a big fan of the silver lining).

All of the kids are healthy (now that I've said it out loud, look out!), everyone's doing well in school, we have a home, and electricity, and heat, and food, and vehicles that run (again, now that I've said it out loud...). We are blessed to have made a new family, something which neither of us thought we'd have again. The Welder and I both went through pretty bad divorces (what divorce is "good," really), and we both, independently of each other, of course, had fallen in love with the idea of being alone for the rest of our lives. Then we became friends and fell in love with each other, which tossed that silly Being Alone idea right out on its keister.

What's pouring on us right now is just Life Stuff, and it'll pass. I need more hours at work. I need to be able to just finish school already (this would most likely alleviate the needing more hours). We would love for the petty, lingering junk from our respective divorces to just stop already, because it's stuff that affects the kids and we won't stand for their heads being messed with (this one's the toughest issue, by far).

But, that silver lining? It's that neither one of us has to do any of it alone, which I find simply amazing. Miraculous. How two people who were so in love with the concept of being alone, after being hurt so badly, were able to get past that and take the massive risk to Try Again, is absolutely beyond me, and I was there. Being together, getting married, Trying Again, is ginormous proof of how much we love each other. People have said that it's easier to remain alone than to dive back in; but we found that the idea of not being together was so much harder to comprehend than plummeting headlong into whatever our relationship might turn into.

And so here we are. Mucking it out, in the trenches, doing the stuff that comes with life. But at least it's together -- it would be so much harder to go it alone.

(And with all these kids in one house, we have constant free entertainment. Wee Jack just told his oldest brother to "move his big watermelon head," and he meant it in all seriousness. I dare you to try to say "watermelon head" without even cracking a smile.)

Another Week, Another Bug

Yes, another week has flown by, and another kid (or two, and an adult, but who's counting) have been down with yet another Bug. Surely this will soon end. That is all. I will glorify these germs no more with my whining and complaining. Unless someone else wakes up sick tomorrow -- then I will vehemently deny ever having said that I would not complain and will begin storming about like a crazy woman, bashing the existence of all viruses, bacteria, germs, cooties, and whatnot, and banishing them to the far reaches of the universe. So there. I don't care how pretty you look, all impressive and actually pretty under x-ray crystallography. Be Gone.

The last few years I have not been so happy about Spring's arrival. I know part of it had to do with the things that were happening to the boys and myself at the time(read: Le Grand Divorce). Another big part of it was that we just haven't had a "real" winter in the last several years, so, in my mind, spring only meant that the Heat was coming soon. I don't do heat. Or humidity. If you look at me, I'm clearly of northern European descent. We know there's some Scottish and Scandinavian in the ancestral mix -- that right there nixes my chances of enjoying any true, deep summertime. I have little to no melanin, so I go straight from "Wow, you sure are pale" to "Wow, that looks like it hurts" with very little sun exposure, even with copious amounts of High-Grade Sunblock.

But this Spring is different. As much as I love Winter, I am ready for Change. I am ready to leave the house with all the kids without the twenty-minute-long, pre-emptive Bundle Up. This in-between time, when almost all of the snow has melted but before things begin to bloom, should be a season all its own. Initiation into Mud Season was Sunday, when three little boys trooped up the backyard hill and into the back door, absolutely plastered in sticky organic goodness (I mis-typed "goodness" as "gooiness," which is even more fitting and just as true). I'm sure I don't have to tell you (but notice that I'm telling you anyway) where they proceeded to trample next. Through the back room, into the kitchen, and two steps onto the carpet, when a sudden, startling, surely-not-human screech stopped them in their muddy, filthy little tracks (that was me). I half-laughed, half-hollered at them to carry their mud-covered little bodies directly to the back door so I could keep the mud somewhat under control (too late). But they were happy, invigorated from tearing around outside, rejuvenated from achieving a level of Dirty that only little boys can truly appreciate.

Just as long as they keep the mud off my knitting.

Oh My Goodness!

Where did all of this Crazy come from?  I have been running myself ragged, meeting myself coming and going, and probably several other cliches that I'm too worn out to think of right now. It would feel wonderful to go outside and run laps around the house whilst waving my arms above my head and yelling like a crazy person should.  Believe it or not, preparation for the Big Soccer Season this spring has already begun, so that means Matt & I (amongst several other people) are trying to get organized to accommodate about 1500 kids who like to kick. It's so worth it when the season starts, but sometimes it's just too much in one day.

So what's a girl to do when she has to be in three places at once and none of them is the one place she wants to be (you know *that* place... sitting on her bum, knittin' away!)? Carve ten minutes out of her day to pop by the LYS, of course.  I had another idea for a wrap floating around in the nether regions of my crazed head, and I stopped in there to peruse my options (outside of Le Stash, of course).

Well, Oh My Goodness!  I honed right in, of course, on the Dream in Color Smooshy, because I was hoping to find another hank of the In Vino Veritas like I already have (no luck-- let's hope I have enough for that wrap), and, well, because I am completely weak in its wake.  Can't stay away from the stuff.

Surprisingly, my eyes were drawn directly to a bright bluish-violet hank of Smooshy that nearly popped off the wall from the rest.  My first thought: "I haven't seen those colors in YEARS!  How did they DO that?!"

See, cool colors just don't do much for me.  I'm a warm-tone, neutral-color girl, and I'm all about the Pink and any variation thereof.  But this bluey-purpley hank of love grabbed my attention because it is the *exact* color of the blue hydrangea bushes in Scotland in the summertime. 

During my last trip to Scotland, I couldn't get enough of these beautiful flowers. It was July/August, and my friend Nancy and I had three amazing weeks to traipse all over my most favorite place in the whole world. I had been to Scotland three times before this, but I had never gotten to see everyone's gardens in such amazing bloom.  Because I possess whatever the opposite of a Green Thumb is (on both hands, no less), gardening just doesn't hold any interest for me.  But these hydrangeas were hypnotizing!  They were HUGE and almost electric light blue-violet.  The pH of the soil determines what color the blooms become, so there are pink ones too. Surprisingly, I liked the blue ones so much more than the pink.

I have often mourned that color, knowing that it's going to be a while before I get to Scotland again, and never having seen it here. When I saw it in what I thought would be the most unlikely place, the wall at the yarn store... well, it would've been wrong to just *leave* it there, wouldn't it?

So now I have to go to the bead store to get wee pretty beads to put into the middle of each hydrangea bloom on the new wrap I'm designing (and, no, it's not the one for which I had an idea and went into the yarn store to look for yarn in the first place).  Because I apparently can't stop myself. 

(Almost) Return to the Land of the (Almost) Living

Ahhhh.  Deep, cleansing breath.  (That's supposed to work, right?)  I am slowly emerging from the coma-like state in which I have resided for the last two days.  I still feel slightly funky in the brain region, but, overall, my digestive system seems to have decided to hop on the Get Well Bandwagon with the rest of my body.  For now.  I'm a bit worried about how I'll feel come morning. I'm looking forward to regaining the ability to actually THINK like a (somewhat) rational human being.

Have you noticed that it's the new year?  Probably.  For some reason, I'm more psyched about this new year than I have been about a new year for quite some time -- for as long as I can remember, to be really honest with you.  Why?  Good question.  I'm not even sure of the answer to that one.  For the first time in a very long time, the numerous, looming anticipation of What Is To Come seems tangible.  The possibilities of what I can do with my life, for my family and myself, are numerous and exciting.  I will write more, I will design more, I will knit more, I will make a home for all of us, and I will love everyone I love as big as I can. 

And... I will FINISH things.  I want this to be the year of the FO, hopefully followed by many more Years of FOs, to break this silly habit/cycle I am immersed in of Starting but not Finishing.  Drives me nuts, yet I continue to do it.  It's not like this is being done TO me, I do this to myself.

So, here's a parade of UnFinished Objects (so very sad!) that I really, really want to finish this year.  A few of them haven't been started yet but are definitely in the queue as they MUST be done this winter.

1. The Dimp's Long-Awaited Blanket.  This must, must, must, MUST be done ASAP.  He has been very patient.

2.  Matt's hat.  It's almost done, just about to the crown decreases.  Will be done by next week.

3.  Smooshy Wrap/Scarf.  Still in the design process, knitting on it now to get the bugs out.

4.  Gathered Pullover.  I'd really like to wear this before July hits.

5.  Bella's Sweater.  Perfect for my cousin's sweet little girl.

And, of course, there are a few more.  I would like a hat while it's still cold out myself, but I don't know if I'll get to it in time. 

Ah, the possibilities.  Are you looking forward to the new year?

Mumble, Mumble

No knitting, no reading, no cleaning, very little laundry & cooking. 

I'm sick. 

Ugh.

Don't stand too close.  I'm all for sharing things with those around me, but I do attempt to keep my germs to myself. 

Talk to you when I feel somewhat human again.  I need to be horizontal some more.

On Having Come This Far

The first anniversary of Le Grand Divorce is looming.  This coming Friday, to be exact.  I don't think about it a whole lot anymore, aside from being exceedingly and continuously grateful for an end to so much yuck in my life.  The Fear is coming under control, and the boys and I are moving on.  If not for the divorce, we wouldn't have a new family, and for that I am thankful. 

I walk through my days now soaking up the warmth of Home and Family.  Back Then, many loved ones buoyed me up and helped me to raise my chin above the water now and again to just take a gulp of air, above of the nightmare our existence had become.  Beginning a new family has made me see how insane our old homelife was.  It seems to happen most when everyone is home, happy chaos in full swing.  Something inane will happen and some synapse in the recesses of my mind goes "click," and suddenly I am Back There, verbally and mentally beat down.  The contrast between Then and Now is staggering.  Turning around to look head-on at Back There is not something I make a habit of doing.  It is too much, still.  Most of all because, even now, I still can not quite wrap my head around how bad it was and why, why I stayed in it for so long. 

So, it's almost a year.  Surreal and wonderful.  What a thing to celebrate.  The Old Me would've said it's a horrible stain on the sanctity of marriage to celebrate the end of one, but the New Me knows better. 

Sweet Tarts

Last week I suddenly remembered something from my childhood.  One of those weird little flickers of memory about something fairly inane that just tickles you because it used to be a big deal when you were a kid. 

When we would drive through the bank, the tellers always sent back a little packet of Sweet Tarts at the end of the transaction. I used to *love* that little treat.  My mom always offered to take us with her, and we would suffer the boredom of sitting in the drive-thru line just for that little treat.

As I was knitting (back & forth, back & forth, back & forth) (that's 1x1 rib for ya) last week on this scarf, it occurred to me that the colors look exactly like the Sweet Tarts we used to get in the drive-thru.  It's been a fun knit so far.

I read somewhere on someone's blog (gee, could you be a little more vague there, Carie?) a while ago that they *loved* the mindlessness of 1x1 rib.  Hmm.  Perhaps I had been doing the 1x1 rib wrong all along, because I didn't find it relaxing at all.  It's that "back & forth", every stitch, that gets to me. Moss stitch generates the same little twitch in my eye after long enough.  But, for some reason, this scarf isn't getting to me.  Yet.  I think loving the colors and choosing my knitting time on it wisely has helped. 

The Sea of Boxes

I do love my back kitchen windows.  Love them.  However, I am not so enamored with all of the BOXES on the deck outside. 

Enough complaining about moving already, I know, I know.  I'm so very thankful to have a place to which to move (see, no dangling prepositions HERE!), but I detest clutter and therefore detest moving.  These boxes procreate like little rabbits when I'm not looking, I'm sure of it.  I can spend all day unpacking and, lo, there are yet more boxes in a spot I'm sure I just cleared.  And look over there-- more!

I unearthed this hidden patch of kitchen floor and it has stayed clear thus far, so maybe I'm finally unpacking quicker than they can reproduce.  Let's hope.

Oh well.  At least we have a place to put everything.  Our blessed little house looks so teeny from the outside, cute and modest on a tree-filled street with a huge back deck and lovely yard.  When you go inside and realize just how much room there really is, what with the depth of the house and the finished basement, well, it's quite surprising.  When I pulled up to the house to see it for the first time, I thought, "No way will this work.  No way.  There are EIGHT of us for goodness' sake."  What a pleasant surprise to see enough bedrooms for two kids to have their own room, a lovely sunroom, room for everyone and everything.

Always with the silver lining, I can honestly find one really great aspect of being sick of the Unpacking, sick of living in the Sea of Boxes.  I have entered an advanced stage of Moving-- the stage at which one is willing to cull the herd mercilessly and get rid of things one would normally keep for absolutely no good reason.  Three cheers for less clutter!