A day of rest (and play).

A surprising day off, today. I love days like this, when it feels as if there are more hours in the day than usual. I can give Purl all the attention she can handle, I can tidy my home a bit more carefully, I can make some great headway on my sister's Christmas gift (Yep, that's right. I'm still working on Christmas gifts...), which is shaping up to be so very beautiful. It's a modified and personalized take on this gorgeous wrap on the cover, knit in a luxurious baby alpaca. I shall post photos when I finish, which will be soon.
I've been craving this Persian dish (edited a bit to suit my vegetarianism), and it will make the perfect dinner tonight. I love the sour cherries against the crispy, buttery potatoes.
This day's accomplishments will have to last me a while; I don't see such concentrated time "off" again in my near future. It's so easy to let both jobs take over my days. A day like today is such a treat. I'm feeling well-rested, full of good thoughts, good friends, good food, and I have a cozy night in planned with B and Purl, knitting and watching The Dark Knight. A perfect combination in our little household.

Purl

This weekend, I fell in love. Purl is her name, adorable is her game. She was found by a friend all alone out in the cold, but she lives with us now and is showered with love, food, and warmth. She's a wee month old, and I'm pretty excited to watch her grow. (Though, I wouldn't mind it one bit if she stayed this tiny forever.)
As with any new love, there's an obsession stage, and I'm smack in the middle of it. It feels so comfortable and natural to take care of her; my heart swells at the mere thought of her. Oh how she must have suffered before coming here! But she's a tough little girl, and has adapted well to life with a knitter. I found her this morning curled up in one of my knitting baskets, her head nestled into some yarn.
Adorable, my little Purl.

And so it begins

2012, I welcome you with open arms.
365 days ago, I was at an Urgent Care clinic, suffering from strep throat. It was a pretty miserable way to begin 2011.
Today I woke slowly to an uncommonly warm, sunny day, and I sneaked out to get bagels and coffee for B and I. We lounged and read the paper, luxuries we rarely afford ourselves together. It was a pretty perfect way to begin 2012.
The clouds have now rolled in, and the wind has its usual winter chill again. The afternoon for me holds a little baking at the restaurant, a little housework, and hopefully time to make this cozy treat.
A good year is to come.

Doing away with the "f" word.

A little peek at the project I'm working on. It's slow, careful, purposeful knitting. I resisted at first, it was daunting and frustrating (and it surely will continue to be), but I've slowly come to depend on the challenge. To crave it. Seeing the small details take shape keeps the momentum moving forward. Looking back on the hurdle, I can say I always knew I could jump it. But while it still lay ahead, the tall road-block becomes a symbol for the doubt and fear that keep me from moving forward.
Elide Endreson's wise words here have been on my mind a bit lately. I have a large bin full of knitting projects that are unfinished. Some I've lost interest in, put down to move on to new, more exciting ventures. Some haven't worked the way I intended, and need a little re-assessment. Some are even projects that are fully knit and I just have to sew a few seams and weave in the tails. Whatever the reason, their fate is the same. Buried in a closet to be forgotten.
In physics, the ideal work output is that which is greater than the energy used to create the work. But in a creative endeavor, can we reasonably expect the same ideal? So much of our energy goes into the creation, from inception to completion, the ideal work output seems unlikely, however great our product is.
I've always loved knitting more than I love the knitted object, and I think that's an important distinction, one I need to remind myself of sometimes. The finished product is not why I knit, so I don't need it to be greater than the energy I used to create it. But when thinking of the bin in my closet, I see only products that were never finished. I need to shift the focus a little. Maybe it will help if I see not the sweater that's only half-made, but how bored I was while making it. Not the one sock that will never have a mate, but how I changed the pattern a bit without taking notes, and I'll never achieve a matching result. If my enjoyment comes in the process, then my failures are also in the process. The forgotten bin can stop being a burdening symbol of failure, and simply be a collection of processes I didn't enjoy, and therefore a large stock of yarn that I can re-purpose.
Now, off, not to the bin, that will come later, but to the charcoal lace. The process is still quite alluring to me right now.

The full swing of summer.

I've been caught in a whirlwind of summer. Sunny day road trips, picking fresh strawberries, a lovely grey houseguest for the week, bread-baking and baklava lessons with a friend I see far too little, long walks through this small city with the recently-returned B. It is, indeed, summer.

A new project is on the needles, something completely different from the mindless dishcloths. I'm swatching up a storm with lace. It's a different way of knitting, one I'm struggling to find the pleasure in. But, I'm persevering in the hopes that it will soon become natural and less cumbersome and riddled with mistakes. I love the results too much to give up just yet. I dream in vintage lace motifs, and charts, and all the possibilities of a simple YO here and a SSK there. 

This new concentration on knitting brings balance just when I need it; I'd likely float away on one of our walks without it.

Cozy and sweet.

My presence in the world has been a bit sparse lately. It was a long winter that had a heavier than usual affect on me. But, spring is finally in full swing, and the sun is out. I couldn't help but steal a few bunches of lilacs from a bush in my building's courtyard to bring a bit of that lovely sweet scent inside.  It's intoxicating.
B has gone to Israel again for a few weeks. I find myself, I hesitate to admit, getting used to his long absences. It feels nice to have the break from routine; I'm inspired to make all kinds of little changes while he's gone. I've taken this time to rearrange the apartment, to paint old furniture and frames. To nest. 
I've lately been knitting easy, small things. I've been latching on to color, obsessed with variegated yarns, loving how watching the color change makes me knit faster and for longer. Dishcloths made from Lily's Sugar 'n Cream line have been the perfect outlet for my color-love lately. They're fast, mindless, and easy to giveaway to wanton friends and family.
I've also been working on knitting covers for my tattered old throw pillows, something that's been on my project list for far too long. It's slow-going, but gratifying, mixing classic cabled pillows with some with bolder geometric designs.
I have Salted Pistachio Brownies baking in the oven, and Oatmeal Cherry Cookies on a rack cooling.
I'd say things are going at a just about perfect pace.
K

In with the new.

The start has always been a point of struggle for me. Where's the best place for my first step down a path? What will be the most concise? The most efficient? The least burdensome on others? The most enjoyable? The BEST? These questions, and more, plague me. From deciding what to do when I first wake up in the morning, to trying to begin an over-due blog post, to wondering how to rekindle lost friendships, to deciding what to make for dinner, to figuring out what I want to do this year, and where I want to do it. The insecurity of the outcome makes starting damn near impossible. But, as it seems, the beginning of this new calendar year provides a good time to do away with all that and just simply start.
Start letting go more, acknowledging my own limitations and others' abilities. Start cooking dinner more often (instead of eating food in the evening and calling it dinner). Start believing that it's okay that I don't know what will happen this year; no one else does either. Start maintaining my empty-for-years etsy shop. Start (and finish) knitting a pair of socks. And a sweater. Start entertaining friends more; parties are great. Start treating my body like the amazing, balanced, delicate machine it is instead of taking it for granted.
Start starting more.
I've never been one for such specific, documented resolutions. But, it seems right to me now.
And in that direction, I will go.
Happy New Year.
K

Another show comes to a close.

After a few days' rest and recuperation, I'm still reeling from another wonderful Second Storie weekend. Even though my annual post-Thanksgiving cold had settled in a little harder then usual, and I was a bit achy and fuzzy during the market, I had a great time seeing old friends and making new ones.
I had the pleasure of sharing a table with the darling Elide of Previously. The detail and thought that goes into each vintage-inspired garter and hair pin she makes is awesome and humbling. And getting to chat with her throughout the day, that was pretty awesome, too.
I never seem to get around to take as many pictures as I'd like, and as usual, the weekend was over in a flash. I ran around quickly during some downtime on Sunday taking some shots of the market from afar, and luckily, others have been much better than me at capturing some more detail. Go here, here, here and here for some really great photos and some really, really kind words.



I have a little more recovering to do, and I'm enjoying the lack of urgency. The only things bearing down on me are my eagerness to bake some cookies using the delightful new addition to my kitchen (thank you, Shanna), and the need package up and send off my contributions to the 2010 Holiday Ornament Swap.
Both are enjoyable and just the right pace for a sick, tired gal.

A quick peek

I've been Fair-Isling up a storm lately, and I'm super excited about it. This is a quick little look at some works-in-progress.  I'll have these holiday pillows and ornaments at our upcoming Indie Market, and I can't wait! It's been a while since I've been swept away with Holiday Fever, but I feel it setting, and I'm happy to share!
Keep up with second storie's blog to see what other awesome wares you'll find there next weekend!
In the meantime, I'm super busy preparing for the show. We want it to be just perfect for all of our vendors and friends.
So, I'm off to do some knitting, some sewing, some baking.
Some life.
K

Autumn in (upstate) New York

With friends up from Brooklyn this weekend, I took a small break to enjoy some autumn. We picked (and ate) many apples on a beautiful, sunny Sunday. And on the way home, we happened upon a soapbox derby. It was a pretty good weekend.

Inspiration

As usual, I find myself right around the corner from our Indie Market and I've hardly noticed the time slipping away. The autumn has come, distracting me with its beautiful blue skies and crunchy walks. B is still away, distracting me with an empty home. Amidst all of this, my needles have remained fairly inactive. Or, I should say, uninspired. Each project and idea I put to them has finished (or not, in many cases) with something lacking. And the passion I usually have to work through the bumps and troubles is hard to find. My heart is elsewhere.
I'm now at a crossroads. Push through and have faith that I will find my missing inspiration? Or admit a small defeat and focus my energies on making a stellar show for the rest of our vendors?
This weekend I will host a couple of houseguests. Old friends who are never short on wisdom, inspiration, and laughter. I look forward to seeing them, however briefly.
And I look forward to a clearer head.

A new dawn, a new day...

I've been feeling a little out of control lately. Affected by change left and right, but none of my own doing. I've just been an unwitting part of the wake.
So, to help myself stay afloat in these choppy waters, I aggressively re-arranged my entire apartment recently. Almost every piece of furniture has a new home, and for many, a new purpose.
We have a kitchen table, again, and I'm so happy for that. I can't wait for B and I to have dinner there. It's small and simple; perfect for us.
And, in a few days, I will acquire a bed for our spare room, which has me giddy. I don't mind sharing a little "studio" space to be able to offer a cozy spot to a guest. Anyone up for a sleepover?
It has been wonderful feeling to wake up in the mornings and start my days in this beautiful, fresh space, and I still get excited to come home in the evenings. It's amazing how a few simple changes to my space have given me a super-charged boost. Rearranging my bedroom was a favorite pastime of mine as a child, and it's reassuring to know the same feelings apply as an adult.
I'm off now to enjoy my space a bit, to bake molasses cookies (to try to convince a friend that not all vegan baked goods are terrible), and to help a good friend's 31st birthday be a little more awesome.
I'm feeling good.
K

All at the same time.

I've been stuck in a whirlwind. Change has been coming from every direction, and I'm spinning all around. And with H.M. gone, it's all that much more unfamiliar.
But, I found a small bit of peace this afternoon during my lunch break. Work has been anything but calm lately, but a short walk along the wooded path that runs beside an old Erie Canal lock just behind my building offered a bit of respite. The warm breeze was a perfect compliment to the bright sun, and a perfect escape for me.
I love this time of year. There are already a few leaves crunching underfoot, yet quite a few bees are hovering around the still-blooming Queen Anne's lace, just beside bunches of dried and brown blooms. There's so much going on, so much overlapping of life and decay. So much change.

It is a good reminder to me that it's okay that everything is changing. Change keeps balance.

Happy Weekend.

Some bits of happiness.

We took our breakfast to go, and ate in the woods, among the birds and deer.
It was as lovely a way to say goodbye as there is.
Some sunflowers to cheer me up. I'm mesmerized by their spiral centers.
A clean house, a full pantry, wonderful friends, and a head full of ideas and patterns.
I think these next few months will go by quickly.
And happily.

It's Time!

We at Second Storie announced today our Vendor List for 2010's indie market, and we must say, we think it's pretty great!!!
Here's a look at some of our newest vendors, and you can check out the whole awesome list here.

Left to right from top:
Cecelia Hayes, Previously
Humunku, Sweetie Pie Press
Harriot Grace, Paperdoll Woodshop
The Great Lakes, Sara Silvio
Red Prairie Press, Bookhou

Getting By

As H.M. prepares to leave (for 2-3 months), I prepare to be alone in this space of ours. He will be back home in Israel, visiting with family, friends, and hoping for some respite from his blues here.* I hope for the same as I stay here.
I have been spending time in the kitchen. Baking bread, enjoying the meditation of kneading by hand. Using the last of the fresh cherries for a cinnamon-cherry tart, loving the dark stains left on my fingers.
Taking a break from the once-meditative-but-now-grueling baby blanket, I cabled up a sleeve for my new computer. It felt so good to work in thick yarn and marvel at the speed. Next up, some swatching for what I hope to be a new line of items for my etsy shop (what's that? I have an etsy shop? Why, yes, I do. I'd almost forgotten!) and for our second storie} indie market this year. (The announcement of our vendor list will be here tomorrow. It's pretty awesome.)

Today, with the sun and blue skies poking through the white fluffy clouds, I wonder if I will find my enthusiasm again. It's been missing lately. My head has been with me in the kitchen pitting cherries, and with my fingers as I knit, but my heart has been distant. A little hesitant.
Perhaps this is just the emotional equivalent of the calm before the storm. My emotions are still and quiet, knowing that soon there will be a fury of sadness when H.M. leaves.
Today, though, has promise, beginning with fresh bread, toasted with jam, and a cup of tea.


*I should mention that most of what he will be doing back in Israel is work-related, and that he's not going on a 2-3 month vacation without me. I need to keep reminding myself of this.

Grey morning, Bright afternoon

I woke up this morning to grey skies outside the window, and quietness inside. A slow, internal morning.
H.M. and I spent a long time together yesterday, laying in the grass, brushing the tickling ants off from our arms and feet, talking and dreaming about what's to come. We dream of land. Of a horse named Esteban. Of freshly lain eggs. Of fruit trees {and the consequent jars of jam} and an endless garden. Of mountains in the distance. Of a comforting, creaking old house, filled with love beyond the two of us... The more we have this talk, the more real it becomes.
{sigh}
Yet, here I am now, in my tall apartment above a small city, trying to figure out how and when my now and then will connect. And if.

This afternoon's mail brought a lovely, unexpected, and perfect package from a friend who always knows when I need a little sunshine and love. A little dose of reality. And the sun has begun to peak out from the grey clouds.

A little Monday post

My space is filled with intoxicating aromas...
Banana bread, a warm breeze from the river, H.M. home early from work, just-watered herbs, this small city settling into evening, the faint trace of soap transferred from my hands into my yarn as I knit a baby blanket.
It is good.
It is a signal to me that I might, for a time, be on the upswing of feeling sorry for myself. I've decided to put all of those big little things that have taken over me of late onto the back burner. Let it simmer there for a bit, while I focus on some sweeter things, like cinnamon walnut bread, and peanut butter granola bars.
Consider it a conscious turn of direction, towards happy.

After a long weekend.

I would love to be posting pictures along with this post. Pictures of my perfect day yesterday, walking through a creek, sitting and playing and laughing in the waterfalls. Pictures of some fireworks from Sunday night. Pictures of my life that I've been enjoying a bit more lately.
But, as I was frolicking and giggling in the waterfalls with my friend and her daughter, wishing I had grabbed my camera out of my totebag, someone else was doing just that: grabbing my camera out of my totebag.
Yes, I am mad. And sad. And full of fist-shaking disdain and brow-furrowing disappointment for those who have in them the thought to take advantage of such an opportunity.
But, more than all of that, I'm focused on how my friend, without thought, got her Nancy Drew on and ran off to try to catch the robbers. (And how earlier in the day, this same friend came to the rescue of an injured hiker, again, without hesitation.) And how I spent that time letting her daughter paint on me with mud, genuinely laughing, forgetting for a moment or two what was happening. And how Dear Old Sis reminded me that I've wanted to get a better camera anyways, and what a perfect time with my birthday not too far off. And how H.M. has a non-condescending way of reminding me that these things simply happen sometimes, and they can ruin your hour, but shouldn't ruin your day.
So, you who now has my camera, I hope you're enjoying all those pictures of my beautiful Sis, and of my happy weekend with friends and family, if only for a moment before you erase them and move on to take pictures of your own darker life. I will continue to be happy to know that when I am on a walk in the woods and see a totebag resting against a tree and hear laughter around the bend, my thoughts go to how good of a time the owner is having, and never to what I can take from it.
And I'm happy that my friends will always be there to bask in the brighter side with me.

Interim

I recently heard some delightful news of my childhood best friend. She's going to be a mother. Though we've really only kept in touch through our parents, I immediately started swatching ideas for a baby blanket. I've settled on a simple seed stitch with a ribbed border, in an oatmeal colored soy-based yarn. Classic.
I'm really looking forward to a few days of simple knitting, freeing my clogged mind for what's to come.
Happy Weekend!