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!

An unsure day, full of sure things.

What is to come? I don't really want to know.
But I could use a little reassurance right now. Just a sneak peek at the future worth of my current patience.

But, instead of impatiently pining for the unknown, I will simply continue my day, continue deciding the simple things. I will make lemonade. I will organize the "to donate" pile of clothes. I will have tea this afternoon, with a movie and a pair of knitting needles. I will decide between artichoke ravioli and leftover Thai food for dinner.

I will stave off restlessness for one more day, knowing that it will all be okay, it just might take a while. I will be patient.

A rainy day post

Plaid Tea Cozies
Vegetable Knitting Patterns
Take the stairs instead of the elevator.
Get up early to go to the Farmer's Market before the crowds.
Have another cup of tea.

You are loved.
It will be okay.

A long time ago...

I started writing in this small space. And, then I stopped.
My curiosities and interests are always waning and waxing, coming and going, ahead and behind. And varied. I've found comfort in measuring, mixing, tasting, baking since I was old enough to stay home without a babysitter, just a big sister. And since the time many years ago that I plowed through the beginning frustrations of knitting and the stitches finally fell into place and my fingers found the rhythm, I've rarely been without at least two projects on pairs of needles scattered about, and one or two more in my head. I'm currently learning what it means to keep houseplants not just alive, but thriving. I've now turned into a nursery of sorts for friend's sick plants. And they do very well here, though I'm sure it's less me than it is the immense windows, and therefore the immense amounts of sunshine.
But throughout these loves, and their many incarnations before, and the many more to come, I've had one constant. My love for words. Of words, in words, about words. It's been so much a part of me that I rarely take notice anymore when I arrange the monotony of my daily motions into grand prose in my mind. Making the mundane beautiful, or the beautiful mundane. Arranging, re-arranging, perfecting the placement and intent of each syllable. Reveling in a particularly striking combination, the words finding a rhythm not uncommon to the rhythm of my fingers as they weave a yarn in and out, up and down.
I rarely write, though. Journals remain half-full, at best. Letters die away before the cover comes off from my typewriter. This space, seeming so perfect to me at the start, remains dusty and unkempt. Neglected.
I do not fancy myself a writer. I do not believe that my story is any more worth telling than any other, probably less. It is the crafting of the verse that holds my heart and mind captive. As it is the pulling of the yarn through a loop that I enjoy most about knitting, not wearing the scarf; the kneading of bread that I love, rarely the tasty treat waiting at the end.
And what to do with this love of process and almost disdain for product? Write about it.
K

The "spirit" took a while to find me this year. But with some thoughtful donations in honor of friends and family, and with much time in the kitchen, I've begun to feel it settle in.
My time spent baking has made me increasingly happy, but is just about to come to an end, leaving me
a little time to myself this afternoon before the family celebrations begin tonight, and continue through the weekend.
Happy Holidays!
Karen

Second Storie's Indie Market 2009 has come to a close. I'm still spinning from the weekend. It was, by far, our most successful show yet. I'm so grateful to everyone who joined us this year. Our vendors were beyond spectacular, and we couldn't have hoped for better crowds coming to shop.
I'm taking a bit of time to myself this week, recovering. I'm trying to let myself relax a little bit. To enjoy watching a movie. Not knitting while half-watching, mostly listening to a movie. To talk with H.M. about something other than the list of things I have to do before I can go to bed. To spend time cooking again, not just making food to have something to eat.
To find balance again.
k