The hard stuff

A couple of weeks ago, my entire class was talking; was stressing; was obsessing. About The Moot.

No one really knew what to expect, but we knew it was a big deal, that it counted.

So maybe it was not a big surprise that I had a nightmare. What the nightmare was about? That was quite the surprise.

It was about socks.

I had been reading a pile of sock books borrowed from the library.

This week, there was no school. My plan was to spend this past week knitting socks, sock, and more socks.

But for some reason, I was becoming terrified. Of the sizing, of the pattern, and, most of all, of the heel.

So I procrastinated, and put it off, I crocheted, I knit on other projects. Anything to keep from having to work some short rows.

But finally on Thursday, I ended up with unexpected knitting time, and got down to business.

So this week? I didn't manage the piles and piles of socks that I dreamed of.

But. I managed to turn a single heel.

Between that and having successfully completed the moot (I didn't cry - goal achieved!), I feel a little bit like I could manage anything. Maybe even knitting a second sock.

Valentines

I don't, honestly, know how I feel about Valentine's day.

In the past it has made me feel powerful, lonely, guilty and sad.

But Em & I got into a horrible habit of not celebrating each other in our first years. That couldn't continue.

I am blessed and I need reminders to remind her that I know that (because being human, I forget).

So I used this day as one of those.

And, maybe, so did she.

Pictured above is the valentine I made for her from Cori Kindred's excellent tutorial for poppytalk. You can also buy one of the little books as made by Cori (they are just beautiful).

Pictured below is the valentine she made for me. Such an amazing thing to come home to.

Back to myself

February has not been an easy month so far.

My brain was not my own for a couple of weeks while major (and novel) assignments took more energy than I knew I possessed.

The house got slowly messier and messier. There was no peace at home, no peace at school, no peace I could find at all.

But this week, the assignments were finally done. I had a beer or two, I relaxed.

I looked around the house, thinking "this will not do". Last night bedtime came and went while Em and I cleaned just a little bit of the house.

It feels so much better now.

That picture up there? That's Em & me: hers is the Tyrannosaurus, mine is the needles. That little vignette brought me such peace last night, still brings it today.

I'm taking deep breaths before diving back in, hoping to remember that we can make things beautiful, that it's not as hard as it seems to find a bit of calm.

Getting to good (when starting isn't a problem)

I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted the scarf to be like.

Debating between two patterns, I actually did the "good knitter" thing, and cast on samples of each.

My first was the one row handspun scarf pattern. With this "swatch", I am immoderately pleased, as I actually cast on enough stitches that the width was appropriate for a dishcloth (42 was, of course, the answer).

I next cast on an actual swatch (11 stitches) to test out a mistake rib pattern.

The one-row handspun pattern was the clear winner (in person, the columns of knit stitches are much easier to see). So I cast on 42 stitches in my scarf yarn.

No go - the colours of the yarn hid the knit columns too well. It was frogged. I retried with the mistake rib and 43 stitches (multiple of 4 +3). Not quite wide enough. It was frogged.

3rd try (charming, right?). 52 stitches, mistake rib, deep breaths. Finally it's looking right.

This is how I think knitting is supposed to work, often. 2 test swatches, 2 false starts, but finally an inch of progress on a scarf that looks promising. (Raveled.)

I have a major paper due this week, and the last thing I want is a lesson of this kind. Too late, I guess.

(Apologies for crap lighting on photos - it was late when I finished my learning).

Paper Letters

One of my goals for this year was to send letters, send cards. And I wasn't doing so well. Maybe I sent a couple, but it was nothing to keep the postal service busy.

Then, suddenly, the new year arrived, bringing with it this resolve. I wanted to do the things that I valued, the things I seemed to have been forgetting as I worked to set up a new life, once again.

And with that has come the letter-writing.

Nothing major, you understand. I send a page or so of my thoughts, written down. Small missives (or missiles? I thought so for a moment), to someone far away.

For inspiration, I've been turning to a couple of online sources: The Post-A-Letter Social Activity Club (if you're lucky enough to live in Toronto or Montreal, this looks fantastic) and Send More Mail.

Even my fiction has been epistolary this week. I found The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society in the sale section of my favourite bookshop, and read it through this weekend (another new ritual is Sunday mornings that are all my own).

It was the perfect book for today, for this week. I am so glad I thought to slip it into the pile with the magazines I had gone to purchase.

WELL.

So, life was busy and normal, I was trying to blog and not *completely* failing. There were weddings, it was summer, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.

Then on a Friday morning I was waking up to that phone call that you never want to get. The one that tells you to come home. Now.

Em and I packed in a daze, and were on a flight, and I thought of nothing else for the week. It was so strange to be, by surprise, in the city we were going to be moving to in less than a month.

And yet, everyone survived (and we were forever changed, but not in the worst way). And summer continued.

And move we did, after yet another wedding. We moved so that I could start law school in the fall (of 2010, that is).

Here's the thing: law school, for me, has been all-consuming. And not in the good way. In fact, is there a good way?

This semester, I demand to recover, to pull myself back from the brink, and maybe (MAYBE) back to this blog-world into which I ever dream of entry.

Up there? That's my kitchen table, and a Saturday lunch, alone. To be fair, Em rushed through the door after I snapped this, full of joy to share a lunch. One look at her keys (the keys that were still needed, and she was off again to work. Yes, work!

Below? Is a reminder to myself that I am more than a law student - I am a knitter (yes that's more!) And even in my poverty-stricken state, I deserve yarn, and time with it.

I hope to be back in this space more regularly again this year, and I hope to have much more to share...

Biting it big time

I fell the crap off my bike this morning. One minute I'm braking, and the next I'm slipsliding across the ground. I don't really know why it happened. Maybe there was gravel - the 'official story' - which has always caused me issues, I *hate* gravel. Maybe it was this new bike I got, which doesn't fit the way the lovely lovely cruiser did - this one's faster, and gearier, and just generally an adjustment. Maybe it was my tired muscles; this is my third day straight of bicycle commuting after a couple of months' hiatus (mostly accidental).

Only about 5 minutes from home, I thought seriously about turning around right there, and pouting home to telecommute or bus, but instead I took a deep breath, checked the bike quickly, adjusted the chain, and was off. Now I have bruises blooming, a little road rash on my leg, and a scraped elbow, but my bike and I are mostly friendly again. That part, the get-up-and-try-again part doesn't come at all easily for me. But bikes and I have always made it up, I don't resent them too long, and they provide such joy, it's ultimately easy to hop on and go again.

Bike month is over, but it's definitely not too late to try bicycle commuting. Take sunscreen, and lots of water, go slow, and track your mileage at No Waste Wednesdays - they're having a contest!