Yay Me!

Yes, I know I sound like London from The Suite Life of Zac and Cody (or Suite Life on Deck if you're currently watching the show), but I got over another "blah me" hurdle and finally started my Knit Along Project for Goldenbird's New Techniques year long KAL! And I've found that I'm learning a few new techniques.

I decided on the Mini Mochi Entrelac socks (and if they don't fit me, I may cry until I totally dissolve, because I think they are going to be a lot of work).

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I am using Premiere Yarns Deborah Norville Collection Serenity Sock Weight Yarn which is nice and cheap, 50% Merino Superwash, 25% Bamboo, and 25% Nylon. It is a little splitty, but at $4.50/230 yards, the price is right (but I am realizing I'm going to have to get more, as size 3 needles are recommended, and I'm using size 1 - as per the pattern, and I need 500 to 550 yards and I only have 460). And the colorwasy are lovely. I'm using Chili.


socks by PaulaStitches

AND, to get started, I had to learn a Provisional Cast on, which totally geeked he out when I watched Lucy Neatby's great video on it, as it's crochet AND knitting at the same time!! Could anything be better? You can watch the video here.

So, I'm only on the first knitted layer of the first sock, but I was so excited about knitting a few stitches that I had to blog about it. Why have I not been knitting? I LURVE to knit! Look for updates, I will try not to gripe as these are my mortal nemesis, socks.

Yay Me!

Remembering

I was at Barnes and Noble the other day looking at a book that had creative non-fiction exercises in it. They were all really interesting and focused primarily on helping the writer remember his or her past. That's an interesting thing for me, because thinking on it, I find that swatches of my past have just disappeared from my memory. I suppose a bit of this is normal, as we are filled up with so much information through out our lives. But it's had me thinking a lot about the details of my past.

One of the first things that I remember of my early childhood is that in our house in the dining room there was a closet with louvered doors. For whatever reason, I thought that this closet was an amazing place to play and hide out, so I spent quite a bit of time in it. It was my pretend elevator, a substitution for the elevators at Lazarus department store down town, which was the fanciest place in existence to a little toddler girl in Columbus, OH. I could hear the mysterious "ding, ding" sounds that signaled employees to certain jobs and would imagine I was going to visit the Talking Tree in Santaland, the highlight of any child's trip downtown at the time.

I had a book about bees, and I remember sitting in that closet scrunched up in the corner looking at the pages of that picture book in awe. There was one page that was completely filled with a photo of a bee colony in the hive, and while I found this page endlessly fascinating, I always harbored a fear that somehow one of those bees would come to life and sting me. I'd never been stung at that point, but it wasn't something I really wanted to find out about.

I liked the space behind those white louvered doors. It was quiet, cozy, and enveloped me like a giant cocoon. It was the perfect place for an introverted, imaginative dreamer to while away the time. There are times that I wish I could have moved that closet around with me to escape to, to hear the long gone "ding, ding" over the department store speakers.

The return of my Muse

Last night I was up until around 3 am writing a flurry of words in my journal. I'm not much of a journaling person, but words and phrases and sentences kept bombarding my thoughts so much so that I had to write them down. It seems that my writing muse has returned with a vengeance. I can only attribute her return to one thing - I opened up a book and started reading.

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I was so out of balance that I hadn't even opened a book since before Christmas. Now I realize that reading not only transports me to new places but also ambushes me with new ideas. It seems that no matter what the book, from Chick Lit to Proust, Winnie the Pooh to the Little Prince I am left with something to ponder, something that sticks with me, seemingly forever. And I don't even have to Like the book (although I gave up the idea that I hac to finish books that I didn't like a long time ago), they still fill me to the brim.

And now I am bursting at the seams.

It's no wonder we all long to put words to paper. What an amazing legacy to leave behind! I had not realized until this week how often an idea from some long ago read novel creeps into my thoughts, and again, even form books that I dreaded reading (The Red Badge of Courage pops to mind - fine book, but for me was like bamboo under the nails torture). Yes, I want to leave something like this behind.

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So now I am in a full fledged book orgy. Reading everything I can get my hands on - 600 page thrillers getting read in 3 days, meatier tomes causing me to stop an reflect and dog ear pages that I want to return to later on. So tell me, as I'm not up on what has been recently published, what should I read? I'll read a little bit of everything (except for scary, gratuitous violence). Give me some suggestions and a reason to pay off the fine on my library card!

I like cranky people

When I was living at home, my mom used to say that when she thought of me as an old woman, I was sitting on a rocking chair on my porch calling all of the neighborhood kids rotten hooligans. You see, I am a bit of a crankpot. Yes, I know, I'm a nice person, but being nice can wear on a person, and then my limited patience for ignorance turns me into Lucy Van Peldt (my favorite cartoon character).

My grandfather was the king of cranky. And I loved it. When everyone else was frustrated with his attitude I was there delighting in it. Loving the grumpiness. Is that crazy? I found it endearing.

William has a bit of a cranky streak. Do not push him when he is tired. His face turns as red as his hair and he turns into quite the grumpy butt. And I pick him up and kiss him and hug him and tell him that most people don't like grumpybuns, but mommy has her own grumpybuns moments. And mommy will love him always no matter what.

We have a cat named Foxy. She is the grumpiest and most particular cat in the entire world. Touch her wrong and she lets out this cackly meow, one that sort of makes me think of my grandfather in his grumpiest moments. Like most cats, however, I think she knows my inner being and knows that I am a kindred soul, even if my Ego suppresses my desire to be the crankiest person in the universe. She loves me more than most. We are fellow crankpots.

I know that most people cannot relate to what I am talking about. But I suspect that each one of us has a character flaw that they secretly love. Maybe it's because they want to live vicariously through these people, or maybe it's because they can relate. So how about you? Be brave and let us know all about yours!

A goal and a reflection

"My students were middle-class kids who were ashamed of their background. They felt like unless they grew up in poverty, they had nothing to write about . . . I felt sorry for these kids, that they thought their whole past was absolutely worthless because it was less than remarkable."

-David Sedaris

As a writer, I have been struggling against the mundane. My life has settled into a predictable daily rhythm that varies very little. Take care of the kids, cook, clean, spend time on the computer, do the laundry. Last year was very difficult for me, a huge struggle climbing out of the abyss of depression and pain that I had dug myself into. And it made for a lot of writing fodder. Now I am happy and I don't know what to write about.

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It shouldn't be like this as life in and of itself is a remarkable journey. The joy of waking in the morning and looking at my husband, of watching my children sleep, of sitting with Will and having a toddler conversation, these are moment writing writing about, preserving. This is now my challenge. To not need Sylvia Plath like sadness to reflect upon, but the normal moments of everyday.

Since I am having a bit of trouble finding my writing groove, I am using "The Pocket Muse" by Monica Wood to aid me in my writing (that's where the quote above came from). I am also making a goal of posting at least twice a week, but hopefully more. If you like, you can use these writing prompts to help you post, as I'm sure I'm not the only person who suffers from writing block, and I know I'm not the only gal out there who is also living a relatively boring life.

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So what are you struggling with in your writing life? Are there mundane events in your life that on the surface seem unremarkable but upon further inspection actually have their own magic?