Oh no...NaNoWriMo!

Okay, maybe I was a bit overzealous announcing I was going to participate in NaNoWriMo a mere 2 weeks before it starts. I can barely post to this blog once or twice per week with my uninteresting life much less write pages and pages of drivel. I have no plot, no characters, no outline...a big NADA! Instead of adhering to the rules, I may make my own word limits and just get myself to write SOMETHING.

I know that some people totally wing it and I'm sure their brains are rife with creative ideas and characters ready to spring to life. Some people already have pages and pages of outlines, character drafts, history research and plot twists. If the idea is to write about what we know, I'm in trouble.

Running has been a bust lately. My knee has been acting up and I don't want to chance it so I busy myself around the house and go walking.

Knitting is always ongoing. I showed you pictures of the wedding, but not the lace projects that consumed 8 months of my knitting life.

Eternity Shawl
Knit in Baruffa Cashwool and used about 730 yards or half a skein
Pattern: Shetland Triangle by Evelyn Clark





A Clump of Plinths (was knitting on this watching a Monty Python Documentary. This was one of the names they were batting around before "Monty Python" was chosen. I kinda liked it)
Knit in Kidsilk Haze in the Hurricane colorway with small beads in the outer border
Pattern: Melon Pattern for a Shawl by Jane Sowerby





and both




I am so done with lace for awhile and am glad to get some heavier yarn to use! I'll post other projects later. I have start-itis so bad right now I don't know what is going to make it and what will hit the frog pond.

Home?

After 35 years of living in the same house, my parents are moving. Thankfully, they are staying in the same town, just a different house with a bigger kitchen, bathrooms and storage. I can't quite blame them. Their home was built at a time when the number of bedrooms far outweighed being able to stretch out your arms in your own bathroom. Having a place for us three kids to sleep was a little more important I guess. My dad found the confines of suburbia constraining. I guess you could say he would be happy to be put out to pasture where there is green space and not a cul-de-sac. After all, they are retired and deserve to have a home that doesn't need to be populated with kids.

I can't help but feel a surprising emotion of grief, which really caught me. This was the house I lived in from the age of 5 to 18 and then again from age 20 to 23. It's a part of my history that I took for granted. My parents did offer to let me buy the house. There was almost no hesitation as a quick "NO" escaped my mouth. THAT would be weird.

I walked home from primary school to this house. I had lots of sleepovers, birthday parties, and holidays here. I hunted Easter eggs in the backyard, climbed the tree in the front yard to throw china berries at the neighborhood kids, hid in the laundry hamper, carved my initials in my windowsill, buried a few family pets in the back yard, jumped to thwack the attic pulldown cord in the hall, learned to roller skate in the garage, learned to ride a bicycle in the driveway, had hippity-hop derby races in the front yard, washed my first car in the driveway and had my first kiss on the front porch. My daughter took her first steps in the same living room where I watched the Wizard of Oz for the first (and twentieth) time.

My parents are excited about the move, but I can tell they are having similar separation issues. My dad said "selling this house is like letting go of one of my kids". I replied "which one and which time?" We both laughed.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

What's a girl to do?

Wow, my last post sounded a bit like I was a desperate, lonely, needy little thing. Yeah, I get a little mopey from time to time, but by and large I have a list of things that I want to do more of or get started on which is pretty exciting. Here's my action plan.

Blog - duh

Run - I really fell off the wagon HARD in this regard but have recently been venturing outside more often now that the weather is nice. No races planned, no pressure, just gettin' mah bootay out there.

Read - I bought a Nook which I love quite intensely right now and carry it with me everywhere.

Write more betterly-er - I may attempt to pull a Nanowrimo out of my butt this year, rather than just read about those who are doing it. It may be all crap and be about purple aliens who take over abandoned Walmarts and Kmarts as headquarters to rule the world, but I will do it. I also will not make you read it.

Draw - Yet another languishing hobby. I used to draw a lot more than I do now. Although I'm quite average and my attempts quite sophomoric, I enjoy it.

Home improvement - I want to rip out the carpet and have laminate wood flooring installed. I want to update most of my cheapo contractor light fixtures, I want new furniture now that I don't have to worry about pet hair, kid messes...etc. Did I forget to tell you that I had to put my dog down about 2 weeks after the wedding? She was 14 years old and was so arthritic and could not hold her bowel/bladder. It was so hard, but I now know I did the right thing for her. end tangent

I will also have to redo my daughter's room. I will need a gallon of spackle to start. The child tacked up EVERYTHING on the wall. Oh, and as a public service announcement: when you use Sticky-Tac on textured drywall and leave it there for 5 years, it will pull off half the wall with it when you remove it.

Knit - still knitting. It's my go-to leisure/stress relief and I LOVE my hand knit items and look forward to wearing them every year.

I'm sure there's other stuff: Gardening, eating better, winning that Nobel Peace Prize...but that's enough for now.

Learning to Fly SOLO

I've been a single parent most of my adult life. I learned to be self sufficient, independent and ((gasp)) responsible. I brought home the bacon, fried it up in a pan and afterwards, when my daughter thought jumping on the bed was fun, cleaned the bacon vomit off the floor and cleaned bacon vomit out of her hair. My mother still sends me cards on Father's Day which I think is cute and sometimes depressing. Single parent I could handle. SOLO is hard.

After the emotional equivalent of clutching her bridal train down the aisle and into the get-away vehicle to go live with a BOY, I was left with the scary void that was my new companion. Me.

I felt like a child on their way to Kindergarten for the first time. Would I like me? Would I be nice to me? Would I hog all the ice cream? Absolutely. Now, before you guys call the men in white coats with the bouncy rubber wagon, just know that this is the first time I have TRULY been on my own. At every point in my life, someone has always been there with me. I'm not living with a parent, child, significant other or a pet of any kind. I was always the type of kid who played well by myself and didn't need a lot of interaction. Just knowing someone was in the other room was enough for me. I felt secure. This is weird. On second thought, have the white wagon guys on speed dial.

For some of you, this would sound like a dream! Wake up when you want, eat what you want, know that the milk would still be there at the end of the day (if that is how you left it). I too, was one of these dreamers when my child was young (and my then husband acted like a child).

The reality is that there's nobody to share things with. Sure, I can take a picture of my vulgar eggplant's produce and send it to people and get a "LOL" or a racy quip, I can watch a Netflix movie at the same time as my daughter and we can talk on the phone to each other while we're watching it, but it's not the same. Thank jeebus for technology.

Maybe God is challenging me to like myself first before bringing someone else into it.

Poop.

For some reason, I don't think giving myself a hug and saying a quick "I'm sorry self" will meet that criteria. This may take awhile.

Hey, wanna see some vulgar produce?

Dear blogspot...

Thank you for eating the photos that took me 2 hours to choose and place in my last blog post. I will fix it later (which will take another 2 hours) but I'm tired and want to go to bed.
Check back later for a photo update

Gotta Start Somewhere...

Sorry guys. I have been ignoring this blog, haven't I? Life got heavy there for awhile, but I'm here to restart this thing! My mantra lately has been "gotta start somewhere". Blogging, eating right, exercising...etc have taken a back burner to life events lately. Thanks to my blogger friends for encouraging me to get on the ball!

I know, I know... you want to see wedding pictures. Perhaps that's the easiest way to restart! Magek Photography were STUPENDOUS and took most of the wedding pictures you see below.

We went from this:

To this:

The day was surreal. The venue, Butler's Courtyard, allowed us to have the site all day including a quaint little cottage for the bride and attendants to get ready. The cottage was decorated with antiques and antique wedding items. Danicka and I were the only ones there for an hour or two and we had fun exploring and setting up. You'd think that 8 hours would allow plenty of lounging time before the wedding, but not with updos, nails, makeup, checking flowers, cake, setup...etc. The time flew by.

Finally, the time had come. But wait! I didn't have enough pre-wedding, pre-go-live-with-a-boy fun! Even though the wedding was at 7pm, it still didn't seem like enough time. I did truly live in the moment and enjoyed every minute, but I just wish there were MORE! Someone else had other thoughts.

Before the wedding, they even had a photo op holding hands around a corner. They couldn't see each other before the wedding and there were plenty of people there to make sure the lovebirds were in check.

The wedding planner arrived and we were summoned to the hall. This was it. That tiny baby I once kept in a cradle the size of a dresser drawer was walking to the hall in a white, poufy, marshmallow gown. Everything was going too fast. We were walking too fast, the music seemed like it was playing too fast, and people were taking their places too fast. Although I had a smile on my face, somebody juiced up the tilt-a-whirl that suddenly took residence in my gut.


Here I was, walking my only child down the aisle. I wanted to do this so badly. She was mine to give away, but I now know why fathers usually perform this task. Despite jelly-legs, tilt-a-whirl gut and a racing brain, I wouldn't change it for the world. I remember standing behind the curtain waiting for our cue: she was looking like a horse wanting to race to the barn and I was wanting to reign her in. I wish I could remember exactly what I told her, standing there at the precipice to the rest of her life. I know I told her that I loved her and that she was beautiful. I know I told her to take a deep breath. I also know that I told her my car was waiting just outside in case she changed her mind.

Suddenly the curtain opened and Pachebel's Canon in D began playing. I walked her to the front of the crowd to a handsome man in Marine dress blues (where was the "boy"?).


When the pastor asked "who gives this woman?" I was supposed to say "I do" give her a kiss, give the groom a kiss and step back to be seated. Simple instructions, right? They may as well have been given in Swahili. I said the "I do" and just stood there frozen. The pastor patiently waited and gave a little tight lipped grin to me to break me out of my stupor. Realizing my error, I quickly complied and sat down. My part was done and the rest of the ceremony wafted along from there.


The reception was wonderful. The wonderful folks at Butler's Courtyard took care of everything. I didn't have to worry about the punch bowl status, microphones that didn't work, flowers, food or anything else. Butler's was truly worth the money for everything they do. For all I knew everything went without a hitch they made it seem so effortless and magical. Cake, dancing, bouquet and garter throwing and the toast - all a part of a balanced wedding. I enjoyed it all.
 




















It was time to let the newlyweds run away into the night. I jokingly tried to stow away in the back seat of the getaway car, we blew bubbles and the newlyweds were whisked away in what can only be described as a grand Lawrence Welk sendoff (and a one, and a two..)


Turning the corner, I sighed a big sigh and watched until I could no longer see their taillights.

The crowd seemed to disperse almost immediately and I was left with the staff people. The magic was gone. My daughter was the keeper of that magic and I was turning back into a pumpkin. My feet were also waking up from the magical spell and screamed in protest. We loaded up the car, I checked for forgotten items and made the lonely trek back home. It was in the car ride home that I realized I didn't get any wedding cake. My eyes filled with the first big tears of the day and I pulled into a parking lot and sobbed - big racking sobs and likely a very ugly cry. It wasn't the cake. It was the finality.


I took a deep breath, wiped my face and continued home. While unpacking the car I found the leftover cake and had a piece while sitting on the floor in my sweaty blue dress.


What happened next was the epitome of being alone. I.couldn't.get.out.of.my.dress. My zipper was out of reach. Someone had zipped me in and I now remember the last part of the zipper was particularly difficult. I struggled like Houdini trying to get out of a straight jacket, sat and contemplated the scissors on the counter. It was midnight and I couldn't knock on someone's door to get them to unzip my dress, or if I did would be very creepy. I even contemplated going to McDonalds and paying an employee five bucks to unzip my dress. I cried again and said a few choice words to punctuate the situation. I finally got a pair of vice-grips, clamped them on and with a little struggle was able to free myself. I laughed. I fell exhausted into bed. Vice grips are useful things.