Storytime

Sometimes a photo says it all.
Other times words come into play.

Those Last 3 Months (and 2 FOs)

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Why the long radio silence? Here goes…as quickly as I can.

Shortly after the year started, I found out that the woman who owns the house we were renting in ABQ wanted to put it on the market. Couldn’t blame her as I was coming to a similar conclusion about the house I was renting out in Minneapolis. But where and when to go?

Perhaps it was because my 46th birthday was nearing, kicking me into what I hope is the second half of my life—hey, I come from some hearty Scandinavian-Irish stock with many a 90+ birthday celebrated, so it’s not irrationally optimistic. Perhaps it was because when I started looking around at the piles of crap lovely stuff that had followed us across the country on our Westward moves, I started to feel like a Hoarders intervention could be on the horizon. And perhaps—no, most definitely—because the past few years had redefined intense.

And so the Great Downsizing Dream was born. A small, cozy place with less space and objects to clean. Pre-baked landscaping with the beauty that I, frankly, lack the patience or skill for. Maintenance and repairs in someone else’s hands, and checkbook. A downsized, yet upsized, life.

In other words, step off the moving sidewalk before you’re catapulted face first.

A lovely apartment was found. The first of dozens of Goodwill trips were made. A spring break moving “vacation” was planned. (The kid would eventually forgive me—the new place had a pool!) I was a woman determined and in control; I would live in 1/2 the space with 1/3 the stuff. With God as my witness, life would be clutter-free!

And then work got crazy in a way that I can’t describe, mostly because I’ve so thoroughly blocked it. The planned-for vacation time got cut short. The remaining charitable trips were replaced with a frantic call for a junk van. Seriously. Here’s the photographic evidence.

 

Fast forward 2 months to today, with work back to it’s “normal” pace and the apartment finally losing that warehouse veneer. My knitting needles are once again in action. There’s the dish towel that started this post to christen the new kitchen. And a scarf that, while blocked back at the house and worn several times in February, didn’t get photographed until it was unpacked in April.

 

More later…I’ve still got some unpacking to do. And a house in Minneapolis to sell.

Puppy-Sized Update

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Why don’t I just carry the theme forward and begin this post with: How can it be May already? That’s certainly a lot easier than explaining where the past three months have gone. And since it’s Friday, that’s really all I have the bandwith for.Violet turned one a few weeks back and Izzy fretted long and hard, determined to make it “her best birthday EVER.” I tried to take the pressure off by interjecting that, honestly, the bar was low. First birthday.

Kid was havin’ none of it. She wrapped and rewrapped the chewtoy several times. It’d be fun to watch Violet tear through wrapping paper. Then again, a gift bag is so much…more. At least the cake was an easy decision — a “pupcake” from our local cupcake emporium, complete with a mini bone on top.

Here’s how the celebration played out from Violet’s point of view.

Hey, whatever this is about, swear it wasn’t me.
  
Maybe they didn’t find that chewed sock under the bed…
 
 
Frosting!
 
 
Is that what I think it is?
 
Toy, what toy? There’s tissue paper to play with!
More than anything, isn’t it comforting that first birthdays are all the same?

Super Dog, Super Kid

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Nine years ago today, Isabel and I flew home together from Guatemala and our adventure officially began. (The photo’s what went out with my announcements, taken about a week after we were back in Maryland. And because this is a knitting blog and someone is bound to ask, yes, I did make the sweater she’s wearing.)

I still feel the way I did on that day, like I won “baby lotto.” Can’t believe the universe brought this funny, sweet, firecracker of a kid to me. And while life as a single mother can be harder than I ever imagined, I wouldn’t trade a single moment. (Yes, even emergency room earache visits and tween tantrums.)

Recently, we were laughing about the small-but-mighty Violet, who has taken to ferociously barking whenever a large truck or semi drives along the road behind our house. One look at her in action, and it’s clear Violet believes she can take down a ton for each of her 11 pounds. From there, Izzy made the leap that Violet needed her own superhero cape, and set about designing and making one with the mini sewing machine she got for Christmas.

Yep, I’ve been blessed with quite the dynamic duo.

A Tale of Two Christmases

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Last year, Izzy and I hosted Christmas in Albuquerque for my parents, sister, and brother-in-law. We were in high holiday mode, with every ornament we had making its way onto the tree and lots of new paper chains and snowflakes filling the house. Batch upon batch of cookies were made. And the baking and decorating continued after their arrival, with me making from scratch (for the first time) the gingerbread pieces for five houses (Grandpa preferred to supervise construction and sample the candy adornments).

This year was far more Dickensian in spirit. The holiday season began with Izzy awaking Thanksgiving morn with a raging stomach flu that pushed our turkey dinner to the following weekend. Then a new initiative at work continued to consume a good 60+ hours/week straight through to our plane’s departure for Minnesota on December 23. One secret holiday knitting project was finished and blocked just days before we left, but the other went with me on the plane and kept me busy through December 27 — the day before I saw the recipient — and got blocked on a spare bed at my parents’. (Nothing like cutting it close!) The tree never made it out of storage. We threw a wreath on the front door, pulled out the Christmas doormat, and called it a day. In an attempt to provide some festivity for Izzy, we purchased Trader Joe’s Really Big Gingerbread Man Kit. Poor guy didn’t even make his way onto the good dishes.