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Climb Every Mountain

I really enjoy living in the mountains. If I had to live somewhere flat (this belief doesn't apply if there's a large body of water nearby) I think I'd literally go crazy. It's interesting to see what's over the next hill - to come up out of a valley and rise above the early morning fog - to be at the bottom of a tree-lined bowl... Another advantage to living in the mountains is that you can get a really good view from a 2 story building as long as it's on a high spot. The Underwood Plaza parking garage is 3 or 4 stories high and offers a magnificent view of Old Main. The library - from inside the library. The ground slopes off steeply on the other side of the building but the front had a more interesting view. The big off-white building is University Baptist Church, where I've been going Wednesday evenings. Thus far, I like it. The Fayetteville Square. I was walking along, and looked up to see an ungated flight of stairs. So I went up them. And took pix. This building is the one I took Saturday's picture from (so read on ;) Driving home from work I spotted this crow, so I pulled off into a parking lot across the street in an attempt to capture the moment. (That rarely works - it's like animals know you want to take their picture so they leave.) He obligingly stayed put, though. I bet he had an awesome view... The last Farmer's Market of the season. The veggies have stopped coming in and there's a bite to the breeze - but the Market will be back in April. I made a remarkable discovery this week. If you march into a building like you belong there, carrying a camera and a notebook, and head with confidence to the nearest elevator - no one will stop you or ask what you're doing. (Why must tall buildings always be devoted to offices?)


Ann said…
"Walk like you look like you know where you're going, and no one will bother you." It's part skill and part talent; you can develop it a little bit but only if you don't suck to begin with. I suck to begin with. Guess you don't : p.

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31 Days of Unraveling Designs

It's that time of year again... the 31 Days writing challenge starts today! Bloggers from all over will be writing every day of the month of October on the topic of their choosing. This will be my fourth year participating - the first year I did 7 for 31, and spent a month going through Jen Hatmaker's book 7. The second year I did 31 Days of Sustainable Dwelling, and wrote about local and fair trade living. Last year I was busy but still wanted to participate, so I went the easy route with 31 Days of Everyday Beautiful.

This year I'm diving into my greatest passion: knitting! I'll spend this month looking at past designs and talking about the inspiration behind them, so there will be plenty of regular life mixed in with the stitching - and there may be discount codes for the patterns that I write about. You'll just have to read and see!

Pattern index:

Pageturner Mitts
Hogwarts House Tie
Urban Artemis
Graffiti for Humanity
Love Out Loud
Strange Jacket


In order to change your knitting, you must first change yourself. I've lost track of how many times I've said that, or how many people I've said it to. Frustrated new knitters wondering why their work is loose or tight or uneven or really anything less than perfect. But something I love about knitting is that it's a record of your inner dialogue. That swatch knit at the yarn store table with a cozy cup of coffee and a helpful (and more experienced) knitter nearby is going to be a lot more relaxed than the sweater begun a week later while sitting next to a hospital bed - just like the knitter.

Unfortunately, this also applies to my own knitting. For years, I was apparently unaffected by the shifts and turmoils in my own life, so I assumed that I was exempt from the rule - when the reality was, in fact, that I wasn't really experiencing any of those on anything deeper than a surface level because everything was deadened by depression. When I finally started to really…


A few years ago, I was introduced to the concept of replacing the traditional list of resolutions with a single word. It appealed to me - I am not a big list person, but I love language and words and meanings and etymology and metaphor and... ahem. Ennyhoo. I liked the idea.
I've never chosen the word. It's always presented itself to me - and last year was no different. Pacific was very insistent, even though I tried to argue with it. Pacific? What does that even mean? What am I supposed to do with that?
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So I'm bidding pacific a very fond farewell, and welcoming spark and whatever lessons it would like to bring. I invited it in with a copper wire punctuated with tiny lights and wrapped around my mood board, and I've got an empt…