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Cabin Fever

On one snowed-in day last week, I got on a productive tear. I finished up Tobin's room, and then after both Littles had gone to bed, I tackled my own closet. I threw away a few things that were tattered and stained (I keep wearing things for longer than I probably should...) and took out three pairs of shoes and a bag of like-new clothes to donate to a local homeless shelter, and a bag of scarves that I'm going to try to find new and appreciative homes for, and then took a thorough inventory of the items remaining and determined that with the acquisition of three new things I would be able to get the most possible use out of what I already had (the lime, orange, and purple tops are indented because they're wants, not "needs").

I put a few things together that I hadn't before, and had fun trying on everything in my closet to confirm that it fit the way I wanted it to (my favorite pair of mossy green pants were a no-go, thanks to post-pregnancy hip spread, but a pair of jeans that I'd always had to wear a belt with fit now, so it was an even exchange).

It made me a lot more excited about the few things I did purchase, knowing that I'll actually be able to get a lot of use out of them, and I even took a few hangers out of my closet (I have a rule that I can only have the amount of clothing that will fit on the hangers I already have).

With my legwarmers and Tobin's teddy bear finished, I've started a warm weather project with some grey and green linen. Just a row here and a row there, but I'm hoping to have it finished by the time I can actually photograph it and wear it. I'm going to use my whole ball of grey yarn and then do the green - I thrive on metaphors, and that seemed like an appropriate one of ashes to life.

Speaking of life... I had grown some sprouts last week, and finally got around to putting them on a sandwich before they went bad. I don't like dirt, and I am terrible at giving plants the right amount of water, but I still feel like it's important to eat things that are grown as close as possible to where you live, so you can get data about your environment to your immune (and other bodily) systems. Sprouts are about the only thing I can manage, and these were definitely a success - paired with a vegan cheese-like thing that I spotted at Ozark Natural Foods, they definitely added some zest to my grilled turkey sandwich.

Neatly refolding all of my Tshirts and crunching sprouts are little ways to remind myself that Winter won't last forever. I realize that here in the South we haven't had very much wintery weather, but for some reason, after Valentine's Day I start thinking about Spring. And then I'm surprised and confused when it snows in March (like it does almost every year...)

Not that being stuck inside is all bad - it's pretty nice to snuggle up under a blanket with a cup of tea, to have deep discussions with my Bear through the long, dark evenings... but I'm ready to take my journaling onto the balcony and our conversations to the park for an evening walk.

What do you do when you're snowed in (especially once it stops being fun)?


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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?
But I accepted it, and I'm glad I did. I learned about depth and calm, about storm and nurture, about faith and adventure - and about the unstoppable ocean of God's grace, that overwhelms to fill and cleanse and bring blessings unasked.
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…