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Time Flies

It is November. November, y'all. How did this happen? Tobin is almost one year old... and this past year has flown by.

A contributing factor may be that I "have my hands full," as passing strangers are fond of remarking. (Culturally, we need to come up with something else to say instead of that. I'm running out of cheerful responses.) Having had two-at-once for almost as long as I had just-one, I can say that they certainly keep me busy, but not in a bad way.

We have been more active this fall than last year - a toddler and baby is much easier to manage than a toddler-while-pregnant, at least for me. It's been nice enough the past few days for evening walks at the park (as long as we don't mind getting drizzled on the last little bit), and sundry adventures around town.

And then the rainy days have been perfect for staying cozily indoors, "playing toys and reading books," as Brooklyn says. They're both such dear little people... Brooklyn has begun expressing her own ideas, as well as repeating ours - and Tobin's personality is becoming clearer. One thing I've noticed this past week is his contentment to sit with a couple of toys for an extended period of time (not something I experienced with his sister). His concentration is adorable, as is her articulation.

We're heading into a busy holiday season - made busier with the addition of a December birthday. It's also a season of ritual and tradition, which I love, so I'm looking forward to balancing action and pause.

2093. Adam being home in the morning, and taking Brooklyn on adventures/errands
2094. Gorgeous autumn weather for an evening walk at the park
2095. and Tobin not being hurt when he bailed out of the wagon head-first
2096. A successful yarn quest (I needed a very specific color, and expected to have trouble)
2097. Actually completing several crocheted balls (for Operation Christmas Child boxes) over the course of the afternoon
2098. It only raining (a. lightly, and (b. for the last half mile of our walk
2099. A morning spent at Mugs and the library with Cathy
2100. All sleeping in (a little)
2101. An evening at home
2102. Kid-wrangling help while I did knitting class sign-ups at church
2103. Brooklyn's excitement over "singing about God" in Sunday school
2104. Experimental project success


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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…