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Last weekend I had the opportunity to go to a movie alone (this is something that I enjoy, and always have). It was a late showing, because I went after Littles were in bed, and I chose the nearest theater, which happened to be in a mall. I had already checked the forecast and noticed a high chance of thunderstorms, so I chose my parking spot with meticulous care, settling on one directly under a light, next to a restaurant that would be open past when my movie got out.

I enjoyed my nachos and knitting alone time (and the movie, it was good, too), and when it was over, I headed toward the corridor that led to my car, only to find it barricaded. I stopped short, then looked around. "You can't go that way," a security guard informed me. "That's unfortunate," I replied, "because my car is that way." Rain beat the roof and lighting illuminated the corridor, and I stood there looking at him expectantly.

He finally decided that me staring silently at him was sufficiently uncomfortable to merit climbing down off his stool, and deigned to let me out an employees-only side door. He pointed the way, and I set off running. The rain came down in sheets, the parking lot was a river several inches deep and swiftly flowing, and I was almost halfway around the building from where I needed to be. At one point I shouted aloud, "This is utterly ridiculous!" because it was.

But when I got to my car, I was laughing. It was oddly invigorating, and and a phrase echoed in my mind in my own voice from long ago: where's your sense of adventure? It was something I'd ask anyone who'd balk at some idea of mine. But it's been a long time since I said that, and I didn't realize how much I missed willingly tackling "six impossible things before breakfast" until I faced something ridiculous and overcame it. It was refreshing to embrace adventure again, though - I think I'll keep doing it. After all, you never what is possible until you try.

It's Five Minute Friday! Each week a flashmob of bloggers gather, internet wide, to write for five minutes (no stopping, no editing) on a prompt provided by hostess Kate, then link up and share a little comment love. For more info, more posts, and/or to join in, head here.


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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…