Category Archives: and so on
I’m firmly ensconced on the couch right now, dealing with the lingering effects of food poisoning. Tea, applesauce, netflixed episodes of Bones and the easiest knitting I have going are pretty much all I can handle right now. I am really ready for this to be over.
I haven’t taken a lot of time to go through photos from the F/W shows, and the ones I have looked at haven’t had much in the way of knitterly inspiration. A couple of things caught my eye as starting points for future designs though, which is a lot more interesting (and ethically sound) than spying pieces I want to recreate completely.
I’m a big believer in the idea of a tiny luxury, a thing or, most often, an experience that doesn’t cost much, but is just far enough outside my normal range of activity to be special. Taking myself out for a nice breakfast before work is a perfect example — it costs less than going to a movie to sit in a charming cafe for an hour, eating something delicious, drinking good coffee, going back and forth between reading my book and eavesdropping on the conversations around me.
Last Wednesday, I was in the car with my mom, heading from Webs to Vermont, where she was going to leave me to spend a couple of days with my brother and sister-in-law. We were taking the scenic route through the mountains, avoiding the tedium that is the Mass Pike, when we ascended to an honest-to-God winter wonderland. Every tree outlined in white, blue mountains stretching away into the distance, heavy, blue clouds overhead. Five minutes before and later, everything was brown and dull green with the occasional patch of thin, dirty snow. But right there, right at the top of the mountain, it was alien and magic and extraordinary.
I’ve had a tab on my browser open to Reverb10 for over a week now without making the time to post about it, but I have been mulling over some of the questions it’s posed. Described as “an annual event and online initiative to reflect on your year and manifest what’s next,” the site posts a prompt and/or question every day in December. I’m not going to do all of them — some lead to answers that are more personal than I’m willing to post in public, some ideas need more time to crystallize, some are redundant (what have I made recently? welcome to my blog about things I make!) — but there are a lot of interesting, relevant ones I’ll be sprinkling throughout the rest of the month.
December 1 – One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
2010: Stage-setting. It’s been an interesting year. I cut some ties, strengthened others, clarified goals, made headway on some, let others fall to the wayside. But mostly I feel like I spent the year getting my ducks in a row, rather than actually doing whatever it is one wants to do with a row of ducks. Not in a bad way, just in a they’re-going-to-wander-off-again-if-we-don’t-get-the-chorus-line-started kind of way.
2011: Focus. I can balance the different endeavors I want to be working on; I just need to do it.
[photo from here]
A morning run in the rain.
Black bean soup with roasted kabocha squash in the fridge.
Knitting on the couch.
Cookie ingredients on hand.
A Visit From the Goon Squad ready to be picked up from the library.
I don’t often salivate over other people’s kitchens in magazines or online. The long-term renter in me often envies functional elements of them, sure — copious counter space, deep drawers, big sinks, natural light — but I never really look at kitchens and covet.
Until I saw this one on The Kitchn the other day.It’s warm and quirky and functional all at the same time. I love the chest of drawers for storage and what looks like a couch and that while there’s a fair bit of stuff in a rather small space, it doesn’t feel cluttered. If I or someone I loved lived in this house, I would never leave that kitchen. Since we don’t know one way or the other, I’m going to pretend there’s a wood stove in one corner and shelves full of cookbooks and board games behind us. And assume that there is a sink and a fridge somewhere handy.