I desperately want a loom so I can weave.
I love color.
And soft yarn.
On a good day, my workplace is pandemonium. There are a million moving parts and I drive most of them. I love it. It changes every day and I am never bored. I am reminded constantly of how hard the world and so many of the people in it can be.
When I come home, I want soft and nice and quiet.
Rhythmic clicking of needles. Soothing motion of hands. Feeling of fiber slipping through fingers. It comforts me.
I am sure I will post about projects in the future, but I want to share one of my favorite features of our house.
The moment I saw it, I knew what it would be.
Our house has an original built-in cabinet in the dining room. It’s likely designed to hold dishes or fancy trinkets. In my house, though, it holds the yarn.
It didn’t latch when we moved in. My husband took his drill and added an indention to hold a small magnet. He hammered a couple tiny nails into the facing. And voila! It holds nicely until we have earthquakes. I added some pretty shelf liner I picked up at Dollar Tree (it’s in my kitchen cabinets and drawers as well).
It’s been a year since I last posted.
We closed on our house at the end of April.
We painted every room over the next three weeks.
We moved in mid-May, and it rained the entire month. It was the wettest month on record for the 48 continuous US states (2nd wettest ever for our Kansas). We managed to get all of our belongings out of the basement only a few hours before it flooded for the first time since we lived in that house. I think I’m still a bit damp.
Two weeks later, a friend of mine was murdered. And before I could really grieve and process another good friend died of complications from MD. And the next month, another friend completed suicide. I deal with sadness, depression, grief, homicidal and suicidal ideation all-day-every-day at work.
It goes without saying that I didn’t feel like doing much. I was just barely keeping my head above water. I’m still not quite sure how I made it through. Actually, that’s not exactly true. My husband and daughter were phenomenal. My co-workers were there for me every minute and took over when I couldn’t handle a client. I went to therapy. I snuggled my dog. I cried. I’m still grieving but committed to taking each day as it comes.
Blogging was the last thing on my mind. I thought about it from time to time and have even kept taking photos of the changes we’ve been making.
Life is leveling out. The days come, and close, and come again. It’s Spring. A time for growth.
I’m hoping to start posting some updates. And we’ve got a lot of projects planned now that the sun is warming us once again.
I used to blog. It’s been half a decade or so since I quit. Life carries on…
I like documenting changes. I enjoy being able to look back and see where we came from.
There have been some big events in my life in the last year. I finished graduate school. Married the man I love (the father of my 13 year old daughter). Adopted a dog. And now we’re buying a house. And I’m changing jobs. And I had hysterectomy the same day we put our offer on the house.
I am a social worker by profession. A social change agent by passion. I’m a feminist, philanthropist-wanna-be, partner, mother, rabble-rouser, volunteer, fiber artist, friend, and Wichitan.
I love this city. I love this state. I am proud of where I come from. Current state and local administration not included.
As we go on the journey of turning a house we buy into a home, I wish to document the changes we make, but I know this blog will end up being about more than that. I tend to over-share. It’s my way. I believe in the power of the personal narrative to affect hearts and minds.
Who are you?