Time for a reality check.

As you may or may not know, I have been working with this new therapist for about two months. The first time I met him I was all, "I can't do this. He wears Mr. Rogers sweaters and is clearly a throwback from the swinger-free love-hug a tree generation, but I desperately need help and this is the only guy that returned my call. Just walk away now. No, wait. Stay. No, walk away. Stay. Go. Sit. RUN!"

What made it worse is that he is consistently about 10 minutes late. He's not late to the office, no, he just lets his clients run over their time. This is friendly and something that I respect down deep where I still have one remaining emotion, lonely and desiring to be used. I have a terrible tendency to sit and worry when I have to wait. What if I am late? Early? Wrong day? Imagined the whole phone call scheduling the appointment? Will he walk into the waiting room and ask who the hell I am and what am I doing in his office?

Issues, guys. Serious, serious issues.

Anyway, I thought I needed to work on my anxiety and my apocalyptic fears, including, but not limited to, tidal waves, asteroids, famine, drought, and a flu pandemic (thank you evangelical Christian upbringin!). I figured this was in some way associated with my brutal post-partum depression, and the good doctor confirmed my suspicions. He said that often depression and anxiety work hand in hand and fixing one is like peeling a layer of an onion...there's something else there until you get to the heart of it. Or chop it into hundreds of tiny pieces with a butcher knife and boil it to death in a soup. It's hard to talk about fears like the ones I have because when they get that deeply embedded into your spirit you become convinced that you are either right or crazy, and you really don't want to be right.

Where am I going? F@ck if I know. This post is about the same as my therapy right now. I don't know what is going on. Last session I blabbed about never learning how to do math, and if I could just get the hang of it maybe I wouldn't feel so stupid, nay, retarded (I don't mean this in a bad way, I mean it in the true dictionary sense of the word). In the middle of my rant I looked at him (I never look at my therapist during my sessions...I don't know why), and I said, "The worst part? I work at a bank. What is wrong with me?"

To sum, therapy is hard. Not easy. Difficult. The opposite of simple. Right now it has no direction at all. Is this normal? Yikes. A little too much reality for a Saturday night. I don't know. I really don't. Hang with me, guys. I'm working through some pretty heavy stuff right now and these posts may happen every now and again. Hopefully soon I'll gain some clarity.

Soopr Seekrit Project

I can't talk a whole lot about this, but let me just tell you: If you ever, ever need help and support from a specific demographic of individuals, ask knitters.

I sent out countless emails yesterday requesting help with a super secret project and I heard back from almost every person-within 20 minutes of sending them an email. I am floored, I am speechless, I had heard about the friendship of knitters but I had never put it to the test (generalized anxiety and all that).

You are astonishing. Stay tuned for occasional updates and pics!

Knitting Tip

The difference between felting and fulling.

Felting is working with raw roving, colored or not. The fibers are joined by using warm, soapy water and the friction of your two hands. Needle-felting uses the friction of a felting needle. The resulting fabric can be shaped, or many colors can be used to create an image, like painting with wool!

Fulling is throwing your knitted fabric in the washer to allow the fibers to meld together to create a solid fabric. This can also be accomplished in a pot of hot, soapy water and a potato masher. The key is heat and friction.

Have a great weekend!

Dear Ladies,

You know those articles of clothing that are made with a waist, a crotch, and two legs that end just above your knee? They're called shorts, and even if the local department store in the mall is selling them with a blazer and calling it a suit, they're still shorts. They are not and never will be acceptable office wear. Please cease and desist immediately. Thank you.

I'm so bad at this blogger thing.

I don't know, I just never seem to do it. I have tons to say, I just don't take the time to sit down and bang it all out. I think I'm going to work on blogging at least twice a week, come hell or high water. We'll see how that works out.



Guess who's been spinning?






It's coopworth wool, purchased at Maryland Sheep and Wool, where I had a great time. I didn't go to the Ravelry meetup, and I saw a ton of folks I recognized, but I just couldn't put myself out there. Be patient with me, I'm working on it.





It's two-ply, worsted weight. I don't know the yardage because I have a third skein that still needs to be washed before I can measure it. I found the coopworth to be really stiff, but I think it will make a great slouchy beret because the stiffness with help the beret hold it's shape well, rather than just bag on my head. Just call me LC in the Wilmington hood, y'all!


Memorial Day was kind of a bust. Steve made plans for us to go to a BBQ with people that I really don't get along with. It's not that I dislike them, it's just we have absolutely nothing to talk about. If I make reference to a movie that doesn't have Jim Carrey or Cameron Diaz in it, or reference any book at all, I just get blank stares. I have the distinct feeling that these people are tolerating me the same as I am with them. I did get a cute photo! Can you believe how big he is?!?! Only 9 and a half months old. I think my little athlete will be funding Mommy's retirement in 18 short years. In the meantime I'll just teach him how to vacuum and fold clothes.

To put this in perspective, please keep in mind that my hubby is just shy of 7 feet tall. Yeah.

It's the Final Countdown!

Dee dee dee dee, dee dee di di dee, blah, blah, blah. You know the song. And now it's in your head FOREVER! Mwah ha ha ha!

This is my last day at work before MD Sheep and Wool! Woot woot!

Tomorrow we have an evening wedding to attend, so the baby will be staying with the grandparents overnight. Holla! A little alone time for me and Steve...the first in many moons. To say I am looking forward to just going to bed and sleeping until I feel like getting up is an understatement. I will miss him, sure, and I probably won't sleep a wink past 5am waiting until I can go get him without waking up the neighborhood, but I am looking forward to a baby-free date with Steve.

Saturday will be very busy. I'll pick up Stephen first thing in the morning, then my parents will get to my house. We will pack up the car, move over the baby seat, then we're off for Maryland! We'll probably go to the open spin at the fairgrounds Saturday night, then maybe the Ravelry party at the Sheraton, then Sunday will be all festival, all day!

As a side note, have you ever changed over those car seats that use the latch system? Very safe, major PIA. When I took care of my nieces, and this will date me, I used to only have to use a seat belt to secure their seats. Now you need plyers, a degree in auto engineering, three extra hands, and the strength of ten angry buffalo. (Maybe the buffalo will pity me and give me their wool. Hee hee.)

I am going to shop, shop, shop. I am going to get all the fiber types and colors I can carry. I don't plan on buying large quantities of anything, as I am new to spinning and really just want to try everything out to see what I like and get an eye for manipulating my colors. I want to see the Alpaca Parade (I think Stephen will get a kick out of that), and I want to sample all the foods and drinks that the vendors will let me sample. Yum yum. Goat cheese, wine, honey, and candy just to name a few of the fabulous things that will be there.

Ever since I read the cookbook The Frugal Gourmet, I do not eat lamb, veal, or foie gras, so I am a little out of luck for food choices. Everything there is deep fried (a big no-no for me when I travel), or made of lamb. Hopefully I will find a nice vendor that will make me a veggie sandwich. I'll report back to let you know.

Most of all I just want to meet the friends I've made on Ravelry. This is really hard for me to do, so if you see me staring at you please don't be creeped out. I'm just working up the nerve to say hello.

Can't wait to see you all there!

My Letter to Franklin

Dear Franklin,

On the surface, when I first planned to make the trip to Kennett Square, PA from Wilmington, DE to participate in the 1,000 Knitters project I saw it as just another knitting expedition; one of countless others I have made since becoming a knitter 10 years ago. I knew this would be a chance to meet other knitters, work on a project in the company of others who share my love for fiber, and get to meet a well-known blogger and photographer at the same time. My 8 month old, Stephen, would be coming along for the ride and we would have a fine morning in a cute town, with a little yarn shopping on the side. By all appearances, we were just a happy family taking in a glorious spring day, but there was so much more that took place Saturday morning, and I want you to know about it.
I want you to know how hard it was for me to get out of bed that day, pack up the truck, and drive to a town I had never visited before. I want you to know how hard it was for me to talk to strange people in a strange location. I need you to know that the 1,000 Knitters project means so much more to me than just a celebration of the craft. The fact is I haven’t made countless trips to knitting expeditions; I have only been to two fiber festivals, and only because my parents were able to come with me. A fine morning in a cute town is fraught with fear and anxiety for me, and yarn shopping is a nightmare of drowning in people.
I almost backed out from the trip. I convinced myself that no one would want a woman to show up with a baby in tow. I told myself the gas prices were too high. I was afraid that Stephen would have a melt-down while we were there; bringing too much attention to ourselves and making me look like a terrible mother. Worries mounted and fears grew, but I packed our bags and we were on our way. I was ready to drive back home even as a drove past the shop and saw all the people on the sidewalk knitting, but after a quick pep talk with my mom and dad on the phone I had the baby in his stroller and walked to the front table to sign up for my picture.
When my number was called I sat down and picked up the needles and took a look at my baby, my son, the most amazing thing I have ever created and knew that it was all worth it. My hands, which have been knitting for so long I think they could do it in my sleep, shook as I knit my two rows and made small talk with you. We chatted about Abigail and Stephen and the knitting we have done for them and how fast they grow. I told you how much I love Harry, how sweet I think he is and what a wonderful spirit he has. Conversation was easy and you were so nice.
What I didn’t tell you was that this was my sacrifice for my son. If I do this, he will see how easy it can be to meet new people. If I do this, he will travel as an adult to new and exciting places. If I do this, he will know he can do anything he wants with his life, anything at all. If I do this, he will know that he will never have to live in fear.
In all your pictures, I see happy people, concentrating people, chatty people. I see kind eyes, wise foreheads, and stern mouths. I wonder what people will see in my photograph. At first, I wanted them to see clear skin, good hair, and maybe a miraculous twenty pound weight loss. Now, I know what I want them to see. I want them to see what I felt that day, and what the 1,000 Knitters project means to me: hope, courage, and love.