The Patient Shawl

I'm still sorting out the craft boxes around here, and in the meantime, I've been working on my go-to knitting project: Citron Grand. I mentioned it in this post a long time ago. This week I laughed at myself because it really is taking me forever to finish this thing. It's my first lace project ever and I definitely underestimated how much longer it takes to knit thin yarn versus thick.

Then I remembered that the Sailor helped me to wind ALL of the yarn for the project before our cruise... minutes before we needed to leave for the airport. (I insisted we wind and pack ALL of it.)

 

This too made me laugh, because I barely put a dent in this project on that ship.

Well, I've been back on land for several months and the dent is slightly bigger. I did manage to eek in a few rows during that knitting retreat a few months back and over the past few days, I got a whole other section done. 

And then something horrible happened. Somehow I couldn't get the yarn up over the circular needle 'hump'. (Those of you using cheap-o needles will know what I mean. Those of you who have splurged on sensible needles: I commend you for your choice. May I please borrow your size 6 for this project?) 

Maybe my tension was too tight -- who knows.

All I know is that somehow, the yarn started felting and sticking together and it was next to impossible to get any of the yarn over the hump. 

 
This morning, I spent a good hour trying to fix the mistake by ripping back about 8 rows worth of work. (Hundreds of stitches per row. Hundreds.) I sat on the patio, drank too much coffee, and willed this thing to heal on its own. 

I also reminded myself to be a little more patient. With temperatures reaching near 100 today, I certainly don't need to finish this thing anytime soon. 
 
Knitting has definitely taught me patience. Just when I want to give up on something, I realize that some things take longer than others. Like this shawl. Like moving somewhere totally new. Not everything will happen right away. I still feel like there's so much to do and to sort out in our new home, but I have to remind myself that it doesn't have to all happen TODAY.  Or even tomorrow for that matter.

Cardboard Carnage and Pyrex Pretties

It is amazing to me that only a week ago the Sailor and I were on the road, heading to a new city.

So much has happened since then!

My last post elicited a few panicked emails and messages from friends we left behind. (Thankfully, I alerted my mother before she read the blog...) I'm happy to report that the same day I wrote my 'homeless' post, we received the keys to our new and wonderful place. There were a few cups of coffee and lunch in between, and mounds of paperwork to sign (seriously... we signed a rental lease, not a mortgage...) But later that night, we settled into our new apartment enough to feel at home.

The Sailor had the truck unpacked within two hours (!) My job? Sorting out boxes galore. 

Cardboard carnage

We still have some unpacking to do, but since it's the weekend, we're taking a break. 

In the meantime, I'm absolutely giddy with the amount of kitchen space I now have. Regular readers will know that I have just moved out of what I considered the smallest kitchen in America. (Have a tiny kitchen? Read my small kitchen hints here and here.)

I seem to have moved into a kitchen that could have swallowed our entire former apartment. Seriously, this kitchen is BIG. 

The best news of all? Plenty of counter space and shelves to display the Pyrex. (I'm also happy to report that despite moving hassles, all of my pretties made it to the other side, unscathed!)

This is my view just above the sink. Vintage Butterprint and Butterfly Gold Pyrex in their glory -- along with a turquoise chip and dip set thrown in there simply because it matches. 

This morning, I did some solo exploring in our new location, and I found this lovely Anchor Hocking milk glass cake stand. 

All that's missing is the cake. You can be sure I'll be baking quite a few in my new kitchen! 

Moving Chaos

Moving is chaos. I'm trying to remember my moving tip from a few days ago: LAUGH. 

The Sailor and I weren't laughing much over the past 48 hours. 

We should have been in our apartment by now, and on our way to the nearest IKEA with an empty moving truck to pick up furniture. However, thanks to a Leasing Agent who lied, we are currently homeless. 

OK, so we are not truly homeless, even though the Sailor's mom seems to think we are actually living on the street. 

Thankfully, only our moving truck had to spend the night on the street. We have super hospitable friends in the area, and we have the means to stay in a hotel if necessary, until we can sort out alternative housing. 

Relocating to a completely new city with our life packed into a 12' moving truck is stressful enough. Add on this housing debacle, and the frustration level skyrockets.

I know things will work out in the end. In the meantime though, I may not have the chance to blog much. And I hope the plants survive.

 

Moving Tip

The Sailor and I are in the throes of packing chaos at the moment. I now have a love hate relationship with cardboard. And tape. Packing paper and bubble wrap are also pretty high on the list. I'm exhausted and we haven't even packed the moving truck yet. (Don't even talk to me about the days of driving ahead...)

For much of my life, I have been what some people call a professional nomad. I generally love the packing process as well as the travel itself. It gets me excited about the destination -- the people I'm going to meet and the new things I'll experience. But this is the first time I've moved with real furniture (and not just a desk and chair), plus I have quite a lot of kitchen stuff. Despite following most of my spring cleaning tips, the boxes are still piling up.

So, understandably, I've been a little more frazzled about this move than others. 

Earlier today, in between trying to figure out what else to pack in the box with the cast iron cookware, I looked into the living room and saw the Sailor, casually watching TV. He was sitting in my favorite IKEA chair, surrounded by boxes, packing paper and bubble wrap. 

Clearly, the TV was not yet packed (deep breath...), but the Sailor was pretty chilled out about it all. 

He reminded me to take a different kind of deep breath and to just S-L-O-W down. This move is meant to be an adventure. This year, I'm also supposed to just chill out. And then he made me laugh.

I'm glad the TV isn't packed yet. I'm thinking that instead of packing one more box tonight, I'm going to finish knitting a dishcloth (anything more complicated is beyond me and/or already packed at this point...) and watch a comedy with the Sailor.

My best moving tip so far? Laugh. Laugh a lot. Moving is stressful. Saying goodbye to friends and family is emotional. Going somewhere new can be exciting and scary at the same time. 

Laughter? It is generally good for the soul, and can make you feel better within seconds. 

What's your favorite moving tip?

Down on the Farm

In the midst of the craziness of packing and moving, I spent the past few days with some of my closest college friends at a farm. We cooked, we laughed, we sat on the porch and watched the rain, we drank local wine, and we reveled in the simple life that farms seem to offer. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm sure having a farm is hard work. But there is no denying the simple pleasures that we gained from spending even only a few days at one. 

I mean, how can you not smile when you see these faces?  

The four of us gals have been spread out over the globe since college, and every now and again, we manage to all gather at the same location, at least for a short time. Family commitments, schooling, class schedules, projects, house sales and moving dates made this particular get-together nothing short of a miracle.

Sometimes there are all kinds of activities and busyness when we gather. This trip though, we pretty much just chilled. With giant life-changing situations happening in each of our lives, this farm gave us the chance to simply relax together. 

Personally, I spent a lot of time in my felt slippers, knitting and looking at the view.  

I even managed to get myself out of bed early enough to watch the sunrise a few mornings. 

 

We didn't solve the world's problems during our stay, or even most of our own issues. But we did talk, laugh, and hash out quite a few of them. I at least drove away from the farm a little less high strung than when I arrived. 

 

In addition to missing my friends until our next reunion, I will definitely miss this view... but I feel full of farm goodness.