Journal Block?

Last week on Thanksgiving (was that really over a week ago?!) I mentioned my 50 plus journals and how every year I write out what I'm thankful for.

Suffice it to say, with guests visiting, the Sailor arriving home, and the four-month-old Peanut's neediness, I haven't gotten around to writing that list yet, although I've been mulling it around in my head. 

Actually, I've really been mulling around the reasons why it's taking me so long to finish this particular journal.

I bought this current journal in Abu Dhabi in April of 2012. It's a pocket-sized book in a bright turquoise blue — a reminder of the fabulous pedicure I had in the country. My hands look like I spend my days washing dishes without gloves, but if it's sandal weather, I tend to make sure my toenails are actually polished. Turquoise was the color I chose for the remainder of that trip.

Pick any journal off of my shelf and I'll be able to tell you what country I was in and what was going on in my life simply by looking at the book itself. I may not be able to remember the Sailor's mobile phone number, but I can remember where I was while writing the story of my life. Friends who know me well have gifted me gorgeous leather-bound and handmade paper journals from far-flung places around the globe. At the moment I have several from Egypt begging to be filled. 

I picked the small turquoise journal in Abu Dhabi because I envisioned taking it further afield to other international trips to Scotland and Ukraine that summer. Smaller size equals easier transport. Instead, I started the journal on July 4th and due to extenuating family circumstances, didn't get on a plane to anywhere until much later in the year.

Over two years later, this journal still has a few blank pages in it. It's been to South Africa and the Caribbean, plus several States on a 3000-mile road trip, and yet I still can't seem to finish it. I used to complete a pocket-sized journal on a two week trip to Eastern Europe. And yet, despite the crazy few years I've had and the life-changing events along the way, I haven't been able to finish this journal. 

I blame technology to some extent. My iPhone now goes everywhere with me instead of my journal. I type out notes with my finger instead of my pen, and I make lists and calendar entries by clicking open apps. 

I blame this blog a bit, because let's face it, I've written pretty regularly on here for two years now, and it's much faster for me to type than to write anything. Plus it's getting increasingly difficult to reread my handwriting. Not because my eyesight is going, but because my writing is getting sloppier. 

I blame the book that has been stagnating on my computer for years while I try to figure out when I'm ever going to return to Ukraine to write its conclusion. I spent the summer of 2012 partly rereading many of those old journals, while typing out my story of summers past. Clearly I neglected the current journal in the process.
 
On the other hand (and new baby aside...) it's time to stop blaming other stuff. I think I've just been a little lazy. I often tell other people to write out their thoughts when they are going through life transitions, and yet here I am, trying to muster up the energy to finish writing out the birth story of the Peanut before I forget every little detail, and I only have three pages left to fill. THREE! 

This is the journal that saw the death of my older brother, a special reunion with life-long friends, a major move across the country, pregnancy and a new baby, plus the death of my lifetime mentor — all HUGE events that warrant handwritten thoughts and memories, and yet many of them barely got so much as a scribble of acknowledgement.

It's one thing to type out part of my story, it's quite another to write it out. While I'm thankful my mother made me take typing in school (back in the days when it wasn't even required!) I'm far more grateful that she bought me my first ever journal, giving me a place to store my secrets. (I shared more of that story in an article in the Winter 2014 edition of Artful Blogging.)

Part of me knows that once I start a new journal, the words will come easier. Sometimes a blank slate is all you need. More than once, I've filled up journals from the back as well as the front. The back holds the lists of books I've read since I started that journal (48 in the current journal that I remembered to write down... there could be more.) There are also cinema ticket stubs (at least 18 — some may have fallen out along the way), as well as packing lists, to do lists, and words of wisdom printed on tea bags such as 'grace brings contentment'. 

This particular journal seems to have more stuff scribbled and pasted into the back than usual — like I have been desperately trying to finish this book without having to write anything of substance in it.

I haven't traveled anywhere of late, but the journal does seem to move from room to room with me, willing me to finally finish it. 

It's sitting here next to me on the desk. I definitely don't want to stretch this writing rut into 2015. So, if you'll excuse me, I think while the Peanut is miraculously still sleeping (on his own!), I may just have to finish my story, and this particular journal. 

After all, a new story and a new journal awaits.

Thankful

Fifty plus journals line the bottom of my bookshelf. Every year, on Thanksgiving, I try take the time to make a list of what I'm thankful for. Some years, the list is lengthy and eloquent. Other years I hastily scribble bullet points, hoping I'll be able to decipher my own handwriting at a later date.

This year, in between making a pumpkin pie and keeping track of the Peanut, I probably won't get to my journal until the weekend. 

Number one on my list this year? (Besides the safe arrival of the Peanut, of course!) The Sailor is on his way home for the holidays. Sailor homecomings are infinitely better than departures. 

Safe travels to you and yours... Happy Thanksgiving from our little (but loud) family.

Thanksgiving Stuff and Stuffing

Yesterday the Peanut and I braved the cold (Winter, we are so not ready for you...) and while he slept cozily in his sling, I browsed a few of my favorite stores, searching for Thanksgiving stuff. You know, some turkey-themed napkins, a floral arrangement, maybe a new table runner... decor that oozes Thanksgiving. 

Nothing. 

Nada. 

Zip. 

Zilch. 

Oh, there was Christmas stuff galore in every store. I didn't mind... it is November after all, and Christmas is a mere five plus weeks away. But Thanksgiving is over a week away -- how could there be NOTHING on display? Even the clearance racks came up short. 

One of the sales ladies asked me if I found everything I was looking for, so I asked if I was missing the Thanksgiving stuff. You know, cause Thanksgiving hasn't happened yet. She looked surprised that I would dare shop before Thanksgiving for turkey-related items.

I left thinking she was the turkey. 

I'm still slightly baffled by this. So I went home to search for my stuffing recipe. I may not have any Thanksgiving decor for the table, but by golly, my stuffing will happen again this year.
 
My family has never been much for Thanksgiving traditions, besides of course, the actual turkey and enough for leftover sandwiches the day after. In high school, I spent the holiday with a friend's family out-of-state. Post-college, I've shared Thanksgiving meals with strangers and friends, in obscure places like Ukraine where cranberries and turkey weren't to be found, overseas on a ship in West Africa, where I stuffed myself so full that I had to unbutton my jeans, and a progressive meal at three different homes in one night in England, chauffeured by our office's treasurer.

With such a hodge podge of Thanksgivings, I wanted to start a few traditions of my own -- like my stuffing. In all of the years that my mom has made a wonderful feast, I don't remember her ever making stuffing. I figured I could easily incorporate it into a family meal as an addition.

Okay, so it's not my stuffing. It's the Food Network Magazine's. I made it two years ago for the first time, and then again last year. I decided it needs to stay. 

But when I looked in my nifty recipe book, all I found was the cover sheet with the photo of the stuffing. The paper inside listed mix and match potato dishes, not the stuffing. Apparently in my madness to sort my recipes, I tossed the actual recipe, thinking that it was on the potato sheet instead. 

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! 

I mentally composed an email to the Food Network to BEG for their recipe, since I had accidentally thrown it out. I figured I'd give them the whole Thanksgiving-might-be-ruined-story. 

Thankfully, a quick search online yielded the mix-and-match stuffing recipe, and I didn't have to beg for it. Now you have it too. You're welcome. 

Happy early Thanksgiving...  and if you want to knit a quick gift for a friend's child, try a Thanksgiving Bird Blanket. Gobble, gobble.

Life Happens

I meant to sit down today and write a lengthy blog post... and maybe even a few extras on the side to store up for later. 

And then life happened. 

The Peanut needed feeding. 

Then changing. 

Then a nap. 

And right now the Peanut seems to enjoy napping on me, and I know these days won't last forever, so I don't mind. 

Then feeding again. 

Somewhere in between there, I needed to fix myself something to eat. Several times a day, in fact. Occasionally I get to sit down to eat it. 

And of course there was laundry to do. 

Then a walk outside for fresh air for both of us. Another nap for the Peanut.

Then more feeding, more changing, more laundry. 

I promised myself I'd lower my expectations of what could be done in a day once the Peanut arrived. Apparently 'do the laundry' and 'blog' should be on separate days. 

Right now, I'm typing this while the Peanut is squirming on my lap. 

Sometimes while I'm feeding, changing and napping him, I'm thinking of blog posts to type out. Or I look at my stash of yarn and dream of projects to come. 

Then I look at my smiley little guy and I just think all of those things can wait until someday later.

Holey Slippers

I love my slippers. Ever since my first trip to Ukraine, I have been a huge fan of slippers, house shoes, whatever you want to call them. My traveling friends and I used to find the ugliest pair for sale in outdoor markets and we'd send them to each other via snail mail. 

Over the years, I learned to make my own and some lucky pals are actually the recipients of handmade ones nowadays. Some of my favorites are these granny square slippers and these heavy duty felted ones. 

Then I felted the blue pair on the left and I gave them to my mom (knowing that she also loved this pair I made for her.) To give you an idea of how giant these are before felting, the pair on the right fit me perfectly and I'm a US shoe size 9.5.

Now, my pair on the right has a few holes in them. 

It was enough that this pair eventually wore holes in them after one winter. ONE. 

(You can actually see the light streaming through the hole on the right heel.)

 

I guess I kind of expected my orange pair to last forever. I did not, however, expect to feel the cold floor under my left toe when I stumbled into the kitchen earlier than usual this morning because the Peanut didn't get the Daylight Savings memo. 

There's only two things left to do. 

1. Turn the heat on. The weather got below freezing last night and I don't want the Peanut to turn into a popsicle, after all. 

2. Knit a new pair of slippers. These holes might be beyond repair. 

I should probably add a third thing: 

3. Buy more yarn for new slippers.