So. Here I am, with a goal of 52 posts in 2018. There is no way I am going to try to bring you all up to speed on the last however many months it’s been. We’ll just start with current stories, the first of which has old antecedents. Last Christmas (that would be 2016) I gave out six knitting coupons “for a hand knitted item of your choice.” And one of the recipients said “Anything?” And I said “Sure,” because I love him and am also naïve. And then he said “a Fourth Doctor Scarf.” And then a second recipient changed her mind, and said she wanted that, too, but not full size. And then I said, “Well, I’ve been meaning to knit one for myself anyway, so three Fourth Doctor scarves it is!” Then I had a thyroid flare which aggravated my carpal tunnel to the point that I could not knit for about 10 months. But here, at long last, is the first of three Fourth Doctor scarves approaching the finish line. This one is full size. I’m 1492 rows in, a bit less than 600 rows to go. Goal for the year: 12 finished pieces, six for others and six for me. General craftiness goal: At least 30 minutes on five of seven days.
Look at me go: SMART goals in my personal life. You’d almost think I write a lot of treatment plans or something. Like a Social Worker.
This is what I am reading. I bought two copies of this book, one for me and one for Sarah. We’re trying again to start a long distance book club, since she’s moved back to North Carolina, and this book looked fun. And it is! I’m sure she’s finished by now because she reads much faster than I do. I’ve finally accepted that I just don’t have the liberty to sit for hours and read on a regular basis, so I have cut my reading goal to an achievable 12 books this year. A long way for my 50+ days, but more realistic. Again, I aim for 30 minutes a day on five of seven days.
And this was the highlight of the week! We attended the Midwinter Night’s Dream Masquerade Ball last night. Here I am dancing, dressed as Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland. I somehow managed to lose about 5 pounds between the time my dress was fitted on Wednesday morning and putting it on for the party Saturday night. No lie. Not complaining, mind you, but it is a bit of a seamstress’s nightmare.
Oh, I said we: Here I am with The Mad Hatter, The Queen of Hearts, and The Cheshire Cat.
Saturday 11:55 am.
Also, time to begin working on the scrapbooking.
Errykitty gets to eat. Errykitty gets to use the box. Nokitty has to play Hot Lava 24/7.
Ya’ll. So tired. I contemplated going to bed, but the nightly tea ritual. So I’m not in bed yet. But soon.
In truth, I am trying to garner up the energy to tackle that closet one more time. I made a plan at work that I think will help me both weed out more things I don’t use and better organize what is left. But I pretty much have to take everything out and put it on the bed. And I’m tired, in case I didn’t mention it. I’m going to want my bed long before I would be through with the project. Unless this is magic tea.
I just want to reach in there and get dressed for the day quickly and efficiently. I mean, I know what I wear to work, right? Always a solid shirt and a print skirt. Occasionally a dress. Why don’t I already have that stuff on one side, with the shoes I wear to work underneath? Why do I paw through my dress shirts every. damn. work. day. to get to my solid knits? Yeah, I don’t know either. But I do know when I went in there to start the process, I eliminated three more things off the bat. And half a dozen more are iffy.
So, I’m excited to do that. But I am not going to bury my bed at 7pm, when bedtime is 8. Nope. Gonna finish this tea, wash my face, and slip between the sheets. Maybe tomorrow morning.
For years, plenty of them, my younger girls have been asking when I was going to make their scrapbooks. And my older kids have been asking when was I going to finish their scrapbooks. I finally have an answer: 2016.
This pile (plus two more bins tucked into a closet) is roughly 30 years worth of memorabilia, minus the 5-6 years in the middle which I’ve completed. Oh, and I quit developing pictures when digital got big, so there will be more.
Here’s the rub: I haven’t had a dedicated scrapping space since I left Topeka in 2000. I made one today. I’m not sure the children will be entirely happy with me, because I claimed the dining room table to make this happen. And I have to be able to leave things on it. Scrapping isn’t something I can do in 10 minutes and clean up and take back out for 10 minutes again later. I need the pictures, the papers, the books, the mats, the tape runner, the page protectors, the pens, the, the, the literally at my fingertips.
So. We’ll be eating our meals Japanese style, seated on the floor around a coffee table in front of the glass wall to the balcony for the duration. Not a great solution, but a solution. I want to get these stories down before I get dementia. My memory is sketchy enough as it is.
In other news, I cleaned the living room today. I have a guest coming this weekend. I’ve promised to spend next Tuesday with my daughter. I can tackle the bathrooms and kitchen next Thursday. Then Marscon the next weekend. That means I can start scrapping on the 18th (if I’m off for the holiday and I am pretty sure I am) or the 19th. The first thing I have to do is look at all this stuff and see what I actually have. It’s been moved and removed so many times that all I have now is a great big jumbled up mess of memories.
This morning, I did some digital purging. Then I started on my clothes again. Another ten percent gone, and the closet is still full. And then I did the bookshelves again, another five percent of those gone. Plus a slew of unread magazines. I now have empty shelf space. How crazy is that?
I’m embarrassed to admit that if it weren’t for the pile of crap in the living room corner waiting to be hauled off to Goodwill/The Bookthing, you’d never know I’d been purging. You certainly wouldn’t be able to tell by looking in my closet or at the shelves. Clearly there is more to do. But. Progress has been made.
You know I have said for years that I want to live in a tiny cabin one day. And that I am frustrated by the amount of stuff in my house; that I don’t want my things to come between me and life; that I’m tired of being owned by possessions. So if you are wondering what this is: this is making my actions line up with my stated priorities. It’s time to either do that, or quit lying to myself about what I want.
Two strangers complimented me on them as I walked down the hall.
I’ve got stuff that needs doing, dang it.