5 of 52

In which we confess the things we aren’t giving a fuck about, but later

Does this look vaguely familiar? It should. This is a mini Fourth Doctor scarf, suitably sized for my five foot frame. It is going a bit quicker than the last one, being approximately half the size. I’m a hair over half way done with it.

Guys. I am bored with garter stitch. And these are not even colors I particularly like. But I am fangirling hard, and I NEED this scarf in my life, because reasons. Therefore, I am knitting on. There’s one more left after mine, and I am just gonna grit my teeth and plow through.

Here are the books I am reading. I broke my unannounced reading rule of one book at a time, because February got here before I finished Anansi Boys, and so I needed to start Sarah’s Cousins Book Club selection in a timely manner. I’m two chapters into both, and you can see from the post’s tag line that I am taking the material to heart already.

Now then, a discussion of things I now find worthy and unworthy of my personal fucks. I know you can’t wait to read this part. HA!

So, near the end of December, I decided that I wanted to do the following things on a daily basis in 2018:

  • Create things
  • Express appreciation to others
  • Haiku
  • Make music
  • Read
  • Write stories from my days

I even made myself a handy-dandy year long tracker for each item in my bullet journal.

Here’s what I notice I give a fuck about, because I do them at least five of seven days: Create, Express appreciation, Haiku, Read. I do not make music or write prose. I want to be a writer and musician, but I am not willing to consistently put my energy into these things. Perhaps because they aren’t concrete goals like knit 12 items and read 12 books. Perhaps because I have limited resources of time and find other things more enjoyable. Perhaps because I could do these things, but it would require running through my evenings with a timer in my hand and not interacting with my family and this is unacceptable to me. Maybe after my tangible creativity goals for the year are met. Maybe not. Maybe what I am getting around to on a regular basis is an accurate representation of what is actually important to me. And that’s okay. I can practice giving and not giving fucks any way that increases my personal life satisfaction.

4 of 52

In Which We Vow To Knit Smarter As you can see, I finished the first Fourth Doctor Scarf. I promise the recipient isn’t always as grumpy as he appears here. There have been a few shake-ups this week, and we’re all kinda trying to roll with the punches. You’ll note that I’m keeping my face out of this blog post. Here’s a picture of the giant scarf roll. This is a picture of the other side, and the proof that I need to knit smarter. That, my friends, is 104 ends that need weaving in. And you can’t even see the ones in the work itself where the yarn ball ran out in the middle of a stripe. Oi! Here’s 18 feet of jumbled up finished scarf. There’s really no way to get a picture of the whole thing laid out. I started a new book, third for the year; and picked my in-between project. I’ll be working on this until February 1st: I’ll start it tomorrow and may or may not get it finished by Wednesday night. Knitting will recommence Thursday. There was also working, a bit of cooking, and plenty of wine drinking. And that, dear reader, is your weekly update. One day ahead of schedule. Go me!

3 of 52

We’ll call this one “The Nope Edition.” Nope, I didn’t finish the Fourth Doctor Scarf, though I only have 72 rows to go. Nope, I didn’t finish Illusions, though another 20 minutes should do it. I did go to Frederick today, where I picked up another copy of Illusions for a friend, and this delightful yarn.

It’s wound into cakes and ready to become Edison by Lynn Di Cristina, and I can cast on as soon as I quit typing.

2 of 52

There has been knitting almost every day this week, and a big push yesterday. Here’s 15 feet of Fourth Doctor Scarf, with about 300 rows to go. If I’m super productive, it will be finished when you next see it.

There has also been reading. I finished Ella Minnow Pea, and started Illusions. It’s fairly short, so I expect to finish it this week as well. I’ve got longer books in my queue, but the shorter ones give me an early feeling of accomplishment which will help keep me motivated. Also, I promised my neighbor I’d get to this one quickly and pass it on to him.

There is no visual highlight for this week, which is not to say good things didn’t happen, just that they weren’t photographable. We’re talking about the gardens, weekend getaways, and how to find good work/home/relationship balance. And we’re trying to teach three teenagers and a preteen the arts of negotiation and consensus building. Wish us luck on that!

There has also been a bit of sadness. My second cat died a couple of days ago, two months after the first one. I’m not planning to re-catify. I need to focus on training the rude out of my dog.

1 of 52

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.

Test post

Because I’m thinking about blogging again after an 18plus month hiatus, so I need to check things.

A Peek at My Wednesdays

As I type this in my office, which is Clientless because I can’t see people between 9 and 11 on Wednesday morning, I can clearly hear the lady across the hall screaming at the assembled congregation. This is why I can’t see anyone on Wednesdays between 9 and 11. First there is the music, which is good, but also loud enough to vibrate the floor under my feet. Then there is the screeching preaching.

I mean, I am all about some exhortation, but I have never enjoyed being screamed at myself, so I much prefer to love people into submission. Generally, I find it easier to exercise authority over those who willingly allow me to lead. Not from fear, you see, but because they believe my vision has value and trust my judgement. But that’s just me. The higher the stakes, the lower and slower I speak. If it’s really important, I may not talk much at all–just roll up my sleeves and get to work.

I find this Wednesday morning church ironic. The pastor who runs this clinic has one of the gentlest, most thoughtful voices I have ever heard. I can no more imagine him yelling at people than I can imagine …I don’t know. Of course, I have never heard him preach. Which doesn’t mean he doesn’t preach– he does so every Monday from 11 to 1. During which time I can see clients. Just sayin’.

But Wednesday mornings? They are a wash here, except for admin tasks. Luckily(??), I have plenty of those. Discharges, treatment planning, scheduling, supervision, concurrent reviews, missing intake paperwork, playing GO. All good Wednesday morning tasks. Actual counseling? Not so much.

Note to self: this would be a great time for headphones and classical music.

This entry was posted on May 25, 2016, in cass works.

I might be a narcissist if

I won’t write in my paper and ink journal because it’s too much effort, even though I carry it everywhere I go except the bathroom, but I will journal at the computer where all my friends and family and seven billion strangers have access to it. Nonetheless, I noticed the other day that I haven’t posted since the fourth day of February, and this blog needs to earn it’s keep, so here we are.

I read not long ago that if you devote an hour a day to reading about a certain topic, you’ll be an expert in that field within seven years. And I wondered what fields I would explore if I decided to do that. I haven’t, you know. Decided, I mean. I just wondered. But I’d like to be an expert in social work. And I would like to be able to render a picture in my mind into recognizable form. Not using words, that is–just lines, color, shading. And I would like to be able to differentiate one classical composer from another without needing to look at the cd label. I need to choose wisely. At forty-eight, I have time to become an expert in only five areas assuming I do them one at a time (and die at the expected time with my mind intact–a pretty rash assumption). I won’t do it singularly, if I do it at all, because that’s how I roll, but still. That’s the maximum amount of time I have.

Then, I read that if you write three hundred words per day, you’ll have a book at the end of the year. Just three hundred. Man, that’s kinder and gentler than the one thousand six hundred and sixty-seven that NaNoWriMo requires, isn’t it? I think I could do three hundred. You’ll notice that all the numbers are spelled out here, and THIS is the three hundred and twelfth word. So I am there. Not that this is novel material, but it took less than fifteen minutes from deciding to blog to get to three hundred and twelve words.

I’m once again confronted with the difference between what I say I want and what I actually do.

Want. Do.

I’ve been presented recently with the opportunity to pursue a thirty-five year old dream, with minor alterations in details. And by minor I mean less than 500 miles. It’s a thing I can’t not do. Because thirty-five years. Offered at a time I am financially, mentally, emotionally prepared to do it. To not do the thing would be stupid. Even if I am terrified.

Remember this?
fearless tat

People ask folks with back tats what the point is. Why would you get a tattoo where you can never see it? I do see it. I can look in the mirror. Or at photos. But more importantly than being able to SEE it, is knowing it’s there. Every day. This is a useful thing for me. Every time I have an opportunity that scares me, I remind myself I am fearless. I am so fearless that I paid good money to have it painfully etched into my skin.

Do you remember when I got it? I do. Three years ago. One year away from my BSW. After four years of single parenting. After putting more demons to rest than I care to re-visit today. I’m fearless. And so I’m moving.