My First Love Letter 💌

Earlier this month, I saw a videoclip on The Talk where actress Laura Dern was taking part in a fragrance campaign for Kate Spade, in which several famous women compose “love letters” to themselves. Harper’s Bazaar has an article detailing the ad campaign here. Being that I have never received a love letter from another person, who better to write my first love letter to myself than me? So, today being my 31st birthday, I have decided to celebrate it by writing myself a love letter. And I encourage you out there to do one for yourselves as well. Just write what you love about yourself and give yourself a little encouragement or advice where you may need it.

Dear Crystal,

I know you have times where you feel like, for whatever reason, that you are worth less to those around you and that you feel like the world is turning a blind eye to you. I’m here to remind you why you are the amazing human being that you are. I’m here to remind you that you yourself are worth loving.

First and foremost, I love that you have always been fiercely independent and marching to your own drum. You may not have always been willing to do this in your life, but once you figured out that the only person you are sure to please 100% of the time is yourself, you took both drumsticks and ran to the hills. There were times when you yearned to be part of the “In” crowd, unsure of your own worth and identity and so desperately looking to others to validate you, to make you think you were normal. In the end, all that did was push those who truly cared about you away, but the ones who truly mattered always found their way back. It took a long time for you to figure out that normal was a subjective concept and that you yourself were not normal…you were one of a kind. And once you did figure that out, you embraced it. I wish for you to continue to do that for as long as humanly possible.

Secondly, I love your kindness. Even in the most trying of situations where your patience is tested (and I know you go through a lot of them these days), you manage to keep as calm of a head as you possibly can (even when the impatience starts to get to you). Whether it’s helping your brother cook his first Thanksgiving turkey for his young family or helping your neighbor’s daughter with her science project (despite the flaws she made in her experiment process beforehand) or helping your dad install a TV despite you not being the best lifter, you are unafraid to lend a hand to a friend or a family member in need. I hope you are able to carry that attitude with you through as much of your life as you possibly can.

I also love that you are an adapter. No matter what life, both the big situations and the small, seems to throw at you, you almost always find a way to make it work. And I know how much you hate change. When your mother’s condition started to show itself, you seamlessly transitioned into her caretaker, no questions asked. When you find that you are missing a major ingredient for a meal you were planning, you still find a way to make it work. When times were lean and we were short on money, you found a way to make $40 weekly grocery budget work, and now that times are better, you still find a way to make your current grocery budget work. Have leftover yarn in your stash? You can figure out what to do with it, even if you didn’t originally get the yarn for the purpose you end up using it for. You hate change, sure, but you are also willing to accept it.

Finally, I love that you are one of the best and truest friends a person could have. When you befriend a person, those you befriend deeply know who you are and love you anyway. Your closest friends are like family to you, and they have seen you at your most vulnerable and helped you through it. You have also seen your closest friends at their most vulnerable and have tried to help them through it. You and your friends have each other’s backs and are willing to stand up for each other in times of trouble or torment. When your head was way up in the clouds or you got too full of yourself, your friends were the voices of reason and brought you back down to earth. And you have learned from those experiences and have tried to become a better person as a result. With your ambitious mind, your friends taught you humility. And in today’s world, humility is hard to find.

I hope this letter finds you feeling more confident about yourself. I hope this letter reminds you of the many strengths that you have within you in the times when you are feeling weak. Sometimes when you feel that your life is going south on you, think of this letter and realize that you’ve got this. Think of this letter and find your grip. You are more capable than you realize. You’ve got this, and I love you for it.



This felt good. Sometimes we just have to evaluate ourselves and put down what we love about ourselves in writing ✍️. It can be challenging, but it can be done. Happy birthday to me.


I’ll Take My Snowless Knitter Re-Caf

This is a follow-up to my previous post, “I’ll Take My Snowless Knitter Decaf”.

So, it turns out we didn’t order a replacement brewer to be delivered. Luckily, though, my dad was able to find a local store that carried the brewer that he was interested in…but not before asking my opinion. This is a big deal for me, because I was in a state of mind for a long time that my opinion didn’t necessarily matter, for a litany of reasons that I don’t feel like discussing. The fact that he asked for my opinion on a brewer feels like a big step. I didn’t commit to either option (either a new Keurig or a Ninja), but I did point out that regular coffee grounds were cheaper than K-Cups, and was thus open to going for the Ninja (especially since I knew he’d been wanting to switch to the Ninja for a couple of years now).

He finally bought the Ninja this morning. Specifically, a Ninja Coffee Bar, which has all sorts of brewing options from classic all the way to super strong (like you’d use in a coffeehouse style drink). I have no idea which store he got it from, but he was able to find it. I consider us especially lucky that we were in a position to be able to get it, considering the price (it’s not cheap, but it’s supposed to brew quality coffee). Heck, I would have been okay with a Mr. Coffee, as long as I’d be able to enjoy my favorite morning brew once again! But my dad is a man of technology and gadgetry; he’s always been interested in the latest of just about everything, from TVs to computers to coffee makers. He likes to wait a little while before he’ll spring for something, but he usually ends up getting his hands on it eventually. It makes me think of when we got our first PC, a Packard Bell that ran (I kid you not) Microsoft Windows for Workgroups…Old School Windows. I remember when the icon to close an application was that little dash mark in the upper left-hand corner! I remember when we upgraded to Windows 95…remember the ad campaign with The Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up” playing? The “Start” button was a big deal, as was the X button closing an application! Our first HDTV ran on a cathode ray tube system! Remember when HD was top of the line? Now there’s Universal HD and 4K. I remember when my dad’s first cell phone was a flip phone, and his first smartphone was secondhand from my brother (when that iPhone became obsolete, he finally got his current iPhone, which I think is either an iPhone 5 or an iPhone 6). It’s amazing how technology has evolved just in my lifetime alone! Even with coffee makers!

Our Ninja also comes with a frothing device, and my dad has already encouraged me to experiment with it and try to become my own at-home barista (he’s even willing to be my guinea pig 😂). It came with a recipe book, and I am itching to make my first caramel macchiato!

Okay…I haven’t talked much about crafting lately, so I figured I’d fill you in. I haven’t knit much in the last month, partly because I was distracted by a crochet project, but I was also dealing with a nagging back issue that is only just within the last few days finally starting to resolve itself.

The crochet project: I was reading through some other blogs last month when one of them (I think Mad Man Knitting) was talking about a corner-to-corner project. I decided to try it out for myself, and using some leftover stash yarn, I started working on a corner-to-corner piece of my own. I’m not quite ready to show you pictures just yet (maybe in a future post), but it has a nice look so far, a mix of solid and variegated, each separated by a soft white stripe. I’m hoping it will be a sofa-sized throw when it’s done.

My back: About three weeks ago, I had to unclog a toilet in the middle of the night, and in the process, I must have either pulled a muscle or pinched a nerve. The following morning, my back was stiff as a board, my range of motion was gone on my left and limited on my right, and I had to walk at a snail’s pace. Bending over was next to impossible without feeling excruciating pain and when I did bend over (even just to get ice out of the freezer, which is a pull-out freezer), I’d have to do so while supporting myself on something nearby. Laying on my side or sitting with support behind me would ease the pain a little bit. I was able to walk at a regular pace after a couple of days, but the stiffness and the difficulty bending over remained. Sleeping in my parents’ bed (which I do when my dad works in order to help my mom out when she inevitably awakens in the middle of the night) did me no favors either. It took well over a week, almost two to finally get all of my range of motion back, but I am still dealing with a little knot of pain in my left lower back (though now the pain is just annoying instead of excruciating), and I still cannot stay bent over for long periods of time, but it has slowly been improving. My back is at its stiffest when I first get out of bed or when standing after sitting for an extended period of time, but it relaxes after I stand for a few minutes. Whatever I did to it, it’s been slow to heal, but it has been healing.

So, as I write, I have been drinking my first cup of coffee ☕️ in over a week. We brewed a pot on the “Rich” setting, which makes the coffee just like my dad likes it: strong and stout. The carafe that came with the Ninja has a tube going down into it that essentially fills and mixes the coffee from the bottom as it fills, making for a smoother and more flavor-consistent cup of coffee. Mine is Folgers medium roast, with sugar and vanilla creamer added, and it still tastes like a strong cup of coffee.

I hope you all are having a good day, and if you drink it, enjoy your coffee!

And since I mentioned it, here’s “Start Me Up” by The Rolling Stones!

I’ll Take My Snowless Knitter Decaf

It’s unusual that I reference coffee in the title, but I feel for what’s been going on for the last few days or so, it’s appropriate. See, I am currently in what is probably my longest stretch of going without coffee ☕️ ever since I started drinking it on a regular basis (which was basically my original stint in college, so about 18-19 years old; prior to that, I would enjoy the occasional gas station-style cappuccino from my high school’s cafeteria, or a styrofoam cup of highly sweetened black coffee at the bingo hall while helping my mom and grandmother set up their playing papers prior to their going to bingo night, probably as far back as 14 or 15 years of age).

So, last week we ran out of creamer (and I’ve gotten so used to creamer by this point that I can no longer drink my coffee with just sugar in it, I now need to have creamer or milk in it) and I wasn’t going to be able to get groceries until Tuesday (which was yesterday morning, so I’ve already done the shopping now) because my dad decided to finally get a physical done on Monday morning. (Other than high blood pressure and his weight, he’s actually doing okay for someone who’s a nearly pack-a-day smoker. He saw the same doctor who’s treated my mom for many years, and my grandmother for years before that.) So I get the groceries done yesterday morning, and well, I was already fueled by both a cherry Coke and a regular Coke (vending machines, right?), so I planned on waiting until yesterday evening to have my first cup of coffee since maybe Friday or Saturday. I put a K-Cup into our Keurig brewer (which we’ve had since maybe late 2012 or 2013, when our Mr. Coffee’s hot plate stopped working) and went to go wake up my dad. After he starts to get out of bed, I go back to the kitchen to get his coffee. It is not brewing like it’s supposed to. It just goes *drip…drip…drip*. One. Drop. At. A. Time. This is not a good sign. We try cleaning out the needle housing. No luck. We try changing cup sizes. No luck. So I give my dad a glass of sweet tea for his trouble and I decided to attempt to descale the brewer in the morning.

This morning, I get up and within half an hour began my attempt to descale the brewer. Not only is the liquid still dripping out one. drop. at. a. time., I also begin to hear clicking noises when it attempts to pump water out of the reservoir. Dad gets home a little after 9:00 am, and joins me in the kitchen. After a couple more attempts at getting the water/vinegar solution to pump out of the reservoir, it just stops attempting to pump altogether. My dad says nonchalantly, “I think the water pump’s dead…time to get a new coffee maker.” Knowing he’s been interested in getting a Ninja for the last few years, I said to him, “You’ve been waiting a long time to say that, haven’t you?” He smiles back at me. He goes to his laptop, and while I only get a glimpse of a checkout screen, it seems he has placed an order for a new brewer. He also watches a video about using a Ninja coffee brewer. He has seemingly ordered the Ninja. (I will not be able to confirm or deny this until we actually obtain a new brewer, so maybe this will be a two-parter.)

I feel a little sad that our Keurig has finally croaked. I loved that Keurig. It was a fantastic brewer, willing to pump out a nice cup of coffee for me whenever I needed one. I think I’ve permanently been turned off from carafes because of that Keurig. I was always dumping out leftover coffee from the carafes we had; when we went single-serve, it felt nice not having to wait 15 minutes for the cup of coffee I’d been craving.

There is a downside to switching to the Ninja, if we are indeed switching to it: we are gonna have a boatload of coffee pods that we can no longer use (as the Ninja operates on standard coffee grounds, which is cheaper than using the K-Cups)…and I hate to throw away good coffee! (My brother and sister-in-law have a single-serve brewer that can take both grounds and coffee pods; I wonder if they’d be willing to take our coffee pods once we get our new brewer?) Oh my…

Well, it looks like I will be going at least one more day without coffee. Wish me well.

Up and Down the Road Apiece

Friday marked only the second occurrence in my entire life of its kind: I set foot in South Florida. See, unlike a lot of Floridians, I had never really explored the region that a lot of people like to refer to as “SoFlo”. South Florida to me has always been a bit of a mythical land, like Asgard, Shangri-La, or Dallas*. I had only been there once before, to visit one of my mom’s cousins in Port St. Lucie, many many years ago…when I was, maybe, 10 years old.

*= When you see somebody on “Undercover Boss” enthusiastically choose Dallas as their destination when said boss offers them a trip to literally anywhere, you might as well consider Dallas’ appeal to be as mythical as that of other, actual mythical places.

So a few days ago, we got an invitation to visit my mom’s best friend from high school at her place in Ft. Myers before said friend was scheduled to leave to bring her longtime boyfriend’s mother home to Massachusetts before spending the spring and summer in New Hampshire (which they used to call home full-time, but have now moved to their home in Florida). When my dad asked me if I wanted to come along, I jumped at it. You may remember me mentioning this friend in one of my earliest entries, “You Might Be a Floridian“. Over a decade ago, before my mom’s memory had started to cloud, she had found her friend’s ex-husband online and sent him an email asking about her. He sent a reply back saying that he and my mom’s friend had divorced years earlier, but was able to provide her with contact information. When she and her friend, who I will call L., talked to each other for the first time in over 30 years, it was as though they hadn’t missed a day. One of the first things L. said to my mother was, “You have an accent!” (This referred to the fact that my mom, after growing up in New England for most of her childhood, had long lost her New England accent and currently speaks with more of a Southern accent, although even now the New England accent will occasionally sneak back in.) We have met with her and her boyfriend, who I will refer to as W., many times over the years, even as my mom’s condition has worsened. (I still don’t feel completely comfortable talking about what my mom is dealing with, but I may do so at some point in the future. Only my closest friends really know the details right now, and I still feel like keeping it that way.) L. is genuinely one of the nicest people in the world, not a single mean bone in her body, and she has such a gentle, warm personality that welcomes anyone around her. She wears her blonde hair in a short bob with bangs, her slender frame tan from years of enjoying the sunshine and the beach. She greets everyone in a soft-spoken but friendly voice accented with the same dialect that my mother grew up speaking, New England (specifically northwestern Massachusetts). My mother’s face lights up every time we see her, a sight that is hard for us to see on most days.

We made plans to go down to visit her Friday, but it would be quite a trip. We’d make it a day trip, but it was gonna be around 400 miles round trip. So, we got into the Jeep (a Grand Cherokee that my dad traded in his truck for a few months back so that it would be easier for my mom to get in and out), and after having to leave the local McDonald’s drive through due to their card reader being out of order, we ordered some breakfast sandwiches and iced coffee from the Burger King across the street…but they forgot to put straws for the coffees in the bag (which meant that we had to take the lids off and drink them the old-fashioned way). I had sausage biscuit sandwiches, which were okay…but not quite as good as McDonald’s version. McDonald’s version has a nice, buttery biscuit that is not too moist and not too dry. The iced coffee was good, though; its flavor was a nicely-balanced blend of vanilla and coffee. Burger King’s version had the biscuit a bit more softer than I like, but it wasn’t terrible. I ate the second biscuit somewhere around Tampa. (Mom and Dad both ate sausage and cheese croissant sandwiches.)

We made our way to I-4 and then to the 417. Now, normally we don’t take toll roads (and the 417 is a toll road), but if you need to know anything about Central Florida traffic, it’s this: driving on I-4 through Orlando on a Friday can be hell. Taking the 417 around Orlando ended up saving us about an hour…or so we thought. That hour got eaten back up when we made the switch over to I-75 around Tampa. You see, there is no one particular driving style unique to Florida, and that is because Florida (being a popular tourist destination and retirement state) is a microcosm of the United States as a whole: it is a salad bowl of different states and states’ cultures. And much like the immigrants that have brought their traditions and incorporated them into American culture from the very beginning, the same goes for people who move to Florida from other states (and that includes driving styles). There are many people who drive like idiots on Florida highways, essentially treating Florida’s interstates like a game of Frogger, seemingly crossing into any open space in a lane and waiting until the last possible second to make their exit, which of course increases the risk of an accident. My dad, having driven in Florida for most of his life, has learned from this extremely well and is very well-versed in the Art of Florida Driving. Watching him drive and navigate his way through I-4 traffic, knowing I will at some point have to learn how to do this myself (and it scares the 😈 out of me at the thought of it), I have learned that the number one rule of driving in Florida is Expect the Unexpected. (Also known as “Prepare for Idiots”.)

It took us about two hours to get to Tampa, and then about another two or two and a half hours to finally make our way to Ft. Myers. We found our destination with help from the Jeep’s GPS system, and we were glad to be able to get out and stretch our legs when we saw L. and W.’s mother (who I will call F.), as W. was not there at the time; he was at the local flea market selling holographic pictures they had ordered in bulk. More on those in a moment. L. & W.’s House was located in a retirement park where the streets were lined with lots of small, trailer-like houses (not unlike the one that my maternal grandfather lived in up in New Hampshire for many years before his illness, although L. & W.’s house was a bit smaller than what I remember of my grandfather’s home). Their house was a light blue color, a favorite of L.’s, as almost every memory I have of her is of her wearing either pastel blue or pastel pink. The front door (on the northern end of the house) opened to two steps leading up into the combined living room/dining area; the living room section had a squishy armchair with a sky blue cover, a small white coffee table, and a couch that could seat three (and possibly also had a fold-out bed for guests). There was a Roku TV set up, but not on, in the living room, and a radio playing ’70s and ’80s music in the kitchen. At the end of the living area opposite the front door was white dinner table with white chairs that could seat four. The walls were decorated in all sorts of tropical colors and wind chimes present in almost every corner of the room. What caught my eye, though, was their Christmas tree (still up in February). It was not an actual tree, but lights strung up across a conical, Christmas tree-shaped structure, and in almost every space between the lights’ wiring hung a small, glass wind chime. Imagine these spread across an entire Christmas tree. A curtain of seashells separated the door between the living area and the kitchen. Their kitchen was actually the largest room in the house, with their stove and appliances situated on the southern end and a small, narrow hallway on the northern end that led to a laundry room, a bathroom, and the master bedroom. The bathroom was just as tropical in appearance as the rest of the house.

Outside, their front yard had a small palm tree 🌴 and a display out front with a witty message. Out back there was a coconut palm tree (one of two in the immediate area) which had at least a dozen coconuts in various stages of growth attached to it. To the right was an area covered in seashells (which L. had told us were gathered from the beaches of Sanibel Island, not far from the Ft. Myers area), in which sat a lime green lounge chair, some decorations, and several pots with small, round trellises inserted to guide the vines of cherry tomatoes that grew within them. While most of these tomatoes (planted and grown by W.) were still green, there were a few that were ripened enough to pick, clean, and eat right from the vine. We ate a few of the tomatoes, and they were juicy, flavorful, and absolutely delicious. I just wish she’d have been able to put some in our chicken salad that she had made for us. That was delicious, too. L. gave Dad a couple of the holographic pictures she and W. had been selling for most of the winter, one for his office at work (that consisted of three different images of eagles), and one for our house (a black and white image of a girl and a wolf that appeared incredibly three-dimensional).

All in all, we stayed for just three hours, as L. and F. were planning on going to bingo that evening for one last time before they were scheduled to leave for New England the next morning. I didn’t get to see any beaches. Then it came time to make our drive home. After a few moments of me falling asleep in the backseat after just barely leaving Ft. Myers, we stopped at a McDonald’s in Charlotte County to get some burgers, fries, and Cokes for the road. Barely a few minutes into that, one of the packs fries fell straight onto the floor. Back onto I-75, where I watched the sun set from the back seat of the Jeep, mused about the ridiculousness of a flat Earth (assuming such an Earth rotated on a vertical axis), and then hoped I could see stars through our moonroof. Sadly, I did not. My father, at the wheel, all the while did his best to avoid being stuck behind idiotic drivers, those likely to be out in full force on a Friday night. We got back to I-4 before 8:00, refueled at a gas station in Polk County, with ’70s and ’80s rock music blasting on our radio. We found our way back to the 417 and then had to take a bathroom break at a rest stop along the way. We stretched our legs while I consoled my mother, who got anxious. Dad cleaned the fallen French fries from his floorboard and then took his own bathroom break. We took a brief stroll back to the Jeep, and on the way I was able to look up and see both the constellation Orion and nearby, the waxing gibbous moon. We helped my mother back into the Jeep, my dad and I got back in once again, and then we set out on the road one last time, riding the 417 through the various toll booths until we found I-4 and were able to find those familiar roads back to my hometown. We arrived home at about 10:30, a bit tired, a little cranky, and to the greetings of our excited American Bulldog/Jack Russell mix, who ran to us with glee before proceeding to dart around the yard. She kept showering us with wet, sloppy canine kisses, even when we didn’t want her to. We finally settled down for the evening. I didn’t go to bed until 1:00 in the morning on Saturday, a full 18 hours after I had first gotten up. It was the end to what was for sure a memorable day in my mind.

Charlie Brown Syndrome (or, Chronically Single on Valentine’s Day)

Last July, I wrote this post about my experiences of being a 30-year-old single woman. It still holds true for me. One downside of this, though, comes along every February. February 14th of every year marks Valentine’s Day, or as I like to call it, “Singles Awareness Day” (as in it makes me aware…very aware…that I am single). In a time of year when people are talking about dates and flowers and love and special moments, it often leaves me feeling sad, lonely, and oftentimes jealous because I somehow always feel left out. For all intents and purposes, I am the real-embodiment of Charlie Brown.

This is not a new experience for me. I experienced it all through high school. In a time of one’s life when people are normally pairing off and experiencing the wonders of things like dating and making out and relationships, I was one of the ones who was shut out (I came close to it a time or two, but it never worked out). I’d see classmates receiving things like teddy bears, flowers, and candy from their significant others, and it almost always made me feel sad and jealous. Some classmates tried to “help” me out of pity one year, but unlike Charlie Brown when a girl named Violet finally sends him a (used) Valentine, it only made me feel worse. After a while, I just got tired of it: the gift-giving, the making dates, and even seeing the shelves of the local Walmart lined stem to stern with boxes of chocolate and similar candies, loads of large stuffed teddy bears holding little red hearts populating other sections of the store, and greeting cards proclaiming messages of love was enough for me to feel sick to my stomach.

In my younger years, my friends knew and understood this and would try to help me feel better. A lot of those friends are now married themselves and have their own traditions, so my community of fellow singles has shrunk considerably over the years. Now being 30, almost 31, and still never having been in an actual relationship…it’s more of a feeling of general loneliness now than actual sadness. My loneliness has accompanied me through life, not as a friend or a companion, but as more of something familiar that has just kept me company for all these years. I’m used to it by this point. A lot of times, I wish it would just go away, but I’m used to it being around me…I know nothing different.

I know I’m not the only one out there who’s going through these feelings. There are many, many other people out there, chronically single, who are feeling similar emotions to the ones I feel every February. If you are one of those people, I just want to let you know that you are not alone, your feelings are valid, and that it’s okay to feel sad, jealous, and lonely on Valentine’s Day. But it’s also okay to take those emotions and do something positive with them, and that’s something I try to do every year. That’s what I’ve been doing in writing this post. It’s okay to love things about yourself and try to celebrate those things. It’s okay to celebrate what you love about your friends and your family instead of trying to find a date for the sake of finding a date. It’s okay to stay at home and watch Netflix with your dog, if that’s how your plans are turning out. And it’s okay to just hang out with your friends, maybe watch some movies, play some poker, or spend the evening making lots of snarky comments on some ridiculous TV show…perhaps The Bachelor? (FYI, I can’t stand that show. I usually watch wrestling instead. 😆) Don’t have a spouse or significant other? Make Valentine’s Day what you want of it. You will get through this day, one way or another.

For me, there is always a bright side in getting over the hump that is Valentine’s Day: My birthday will be coming up around the corner. I start to look forward to my birthday once Valentine’s Day passes, as it is about five and a half weeks away. It is a day that is mine and one that I can get excited for as I know the year ahead will be an unpredictable ride. I know I’ll be okay. I won’t be happy tomorrow, but I know I’ll be okay.

Blog Wars, Episode II: The Blogger’s Block Strikes Back

I know it’s been quite quiet on my end since the holidays, but it’s not for lack of trying. Sometimes one just has to admit when the bug has bitten again, and unfortunately, I’ve been dealing with blogger’s block once again. Not even the Daily Post prompts have been enough to inspire me to write.

Doesn’t it get annoying as a blogger (or a writer in general) when those little monsters in your creative zone in your head like to take over and block any sort of inspiration or motivation to want to write? It sure does for me. And that’s been the main reason why I haven’t really been writing since Christmas. Everything else has been fine for me lately. Nothing major or catastrophic has occurred in my family or in my hometown. My reading of Hidden Figures is going okay, if not progressing as quickly as I’d like to, mainly because either I’m too sleepy at times or my iPad just keeps calling my name. I am trying to make an active effort to try and read it, though, when the minutiae of domestic life isn’t getting my attention. Knitting on Forestry has stalled a bit because I haven’t been able to get more yarn for it (I need at least a couple more colors for it to start progressing for it). Heck, my scrap yarn is calling to me to try and do something!

My life at this point has been just fine…I just haven’t had the motivation to write about it lately. However, my least favorite holiday of the year, Valentine’s Day, is just around the corner, which may finally give me some motivation to write, so…yay?

Simply put, Blogger’s Block Sucks.

Randomly on a Sunday

Pardon the radio silence on my end, there hasn’t been a whole lot going on lately. But here is a little roundup of what has been going on with me in the last couple of weeks.

  • I promise you, all is well with me. I haven’t been sick or anything out of the ordinary. I haven’t really had much inspiration to write, and when that happens, it tends to show on the blog. I usually get inspiration from things that happen in my life or in thoughts or conversations when I’m not getting it from my knitting.
  • I haven’t been to that bookstore yet. I haven’t found a good time to ask. But I still really want to go.
  • I did buy a book, though, from my local Walmart: Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly. For those of you unfamiliar with either the book or the movie, it is about several African-American female mathematicians whose calculations were instrumental in helping the United States to perform in the Space Race of the 1950s and 1960s, despite being actively discriminated against in their home state of Virginia, where segregation was still legal at the time, and despite the sexist attitudes of the era where women were viewed as inferior to men. I’m only into the first chapter at the moment (which follows a prologue). I was hoping to find The Handmaid’s Tale there as well, but no luck.
  • I did start on that blanket I was talking about. I so far have the center square and one ray of four rectangles completed, as well as three rectangles of a second ray completed and the fourth one in progress. These two rays are perpendicular to each other, so I should be able to start filling in the first panel soon.
  • The Phrygian cap is on hold for just a little bit, but I may revisit it soon.
  • We had another cold blast come through (not lasting quite as long as the one that came through around New Year’s), but it still made for some very cold nights around here and we did have to turn our heater on for those nights. My feet are currently paying for it and my skin is feeling super dry from the lack of humidity.
  • I am now on Goodreads, with the same username as here (snowlessknitter). Any other book nerds out there?

I hope to be able to write more soon, but that’s what’s been going on with me lately.