Better late than never

The rain has finally reached us and not a moment too soon, the dustbowl I like to call my yard was thirsty. I have to say sitting in my office window and listening to the pitter patter on the tin roof gives me that homey feeling all over. The only things that make it even better are a fire in the woodstove (a bit early for that), a candle burning (check), music (Alexi Murdoch and friends on Pandora today) and a bit of knitting.

Yes, below is the yet unfinished [Spring] sweater I started so long ago who's completion is imminent, just in time for Fall. Sure, I can wear 3/4 sleeves for a bit longer.

And awaiting my needles is the yummy, creamy, organic yarn that just came in the mail today. I love getting surprises in the mail, but then who doesn't?

Neat little packages

I'm drawn to small patterns, neat, usually symmetric patterns. Predictable, intricate, repeating patterns. Crisp detail, perfect circles, and in the case of the photo above the clear anticipation of life waiting to burst forth. I like the implication of action in a non-action photo.

You don't really need to know this, you may not care, or for those who are still reading, this might make sense to you. Your brain may search for order, logic and reason where there usually is none. Growing up amidst near constant chaos will do this to a person. I am certain of that.

And so I find myself a knitter among other things but that isn't my point, it just merely makes sense. Patterns, order, predictability, control. This is knitting, it comforts many of us. I am thankful for the knitting.

Even though life doesn't fit into neat little planned packages as in a knitted pattern, where the outcome is known before one begins, I am learning to take hold of happiness while being surrounded by the imperfectness of it all. I am thus provided with the chance to learn, to grow and to know that uncertainty is okay, as long as it is not chaos, as chaos is a monster. It hides in closets and at the bottom of dark stairways and under little girls' beds. It never goes away. Unless the little girl finally grows up, and walks cleanly away down her own open path, leading to who knows where.

Orange Sky. an intermission.

This is my best, recent orange sky, sunset over the East River. It has little to do with the Harvest Moon of late (have you seen the sky?), but worth a look, just like the video below, or rather it's worth a listen.

It both haunts and intrigues me, Alexi Murdoch's "Orange Sky", you won't be dissapointed. Even the husband loved it, and he's a tough critic.

An answer for Claire

Some days are better than others. This was one of those better days. My husband's parting words to me this morning went something like this:

Don't do any work today. Well, try to do as little as possible. Please.

Upon sharing this with friends, one happened to inquire how such generosity comes about (look her up guys, I'm friends with a celebrity :))

Really, how do we stop butting heads with each other and learn to give freely and without expecting something in return? It got me to thinking and I'm prepared to muster up some semblance of an answer. Here goes.

1. First, it helps to be a bit neurotic and work yourself to the bone on a daily basis. Let's face it, if all I did was rest, I hardly think he'd tell me I needed more.

2. Remember marriage isn't a competition. We do different. One doesn't necessarily do more, the other less, just.....different.

3. Don't complain. No one wants to hear it.

4. Own your stress. You created it, don't blame it on each other. You can share the stress, but don't put anyone at fault, because no one is. Life is just that way sometimes.

5. Pick a good mate. A really, really good one. I like mine with a stong and gritty exterior, an intense love of the outdoors, sensitivity when you least expect it and depth of character when it matters most.

6. Reciprocate. I encourage him to go fishing.

7. Don't resent each other. Just don't do it. Resentment will kill a marriage as quickly as adultery.

8. Realize that it doesn't happen overnight. This comes from negotiating, working at it, being calm, discussing, listening, being persistent and working it out. But above all else, remember that the boundaries we create are best broken down when we are brave enough to be vulnerable with one another.

I hope that settles it Claire, and I hope the same for you.

Bye, bye, summer

Good bye, summer and all of your wonderfully hot days. I'll miss your 8:30 sunsets, going barefoot anytime I want and long, lazy mornings. I wish you could stay forever so I would never have cold hands and feet (okay, I still have cold hands and feet) but you know what I mean.

Hello Fall, you're okay, very pretty I must admit, but I'm not very happy to see you. You mean winter is coming, you mean the days are getting shorter, you let me know with your 50 degree mornings that I'm going to be freezing in very short order and I'm not too happy about that.

I suppose I should move to the equator.

What makes it better

Sometimes two really is better than one.

Two families blended means kids can entertain themselves for hours and days on end,

especially if you let them make their own "fishing rods" from recently cut bamboo, twine, strange metal antennae and randomly found curtain rods. (oh my)

Surfboards from 1965 are timeless,


and in constant motion, better when used by two.


Two rods, twice the fish,


and rolling out onto the dock in pajamas before breakfast, well, it's certainly a luxury.

But none of it would happen without the generosity of friends, and the ability to slip into step beside one another, working together to make life just a little bit (or maybe alot) more interesting.