28 September 2008

Sunday In The Park

All parents know what it's like to emerge from a child's illness. Three days and nights spent indoors with a feverish, sad offspring can't help but be disorienting. The making of broth, the sleep interrupted by night time thermometer and medicine, the tissues and cartoons (yes there are still cartoons in the teens when a fever is involved). One comes out the other side groggy and often, as is my case, sick oneself.
So this Sunday I have not done any of things I had considered doing. I did not attend Word on the Street, or the St. Clair Art Walk or car free Sunday in Kensington Market. A short walk in neighbouring High Park with my knitting was all I could manage before running back home to another nap.

I've been working today on the lace stole I started last summer. It's almost as long as I am now. I believe one more pattern repeat of 12 rows should do it. Then, finally, it's time to cast off, soak and block.

25 September 2008

Poor Plant

I got two birthday presents this year; a jar of hand cream from my sister, and this plant from The Daughter. It's called a Somona or Forever Flower. Lately, it's not doing too well. Not only is it not flowering, the leaves are turning yellow and shrivelling up. I've read up on it. Apparently it likes full sun and occasional fertilizer. I'm doing that but no improvement. The Chinese lucky cats aren't helping either. I'm thinking it just doesn't like the cooler temperatures?
I'm sad. Any ideas?

20 September 2008


Well, the business cards arrived. They're very pretty and such but my name is mispelled in the email line - rendering them somewhat useless.


16 September 2008


I started my new job last week. It's only part time but it provides new challenges and a new environment while still staying in enough touch with my comfort zone. Combined with my other part time position, I can pay the rent and feed and clothe The Daughter.
Today, my business cards were ordered. I've never had business cards before and admit to getting a little rush seeing my name on the layout. I think I'll send one to the ex. :)

09 September 2008

Well, I Do Enjoy a Nice Latte

You Are a Soy Latte

At your best, you are: free spirited, down to earth, and relaxed

At your worst, you are: dogmatic and picky

You drink coffee when: you need a pick me up, and green tea isn't cutting it

Your caffeine addiction level: medium

06 September 2008

Casting on A New One

I've begun the Leaf Tank from this year's Spring/Summer Vogue Knitting. It's designed by Fiona Ellis with whom I once knit but I didn't know it was her at the time. She's very nice.
I'm using the Ella Rae Silkience I bought at the flood sale. I just had to start something with this right away and I believe there's just enough of this Colour 07 (They call it purple but, to me it looks more like very deep rose.) It's hard to see in the photo but I'm edging it with a few rows of black. I picked up one ball in case the six purple weren't enough. I'm liking the effect. It gives the lace a slightly more formal look which will be great for the office.
I'm struggling with my anxiety the past few days. Ninety five percent of the time I feel well. I know my decision to leave my crappy marriage was absolutely the right thing to do. Yet, every once in a while, all the sudden change overwhelms me and my old patterns of fearfulness and negative thinking re-surface. Now, I know this sounds silly, but it is especially at these times that I need to be knitting something like this. Working with soft, beautifully coloured fiber calms me down. It's my occupational therapy. How can I be tense with this lace passing through my hands?

05 September 2008

Question 12...and a poem...

The question? What am I most proud of? Knitting wise, that is (Hello Daughter!). In recent memory, that has to be the purple Rebecca sweater. It's so elegant and draped and fine. It took perseverance, but was worth it in the end.

More importantly, a poem:


He walks in calmly over the mountains, at first very wooden, but then more and more smoothly as he goes down a prescribed road to a prescribed city, and there, with a wide radium glow in his eyes, he joins in polite cocktail conversation, waiting for someone to say the word "orange."

Robert Priest
How To Swallow A Pig
ECW Press, 2004