43

I woke up late again this morning. I keep doing that – waking up before my alarm goes off at 6:30, my brain racing with giddy thoughts about the work ahead (nope, I’m not talking … Read more

My days these days.

Twitter. Kitten. Puttering around the kitchen. Oh, my workspace isn’t perfectly set the way I want it. Let’s rearrange my pencils. And my monitor. Ew. I need to clean my keyboard. It’s filthy. No, wait. … Read more

Tick-tock…

It’s been nearly two weeks since SHB left for Taos. He’s back tomorrow evening, and I admit that I’m counting the hours. And minutes. Not quite to seconds yet. I’m passing the time riveted to … Read more

Dread.

Dread. My unwanted sometime companion. It creeps in sudden, uninvited, without warning, triggered by something unassuming. I try to ignore the sensation: like thick tepid oil slowly pouring upwards against gravity. It starts from below … Read more

I Bought Your Story Press

SHB is searching through his email, hunting for the contract for a story he sold awhile back. “What was the name of that press…” I decide to be helpful. “I Bought Your Story Press.” “No, … Read more

Zomb-poca-list!

What’s a city girl to do in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse? I clearly don’t have the skills to survive if some really bad shit goes down. On the other hand, I am organized … Read more

Something different on the bed.

While getting ready this morning, I managed to lose my FitBit in under two minutes. I put it down… somewhere… and dammit where did it go? Admittedly, a FitBit isn’t a very big object — … Read more

Sketch. Draft. Cut. Stitch. Fit. Swear. Iterate.

You know those people who make all sorts of stuff? Like, stuff you could buy but why do that when you can just make it? I’m thinking about my colleague who only makes his own yogurt, for example. I buy my yogurt without any shame whatsoever. His family makes theirs. I’m sure it’s delicious, but that’s more dedication than I have.

Given the choice, I’ll probably buy something rather than make it. “But you can buy socks and you make those!” Touché, but I can’t buy the experience of making socks, and the experience is why I knit them. Believe me, I don’t need more socks. The last several pairs I made were gifted for this very reason. Side note: people go out of their minds when gifted a pair of socks you made with your own hands. They get all gushy, they hand-wash them, or they only wear them around the house even though the yarn wears like iron and is perfectly happy going through the dryer. Who am I to question their happiness? I made the socks, after all, and to quote Spongebob’s grandma, “There’s love in every stitch.”

Read more