joy rides

Ooh boy. I know it's been awhile. There has been much to juggle in this little world of ours - some extraordinary, others just the usual hustle of family life.

But somehow in the middle of all the things, the wife got her driver's license. And our lives are forever changed.

For all the years the wife and I have shared together, neither one of us has had a driver's license. We never owned a vehicle. We didn't feel we were missing all that much of the world. We loved to walk. We didn't mind commuting. We occasionally relied on the kindness of our friends and family.

With the babes in our lives, we were finding it more and more necessary to pursue getting car-mobile. The time for us to shuttle them around to their various social, academic, and extracurricular engagements is just beginning and we've had enough with all the cab rides already. We happened to get a deal on a teenaged van ("Leroyd MilF" is his name. The boy named him Leroyd and I like to think of him as our Millennium Falcon - a little old, a little clunky, but reliable, road-worthy); and the wife, with all her tenacity and commitment -  on top of home life and work responsibilities - got the thumbs up to drive. us. places. As in, ANYWHERE we could possibly want to go.

I understand that this isn't a novel idea for the lot of you who've driven since your teen years. The wife and I have been together since our late teens and we only just had our very first car date a MONTH ago. Imagine that. It is all very weird.

And amazing. I think we went to the ocean, like, 8 times in the last month - unheard of without our parade float on a bus, in a cab, or with an exasperated friend or family member.

Of course the kids are loving this new chapter in our lives. They're both so proud of their mom, which is lovely to see. They're napping IN THE CAR instead of whining about how tired they are.

It's a bit guilt-making, this kind of luxury.

My home is so messy. Blogging has fallen off the priority list. Laundry is so perpetually behind that when it becomes the grand project of the week (12 loads this week, for example), I want to throw a reunion party for us and all of the clothes we forgot we had. And it gets very tense getting in and out of the car for all the appointments we never would have scheduled on the SAME DAY just because Leroyd could get us there. You know?

Don't get me wrong - I am very grateful to be car-mobile. I just feel like we have to find a way to balance the impulsiveness that comes with novelty of being car-mobile like everything else, with measured mindfulness.

We leave for Toronto tomorrow. I have a sneaking suspicion we'll be leaving what looks like a frat party aftermath behind. But this is a very very much needed vacation away from our every day, time we've carved out to visit with beloved family and friends and to enjoy the sights and sounds of our hometown.

Gotta go! I have ambitions of bringing rhubarb custard pie for our plane picnic.

I won't promise post cards but I will most certainly try to pop in and say hi.

stolen moment

Why yes, there is a direct correlation between my absence here and the flurry of often triple booked activities we've got going on. Amidst our regularly scheduled programming: there's swimming for both kids on top of the girl's ballet lessons; the wife's predictably unpredictable schedule that we often have to work around; the lingering spring sun beckoning for all of us to be outdoors come hell or 9 loads of unwashed laundry later; the actual work I have to do for the job that pays which translates to a heck of a lot of writing, very early mornings, very late nights, remote relationship building, and the epitome of corporate; there's some pretty firm and fiery mothering that has to go on becausebecausebecause I now have a child as well as a toddler in the home, also play dates in between, the combination of which requires concrete boundaries for more reasons than I care to type; not to mention being mindful about staying connected to the wife and being consciously aware of my own needs. 

Without getting into all the other encompassing events that touch our lives on an ongoing basis (oh yes, there's more), I'm just going to say it, April has transpired in flashes of joy, sadness, worry, frustration, friendship, satisfaction, and blaaarrgh!

Thank goodness for Alicia, Danaerys, and Mindy for all the good TV they bring. And the knitting. I'm very grateful for all the knitting that accompanies the TV watching.

As you can see, I've amassed a small pile of accessories that make me feel productive - and dare I say it, whole - like a distinct person unto myself. I had planned to share some of these knits with you today but I'm not happy with any of the photos I've taken so I'll have to do that another time. I'm just happy I stole this moment to pop by and say hello. 

So... what have your days been like? 

(Did I mention our home is getting treated for carpenter ants so we have to bag up all of our belongings to prevent our children from being more exposed to bug spray than they're going to be anyway? Yup, that's my night tonight. Send caffeine intravenous please. And enjoy sleeping for me.)

current obsessions: drawing, dragons, and stamps

I don't know if it's the warmer weather or the fact that I've reached a happy comfort level with my knitting, or if my knitting mojo just needs a break, but I've taken up a new hobby and rekindled an old one.


I used to love to draw. I once drew all the time - portraits mostly, doodles, nothing serious. I was never a real artist or illustrator. It was what I did in class to help me listen to lectures. It was what I did in my room when I was alone - contemplating people's faces or drawing and redrawing eyes or lips or simply sketching out an object in front of me. I wasn't ever very good at it but I enjoyed it and I was able to do decent depictions of my observations.

These days, I am finding myself pulled towards drawing again. But instead of portraits and facial features, I am inspired by the idea of stripping out the details of what can be found in nature to as few lines as possible - which, for someone with unpracticed eyes and a rusty hand, requires quiet meditation and earnest reflection. 

So late at night, the needles are set aside and I use a practice I observed from my longtime blogging friend and breathtaking artist mavinga - I warm up. My eyes, my mind, my hand, work hard together to coordinate the synapses they respond to. I'll be honest, for the first little while, what I produce is a mess. I tried to draw the boy but all I saw was my father's face. Not terrible, considering the boy does look like my dad but not at all what I set out to capture. I was better at sketching the girl but I wasn't happy with the strokes that made her face. Then, I landed on some images I can be proud of.

Palest pink tulips have long been my most favourite flower.  Since moving to Vancouver, though, poppies have stolen my heart. I love them to pieces and i'm tickled that these beauties and dozens like them are a literal 15 steps from my door now.

These line drawings were derived from the photo above in bed, by headlamp. 

Late night inspiration hit and I only had my instagram feed to rely on for an image to depict. These pages are a start, anyway: a gateway drug towards a clearer manifestation of how I see the world.

I'm always fantasizing about taking the kids out to the river or sitting at the train tracks with them, each of us with sketchbooks in hand, pencils quietly or furiously scratching, hands nodding up towards a flower or a tree or a squirrel or a random object and then nodding down towards an emerging image. I have no idea if such a communal art moment will ever happen or how long it would actually last if it did, but I can hope - or lead by example at some point. 

Anyway, all this to say that I've been inspired to draw and to tell you that I've been drawing dragons, also by headlamp.

The boy's birthday is coming up next week and we've all been pretty much obsessed with all things How to Train Your Dragon: the movie, the Dragons TV series, and even the book series. The boy and I have been reading the first book by chapter, before bed. (Chapter books with my not even 5-year old! Yes! Soon, he and Harry will meet properly. Soon.) For his birthday, we are hosting a dragon-themed art party and he gets to invite friends for the first time. Naturally, I had to make the invitations. 

Following the extraordinary and inspirational Geninne's tutorials, I set out to make a stamp depicting the boy's most favourite dragon: the Screaming Death dragon!

Step 1: Draw image.

Step 2: Transfer image onto rubber cut plate.

Step 3: Carve stamp with neat tool that makes me want to try whittling, too.

Step 4: Ink your stamp, hold your breath, and press onto chosen surface.

I'm not the kind of person that could ever sell the things I produce, not the knits (you'd get bits of my hair and cat hair in the garments, I'm afraid. If I gift such things to you, you likely already know that I am inherently clumsy), or anything else for that matter. I am just not a meticulous person, nor am I a perfectionist in any sense of the word. (Which is why I am happy to refer friends who want custom knits to friends like Alma who will work on your commissions with great care and true craft.) I just don't have the discipline. So, as you can see, this invitation turned out rather messy but I'm pretty happy with it for a first attempt at working with my very own handmade stamp.  

I have to say that stamps are actually are incredibly easy and addictive to make! I even made one from the boy's first attempt to write his name! I used it to personalize the back of the invitation - a proud-making keepsake for both of us. 

Spring has officially arrived and I am more than ready to get going on the spring cleaning: dusting off cobwebs, cleaning crevices that normally don't see the light of day, purging things that have become obsolete for our family, making room for the newly useful and beautiful. 

I'm planning on making room in my creative spirit to draw, inviting myself to start painting, taking steps towards preparing my children to take these steps with me: to really look at the world around us, to put our lens on paper, to enjoy the outcome of the exercise simply for the moment we took to take Time in our hands and hold her still.


P.S.
My instagram feed is private because I am not interested in dealing with spam - and I'd prefer to get to know you, too. If you are so inclined, please send me follow request and I'd be happy to share. 

knit parade: tunic and rocketship

Because I am ambitious to the point of seriously deluded, I didn't feel like I could live with myself if I didn't knit my gifts. On top of all things, the knitting has to happen. And if it must happen, why shouldn't the product of the knitting time be a couple of nice things for the girl? 

First, she requested something pink. I haven't knit her a little pink dress 2 years ago now so I thought it was appropriate to indulge us both.

The pattern is Versa and it makes a really nice tunic. I lost the band on the yarn but it knits up like Cascade and is hand-dyed this lovely raspberry pink. 

I think the button on the back really makes the dress.

I think she likes it. 

Next up, the girl's asked for a rocket ship since I knit her brother one last year. 

I had hoped to knit her one in time for Christmas. I couldn't let her down now. 

The pattern is called Blast Off knit with Spud and Chloe sweater. 

I do like that each of my babes can have their own ride to the moon and beyond.

The girl even picked the colours out herself, much to my... discomfort.I wouldn't have put those colours together at all. But I daresay, they work.

Her expectations seem to be met, don't you think? 

I was hoping that having the thing with her in bed would encourage her to stay in her own bed all night. I even told her it was like she was sleeping beside me every time she hugs her rocket ship.

It didn't work. 

Oh well. I really can't win them all. 

only a day away

I don't remember history being much of a subject in my elementary studies when I was growing up in the Philippines. If it was, I don't remember much at all (though I am finding myself rather interested and so will research anon). I do remember Social Studies class.  Specifically this lesson about what the Filipino people inherited as a result of Spanish colonization: Catholicism, architecture, dance, a cuisine full of Spanish flavours, a language peppered with Spanish words, and the Mañana Habit.

If you know some Spanish, you might know that the word "mañana" means, "tomorrow." So, it follows that the Mañana Habit refers to an habitual tendency to put things off until, well... tomorrow. Yes, this really is a thing. In fact, I very clearly remember answering a quiz question to help me commit to memory that my birth country's chronic procrastination habit is absolutely attributed to Spanish rule (anyone else remember this?). 

Although I realize that procrastination is hardly recognized as an actual inherited trait, I would like to posit that perhaps the proficiency with which I procrastinate (and the gravity of the consequences that follow) is because I am twice-blessed by both my Filipino and Spanish heritage (thanks to my paternal grandfather's family and good old scapegoating).

For example, I have been so focused on getting settled in our new home, parenting, and working hard at the job-that-pays that I have been neglecting the knitting. Not that there hasn't been any knitting. Oh goodness, if there hasn't been at least a few stitches knit in a day, I think I would spontaneously combust and repel all living things within a 6 mile radius what with the waves of volatile un-becalming grouchy-mcgrouchiness that comes of having no time to collect oneself.

So, as you can imagine, there has been knitting aplenty. I gifted a lot of knits over the holidays. You know how I know? Many of them are still here. Yup. I have a pile of hats that I have yet to mail or still happen to be just here, hanging out, waiting for an opportunity to see the neighbours who live a less then a block from us so they can have their hats, finally.

I also have a pile of blocking to do. I finally finished my owl sweater. I knit a tunic for the girl's birthday  and I joined the Journey KAL and finished the Onward Shawl but haven't made a moment to block it or join in on any of the happy Ravelry group chatter.

In the triage of our days such activities definitely fall into the non-emergent category and so often render themselves postponed. Much like updating my Ravelry account with photos of such projects. Or dealing with the clutter in my office. Or the hill that once was a pile of laundry that is now falling upon my hallway like a mountain avalanche.

I really need to get my act together at some point. It'll be Christmas again before some of my people get their hats. And we are close to running out of underwear (no more diapers here!) so I suppose it's time to get to that laundry.

Maybe tomorrow.

well hello

I have missed this space and feel that I am quite out of practice with the filling of it. 

So for this first entry in this blog's second birthday, I'll keep with tradition and share photos from our first trip to the river beach in 2014, interspersed with some of the things I'm actively working on in the grand scheme of finding peace amid the chaos that is the busy business of family life.

: Slow down. Sometimes stepping back is a better way forward.

:  Live within the hours in a day. Sleep is important.

: Parent more kindly.

 : Play more often.

: Prioritize more time with the wife. 

:  Work smarter. Laugh harder. Create with wild abandon.

: Practice patience.

: Recognize that all I can give is enough. Enough is plenty.

Polar vortex or not, I hope that the New Year is already finding you well and in good spirits.

Happy New Year! 

one last look back

Like many in this city before us, we had to cover up all the holes we made and erase every single speck of dirt we left behind from the unit we occupied before we could truly begin to settle into our new home.

I have moved 18 times in my whole life (I quoted 22 a couple of times recently but this is because some moves count as double) and I have never lingered as long as 3 days after the move out at a place I am leaving behind.

And boy oh boy it was a tough job, refreshing the smallish 2-bedroom apartment we called home for 2 and a half years. 

We marked that place as a family of four with every dent, every hole, every stain on every surface.  There we slept. There we cooked, we crafted, we worked, we played. We formed and stormed and normed and performed. We grew together inside those walls.

With every hole I covered up, I saw us:  Lamplight on a baby girl who laughed and laughed and lifted her legs up and down with my wheels on the bus singing. I saw the boy's fingerprints behind closet doors - DNA evidence of the hide and seek games that were played. I saw all the places we put up a bookshelf or a mirror or a hook, only to take them down again.  I ran my fingers one last time over the the gouge made by a birdhouse wrenched from the wall as it was used as a stepping stool over and over again by toddlers who wanted to peek through the kitchen passthrough. The same little birdhouse became home to the chickadees that made a family in our little patio: the little patio we left with chalk and mud on the stucco - more evidence that we were there, that we lived there.

It's no wonder both the boy and the girl protested every proclamation that we were leaving their home behind. Those walls are the only home they can remember. 

So we cleaned and we patched restlessly together, the wife and I (and with the help of my father-in-law and blessed friends) while the toddlers restlessly ran around enjoying the echoes that bounced back from the walls of the empty rooms they know they will miss. Together we said our goodbyes and our thanks to that space that is now someone else's home. 

After all the moving and cleaning and patching (which by the way, had to be redone by the painter because apparently patching is not one of my strengths. I recognize this now and vow to nevermore waste 10 hours of my life doing this), good riddance. 

Moving forward together is a gift I don't intend to waste. 

wind rushing

I had a completely different blog post planned after my last update but, well, life took over. There is much going on right now. Much - not natural disaster much in any sense, but we are juggling Much. There are so many balls in the air and passing through my hands and touching the top of my head in so many directions that the colours blur and I fight the pressing urge to let it all drop.

I have been feeling short of breath.  I failed to give my wife an earnest deep breath when she asked and it was then that I realized that holding my breath has become my new resting state.

It's my cousin's last week in Vancouver. In the time he's spent with us, he's become a knitting buddy, closer friend, and a favourite of my littles. We are all going to miss him dearly but happily (and necessarily), we are cramming in some quality time with him, doing all the the fun things we can - amid all the Much.

Today we picked the boy up from school and then we chased the sunset to Iona Beach just in time to behold a dusk-lit horizon swathed in orange, mauve, and white.

I needed the ocean today.

I needed to run with the wind: with it, against it, beside it, with my the children and my cousin. Together we  danced in defiance and in celebration of the power of the wind's whipping chill. We laughed. We giggled. We brrrd. We bent with the reeds and skipped with the grass. Then we fled the ocean front and made for the marshes where the wind punched less and we ran some more.

I needed a reminder that everything, our big move, the work, the mothering, my faults, our triumphs, the littlest most annoying things, other things - all of it: problems with solutions. There are indeed bigger wallops in the grand scheme of the universe and the fierce force of mother nature. We are all connected. Everything happens for a reason. I can only do what I can.

We only lasted 15 minutes. We were not dressed to break the wind or to brave the cold. So by the time twilight gave in to darkness, we were safely in our car, breathless and grateful.

I am still holding my breath but the wind, it's still in my hair and in my lungs.

3 more sleeps and then we move. I can't help but think that once we're home, once we claim our new space, that there will be three little birds at my new doorstep, singing of melodies pure and true. Or toddlers bickering. Either way, every little thing is going to be all right.

---

We breathe with relief now because we've heard from our families and although there has been some damage to their property, everyone we know and love in the Philippines seems to be safely social networking. I can't say the same for my paternal grandmother's Leyte home town. Please consider doing something to help the Philippines recover from Haiyan's rampage. Everything counts, even your prayers and happy thoughts. 

A friend of ours out here is assembling boxes of gently used items to send out to those that have lost everything. So that's part of what we're doing, but we know that many organizations have committed to help. My aunt recommends donating through the Humanitarian Coalition of Canada because the Canadian government has committed to matching our contributions dollar for dollar. 

I hope that all is well in your world. 

update from the eye of the storm

Oh my goodness it's been a long time.

I have missed connecting with this space and you good people that visit.

I was caught in a swirling tunnel that had me right up against a virus that left me without a speaking voice for over a week, then bumping into some knit city wonderfulness, then catapulting into a trip to toronto, then knocking through a house full of boxes, heart-warming deliveries - all amid the chaos of all the fall mothering that included pumpkin patches and last-minute halloween costume-making and trick-or-treating and impromptu parent-teacher meetings. 

The particular ride isn't over yet either. There's housework and work-work and surprise visits, actually moving into our new space, all immediately followed by holiday merriment.

My cup runneth over with the furious, delicious, chaotic, obstacle-ridden, irresistibly enchanting, powerful promise of change. 

I've been mentally preparing some catch up posts in my head and then, after our big move on the 22nd, I hope to be back here regularly again. I am finding, even now, a moment of stillness helps to calm the whelming panic that I am trying to keep very much at bay.

*The Philippines has just been walloped by an actual massive typhoon. Thinking of our families there and hoping that their recent social media updates are actual indications that they are safe at home and very minimally impacted by its force.

on coming out day

I have a lot to say about coming out. But if I was to strip my experience down to a single word, I would describe the act of coming out very simply as hard.

I’ve been coming out for the better part of 18 years and it’s still hard. There are days when coming out is like accidentally opening a portal to Narnia. There are also days when it's more like a barefoot trip to Mordor.

In both cases, you’re really just battling different versions of how you see yourself -  fantastical and horrific. And then if it’s necessary, you draw on your arsenal of weapons to soften or block the blows that come your way: humour, nonchalance, silence, wit, and the choice to simply walk away. 

Sometimes you get lucky and you return from the epic journey unscathed, and with lifelong friends whose help you couldn’t do without. Other times, you return to yourself scarred and unrecognizable and choosing to heal is Everest in and of itself – if you’re lucky enough to emerge as victor to the episode.

This is my experience, anyway. I've been on both ends of these epic spectrums, as well as many places in between. I can say that I have survived my coming out stories with exhales of tremendous relief. Until, of course, the next time.

Because there is always a next time. Every day is Coming Out Day in my world: moments where I clarify that I have a wife and not a husband; instances where I find myself compelled to tell a stranger that my children have no father but they have 2 mothers.

Every time is a test. Every time, I make a decision to screw my courage to the sticking place and to mine own self be true.  Because there is no way I am gong to miss an opportunity to lead by example so that my children will know what to say and how to act when they inevitably have to come out to their friends about their queer family. Every time, I hold my breath. Every time, I brace myself to block a negative reaction. Sometimes I do myself proud. Other times, at the worst of it, I overshare and regret it. But overall, I count myself among the lucky because in this country, I have every right to say that I am a lesbian in any given context. 

This morning, I kissed my family and wished them a Happy Coming Out Day.

If you or someone you know has ever had a coming out experience and if you've ever helped someone through the process – small as a comic strip or large as a fight against Voldemort – take a moment and give your courage a nod of acknowledgement. Happy Coming Out Day to you, too.

Aside:

The use of upper and lower case letters is brought to you by a dear friend and neighbour who I've been irritating has requested that I pretty please start doing so. For you, Alyssa. :)

all is well

i am still recovering from the week i just had: a full work plate, the challenge of mothering, housekeeping. the usual really, but much more intense.

it's partly the weather. there is no mistaking it. fall is definitely in full swing here. the rain has been constant, so our inclination to divert our attention outside is subsiding. but really, we have just become that busy. every single bit of it is a blessing, though. because with the bustle and the busy-ness comes more regular exposure to the kindness of strangers, family, friends, and neighbours. with our efforts at reaching out and taking a chance outside our comfort zone, we get lucky.

very lucky. some examples:

• i entered a contest and won a gorgeous book of knitting patterns by tin can knits
• we are getting the 3-bedroom unit that currently houses antonia-the-dishwasher. we move as soon as the end of november, if we can swing it.
• our new home comes with fabulous features that the current occupant is giving to us for free: like shelving, lighting, fun - yet tasteful - wall finishes, and a faux fireplace - electric fireplace included (knitting by pretend-fireside? yes.)
• not very long ago, we never knew any of our neighbours by name - not in toronto, nor in our first vancouver home. now, we have amazing neighbours who are happy for us, offer to help us move, cut our hair, teach us how to can salsa and tomatoes, teach music classes, sweep fall leaves at the boy's request, give the wife driving lessons, and deliver all sorts of delicious treats to our door like perfectly good hand-me-down clothes or toys, waffles, cookies, scones, russian crepes, piroshki, cupcakes, spring rolls, garden vegetables, and plants to add to our own garden
• we've rekindled our friendship with an old friend who is so very kind to us and has offered to give us a night out and watch our children
• our vancouver family is always here for us: to hang out with and drive us around almost every time we ask
• not to mention all the nominating alma (who is having a pretty amazing sale at her etsy shop these days) has done for this blog
• once upon a time, i was the only knitter i knew. now i've got a good number of virtual friends and there are in-person recruits aplenty in my life. it's just been amazing spreading the knitterly love
• friends and family forgive us our inability to stay in touch or reciprocate gifts
• i have the generous support of management and colleagues to get me through all of the newness in my current position
• the wife and i haven't seen each other all week. we miss each other's actual company. but there isn't a second that we aren't working as a team to keep things going at home

all i've wanted to do today was fall into a puddle and wallow in my physical and intellectual exhaustion (oh how some quiet knitting in bed would've been so good all day). mostly there was a lot of difficult tag-team parenting: the four year-old suddenly lost the ability to listen and ramped up on his argumentative skills. thankfully, the wife had a store of patience to share. but now that i've given myself this time to reflect, i realize how much relief i've been granted by the universe and the community that envelops us locally and virtually.

even when sleep isn't possible, the mothering gets tough, or the pasta gets homophobic - there is so much to be thankful for. every good thing counts, however little - and serves to counter or heal the inevitable bruising - both actual and metaphorical - from the punches i didn't see coming. 

and now to tackle the latest mountain of dishes (wherefore art thou, antonia?)before i settle in for the night with the season premiere of grey's anatomy and my knitting to keep me company, along with the memory of my paternal grandmother who died 4 years ago today. she taught me the value of affection and unconditional love. and her smile has never left me.

i hope you're having a wonderful weekend, wherever you are.

stand still

i believe this was the last really warm day we had before fall's nip began really imposing itself all around. three weekends ago, these photos were taken. we were so ready for fall, then. we came to conquer with long sleeved shirts, sweaters, rain accoutrements. we even brought butternut squash soup. but we were met with a searing, startling heat. the kids stripped and played in the water while the wife and i were trapped in our long sleeved shirts and under our summer sweater kal projects.

(my sweater, as you may recall, is at a stand still. the wife's sweater is going so well. she's knitting from the top down and is at the bottom of the sweater. the part of the process where you feverishly want to keep knitting through work and sleep and toddler squabbling because the suspense of getting the thing off the needles is just too much. i'd show you a picture but she and that sweater is attached at the hip. they are at work right now.)


we haven't been back to the river beach - or anywhere so care-freeing since. some play, some lovely times with friends, to be sure. but mostly, life has been a flurry of hurry up and wait since my last post.

we've heard about another death in the family, also distant. our cousin lost her father.  my heart is broken for her. i never knew the man. and they had a difficult relationship. but i fear the ground beneath my feet and the air i breathe would never do again, were i in her shoes. i want to rush to her side to comfort and feed in her time of grief. but, rather unfortunately, there is a space between us that only she can cross. so instead, i stand still and wish her love and peace as she comes to terms with her loss.

we are hearing today - officially, about whether or not we get to move to a unit that has opened up in our coop. we saw the place over the weekend and actually fell in love. it's not that much bigger than our home now. but it boasts features that our current unit does not: 3 bedrooms, a more spacious living space, a safer entryway for the kids, closer park proximity, and my personal favourite - a dishwasher! a dishwasher! i plan to call it antonia and make it my kitchen best friend. that's an hour and a half back to my day, yo. my entire adult life has been a dishwasher-less, apartment-living existence, and my new kitchen bff is going to give me back an hour and a half of my life every day. good friends like antonia-the-dishwasher don't let friends ignore the dishes to knit, not her. she will do the dishes for me so i can go forth and knit 100% guilt-free, whilst watching all of my fall programming. oh yes she will.

of course, if we move, it won't be until the end of november. and there is muchmuchmuch work to do (on top of the daily grind) before antonia-the-dishwasher and i get to the business of getting to know each other. so for now, we stand still: plan, dream, and brace ourselves for all the packing in the universe.

and then there is the work-that-pays. it's ramping  up in a learning-curve kind of way: work i know how to do but because some of the rules and the players are entirely new, it's bit of a challenge. living out in vancouver and working with colleagues and clients across the country is challenging on most days, but i've had it down for a while now. except that higher profile projects + new players + new sets of rules + my remote location = a bit more whelming that i am used to. i plan to rock the pants out of all of it though. and i will.

for now, i have to force myself to recognize that standing still is an opportunity: to remember to take a chill pill breath, to take things one step at a time, to choose not to rush, to realize that it takes time to learn new things, that i can do all of this on very little knitting time (gulp), that blogging can wait.

i have a feeling my entries will be few and far between in the coming months. yes, months. i hope to be around as often as the 1-3 entries a week i've been doing. but in the event i am not, know that the stand still is over in one area or another and that i'm working hard to find my rhythm so i can rock out to the ever-changing beat of the chaos of our days.