This Afternoon, Saturday

Windows are cracked open even though it's only 54 degrees (12 c).
All Day Music on my headphones.
Pretending it's Spring.
Also, pretending I'm halfway through writing the thesis (that I am currently avoiding working on by writing here).

A Well-Timed Bout of the Flu

I was down and out with a crazy virus most of last week. As crummy as it was to be shaken to the core with non-stop coughing, it seems almost a blessing now. School starts this week and I am carrying a duffle bag of stress over its start. Being so focused on health (or lack thereof), carried me through last week. I was able to stare off into space for a while, watch a few old movies, and knit like mad. In the middle of my misery, I took a day to revamp Kidlet’s room (with my Mama…thanks, Mama!). Now that project is 95% finished and I can cross it off one of my many mental lists. I think I needed a forced vacation, one that confined me to the house with just enough energy to tackle one project.

Onward. Thesis, here I come.

Skinny Braids and All

Last night, Kidlet and I looked through a couple of photo albums. They were what you might call my “Best of Childhood” set, photos taken from birth until about age fourteen. Kidlet said she felt a little sad looking at the photos and suddenly I was overcome by a swelling of bittersweet emotion as well. The majority of the people in the photos are no longer here. My parents were so beautiful and in love. I thought about the relative simplicity of childhood through photos, me running through forests, celebrating holidays, hugging my parents.

But then Kidlet pointed to a photo of me at about age ten, sitting next to a mountain stream. She asked, “Is that me? That looks like me.” After that, I was drawn to studying the flow of time, watching my Mama turn from kid to middle age. I looked at photos of her mother, the age my mother is now, looking for the similarities and thinking about where I fit in.

Finally, humor. I pointed to a photo of me with skinny braids, blowing out the candles on my ninth birthday cake. I told Kidlet, “Look! Nothing changes!” And I pointed to the skinny braids curling about my neck.

It’s about time I put together some photo albums together of Kidlet, Hubs, and me.

1.11.11

On the first day of the year, I typically bake a cake or a pie. I assessed the berries I froze last summer. I went through stacks of recipes. And then I decided that I really didn't have to bake something after all.

I wish I could end here with some little spiel about how it's a new year and I am learning to simplify, slow down.

Instead, Kidlet and I painted some test patches in her room.
I made pancakes.
I am getting ready to prep sauce, cheese, and toppings for the pizzas I am going to make tonight.
I started another load of laundry.

At least it has been peppered with a good deal knitting and dithering over what yarn I want to use for my next sweater project.

Perhaps I am moving toward balance? One can hope, in any case.