Time To Learn Something

It's been 3 months since I finished my master's degree program.

In addition to brushing up on my Spanish language skills (mis habilidades son pobres), I've decided to increase my knowledge of crocheting.

I can do the basics of crochet. Nothing elaborate, just some trim on knitting projects or a very simple crocheted wrap or scarf.

Now, I want to do this bad boy. I know. I'm practically a basket of crazy snakes for jumping into a complicated pattern immediately.

It's going to take some patience, swearing, and hand holding by an expert to get me through this project.

I bought the supplies:












I couldn't resist a new project bag:

Out And About

So, I came home from my long weekend in April out West. Two weeks later, I was flying back out with the Child O' Mine for my graduation celebration and her belated birthday gift of a trip to L.A.

There was custom boozy bundt cake:





Breakfast at the West Hollywood Farmers Market:




There was hat shopping:






Walks in rose gardens:




Taking in the sights:






There was bonding with nature and wild life:




And stunning vistas:




Visits to various beaches:








Rides ridden:




Some graduating:




And loads of pool time:




All in all, it was a fabulous time with some of my favorite people!

Visit To My New Home

Springtime in the Midwest. Cold. Rain. Wind. Much like Autumn in the Midwest. Luckily for me, such weather is conducive to packing timelines and goals. Yes, all the pre-move packing is completed. All that's left on the timeline is the packing that needs to take place three weeks out down to a few days before the truck is packed.

Now it's time to head out to what I consider my home for a three-day weekend to do a bit of employment research and visit two favorite people of mine. And figure out how to make the perfect prickly pear margarita.




Be good, bambinos. And if you can't be good, stretch and stay hydrated!

So Many Hands, Yet So Many Boxes Left

On the one hand, I'm grateful my moving budget is as small as it is due to the numerous quality boxes I get from work:





On the other hand, so many boxes left to pack:







As well as the three huge boxes of books that need to be donated to the Friends of the Library for their sale in October:




Also? Seven baskets in excellent condition that I have no use for and no reason to continue holding on to any longer. Perhaps a Goodwill donation so someone can pop some tags:




I always felt my knitting studio was my happy place, it's even more so for the lack of crap to sort through and pack...




This is where I hide out and remind myself that the sooner I get the bulk of this packing done during this spring-that-resembles-early winter, there's more time for socializing, knitting, movies, and reading in the evenings and weekends when the weather becomes a real spring and summer.

It's Not About The Building And All About The Home

My Gran was diagnosed, as you may remember, with vascular dementia back in November of last year. More testing found that she had several other issues that made it unsafe for her to be at her home any longer. She's in a great facility and I'm very pleased with the care she's receiving there.

I'm sad today because the sale of her home was finalized today, the owner taking possession this morning.






I know, simple home. And certainly, the county assessors office lists the building succinctly:

Description: Single-Family / Owner Occupied
Style: 1 Story Frame
Year Built: 1955


What it doesn't say:

This was my Gran's home where my first memory is of falling asleep on her fake fur rug at Christmas time. The rug by the round mirror table, that her father in-law built the table out of oak so that her old vanity mirror could be placed in it. The mirror table that she placed her Christmas tree strung with blue lights and fancy bird ornaments from the 1950's.

This was my Gran's home where on the 4th of July, we ran barefoot in the back yard while ice cream was being churned in the fancy new electric ice cream maker with the salt and ice being added to the bucket as it churned itself. Along with the old hand-crank ice cream churn everyone took turns cranking around. The same back yard during the same holiday where we had to wear stinky "OFF!" bug spray, we ate hot dogs and hamburgers from the Weber grill that was round and really hot. This home with the back yard that my brother and I ran around like maniacs with lit sparklers at dusk, and my brother ended up stepping on the hot wires because we ignored mom, aunt, Gran telling us to put on our shoes.

This was Gran's home where my brother and I would ride our bikes when we were older, and Gran would feed us what we liked to eat best: cinnamon sugar toast with loads of real butter. Chocolate milk. Mac and cheese. Bologna sandwiches with butter on the bread. Angel food cake with Cool Whip. Maraschino cherries from the jar. Dill pickles. McDonald's before it became a staple of American family dinners. Dairy Queen Peanut Buster Parfaits, Dilly Bars, Buster Bars, sundaes, Mr. Misty float, rootbeer floats.

This was the home of my Gran that whatever ailed you, 7Up would fix it. The trots to a nauseating headache, grab a 7Up.

This home of my Gran's had laundry lines in the back, and the sheets would flap on bed linen washing day. And she'd get pissed when a "dirty bird" made "target practice" out of her sheets and/or pillow cases. One year when I was older, maybe 8 years old, I pointed out that the lines were under her trees and it was too easy for the birds. She laughed and said I was right, what did she really expect?




This was Gran's home where she allowed horrific cooking experiences to take place: my first attempt at boiling dried pasta (glue), my first attempt at baking brownies (hockey pucks), my first attempt at cooking fish (ohmyhell). My brother's first attempts at making crepes (not bad). Also, the horrid chicken table cloth that was destroyed by my brother but blame was first given to me as I had never made it a secret how much I hated that damn thing.

This was my Gran's home that the mingling scents of Fresh Start laundry detergent, Downey softener, and Bounce dryer sheets was the scent of Gran. The woman did at least one load of laundry every day.

This was the home of my Gran, that in my brother's and my teen years became home to us because... Well, let's leave it at because.




This was my Gran's home that was the touchstone for our family holidays, even as our family became more scattered in later years. Easter (ham), Memorial Day (BBQ), 4th of July (grilling), Labor Day (BBQ/grilling), Thanksgiving (turkey and her sage mushroom dressing), Christmas (ham and turkey, and possibly goose or duck).


This was the home of my Gran, who welcomed my friends, my boyfriends, my husbands, my child, along with family no matter the season or holiday. Her saying was "throw another potato in the pot" and we'd be fine feeding everyone.


This was the home my Gran moved into it (which they had newly constructed) as a young woman,









and stayed until illness kept her from returning at the age of 89 years old.




Now, it's just a house.

Sort And Pack Smackdown - I Win!

Just 12 hours of work results in this:










The futon is ready for guests staying with me during their visits for the next few months:




Trust me, that closet is *well* organized!




Some of the things that are still out either I'll be using in the next few months or I'm waiting on getting larger boxes for them due to odd sizes.

Sorting And Packing Mania

It's coming along nicely.

Projects to work on for the next few months before the move.






Dishcloth yarns.




Project yarns leftovers.




Sock yarns.




Needles and notions sorted out.




Knitting projects (4 tubs worth).




Free range yarns (no projects for them yet - 3 tubs worth).




The other areas that need sorting and packing yet, including the knitting library nearly overwhelmed by the stuff to sort/pack.










Since our weather here is supposed to be craptastic for the rest of the week, I'll have plenty of evenings to get this finished up.