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each week my day planner has a wonderful quote by an amazing woman so i thought to myself "hey self, why don't you share the wealth of wisdom these women have, and why don't you share it on wednesdays??" So here they are, in a collection i will call, womanly wisdom wednedays (www)

Joy is the feeling of grinning on the inside 

-Dr. Melba Colgrove

2015....the year of the wip(s)

I've decided that my wonderful track record of starting projects and never finishing them is going to be dealt with this year. I have so many wonderful things on needles, half stitched, and in progress that I can't wait to have, and yet the minute I see the next love of my life pattern it's like I have blinders on and things get pushed aside. Well no more! I am determined to spend this year finishing the things I've started. For my sanity and my wallet.

Like my mood blanket! Needless to say, 2014 has officially come to a close and while I'm not a whole year behind, I need to catch up from September. I cringe at the word. This picture is quite dated from it's current state but still....I've got a ways to go. Did I mention that I haven't woven in 1 end?? Not 1. There are more than 365 ends to weave. I cry a little just thinking about it. ugh.

Then there's this super amazing shawl I've been working on. Again, the progress since this picture has been great, but I'm still not finished. I can't wait to have this beast of a shawl to wrap around myself and keep me toasty warm. Here's hoping I get to use it this winter....we'll see. 

And of course I have not 1, but 2 sweaters in progress. The one to the right only needs sleeves and it's finished. That's all! The one to the left I started BEFORE the one on the right. Are you seeing the pattern here....

Then there is my mystery shawl KAL...the mystery of which has been revealed for months since I wasn't able to knit the clues as they were sent out. {palm to forehead} 

This is merely a sampling of the things that need to be completed. I'm not proud of my irrational lack of self control when it comes to starting new projects but admitting it is the first step...right?? People change...right?? There's hope for me...RIGHT???? We'll see. I'm very determined to make this happen, even if it takes me more than a year, and hopefully putting it out into the world will be keep me more accountable to doing it. So every now and then I will try to post my most recent accomplishment here, and if a while goes by there's no harm in saying "Hey Sarah....hows are those WIPs coming along????". It takes a village.

right place, right time

It’s time to let the cat out of the bag on something that I’m doing come June. The production company that I stage manage for has received a grant to take a show to Luxembourg.

And I get to go with it. 

Is this real life?? Is this my real life??? Before this came to pass I had been getting the itch to travel and really was saddened by the idea that I probably wouldn’t have another opportunity to do so…or at least not so conveniently as I did in college. I have a very bare passport that needs attention but living in NYC doesn’t exactly let a gal budget a trip overseas. So it was a pretty large pipe dream. When I began to hear mentionings of this show for Luxembourg, I didn’t want to assume anything or get my hopes up. It sounded too good to be true. When it became clear that not only was the show happening but that my presence was wanted there, I could hardly believe it. 

Would I be able to afford it?? How do I ask my full-time job for 2 weeks off?? Where the heck is Luxembourg?? Is Luxembourghese a language?? 

Needless to say, there were a couple hurdles I needed to get over before letting myself get swept up in the idea. After a few more conversations about the logistics of the trip and crunching my own numbers, it became clear that I would be able to afford it. When I talked to my boss about the time away not only did she say yes but she practically demanded that I go. In her words “If you had asked for any other reason I’d have to think about it, but this is what you’re meant to do with your life. This is why you moved here. You have to go.” {How I ever became so blessed, I’ll never know} A little Google research led me to learn that Luxembourg is a small country nestled in the middle of Belgium, Germany, and France and that Luxembourghese is not a word. However, Luxembourgish IS a word and it’s one of the languages spoken there, along with French and German.  

I’ve been pinching myself for weeks and will continue doing so until June. I never would have imagined that this theatre thing would work out so well AND bring me an opportunity like this. It only shows me how moving to this city was exactly what I was supposed to do with my life.

rather be

I have a new jam and it's the only thing I want to listen to lately. It just makes me move and groove and feel all the happy feels. I love it. What's that you say? You want to hear it and dance around your room without pants on as well?? Perfect!

Rather Be by Clean Bandit ft. Jess Glynne

150

That's my number. The number that my scale tells me and makes me think "uh oh". Now I know the lady-like thing is not to tell the world what your weight is...but  I never claimed to be lady-like...so there. A couple weeks ago I stepped onto the pesky scale and the number it told me was not 150. It was 153. This called for a bigger mental "uh oh". I knew this wasn't a 'more muscular' 153 either. This was an 'I love to eat and can't motivate myself to work out' 153.

My first reaction of course was
"Well, now I really need to get down to business"
"Only vegetables and cardboard for me"
"A new iPod playlist will help"
"Sure I could get myself to look like (    fill in the actress' name   )"
"This tbt photo of me from college will motivate me"

And that lasted for about a week.

Then some other thoughts came to mind
"Hey, this isn't high school and you're not an athlete anymore"
"Maybe this is my 27 year old body"
"My clothes still fit"

These were thoughts that had never really occurred to me before and how silly that they hadn't. Where is it written that I still need to have my "track body"?? I haven't run track in years!  But on the other side of that coin what exactly does a "knitting body" look like? It doesn't sound great haha.

So I'm coming to terms with something in the middle. I don't like eating well but it's something that must be done, so while I'm not dieting, I will be more conscious of what I eat. I've also begun to go for small jogs in the morning. There's something about seeing the sun come up over the East River that's really pleasant.

I'm getting older and my body is changing and that's life. And while it's safe to say that I will not be pursuing a modelling career any time ever, I think it's important to feel good in this body I've got and treat it right. So I will jog for as long or little as I feel like; I will make sure that I'm not eating noodles for every meal of my day, much to my shagrin; and most importantly I will be realistic in my expectations of what my body should look like.   

having a witness

One of the blogs I follow is one that I constantly find myself wanting to copy and paste here. The Wild and Wily Ways of a Brunette "Bombshell" is written by Meg Fee, another 20-something living in NYC and the only way to describe her writing is, sensational. Over the summer she and some of her friends wrote a series of posts about wanting men, not needing men. Being a single gal for longer than I'd like to admit, these posts spoke to me. They describe exactly where I'm at when it comes to my single-dom at the moment. One particular post said everything I had been thinking lately so I thought it would be best to share it.

This is a guest post from Meg's blog, written by her friend Laura Jane Williams, who has her own blog, Superlatively Rude. I encourage you to check both of them out. The link to Meg's blog also has links to the other posts from this series. I highly recommend them.

having a witness | laura jane williams 

The thing is, it’s about having a witness to my life.

I didn’t understand for such a very long time. I’d had my heart crumpled young – too young, really. I was too naïve to understand that he was the making of me, not the breaking—and that misunderstanding coloured my choices for days that became weeks that became, in the end, about five years of healing. It took many forms: promiscuity, celibacy, travel: searching so that I got my answers but was still puzzled as to the question.

But, you see, because of all that, I’m really fucking proud of who I am. And the woman I’ve become? She wants to share her life with a man. A husband.

It’s not a desperate kind of want. It isn’t sleeplessness nights and pints of ice-cream salted with the tears of singledom. It’s not the ticking of a biological clock, nor the irritatingly true knowledge that rent would be cheaper split by two. It’s not about sex. I’m not searching for my other half, the soulmate who will make me whole. I’m not incomplete.

I’m not incomplete.

The obvious, practical stuff aside – making my own money, being able to change the fuse on a lamp, backpacking solo and how to figure out interest rates and train timetables and reverse parking and the best way to mow the lawn – emotionally, I’m ripe.

Beyoncé said it best (because she always does): you have to have a life, before you can be somebody’s wife. Oh baby, have I had a life. I’ve cried tears enough to earn the right to be empathetic and strong with the man who will feel courage from standing by my side. I’ve laughed so much that I’ll be able to make the future father of my children see the funny side of our lost luggage, or the leak in the ceiling, or even, with enough time, the tragedy that’ll blindside us both one sunny Friday afternoon.
Make no mistake, I’ve experienced so much anger and frustration, that when he thinks he can’t take anymore – of work, of family, of the tiredness of life – well, I understand the difference between psychological space from words, and the closeness of my chin on his shoulder, just for a minute. I’ve known the aching for roots, so we can build a home together, somewhere in the world. And I’ve developed a taste for freedom, too.

I don’t need a yes man, and won’t be a yes woman, either.

This man, my husband, the one I’m ready for, he’ll have lived as well. He’ll be whole from experience. 

I don’t need a project, somebody to mother. He doesn’t have to be broken to be interesting (why do we always look for them to be broken?) but there’ll be cracks in us both that being together will help mend. He’ll know himself, and his self-kindness will teach me to go easier on myself. His manners will make me more accountable to those around me, and possibly his ambition will guide my own. I might be whole, but I’m not perfect; I still have more to learn, than has been learnt. But I’ll navigate those lessons eventually, with or without him. I don’t need him.

It’d be hella fun to do this next part of growing, of understanding, of learning and becoming together, though.

This want, it’s a want for watching how he talks to his parents over dinner, so that I get insight into how I engage with my own mum and dad. I want long and lazy Sunday afternoons wrapped around each other in bed, surprising myself with truths that feel safe to share in dappled, early evening light. I want blazing, heated rows in the aisle of Ikea over everything and nothing at all, friends over to our apartment for dinner, children who look like me and sound like him – everything it takes to unfold another human being so that I might unfold myself.

I want to love whole-heartedly and without restraint with a man who is there when I wake up, and knows when to leave me alone and when to take the small of my back with just the right amount of pressure. Doing so will make me better, will teach me – as will letting myself lose control enough to be loved. Because, of course, that’s harder than loving when we’re all waiting to get found out that somehow, we don’t deserve it.

We do. I do. My husband does, too. We all deserve a cheerleader, a champion, an equal.

I’ve taken it this far, and I’ve done it goddamn well. If this is life alone, then life in a partnership – a coupling where we make each other better, compensate for weaknesses and amplify strengths – well, shit. That’d be some life.

happy little tune

A few summers ago a great pal of mine invited me to go to a concert with her. She said the artists were B.O.B., this new guy Bruno Mars, and Jason Mraz. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway, it was one of the best times of my life! I was already pretty familiar with Jason Mraz but seeing him live was just awesome. My love for his sweet sweet jams only grew.
So of course now that he's dropped a new album, it's my duty to enjoy every minute of it...and I do. One of my particular faves is the little ditty below. It just makes me feel light and happy and sunny. And I dig it.

To my old man

I can't wait to be old with you.

But not in an age sort of way. 

In an, at the end of the day you read the newspaper while I knit, sort of way. 

We'll play a record and have a glass of bourbon

And you'll tell me about politics and I'll try my best to listen.

I'll make you try on a new hat and you'll pretend to know what a circular needle is. 

And it'll be just right.

Ever yours,

Your old lady

The Daisy Duke Cowl

Well, it happened again. I was consumed by a yarn. {holds head in shame} This time the takeover was much slower and very gradual but it still happened nonetheless. A couple weeks ago this very interesting cotton fabric yarn popped up in the store. It looked as though strips of fabric had been cut and then twisted around a string to make a yarn. Knitting AND fabric...I mean come on. One problem though, no one had a clue what to do with it. Every couple of days a customer would ask about what to do with it. I would shrug my shoulders. There weren't any patterns for it so it was hard to imagine what the possibilities were. A rug? A bag? It was a real head scratcher. As the days went by and I looked at the yarn, a little idea started to creep up. I saw a big needle. Like US35 big. The thought of them alone was exciting. I haven't made a project on such large needles yet so the prospects seemed wonderful. A holy, loosey, goosey summer cowl. Yes!

So cast on I did! And again, and again. I forgot how much experimenting comes with creating something from nothing; the scientist in me was napping apparently. Once I figured out a proper cast on number I went to knitting. After a couple rows it became clear that a US35 was just not the proper needle for this project. There was little to no stitch definition and I was barely an inch in and the ball was almost used up. So frog I did. My next try was the US19 and it made all the difference. I fiddled with knits here and yarn overs there and the end result was a super unique cowl that I absolutely love! The pattern on the fabric gave me a country vibe but it's still a girly accessory so I named it Daisy Duke!
Here she is!

Because the fabric is a cotton this cowl is still really comfortable to wear in the summer months. It's not heavy or fuzzy so it's not smothering.

The yarn is called Wildflower by Knit Collage and it comes in 3 other super cute colors. There isn't a lot of yardage on each skein so I needed 2 for this cowl.

Thanks to my pal Brie for snapping these shots. It takes a village folks and I'm sure glad I've got that gal in mine!

The pattern is available on my Ravelry page and will be on my Etsy soon!

pictures of yarn via

  

a drop in the bucket

It was 4 years ago, today, that I arrived back home to move back in with my parents. At the time there was nothing I wanted less. The fact that I had been out in the world for 5 years really made me loathe that I was having to return home.

I felt like a failure.

I felt lost. 

My life wasn't supposed to go that way. I was supposed to live in Florida, where my friends were, and work at a theatre and lay on the beach. Be one of the few who left my town and made something of herself. Instead I was going back to a summer job and retail. Besides my family, there wasn't anything for me at home.

I was too busy being bitter to see the big picture. 

Less than a month later my aunt passed away suddenly. It was such a shock to our family. Yet, somehow through my sadness, a voice inside told me that this was 1 of the reasons that I had moved back home. She and I were able to spend time together. Time I wouldn't have had if I were living in Florida. It was a great comfort to me.

Looking back over the past 4 years I can't help but recognize the many many reasons there were for my moving home. The lessons I needed to learn. The people I needed to meet. The launchpad I needed to have in order to make a really scary decision that would become one of the best I've ever made. The me I needed to start getting reacquainted with.

It's safe to say that I would not be here in NYC, where my friends are, working at a theatre and still not laying on a beach, if it weren't for moving home. I think I would have settled with Florida and never made it to New York, which means I never would have fulfilled a lifelong dream.

Moving home 4 years ago was just a drop in the bucket. The ripple effect it had, and continues to have, was absolutely worth it and I couldn't be more grateful.

My bucket is now overflowing because of that drop.