Hello friends, it’s been awhile since I’ve posted, but there has been a lot going on these last couple months. I’ll start with the MOST exciting news – I passed the PMP Exam (Project Management Professional) early September! It was a professional milestone I was working on for ~9 months and it finally happened! You may recall my post in June about “treating myself” – that was attempt #1. It didn’t work out. It sucked. I was pretty down, disappointed, and after a week of wallowing, I was more determined than ever to get it done. Thousands of hours, practice tests, bailing on fun, and discipline I never knew I had went into round 2, and seeing this beautiful sight when clicking ‘submit’ made it all worth it:
Admittedly, my husband and I do not do a whole lot of traipsing around together into the night like we used to.
P.S. You can find the blanket pattern by Daisy Farm Crafts here.
In honor of flashback Friday, here’s a fun one for you…
Last summer, my husband and I took a trip to Iceland.
It. Was. Amazing.
Anyway, something strange was going on the particular week we were there. It was a really really big deal. Like, everyone was freaking out big deal.
Guns ‘N Roses were performing. And it turns out this would be the biggest concert to ever happen in Iceland’s history.
Guns ‘N Roses. In 2018.
Apparently it is quite difficult to convince tours to stop in Iceland. I read something about how boats had to bring everything over, and for one show, that does seem a bit costly.
So yes. This was a huge deal. It’s all they talked about on the radio. People were talking about it in the bars. Our city tour guide was even bubbling over with excitement.
I went through a really serious 80’s music phase in my later high school/early college years and they were obviously a central part of my playlist. So I started fangirling pretty hard.
Alas, we decided to skip it. Because, in theory, we could catch them somewhere in the United States if we really wanted to, and our days were jam packed with hiking exotic and beautiful parts of the country- something we wouldn’t be able to do elsewhere.
Because we went out to dinner (early, of course, because we’re old souls) one night and, as we were walking back, we found ourselves coming upon a small crowd outside of a small boutique hotel.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if people were waiting for the band, Kyle? Let’s see what’s going on!” “Excuse me, is there something going on here?”
“Yes, we’re waiting for Guns ‘N Roses to come out to head to the show.”
I saw Slash in real life.
For maybe 3 seconds, but it COUNTS.
I lobbied to stay longer, because the word on the street was Axl had not yet shown his face. But Kyle pointed out this was Axl we were talking about, and he was probably going to be another 3 hours, even if the show started in 2.
So I lost that battle.
BUT SLASH! In the year 2018!
Thank you, Iceland, for making that dream come true.
Also, I did crafts there.
Iceland is known for their knitting, and even do guided multi-day knitting tours. Luckily no one saw my crochet hook and tossed me out of the country!
Thanks, Iceland. You’re the best.
..I’ve been a bit quiet on the blog and insta lately. Mostly because I’ve been swamped at work, adjusting into my new(ish) position, attempting to stay on top of my game, studying for a PMP exam, “training” for a 5-miler, and trying to squeeze in time for self care (yoga, knits and Netflix).
There is just a lot going on, and I’m having a TIME establishing a healthy work-life balance (parents, I don’t know how you do it). I’m learning as I go, faking it til’ I make it, and trying not to sprout anymore gray hairs in the process. PS- I recently spotted 3 devil hairs that grow significantly faster and thicker than the others. What’s up with that, anyway?
Anyway, in midst of all the everyday crazy, that we all endure, I’m frantically trying to finish up this baby blanket for a dear friend’s baby shower in early June (15 days, to be specific). Of course I’m woefully behind, but was reassured that I’d finish this in time if I stuck to a schedule I made for myself when I started in May.
~100 rows to get the length aka ~3 rows/day for a month and it should get it done. I am..behind. Weekends are typically when I have my time to catch up but they’ve been quite packed this month.
There is just not enough hours in the day..and too many things I don’t want to do that are getting in my way of what I enjoy. This is life, I know and overall it’s good ‘problem’ to have.
“If I can just make it though this week, I’ll be good” – and I’ll tell myself that for the foreseeable future, or at least through the end of June.
How do you prioritize your conflicting priorities in life? What do you do when you feel overwhelmed? I’m open to any and all suggestions on maintaining sanity. #SOS
I have wrinkles.
Not a lot, but enough to be noticeable. Small ones. Mostly around the eyes. They’re starting to intersect each other. Like the road map of a city that has started to expand and grow its own suburbs.
It’s possible they came from my job, which is an endless cycle of massive deadlines. Just as I’m about to get through a particularly brutal one, another one pops up for the next week. Rinse and repeat.
It’s possible they came from my husband. By marrying him, I’ve set myself up for an entire lifetime of heckling about my driving and the constant annoyance of dishes piling in the sink.
It’s possible they came from my son, who has meltdowns over things like his piece of toast tearing into two pieces and me not being able to magically fuse it back together even if IT STILL TASTES THE SAME AND THE END GOAL IS TO EAT IT ALL SO IT WON’T EVEN MATTER.
Sorry guys. Lost myself for a second. We get really passionate about toast around these parts.
Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. And since I haven’t quite come around to the idea of botox, the wrinkles are seemingly here to stay.
So instead I have to find a way to embrace them. Perhaps connect good things that come from the decades of stress.
With each work deadline comes a sense of accomplishment after I’m done. The wrinkles also represent the promotions I’ve received from hard work and dedication to a company I love.
I’m now basically too anxious to drive with anyone ever because of the endless jabs, but I also have had 7 years of support and love and a few thank yous for when I decide enough is enough and load the dishwasher myself. 😏
And sure, there are terrible two meltdowns on the regular, but I’ve also got a toddler who grabs my wrinkly face and plants kisses on it *almost* daily (he was really upset with me over the toast thing).
So yeah. My wrinkles are what they are. I guess I’ll own up to them and accept them as a fact of life. Same as my upcoming, inevitable dive into the mid-30’s scene happening this summer.
Or I’ll continue to assault them with every single serum and treatment I can get my hands on at Sephora for the rest of my life.
Yeah, I’ll probably do that.
I love making garments, accessories, or anything handmade for the people I love. Not only does it keep me busy for weeks (in this case, months), but once it’s finished and put it in the mail, it’s a great sense of accomplishment. Patiently waiting for it to arrive to its destination and envisioning the recipient’s face when they open it is the best part..Assuming it fits, and that it’s what they hoped it would be.
Making things for others guarantees that my finished product will not be sitting in my apt somewhere unused, and taking up precious space. My stash is already closing in on me. The more things I can gift, the better. Plus, it makes both parties happy 😊.
I started this poncho in January and it took me ~4.5 months to finish. Each row took ~15-20 minutes to complete. I actually timed myself, and could never break my 15-20min row speed, that seems really slow. It’s usually because I stop, crack my wrists/fingers, change the channel on my show, or do the downward facing dog stretch because all I do is hunch over in concentration, and these old bones are feelin’ it.
There is nothing too complicated about this poncho, it’s double crochet, with a few skipped stitches for the design. It’s essentially a massive blanket with a hole for the head – I love it. Pattern here. I can’t love it too much, or otherwise I’d become emotionally attached – IT’S NOT FOR ME, and I reminded myself that every time I picked it up.
My Mom’s bestie requested this back in December, and when I agreed to give it a shot, I wasn’t anticipating how long it would take. A whole season has passed us by but luckily this poncho will live in Chicago, so I’m sure it will get a lot of use no matter what.
One size fits all should hold true – that is the best project to make for people without overthinking the whole “I hope this fits” question that haunts me with every garment I make. Thankfully, this is meant to be oversized and cozy and there is nothing better than that.
What do ya think?
We took a lovely long weekend trip to Missouri over Easter.
Given that my child is almost two and a half, it really is a crap shoot of what to expect from him on the 7.5-hour drive. For example, last time we made the trip, he projectile vomited within 5 miles of my parents’ house.
It could have been worse, I suppose. He could have thrown up in hour 2 and the smell would have destroyed us all. So there’s that.
But anyway, he did great. Both the ride down and back. Possibly the best road trip we’ve had with him.
My husband, however, did not fare so well.
He got the chills the night before we drove back home.
We still drove back, but turns out it was strep throat. And we had all been trapped in a car together for 7.5 hours.
Kyle immediately went into quarantine. And while I like to think of myself as a loving wife, there’s only so much nurturing to go around. And when I am doing everything I can to keep my child from getting strep, there’s not much leftover when it comes to looking over his well-being.
I warmed up a couple of cans of soup. Threw a bottle of NyQuil at him through a slightly opened door. Provided him with some Clorox wipes to wipe down anything he touched between the two rooms he was allowed in – our bedroom and the bathroom.
And then I slept on our family room couch for two days.
Because it is all about survival. And sorry, bro, you have fallen and I cannot help you until you are officially no longer contagious.
That does seem harsh. But to be fair, if I were to get sick, I would expect about the same. One adult being sick is tolerable. But if you take the child down with you, we’re going to have problems.
He must be protected at all costs.
So Kyle stayed in quarantine and I caught up on Netflix in the evenings, with crochet in hand.
I really love the texture, but due to the size of this throw, it’s been slow going. It’s also stalled at the moment, because I need to buy more yarn for it.
With health being restored in our household, I also expect it to stall more because I am desperately behind on my NICU blanket goals.
Gonna have to partially blame the husband and his germs on that one. 🙂
A time to put away bulky winter wear and make room for the clothing that takes up less space in our closets.
A time to take everything that no longer pleases us and donate it, throw it away, or stash it in a storage bin and put it in the basement for the next 8 months.
A time to realize that those 20 storage bins, some labeled: “T-shirts I cannot throw away” is 100% unnecessary.
I love to declutter (throw things away), and if it were just me I would feel a sense of accomplishment by the countless bags of clothes that are purged/donated each year. Less junk means more space, right? Wrong. It isn’t just me. It’s the hubs too – and he has his own hoarding tendencies that are more severe than my own.
I’ve reverted to closing the door to our spare room to avert my eyes from the explosion of clothes scattered and piled everywhere. Not my mess, not my problem. Just close the door and pretend the mess isn’t there.
Between the ages of 10 to 18, my Mom tried to instill cleanliness into my routine everyday. It never worked. I’m sorry for being so messy, Mom – and for driving you insane.
I am much better now, it only took me 31 years, and living with someone else to know that messes aren’t welcome, especially when they’re not mine.
I think the only way to remedy this situation, and to spark joy in the declutter process is to watch that Netflix show “Tidying Up with Marie Kondo“ – I’ve heard it’s quite motivating for those who need a swift kick. Until the day I can tie down the hubs to watch it with me, I have my own words of wisdom for “tidying up”:
If you answer “NO” to ANY of these 5 questions – THROW IT AWAY!
- Have I worn this in the 12 months?
- Does this still fit me?
- Was this expensive?
- Do I plan on wearing …XYZ…this season?
- Is this brand within my age range? (ahem..those 10-year-old hoodies from Hollister, A&F, Forever21, – toss that shit, you’re too old!)
Maybe I should make a sign?
Maybe this blog post IS my sign.
Maybe I will just keep my fingers crossed and hope he becomes motivated to purge on his own time.
…or maybe I will just throw it all away because chances are he’ll never notice they’re gone. Nah, that’s probably rude.
And it’s not just clothes, its knits too. Just look at this stash collection I’ve created. I have a problem.
I’ve seen worse, obviously, but this is me not buying yarn for MONTHS (except for that one instance last week), I feel like I still haven’t even put a dent in these bins. I have no idea what this yarn is even for? Why did I buy it? Why is it colorful? What was wrong with me? I either need to donate this, make something out of it, and THEN donate, or continue to store it for a rainy day.
Ugh, how do YOU become motivated to purge? I’m asking for a friend.
I’m a quirky character, if you haven’t already figured that out.
I crochet, for one thing, which seems normal when you follow like 500 like-minded Instagram accounts, but in real life, my partner in crime Bailey is one of the few people I know who knits/crochets on the reg. I do have a friend who does cross stitch, but if we’re going to be a fiber arts snob, that is not the same thing (seriously. It’s not.).
But anyway, there’s more about me that is a little eccentric. I don’t like most fruit. I also have a strong opinion that dessert should not have fruit in it, but if you want to get super technical, I do like Swedish fish and lemon-flavored starbursts (Yes, the lemon ones. You’re now wondering if I’m a sociopath, I get it.).
I don’t care for riding bikes, not one bit, as I believe I’m better off with both feet touching the ground.
I can’t stand being late, but we’ve already examined that psychological problem in detail.
I’m obsessed with the Royal Family.
It likely stems from the fantasies of being a princess that many little girls grew up with. Or that because I grew up on a farm in the heart of the U.S. versus in a CASTLE, that I’m so fascinated by a life so different than my own.
Either way, obsessed.
Remember when Will and Kate tied the knot? I convinced my friend Monica it would be a good idea to get up at 3am and watch the wedding on the treadmills at the gym. I had the nuptials streaming with my headphones in at work. And then I proceeded to watch coverage of it from the time I got home that night until I went to bed. Literally 5-6 hours of replaying things that I had already watched. Obsessed.
When Harry and Meghan got married? Same thing, but I had a kid, so I tried to convince him the horses on their carriage were fun to watch so I could maximize my news coverage instead of changing to Saturday morning cartoons.
I actually looked up flights to England to get in on the pre-wedding hype. Seriously.
Flights were cheap, lodging was the bigger issue. If you were curious.
I binge watched The Crown, and watched every documentary on the family that Netflix has to offer. Queen Elizabeth is the epitome of boss bitch and I love her for it. Her elegance? Perfection. Her steadfast rule? Legendary. The perfected side eye of disapproval?
So, as you can imagine, waiting around for Harry’s royal spawn has started to get very exciting.
Girl or boy? Will it have red hair? Meghan’s smile? Harry’s care free personality? How many names will they get? SO MANY THINGS TO WONDER ABOUT.
The moral of the story is if I seem distracted this month, this is one of the reasons why.
And for real, Netflix, when do we get a release date for The Crown’s third season?
St. Patrick’s Day is one of my favorite holidays. I’m Irish, I love day-drinking, I love parades, and I love green things. With each passing year, I find myself starting earlier and ending earlier, because hey, I must work the next day and I cannot deal with the Monday fuzzies that come after a long day of raging as if I still have the stamina.
The weekend began on Friday night, casting on a new green beanie that I tasked myself to finish before Sunday’s parade. It was that moment I was reminded just how old lady I am.
Ten reasons why I feel 90:
#1: My Friday night was a rager, I spent it frogging my knit beanie because I was practicing the dandelion stitch – the struggle.
Saturday, we went skiing with some friends at Pats Peak – It was a 40-degree day and the runs were a little slushy, but it will likely be our last trip of the season, so it had to be done. I don’t typically challenge myself on the slopes, until I’ve had at least 3 beers. Guinness’ is just what I needed. Post-lunch ski run was a short one, and my last. No one was hurt, and I was quite impressed with my form as I bolted down the mountain at 30 mph – swerving every which way screaming “yikes” on my way down.
Saturday night we went out to dinner/drinks with some friends at a restaurant in the neighborhood. It was a great time, with great peeps, and it’s when my old lady tendencies really kicked in.
#2 – I made the mistake of laying down to watch Friday. The hubs had to scrape me off the couch to go to dinner. I can’t help it, I love Ice Cube.
#3 – I cannot tolerate lines or waiting in them, especially at 7pm. Luckily, we had a reservation and walking by 40+ people standing in line was so rewarding. Suckers. Reservations, always.
After dinner we scoped out a spot by the bar that would hold 14ish people – victory! I was monitoring the waves of people coming in and out, and plotted our take-over.
#4 – I was scoping out a spot to stand by the bar where people would not bump into me for at least an hour. Give me my space or SOS to you.
#5 – Bathrooms at bars these days are like a mini soap opera. Has it always been that way? I do not remember being so open with my problems to strangers. Carissa, (if you are reading this), I agree with Ashley…Jonathan really isn’t worth it. I know it was his birthday, but you shouldn’t have texted him – he’s a total jerk and you deserve better.
#6 – Every guy in that bar looked like a member of One Direction, but shorter.
#7 – Sunday, we woke up at 9am and went to brunch at a bar down the street. They opened at 10am and you better believe we were there at 9:55 to secure a seat at the bar. I’m always prompt.
#8 – The perfect seat is the one on the end (by the waitress station), where there is only one person who has the option to sit next to you – hubs. The fewer people reaching over me to order their espresso martinis, the better.
Of course, I stuffed my face with a heavy breakfast that was way too much for 10am. I was trying to get a good base that would last. I could have sat there all day sipping bloody marys, I wish I could have.
#9 – (received the bar bill) <inner monologue>: “OMG. What have we done? Was it worth it? No. I should have stayed in, I’m too poor for this. How do people do this every weekend? I could have bought 8 large pizzas, or groceries for the week. It’s okay, it’s only money, I can always make more. It’s not okay.”
Connor McGregor was in the parade and that was the ONE thing we wanted to see. That, and the people watching, which never disappoints. We didn’t see him (apparently, he didn’t do the whole parade), but we did see lots of shenanigans on the streets afterward. Jabroniville.
#10 – Before returning to our apt, I insisted that we walk through the carnage, and to appreciate the fact of “thank God that’s not me” – “oh that poor girl” “did you see that girl’s pants..did she just? Omg!” – “I hope no one gets hit by a car” – “is that guy peeing or puking?”
Some key takeaways and highlights:
- Fire department rescued a guy off the roof. He jumped from the roof next door and couldn’t get back.
- Always bring an extra pair of jeans for your friend – because even adults have accidents (yes, it was gross).
- People were literally hanging of their windows and no one died, and that is what matters.
How did you spend your St. Pat’s day weekend?