Life doesn’t give me much breathing room. I find myself coming up for gasps of air between work, the kids, the pets, Husbeast and poorly attempted household maintenance. Finding a sense of balance isn’t easy and I have been trying to capture moments in among the craziness of just surviving.
I am lucky to get a bit of exercise snuck into my work day by determidly taking the stairs when at all possible, and devoting my short breaks to a few flights (of stairs, not actual flying) here and there. On weekends I try to go for a very long walk with my camera in tow and playlist on my iPhone. For me, it brings back memories of going for long walks with Papa when I was young. We would tramp about Washougal, occassionally picking up recycle cans and bottles, chatting about school or life in a small town, but mainly I remember the moments of quiet between us, interspersed with gentle history lessons about the town, the homes, the people. I wonder if I am now holding the torch of tradition. Papa’s eye’s are still bright blue with life and laughter, but at almost 88, his days of tramping the hills are waning. I wonder if either of my daughters will capture my hand and follow me through streets and paths, like I did with my father. So much to think, ponder, dream.
There is knitting. Always with the knitting. I ripped out my first attempt at Herbivore, the yarn and resulting fabric just wasn’t speaking to me. I like this incarnation so much better. The yarn is Pashmi. Very lovely and soft.
I am also starting a new sock blanket. The one for Shann is basically finished, I just need to weave in the ends and fix a couple of places where the yarn split and it is literally hanging by a thread.