Archive for February, 2008
Once again I discover something that nearly everyone else has tried first, like blogging. I’m always late. And this time I am, in fact, centuries late.
I took my first yoga class when I was four months pregnant with the small boy. I had been interested for years but was paralyzed by my past associations with group classes. Namely, aerobic classes in the late 80s. I was the awkward sweaty girl in the back always a step behind. My idea of yoga being graceful yet serious sort of precluded being the sweaty awkward girl on a yoga mat. I wanted a Yoga for Dummies class where I could learn the poses so as not to embarass myself. Oddly enough, I found it.
A new yoga studio had opened up back then and there was a beginner class. I decided to go for it. The studio was so new that I was the only student in the class my first night. It was fantastic. My teacher was gorgeous, not only physically but in that mind/body/spirit yoga way too, not to mention kind and patient. She gently led my pregnant body through the basics. It was just what I needed. She asked when we were through how I felt.
I said, “I’m not tired.”
She replied, “Well I led you through with easy poses to start.”
“No,” I said, “You don’t understand. I wake up in the morning feeling tired and it lasts until I go to bed at night. I don’t feel tired right now.”
It felt amazing. Moving and breathing to get oxygen into all your cells was invigorating. My brain felt clear. I felt loose and comfortable in my body which was a lovely yet alien sensation for me. I fell in love with yoga.
Sadly, I fell out of it after the small boy was born. Difficult schedules, hard to find babysitters, blah, blah, blah. But I just started going again after over a year away. My gorgeous teacher is still there (and still honored the classes I bought two years ago, thank you). I have my very own mat now and I’m in love all over again.
I saw this first from Kirsty at Two Lime Leaves, then Susannah at Soozadoo. The original (as best as I can track) starts here. Both women are so much more eloquent than myself but for some reason I was drawn to this one. Mine is short, more poem than story.
I am from library books and their interior worlds, craft projects and paint, from Noxema and Coppertone Cape Cod vacations, games of Monopoly and Battleship.
I am from the rough and tumble of only girl with a big sloppy Saint Bernard friend.
I am from the crabapple tree, the willow and fresh mint leaves.
I am from Sunday dinners at Grams, common sense and obligation, from Rosemary and Mildred and Kathleen.
I am from hard work, pride, ethics and silence.
From finish your peas and do your chores.
I’m from everywhere and nowhere, an Anglo-American mutt of Swede and Scot, German and English, and Irish (both kinds – the wrong ones and the right ones as explained to me by Cyril). I’m from peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches, sweet biscuits and chocolate dogs, Swedish meatballs and Shake-and-Bake chicken, homemade crabapple jelly and pizza on Fridays.
From the whirlwind courtship of my grandparents – the first date that was supposed to be with her sister to the fourth time she laid eyes on him in her wedding dress; the too many funerals – aunts, uncles, cousins gone too soon; laughing so hard that you explode in tears and the other grandfather who made everything hard.
And I am from love, mighty and flawed, priceless and treasured.
No, it’s not my wedding anniversary, that was here. It’s not my blog-iversary, that’s not until July.
My sourdough starter is a year old! I take this as a point of personal triumph. (It’s good that little things make me happy). After all, I’ve heard the horror stories of the black sludge that overcomes many starters. It’s certainly lasted a lot longer than my original attempt when I lived in the motherland of sourdough – the SF Bay area.
We’ve enjoyed the standby sourdough loaf for sandwiches, soup bowls and spinach dip bowls (yum); the whole wheat sourdough, and the sourdough oatmeal bread. I actually bought the giant 25 lb. bag of King Arthur flour on my last Costco run. I guess that means I’m into the bread baking for the long haul.
I got a surprise package in the mail over the weekend. It was my Pay It Forward goodie from Anna at SewFarSewGood. It’s the cutest pin cushion in … guess what fabric? Moda Chez Moi! I’m trying to remember if we discussed this or maybe Anna is just psychic. Doesn’t matter, I love it. Thank you Anna!
I’ve had the PIF on my mind lately, knowing that my goodies need to be finished soon and sent out into the world. I have about a month left to send them before I start jinxing my karma. I know what I’ll be making and my own quilt is going along well enough that I should be able to slip some other projects into my precious sewing time without too much trouble. Watch the mail, my PIF friends.
Do you remember those additional half square triangles that were the result of my supreme math blunder? I’ve obsessed about them enough. Well here they are and making a fine border. I’ve got them all sewn together and rolled up waiting for the rest of the top.
The next step is sewing the window panes to each of the assembled blocks of four. Then sew together my windows and put on the border. Wow, it looks like it could be done soon enough. I would love to get it to the machine quilter and have it back in time for our move. A fresh new look for our new home. Yay!
The rules are:
1. When tagged, place the name of the person and URL on your blog
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Write 7 things about yourself
4. Name 7 of your favorite blogs
5. Send an e-mail letting those bloggers know they have been tagged
(I have to skip this part, I’m not sure I can come up with 7 bloggers who haven’t been tagged already. There are lots of blogs out there that I read and admire, and if you’re reading this and want to play then say I tagged you.)
1. Living arrangements
Just like Jen, we’re moving too. My in-laws are renovating a house for themselves and we’re buying theirs. The house has been in my husband’s family for generations. It’s a Colonial built in the 1740’s. There is a fireplace in each of the eight rooms. I have this odd picture of the back hall through to the eating kitchen with my two boys playing at Grammy’s house.
I graduated with a BS in Journalism but I’ve never been a journalist. I thought it was the practical person’s English degree. I discovered graphics while copyediting at the school newspaper and never looked back.
3. Favorite food/drink
If it’s only one, then no question I’d have to say chocolate. The darker the better.
4. Morning or evening person?
I’ve been forced to act like a morning person by my two early-rising children. On a very good day, they sleep until 6am. I feel like I’ve passed the true test of a mother’s love by not sending them to toddler boarding school by now.
5. Since when have you been quilting?
I started about six years ago. I wandered into the local quilt shop to buy some buttons and thread and fell in love with the colors and designs of the fabric. Even though I’m fairly impatient and somewhat sloppy, I thought I’d give quilting a try. I love it. If I can do it, anyone can.
We have two cats – Rowena and Lucy. We’ll probably add a dog to the mix when we move and have more space. Then someday I want some alpacas.
We’ve been to Ireland every other year for the past several years. My mother-in-law is from County Clare and my husband’s family still have a house there. It’s a great vacation though with the dollar tanking and the fact that we’re moving, we decided not to go this year.
I always look in the remnant bin but rarely find much, let alone a treasure trove of coordinating fabrics.
I only went in for thread, I swear. No really. Besides, they were half price.
Hello, my name is Peg and I’m addicted to fabric.