Since it's the last day of the month, that means that it's time to go over the goals I've set for myself this year!
This is really more for me than for you. It's a great way to help keep me on track and good motivation to get things done!
1. Make a granny square every weekday of 2015: Still going. The pile of squares is getting bigger and bigger!
2. Read 40 books, with 30 of them being from the Rory Gilmore Reading List: Four books this month, and three were off of the RGRL. That puts me at 10 books with 6 of them from RGRL!
3. Organize three years worth of digital pictures: Yep, still working on the pictures. It's been fun to look back and see them. I got through 4 months of picture, which is good, because some of the months coming up have a LOT of pictures in them
5. Finish a train embroidery project: Still chugging a long on this one! I stitch and stitch and I only get small sections done at a time, but I'm working on it!
6. Make money from my knitting: Not this month, but I have finished a LOT of projects on my to do list, and once those are done, I'm hoping to get some jobs!
7. On the blogging side of things, it's to blog twice a week: Still not doing two a week on a regular basis! But I think there less days between posts and I'm posting more regularly than last year, so forward progress? Also, I have 17 posts in 8 weeks. So technically I'm averaging twice a week, even if I'm not actually posting twice a week, so that still counts, right?
8. Also related to blogging, I need to be a better commenter on other
blogs: Yep, still doing a good job on this!
Overall, I'm pleased with what I'm doing. In addition to this, I've been doing a much better job of not letting laundry pile up, and I've got a pretty good schedule with the cleaning down. I've also worked on organizing the kitchen and feel like it's in pretty good shape. Which is good. I've never been so organized in my life. I still don't have the energy to accomplish a million things each day, but it's amazing how much I can get done just by doing 3-5 things each day!
How about you? Still going with your 2015 goals and resolutions?
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Friday, February 27, 2015
House of Cards
*As a reminder, I am part of the Netflix Stream Team. I am being compensated for sharing about Netflix with you. However, as always, all thoughts and opinions are my own!Do you know what today is? Today is February 27.
I have been counting down to this day.
Today, well, early this am, the next season of Netflix's original show House of Cards comes out.
And so, I will attempt to watch as many episodes as possible to get through them all.
I LOVE binge watching things. And I especially love binge watching House of Cards!
I watched the first season when it came out, in a few weeks.
Last year, I watched the second season in a week. I considered it my Valentine's Day gift to myself!
This year, I will attempt to do the same thing.
Here's how I've prepared:
- I've already warned my family that momma will be a bit preoccupied until all episodes have been watched.
- I've got drinks lined up: water, tea, and Izze.
- I've got a secret stash of chocolate. And a box of Girl Scout Cookies just for me.
- I've also got chips, veggies, hummus, and other yummy snacks on hand as well!
- I've planned simple dinners that will allow me more watching time.
- The tablet and computer will be charged since I will stream it through one of those devices.
- My headphones have become unlost (related: I always lose them! Why are they so easy to lose?) so that if I can watch if someone else wants to be in the same room and not hear it. NOTE: Not the children though. This isn't a show I'd watch with my children in the room ... I mean the husband or the granny!
- I've got two knitting projects to keep my hands busy as I watch.
- I rewatched the last episode of season 2 last night to remind myself of what exactly was going on
- I've already noted who of my friends will be watching as well so we can discuss, discuss, and gasp in awe at what happens together.
I'm just so excited to see what Frank and Claire have in store for us!
Now pardon me while I run ... I'm sure I can squeeze in one more episode right now!
Thursday, February 26, 2015
World War I Quilts
*Note: I received this book through Net Galley, with the expectation
that I would review it. As always, all thoughts and opinions are my own!
In World War I Quilts, Sue Reich takes us on a journey of the quilts of the rather short time period.
The book is a mix of information, gorgeous pictures, and newspaper stories from the time of the Great War.
The book opens by telling us what the quilt trends were going into the war: red work, tobacco flannel, crazy quilts, etc. These were the quilts women and med were making in America at the time.
But then comes The Great War and the Spanish Flu, and things take a different course.
When we think of women making things during the war, we often picture them knitting socks or rolling bandages. Which many did. But there was also a great deal of quilt making going on.
Quilts were made and auctioned to earn money to get supplies, send care packages, help support the local Red Cross. Quilts were made and sent to soldiers when they could be. Quilts were a way to be creative and to help out.
The quilts pictured in World War I quilts are gorgeous. These quilts that were handmade, hand embroidered, machine pieced, machine stitched. There were crazy quilts, red work quilts, many quilts with the Red Cross symbol. Women were busy stitching their quilts together ... stitch by stitch.
And not just women. Men participated, boys participated, girls participated. The whole country came together to do what they could to support the troops on the battlefront.
Many quilts were made by groups and quilted during quilting bees. Though, the Spanish Flu paused this as people were encouraged to not be in groups. The Spanish Flu also had some devastating consequences: many quilts of the time were burned in an effort to stop the spread of the flu further. I was unaware of quilts (and clothing and other various pieces of cloth) being burned and I kind of want to weep about how many lovingly-made quilts were lost this way.
After the war, quilts continued to be made. These were known as Poppy Quilts (yes, like the poppies we wear for Memorial Day). Poppies became an important motif in many quilts, and some were auctioned off to support local VFW's.
In addition to the information presented in the book, there were many photographs of some gorgeous quilts. I think I could flip through and just look at the pictures many times and still never tire of them. A couple of them, I'd love to print out for my own creative inspiration wall as well!
I also thought the newspaper snippets were so interesting as well and added an extra something to the book. They gave me a good understanding of just how important these quilts were to so many, how much good they brought to people, and allowed me to see how whole communities rallied around these quilts. I also appreciate any documents from the time period when reading historical books!
I really enjoyed reading this book and learned a few things I had been unaware of previously. Now that I'm through it, my fingers are itching to start a redwork patriotic themed quilt. Naturally, I'll have to finish the million and one other projects I've got started!
If you'd like to see a couple of the quilts in this book, head on over to Reich's website!
The book is a mix of information, gorgeous pictures, and newspaper stories from the time of the Great War.
The book opens by telling us what the quilt trends were going into the war: red work, tobacco flannel, crazy quilts, etc. These were the quilts women and med were making in America at the time.
But then comes The Great War and the Spanish Flu, and things take a different course.
When we think of women making things during the war, we often picture them knitting socks or rolling bandages. Which many did. But there was also a great deal of quilt making going on.
Quilts were made and auctioned to earn money to get supplies, send care packages, help support the local Red Cross. Quilts were made and sent to soldiers when they could be. Quilts were a way to be creative and to help out.
The quilts pictured in World War I quilts are gorgeous. These quilts that were handmade, hand embroidered, machine pieced, machine stitched. There were crazy quilts, red work quilts, many quilts with the Red Cross symbol. Women were busy stitching their quilts together ... stitch by stitch.
And not just women. Men participated, boys participated, girls participated. The whole country came together to do what they could to support the troops on the battlefront.
Many quilts were made by groups and quilted during quilting bees. Though, the Spanish Flu paused this as people were encouraged to not be in groups. The Spanish Flu also had some devastating consequences: many quilts of the time were burned in an effort to stop the spread of the flu further. I was unaware of quilts (and clothing and other various pieces of cloth) being burned and I kind of want to weep about how many lovingly-made quilts were lost this way.
After the war, quilts continued to be made. These were known as Poppy Quilts (yes, like the poppies we wear for Memorial Day). Poppies became an important motif in many quilts, and some were auctioned off to support local VFW's.
In addition to the information presented in the book, there were many photographs of some gorgeous quilts. I think I could flip through and just look at the pictures many times and still never tire of them. A couple of them, I'd love to print out for my own creative inspiration wall as well!
I also thought the newspaper snippets were so interesting as well and added an extra something to the book. They gave me a good understanding of just how important these quilts were to so many, how much good they brought to people, and allowed me to see how whole communities rallied around these quilts. I also appreciate any documents from the time period when reading historical books!
I really enjoyed reading this book and learned a few things I had been unaware of previously. Now that I'm through it, my fingers are itching to start a redwork patriotic themed quilt. Naturally, I'll have to finish the million and one other projects I've got started!
If you'd like to see a couple of the quilts in this book, head on over to Reich's website!
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Things I Wish I Didn't Have To Say
 |
| Miss 12 and myself |
We've talked about sex, puberty, drinking, drugs, violence, injustice in the world, bullying, stranger danger, what's appropriate/inappropriate to post on-line, etc, etc.
There's a part of me that just wants to shield them from all the bad in the world. To pretend that nothing bad ever happens to anyone ever.
Of course, we all know that it doesn't work that way. And so we talk about all sorts of things. I don't shield them from things - but will present topics at what I feel are appropriate levels for them.
Last week though, I had one of the hardest talks I've ever had to have.
My 12 year old started crying and told me she didn't know what she would do if I died.
....
....
....
I didn't know what to say.
I'm sure she's thought about it before. I've thought about it before. But we have never talked about it before.
And pardon my language, but fuck. I never want to have to talk to my kids, until they are much much older, about how they will handle my death.
I suppose, no matter what I think now, I'll never be ready to talk about it. I don't want to think about losing my mother, and I'm 35.
But there she was, looking at me, tears in her eyes, asking me what she will do if I die.
And so I had to swallow that huge lump in my throat and talk to her about it. Openly and honestly.
I don't know if I said the right things. But I spoke from my heart, and I have to hope that that is enough.
I told her that if I were to pass away, it would be awful. That she would be very sad and it would probably be a difficult time in her life.
We talked about how she would have a lot of people rally around her (and my husband and the other kids). That a lot of people would be there to support her and love her. And I told her to not push these people away, because sometimes grief makes you want to do that.
I told her that I imagined that it would be hard to feel happy. Or that sometimes when we lose a loved one and something good happens, we feel guilty for being happy. That sometimes we think that doing something fun is the wrong thing to do, or that we shouldn't laugh.
And so I told her that I wanted nothing but happiness for her, and that being happy, or laughing, or having fun is exactly what I would want for her. That doing that shouldn't make her feel guilty or sad, but should make her smile more because wherever I am, I'd be smiling when seeing her happy.
I told her that I wanted the same thing for her dad and for her siblings. And that some people grieve quickly and some need more time. That some people grieve loudly, and some silently. Some people seem to move on quickly and some do not. Sometimes people hide their grief and some people wear it on their sleeve for everyone to see, and that no matter how the other people in her life grieve ... she should NOT feel that she must grieve the same. Nor should she judge them for how they grieve.
I told her that some days things would feel totally normal and other days, it might feel like the world has ended. I told her that sometimes grief would sneak up on her and feel like a punch in the stomach when she wasn't expecting it.
I told her random things will happen that will remind her of something we did, or that I said, and she would just smile and feel all warm and fuzzy inside. That it might feel like I was coming to visit her and say hi, and that she should hold onto that feeling, even if someone else things it's strange.
I told her that every year, when the first snowball fell, she should run outside and make a snowball and think of the snowball song I sing at least once a winter, if not too many times!
I also told her that if losing me was just too hard and felt too overwhelming, that she should ask for help, cry out for it if she needed too. That she should talk to her father, her sister, her brother, a best friend, a counselor, someone, anyone. That it wouldn't make her weak or mean that she was grieving in a "wrong" way.
And then I made a lot of stupid jokes to try to lighten the mood. I said that I hoped I would pass away so far in the future, that we'd both be old ladies by then and that she would forget everything I had just said.
She wasn't ready to smile yet, so we talked some more and I reiterated that I wanted her to be happy. That life was going to bring some really awesome moments and it's also going to bring her moments that weren't so great and that all she can do is what she can do (which is something I say often in every day moments).
I also told her that the sun will always rise the next morning - another thing I say to my kids a lot ... not to downplay what they are feeling, but as a way to say, hey, feel/mad/angry/etc now, but just also keep in mind the sun will rise tomorrow. And I joked that I know tomorrow will come because it's already tomorrow in Australia, so it already came!
She then told me that in parts of the North Pole it's night for months at a time. And she smiled again. She stopped tearing up. And she even managed to giggle a little bit.
We hugged and I told her that no matter what happened, everything would be okay. Maybe not right away, maybe we won't even realize it at first, but it will be okay. And that I knew she was a strong person because she showed it to me all the time (even when she probably didn't think she was).
She smiled. And was ready to get up and do the things she needed to do.
I, on the other hand, had to sit for a while and just breath.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Catching My Breath
Not often, but every once in a while, there are moments where I feel like I can't breathe.
Chest tightness.
Gasping for air.
Heart starts racing.
Ears start to ring.
It is frightening.
I dislike it very much.
Sometimes it's just a moment. A brief fleeting moment.
Other times it lasts just a bit longer.
I know these are very mild panic attacks.
I know that in a few minutes my heart rate will return to normal. I will be able to take a deep breath.
I'm not a stranger to panic attacks.
I had my first one when I was 18. And I didn't know what was happening. I thought maybe it was a heart attack. It was in the middle of a football game at the high school I had graduated from a few months prior. I freaked someone out. I was embarrassed and not quite sure what had happened, but tucked it away and hoped it would never happen again.
But life happens, and I started to have them.
With help, I was able to get them under control. I had, okay, I still do have, a lot of anxiety. And it had reached a point where it was getting in the way of life. But I faced it, admitted what was happened and sought out help with it.
I managed to get the anxiety mostly under control and the panic attacks stopped.
But then came cancer.
I had my first one at one of my check-ups. It was my 6 month check-up with the breast surgeon. I hadn't seen her since one quick follow-up from the initial mastectomy and while I was waiting for her to come in, just out of the blue, I had a panic attack.
I suppose in some ways, this is a very mild form of PTSD. I was back in the office of the doctor who found my cancer. No one had warned me that a strong reaction might happen. To be fair, if someone had, I'm not sure I would listen.
Another 6 months, in the same office, I was prepared this time. So I focused on my breathing and I made it through. But then she found another lump and she ultrasounded it and then told me it had to be biopsied.
Panic attack.
Thyroid biopsy - panic attack.
Getting some lumps in my armpit ultrasounded - panic attack.
Recently I had to take granny in to get a Dexa scan. It just so happens they do the Dexa scans in the same place they do mammograms and breast ultrasounds.
You guess it, once they wheeled granny away (in her wheelchair) to get a scan, panic attack.
It was awful. I never want to go back into that area of the hospital again.
I had to remind myself we were there for something routine, that I wasn't even there for myself, that granny would come out of there okay.
It was horrible.
I came home and told my husband I would never go there again unless there was no other option. That for the next Dexa scan, he had to take granny. And if I needed another one, then I would do it at the secondary location I did it over the summer at. And if I ever needed my breast or armpit ultrasounded, he could drug me with xanax and maybe get me to agree to go.
I know, I know. Sometimes you have to face your anxiety head on. But I'm not there yet. I'm not ready. I don't want to face it. I want to never have to deal with it again.
And I'm totally okay with not being ready to face it. I've got enough on my plate, and it's not like I have to go to this room all the time. This is my third time ever having to be there.
So for now, I'm going to try to just keep going. And cross my fingers that no more panic attacks sneak up on me. But if they do come, I'm going to try to just breathe and catch my breath.
Chest tightness.
Gasping for air.
Heart starts racing.
Ears start to ring.
It is frightening.
I dislike it very much.
Sometimes it's just a moment. A brief fleeting moment.
Other times it lasts just a bit longer.
I know these are very mild panic attacks.
I know that in a few minutes my heart rate will return to normal. I will be able to take a deep breath.
I'm not a stranger to panic attacks.
I had my first one when I was 18. And I didn't know what was happening. I thought maybe it was a heart attack. It was in the middle of a football game at the high school I had graduated from a few months prior. I freaked someone out. I was embarrassed and not quite sure what had happened, but tucked it away and hoped it would never happen again.
But life happens, and I started to have them.
With help, I was able to get them under control. I had, okay, I still do have, a lot of anxiety. And it had reached a point where it was getting in the way of life. But I faced it, admitted what was happened and sought out help with it.
I managed to get the anxiety mostly under control and the panic attacks stopped.
But then came cancer.
I had my first one at one of my check-ups. It was my 6 month check-up with the breast surgeon. I hadn't seen her since one quick follow-up from the initial mastectomy and while I was waiting for her to come in, just out of the blue, I had a panic attack.
I suppose in some ways, this is a very mild form of PTSD. I was back in the office of the doctor who found my cancer. No one had warned me that a strong reaction might happen. To be fair, if someone had, I'm not sure I would listen.
Another 6 months, in the same office, I was prepared this time. So I focused on my breathing and I made it through. But then she found another lump and she ultrasounded it and then told me it had to be biopsied.
Panic attack.
Thyroid biopsy - panic attack.
Getting some lumps in my armpit ultrasounded - panic attack.
Recently I had to take granny in to get a Dexa scan. It just so happens they do the Dexa scans in the same place they do mammograms and breast ultrasounds.
You guess it, once they wheeled granny away (in her wheelchair) to get a scan, panic attack.
It was awful. I never want to go back into that area of the hospital again.
I had to remind myself we were there for something routine, that I wasn't even there for myself, that granny would come out of there okay.
It was horrible.
I came home and told my husband I would never go there again unless there was no other option. That for the next Dexa scan, he had to take granny. And if I needed another one, then I would do it at the secondary location I did it over the summer at. And if I ever needed my breast or armpit ultrasounded, he could drug me with xanax and maybe get me to agree to go.
I know, I know. Sometimes you have to face your anxiety head on. But I'm not there yet. I'm not ready. I don't want to face it. I want to never have to deal with it again.
And I'm totally okay with not being ready to face it. I've got enough on my plate, and it's not like I have to go to this room all the time. This is my third time ever having to be there.
So for now, I'm going to try to just keep going. And cross my fingers that no more panic attacks sneak up on me. But if they do come, I'm going to try to just breathe and catch my breath.
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