Crocheting

My Mom taught me to crochet when I was eight and oh boy...the chains I made! I made enough chains to circle the Earth...or at the very least the living room. My first real project was an afghan when I was pregnant with my oldest. Counting by sevens must have thrown me because what should have been a rectangular afghan turned out trapezoidal. Oops. Nonetheless, I stuck with it. 

Maybe it's the repetition, the counting...I don't really know what it is but it's calming. With all the kids and dogs I have, I need a LOT of calming. One winter I made sixty hats. Sixty...that's a lot of hats. Below you see a co-worker who everyone jokingly called "Evil-Ann". I made her this. 

This hat was such a hit and so incredibly easy I started making more novelty hats. Frogs, cats, dogs, vikings...ninja turtles. It was fun making them and surprising people. But then some of my friends started taking orders for me. (Trying to be helpful of course.) I don't recall how many hats I made that year, it's kind of a blur. Fifteen dollars per hat. Fast and easy money, right? Wrong. I quickly learned I couldn't take the pressure. I started feeling like Monica, from Friends, with the Christmas Candy! I thought about starting my own old lady sweat shop. Surely some of the residents knew how to crochet...they could make the basic hat for me and I could add on the embellishments...give them something to do, help me fill the orders...it's a win, win! Yes!! Alas, I couldn't do it. Unless I wanted to wear the above devil hat all the time. I've since cut back on the orders I'll take. 

My work of late is all charitable. As part of my yoga teacher training I have to practice Karma Yoga. This means I have to spend thirty hours doing something for the good of mankind. Not for myself. What better way to spread good Karma than to make hats for sick children? Now that's a win-win. Here's a sampling of my work. 

Jayne's cunning hat from Firefly. I made the boy inside the hat as well.

Walker Bag

Infinity Scarf

I made this hat for myself but my lovely friend, who is also my top sales associate, stole it.

Becoming a Yoga Teacher

I tried yoga for the first time about ten years ago. Not because I thought it was awesome and wanted to try it...I did it to be a smart ass. One of my co-workers, an Occupational Therapist, was also a yoga instructor. She regularly incorporated yoga into our work with the kids. I saw it make a difference but wasn't sold on it for myself. Then one day she mentioned being sore from a yoga class. 

Sore. 

From yoga?

 I scoffed. How could she be sore from standing in weird poses and breathing? So, to prove a point, I went through all the poses I'd seen her do and held each one for a minute. Guess what? I was sore the next day. A really delicious kind of sore. I was hooked. I started practicing regularly and learning as much as I could. I often entertained the idea of becoming a yoga instructor but something always held me back. Until my life went through a series of upheaval. 

First, my engagement ended. (Don't be sad, it was a long time coming.) Then my oldest son told me he was moving three hours away. A week later my youngest son told me he was leaving home too. 

What?! Aren't the birds supposed to leave the nest gradually!? 

In less than a month I went from having three kids and a fiancee in the house to having one kid who's gone every other weekend. That's a lot of change! So what was I going to do with all that time? I decided to finally bite the bullet and do something for myself I've wanted to do since that day I came in to work sore from yoga. 

I signed up for teacher training. 

Oh My Sweet Coffee

I learned at a very young age NOT to speak to my Mom until she'd had her coffee. If anyone attempted speaking to her she'd grow horns, spew fire from her nostrils and shout, "Don't talk to me until I've had my coffee!!!". Frightening but effective. Two cups in and that fire breathing beast slumped over the kitchen table would transform into my Mom. Because of this I regarded coffee as a magical beverage and when I became of "coffee drinking age" I discovered I was right. It did have magical properties! I, like my Mother before me, start each and every day with several cups of coffee. (My kids are allowed to speak to me before I've had it, they just know it may take a while before they receive an intelligible response.) I've been very happy with this ritual and honestly don't understand people who are not coffee drinkers. Nor do I understand the inclination to give it up. Why would you do such a thing?! Quit smoking, yes. Give up red meat? Sure. But coffee...STOP THE MADNESS!!!! 

That's what I thought. Until a few mornings ago when I learned the hard way that I was out of coffee. Sigh. No worries, there are places to buy more. But we've been having really bad weather. When faced with a choice of staying safely inside or going out in a blizzard to get coffee, I opted to stay inside. 

For two days.

With no coffee. And you know what?

The world didn't stop. 

And I felt no pressing need to murder anyone!!! 

For years I've been convinced that very bad things would happen to all those around me if I didn't have coffee. It appears I was wrong. I didn't even have a caffeine headache. Makes me wonder what else I can live without?

What Kind of Formula Does Match Dot Com Use??

There are times I wish I weren't single. Like today. New Years Eve. My big plans? I'll ring in the new year with my three dogs. Oooh what an exciting life I lead! I'll probably throw some dish washing in there just to shake things up. I'm really not whining about spending New Years alone. I got several invitations. I could get dolled up and go out on the town. But it's Wednesday...and I have to work in the morning...I do NOT want to go to work with a hangover. So I will quietly celebrate the new year. I'll reflect on last year and contemplate what I'll do differently in the coming year.

Still.

There is a part of me that wouldn't hate having someone here to have those quiet reflections with. But what's a girl to do? I have a full time job and one full time child still at home. (She's spending New Year's at her Dad's.) Where am I supposed to meet someone? The grocery store? Ballet class? Online dating? Hmm...Online Dating. Dr. Phil says it's okay to look. Who am I to argue with Dr. Phil?

There's something odd about "shopping" for a man online, like I'm looking for a book or something. It would be nice if dating sites had categories like a book store. I could avoid the horror section altogether. Thus far I've had one really great date with a man who never called again. (His loss, I'm awesome.) Then I had a really bad date with a man who spent the evening making racial and anti Semitic slurs. He was kidding. It just wasn't funny. To top it off he assaulted my face with really bad kissing. In public. I'm not a prude. PDA's are fine but they should be brief and more importantly, wanted by both parties. Of course he asked for a second date, he had a GREAT time. Ironically I found my ex husband on there too. Match dot com thinks we're 92% right for each other. 92%???? Who's doing that math?

I'm starting to lose faith in Dr. Phil.

The Top Eight Reasons Chiwetel Ejiofor Should Be My New Boyfriend

I've decided to date a celebrity. I mean...why not? After careful consideration I've narrowed it down to Chiwetel Ejiofor and here's why. 

1. Hello...look at him!

2. I'm fairly certain he's the ONLY person who could teach me how to pronounce his name and I hate not knowing how to pronounce something. I'm still horrified that I pronounced Hermione Granger's name incorrectly until book 4 when J.K. finally spelled it out for the stupid Americans.  

3. His accent, girls are suckers for accents. Case in point, Hugh Grant. 

4. He's trained in sword acting so if anyone ever bothered us we'd be all set. Assuming he carries a sword around at all times.

5. I'm single, he might be single, I can't find evidence to the contrary on the internet. (My apologies to his significant other if he isn't but you can't blame a girl for trying!)

6. He was in Serenity. Do I really need to say more?

7. If I married him Andrew Lincoln would show up with a series of handwritten signs declaring his secret love for me. I would of course send him packing but who doesn't want Andrew Lincoln showing up at your door?

8. I'm pretty awesome. He could do worse.

For the many celebrities who didn't make the list, I apologize. To Chiwetel...I'll wait for your call. 

Shoe Shopping With Girls

I am not a high maintenance girl. At least I didn't think I was until I went to buy shoes for work. I'm on my feet eight hours. I lift people who weigh twice as much as me and in some cases twice as me plus. Comfortable shoes with good traction are a requirement. I could try finding cute shoes but really what's the point? I headed to Lady Foot Locker in Kenwood Mall to buy sneakers. 


I was immediately drawn to a pair of hot pink Reeboks. Cute, girly and comfortable to boot. Sold. I left the store with my head held high. Hot pink kicks on my feet, the smell of Starbucks in the air. All was right with the world. (See? Low maintenance.) For about ten minutes. That's how long it took me to realize something was amiss with my awesome new footwear. My little one looked at my face and asked, "What's wrong?" "I think I got the wrong size or something." "Well, go exchange them."...The logic of children astounds me. Take back my pretty pretty shoes? Never! A few more minutes of walking in them I decided her idea had merit. I went back to Lady Foot Locker. The two sales associates had different opinions on my dilemma. The male tried convincing me I shouldn't go down a half size, the girl said, "Honey they're your feet, you know what feels good." Solidarity sister! I got the smaller size and again wore them out of the store. Fifteen minutes later, with my head hung in shame, harboring the sneaking suspicion that I may not be as low maintenance as I'd always thought, I walked back in to Lady Foot Locker. The male associate said, "I told you." "Yeah, yeah." I replied, "You don't have to gloat about it." He laughed and after a dissertation on toe boxes gave me back the original size. 


We strolled through the mall a while longer. I was sipping a coffee and contemplating buying some really decadent cookies when I had to admit the terrible truth. I hated those shoes, no matter the size, no matter the hot pinkness of them. They hurt my feet. My daughter naturally found this amusing but I was having a true crisis! Go back to that store a third time and admit I don't have a clue what feels good on my own feet? I don't think so! I'd return them tomorrow. Tomorrow...When neither of these folks would be working. Great plan. Until I walked in the next day and found the male associate working. Sigh. He was a great sport about the whole thing. I tried on about eight different shoes. I finally settled on the above pair. They are extremely comfortable and I've gotten more compliments on them than any other shoes I've had. In case any of you other high maintenance girls posing as low maintenance are interested they're the Nike Free Run 2.

A Beautiful Day

Traffic sucks. It just sucks. A drive that normally takes ten minutes took me thirty. It was Christmas time and I was driving near a mall so I don't know why I was surprised. So there I am, stuck in traffic and getting frustrated because I was going to be late for work. I look out the window at the December sky and above is what I saw. Sunlight. Gorgeous beautiful sunlight. Who can be upset looking at a sky like that? So I'm going to be late for work...nothing I can do about it. So I can't move more than two feet at a time but I can see my exit up ahead, taunting me. I have one of two choices here. I can fruitlessly waste energy being mad over something I have no control over or I can enjoy the sun. I chose option B.