Thankful

I don't do it nearly often enough, but it's so important to stop and count blessings every once in a while. I have been incredibly blessed this past year.

I've been loved, supported, encouraged and asked to marry the most amazing man I've ever met.

I've been welcomed with open arms by his entire family and grown closer to my own.

I visited a place I'd wanted to visit for 20 odd years.

I've worked with some amazingly talented, dedicated, inspirational people, and learned a huge amount in the process.

I've been given the gifts of friendship and advice many times over.

I've been inspired and energised when I thought my well had run dry.

Tomorrow brings the first step down a new path for me and I am incredibly excited. This has been quite a rollercoaster of a year, but I wouldn't change a minute of it, because it's brought me to this moment, in this place.

Life is good.

I am blessed.

Thank you.

Disappointed

The best laid plans… We were supposed to be celebrating our anniversary last night.

We didn't.

We were supposed to be going to a party tomorrow night.

We won't be.

We were supposed to have a group of friends round on Sunday.

They won't be coming.

The pigdeathflu is making its second visit to our house.

It's fair to say I'm disappointed that our plans have had to change, but I'm glad that this means both of us have had it, so hopefully when it gets worse we'll have the necessary immunity.

Knitting for Lori

There are generally considered to be two kinds of knitter: those who are process knitters and those who are product knitters. I used to consider myself firmly in the product camp, choosing small projects for that instant gratification, look I made a thing feeling. That said, quite often recently I've found myself not completing a project, ripping it back (at more than 75% complete) and not feeling particularly bothered by it, which would seem to lump me in the process category, where I knit because I want to knit, but I'm not particularly fussed by producing anything of particular worth. Journey, not destination.

Of course, there are more than two kinds of knitter. In fact, there are as many kinds of knitter as there are actual knitters - no two are exactly alike, but they can be sorted into broad categories. The next great schism is probably monogamous/non-monogamous.

I'm distinctly non-monogamous with my knitting. I've got *cough* projects in various stages of completion, and I don't feel any need to finish one before starting another. In fact, you could even term it start-itis. I start lots of things, but after a while, the enthusiasm wanes and I move onto something shiny and new.

It's easy to be whatever kind of knitter you are when you're knitting for yourself, but when you knit for a friend (or family), things necessarily have to change. All the usual distractions and mid-project lulls will still kick in, but now you have somebody waiting for something, which is why it's really important to only ever offer to knit something for someone who will appreciate the time and effort you're putting in, and treat the finished item with the love, care and attention that it deserves.

Four years ago (excuse me for a moment while I boggle about how time has flown. Ok. I'm done.), I was in the midst of a very serious knitting addiction. My drug of choice was the Clapotis, a large scarf/wrap which captured my attention. I think by the time I was done, I'd knitted five and a half Clapotis(es?) in various sizes. The final, full-size Clapotis went to the lovely Lori Smith, who'd admired one of mine (I only have one still in my possession) and asked if I'd knit her one.

By the time I started knitting hers, in truth, the attraction began to wane, but although it took me far longer than I anticipated, I kept going through the miles of middle section, and finally, to the end, and I was so pleased that I had, because it really suited her.

Recently, Lori mentioned on twitter that she would like a snood knitted, and I offered my knitting services once more (there is no drug greater than the sincere appreciation of a handknitted item). She had very specific ideas in mind (which is a good thing) and a couple of weeks ago we met up at John Lewis in Oxford Street go do some yarn shopping.

It was originally supposed to be red and woolly, but after wandering round, our attention was grabbed by a 50/50 wool/silk blend in a pink so bright it was almost offensive. Pink is not the colour either of us would go for by choice, but it just refused to be put down, so not long after, we left John Lewis with a bag full of pink yarn and a pattern.

I'm about 75% of the way through the snood, and while the yarn is wonderful to work with and I've enjoyed the feel of it running through my fingers as I knit, I'm reaching the knitting equivalent of the point of maximum dread. You know the end is near but it isn't near enough to give you that second wind to push to the end and the pattern has leveled out to being knit, knit, knit all the way. With each day, the urge to start something new grows. It's a sickness, I know.

The point of this post is not to have a moan about knitting for someone else. I love knitting for people who appreciate it. It really is a wonderful feeling when you've put time and effort into something and that effort is appreciated. It's just an acknowledgment that my inclination is to start something knew, even though I know the satisfaction will be less than that which will be felt by finishing this and handing it over. After all, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

Hi, my name is Ann and I have chronic startitis.

(Hello Ann)

etc.

It's also an excuse to show off some pictures of yarn and stuff, because there's not nearly been enough knitting on this blog so far.

Testing Wordpress for iPhone

I'd heard good things about the Wordpress iPhone app so I thought I'd check it out. So far, so good. It may even help get me writing here more often.

Counting down the hours

In 7 hours, a taxi will (had better) turn up outside the house, ready to take us to the Heathrow Airport Terminal 5. In 11 hours and 3 minutes, our flight is scheduled to take off.

In 21 hours and 53 minutes, our flight is scheduled to land in San Francisco.

In less than 24 hours, I will be on the holiday I've dreamed about almost my entire life.

I, quite literally, cannot wait.

California Dreaming

I was 7 years old when the school secretary pulled me out of the lunch line and said I should go out front of the school, because my parents were there. I panicked a little, but when I got there, it was nothing to panic about. My dad's cousin, who'd emigrated to the US when he was a wee boy, had come to Scotland for a visit with his wife, looked us up and popped in to say hi. They only had a day because they were off to do some golf sightseeing, but I'll never forget the hour we spent sitting in the back of the car in the school car park. They promised they'd take my sister and I to Disneyland if we ever made it over to California, and a seed was sown. Sadly, they passed away several years ago without my sister or I having made it to the US, never mind to California, and it's one of my biggest regrets. I don't remember what age I was when I saw Tales of the City on TV, but it must have been when I was around 16 (I got my first telly when I passed my exams at 15) and it made an incredible impression on me. It was at that point that my vague "California" wanderlust settled firmly in San Francisco.

A few years on and I've discovered wine and am well on my way to becoming a potential "wine ponce". I've also had good friends telling me tales of Sonoma County and Napa Valley wineries and how much fun (and good food and drink) they've had. Throw in a bit of Sideways and Oz and James and my San Francisco wanderlust has expanded to cover Wine Country too.

So, with the background set, you can imagine how excited I was when HFBB phoned me this morning to say that he'd booked flights for us to go to San Francisco, leaving on the 1st of July and coming back on the 17th.

Reader, I may have shed a tear.

My California dream is coming true.

In three weeks time I'll be in my seat on the plane, somewhere over the East Coast of the US on the way to the one place in the world I've always wanted to go. I was beyond excited when I went to Austin for SXSW two years ago, but this has caused my excitement levels to go stratospheric.

Currently we plan to spend a few days in San Francisco when we arrive, then take off for a wee bit of a tour round Wine Country (maybe even in a convertible!) and then back to San Francisco for the last couple of days before we come home.

Thanks to twitter I've had some great recommendations already. I especially have to give a massive shout out to Jason Reed who has gone above and beyond the call of duty for recommendations. He is a total legend.

That said, I'm still open to recommendations. So, is there anywhere in SF/the Bay Area/Wine Country that I'd be a complete fool not to visit?

Getting out more

After a year of working from home almost exclusively, I'm going to be spending the next two weeks (maybe longer) working at a client's offices near Euston. On one hand this is great. With HFBB being away in Poole during the week, if I'm not careful, I can go days without speaking to anyone face to face. While I'm quite happy with my own company (and that of the internet) up to a point, I've been getting increasingly dissatisfied with rattling around the house on my ownsome all week. So the chance to get out and about during the day, and embrace the randomness that is life outside the front door is something I'm quite looking forward to. I'm also looking forward to the photo opportunities, because frankly, I'm almost out of things to photograph indoors, and while the tree outside is beautiful, there are only so many photos of blossom one can handle.

On the other hand, I've spent the last year not having to get dressed up to get to work, spending most of my time wearing jeans (once I'd got beyond the "working in pj's because I can" stage) and combined with some physical changes as a result of being on something of a health kick over the last year, it means the wardrobe is almost literally bare when it comes to work-wear. Luckily the place I'm going to be working isn't a full-on suit and heels kinda place, but I still had to do a bit of an emergency dash along Lordship Lane on Saturday. I managed to find a couple of suitable things that weren't ridiculously over-priced, but I will still have to hit the shops to get me to the end of the week. I'm also not entirely looking forward to the commute. In theory, it should be nice and easy: train to London Bridge then Nothern Line to Euston, but there's enormous potential for disaster in that deceptively simple route.

It'll be a bit of a shock to the system to get up and out the house that early every morning. It's not that I lie in bed til noon every day - I'm usually awake by 8 and at my desk by 9, but it's going to be a little strange dancing to someone else's beat again.

I should really be in bed by now, but I'm not nearly sleepy enough, so I've been trying to kill the time usefully by preparing everything for the morning.

Outfit: check. Accessories: check. Camera: check. iPhone: synced and charging. Knitting: check. New Moleskine: DISASTER! No fresh Moleskine available. How could this happen?! Shoes: choice narrowed to two pairs. Final decision pending. Bag: available selection unsatisfactory. Compromise chosen and packed.

Sorted.

Except for the sleep bit.

Damn.

Nine Years Old

Not my age, but the number of years I have been blogging.

Not continuously, obviously, and with several and various hiating episodes, but still, it's a long time, and although I wasn't going to make much of it, I feel the need to mark this anniversary in some way.

Back

Well, what a week that was.

Last Monday night, as I walked into the spare room to sit down at the laptop and work on the fibrelust site, I turned, and something in my back screamed. Thankfully for the neighbours, I managed not to.

Six hours later, enough painkillers had kicked in to allow me to go to bed and get some sleep.

Five hours after that, I had to get off the tube at Oxford Circus because the pain was so bad I was either going to vomit, pass out, or both.

Twelve hours after that, I was in the Accident and Emergency Department of Kings College Hospital, London, having my back checked out.

... and the rest of the week passed in a haze of pain, pain meds and unfortunate, drug-fuelled crocheting (of which, more later).

With guests staying for the weekend and a two-day conference at the beginning of the week (none of which helped my slowly recovering back much), I've got quite a bit of blogging to catch up on, so I thought I'd start slowly, with a bit of yarn porn.

My first Etsy purchase, bought from All the Pretty Fibres, was turned into beautifully lofty singles, which I'm very pleased with, and have yet to tell me what they want to be.

Any ideas? There's probably about 200 yards in that little lot.

Getting Off The Pot

I've dropped a few hints about super secret projects I've been working on, and the time has come to share one of them.

For a long time now, I've wanted to do more with fibre and dye, after a few experiments last year revealed the joyful alchemy of the dye pot.

I've also wanted to see if I could perhaps make a little money while having fun (because I just couldn't justify buying all that fibre and dye just for personal use), but I was a bit nervous about the whole "business" side of things.

Anyway, after a lot of faffing, a lot of thinking, a lot of planning and a lot of help and encouragement, I've actually done it.

I dyed some fibre, I've packaged it all up, I've made a website, and I'm all ready to go claim my corner of Nikki's Fluffenstuff table at the UK Stitch and Bitch day and see if this bird is ready to fly.

Do you have fibrelust?

Cos I definitely do.