I had to put it on hold for a bit while I went to college, took up quilting, participated in weddings, pretended to be a photographer, and spent some (however small) time with DRL and Elena.
It's been a busy summer.
But fall is in the air, friends. That means a whole host of knitting projects. I started on a scarf - my first attempt at cable-ing, and it's turning out marvelously. The yarn is just scrumptious. And it's yellow. Mustard, to be precise. I can't wait for it to be done!
I'm nearly done with a 3-hat order for a friend's little girl, Karley. I've tried my hand at some new patterns and I'm quite impressed with how the hats are turning out.
The photos are coming.
I'm happy that it's fall. The weather is turning cooler, and strangely enough, the gray, blustery, rainy morning was a welcome sight today.
This really is my favorite time of year.
At least until the first snow fall. And then Christmas. And then spring when everything is budding again.
Once upon a time, I went shopping at the Gap. The Maplewood Mall Gap, to be precise. I brought Elena along (you know how two year olds love to clothes shop), and my brother Noel came along, too. For good measure. Or moral support. Or whatever.
Editor's Note: Maplewood Mall touts its very own carousel. Yes, right inside the mall. And although Elena loves to shop, the Gap wasn't holding her interest, so Uncle Noel took her to ride the ponies (which is different than playing the ponies. But only slightly). She rode them twice. And loved it.
Or so I'm told.
I missed it.
Shocking, I know.
So it's no wonder that when we brought Elena to the Great Minnesota Get Together (Read: CrowdedSweatyFoodfilledTerrorFun Day State Fair) we put her right on the Carousel.
She giggled. I did, too.
We've ridden every Merry-go-round we've seen since.
Which has only been one...but still...
With Gramma at Wheels and Wings in Osceola, WI.
I feel I must pause here to clarify: She IS having fun. She was busy concentrating on the "look at mommy" instructions Gramma was giving her. Which is why I didn't catch a photo of her smiling. And hey, concentration is a much more fun emotion to capture, anyway. Right?
Did I mention she rode an elephant on Sunday at the Renaissance Festival? This here diecast acrylic Lion ain't got nuthin' on that ginormous beast.
Oh, and in other news: Me - unluckiest person you know - managed to call into a morning radio show, get on the air and just miss winning Vikings v. Niners tickets. But wait, it gets better. And not the sarcastic version of better, but the actually, truly, really better...
I called to claim my prize and managed to upgrade my runner up concert tickets into full blown Vikings tickets. SCORE!
I did that tonight, by the way. It was delicious. I think I need to go have another piece right now.
Hang on a sec...
*nom nom nom*
Okay, sorry about that.
What was I saying? Oh yeah, pictures. I like to take photos, and then I like to download them onto my Mac and crop the heck outta 'em.
But not the way you'd expect. I like to arrange the photos on the other side of ordinary. Afterall, this is me we're talking about here.
So here's the original:
See how sweet she is? Dangling her feet from the swing? Who here never once did that as a kid?
Right! See..I was onto something. So I cropped it to really show the sweetness of her feet hanging midair.
And this one here? One of my favorite recent photos of Elena. (I feel obligated to note that I really like backside photos...you know, ones not involving the face. Again, I'm operating on the other side of normal.)
Her feet haven't quite made take-off yet, but there's something so sweet about her cuffed jeans, the loose ankle cross, and saggy pants. Something that just screams childhood.
So I cropped all the rest out. And now I need more pie.
You tell me that silence is nearer to peace than poems, but if for my gift I brought you silence (for I know silence) you would say, "This is not silence, this is another poem," and you would hand it back to me.
I ask you, 2.75 readers, to just take a moment today to set aside politics, your busy lives, your full schedules and duties to uphold, and reflect. If for but a fleeting moment. Remember where you were when you heard the news 8 years ago.
I remember how it made me cry.
How I placed my hand over my gaping mouth for the better part of the entire day.
How I was terrified to be working in a 20+ story building in downtown Minneapolis -- what if we were next?
But what I remember most is the pain I felt for everyone else. Everyone who lost someone that day -- though I think we all feel like we lost a little something.
And I remember, as an umarried girl of 20, being afraid to ever bring children into this world. What kind of childhood is it when you're brought up in a world of terror and fear and "heightened alerts?" And now, as the mother of 1.5 daughters, I realize that it's going to be just fine. A little different than the world I knew when I was growing up, but still just fine.
In fact, if anything, it'll be a world where we hug a little tighter, cuddle a little closer, "I love you" a little more often, and tolerate a little better.
I'd say that's a pretty good world, in the grand scheme of things.
And so, with quiet repose I ask for a mere moment of silence today for those who lost someone on 9/11/2001. For those who have lost their life in the fight that ensued following that tragedy, and for the men and women who continue to amaze us with their fortitude, their resilience, and their unyielding bravery.
I have made a very difficult decision today, friends.
I am going to "drop out" of college for a little while. Again. But I will go back. I will return to St. Kate's in April when the Spring Trimester begins and finish the degree I started in 2000. I'm a month away from my 3rd trimester of my (final) pregnancy (Gasp! It's going so fast!!!), and there are still so many things I need to do before the baby comes.
1.) Sleep. 2.) Spend as much time with Elena as I can before I have to split my time between her and her sister. 3.) Sleep. 4.) Make hats (to keep the masses happy). 5.) Avoid a nervous breakdown of any sort. 6.) Give myself some time for me. Some time alone - a moment or two of quiet - to take in my life. What I already have and what is yet to come. 7.) Eat. A lot. Often.
School would be number 8 on that list. And I cannot in clear conscience attend school when it's not in the top on any priority list. It's not fair to myself, my fellow students, my family, or the professors.
And so, it is with mourful regret that I withdraw from fall classes. The light on the horizon is the knowledge that, like always, I will return to class next Spring and finish the degree that I have been so arduously pursuing for nearly a decade. I deserve it. I owe to myself. And I owe it to my family.
I went through an awkward stage. A very long, very torturous, very uncomfortable awkward stage. It just so happened that these were the most photographed years of my life. I was in dance, Odyssey of the Mind, Marching Band, Solo Ensemble, Choir, Awkward Kids Club, Spelling Bee...well, ok, you get the idea. My photo was everywhere.
Upon my high school graduation your granmother took all of these horrific pieces of photographic blackmail, and posted them, in an enlarged format, along the walls at my party.
There may have even been a cardboard cutout of your Uncle Noel on a dirtbike. There was vodka at the party, so my memory is slightly fuzzy (thefamilypelton does not endorse underage drinking. I was young. And stupid. Allow me to be your bad example), but I do remember large, glaringly ugly photos of myself haunting me from their place on the drywall.
(Again, thanks mom.)
Oh yeah, there's a point to this story. Sorry.
I swore I would get your grandma back one day for the embarassment that she incurred me that night. And I can only apologize to you, my lovely, amazing, adorable, non-awkward daughter that you are going to be the vehicle for this revenge.
But all things, you see, are cyclic. And it's your own fault that you were naked on a table, with a pole, and bending to pick up your "gockie."
Ok, it's Scott's fault for having the camera and taking the photo. Let's keep the blame out of the family.
And don't worry...I won't blow this up to lifesize at your graduation party. I'll keep it a modest 8x10.
And if you ever decide to pole dance naked again, I will ground you. For life. From everything.
My daughter is not a princess. I may have mentioned this before, but in case you thought I was just being dramatic (because, okay, it's been known to happen) these photos should serve as further proof that for once, I'm not over-exaggerating.
She never tried to kiss the toad. She didn't imagine herself in a princess castle, imprisoned by an evil witch/stepmother/own mother/me just waiting for Prince Charming to come and rescue her.
She carried it around the yard and giggled. "Froggy toad!" she'd exclaim, full of glee and wonder and not even the least bit of grossed-out girlyness.
Or so I'm told.
I was at work.
I miss most of this stuff.
I tried to put her in a pink tutu on Saturday -- a futile attempt to revive the girly-girl within. She screamed. And howled. And tantrum-ed. Until I put her in her green army shorts.
I've officially learned my first lesson in letting your child be who they were born to be.
I'm sorry monsieur toad, you'll have to wait for NumberTwo for your chance at a magical transformation.