Friday, September 2, 2011

Just Coasting

Today hasn't been one of my best days.  It was one of those days where I had a hard time staying out of bed.  Trying to write a blog post has been like a trip to the dentist without Novocaine.  I had a few ideas for things I would talk about, Regretsy and the awesomeness that is April Winchell, or perhaps an update on my WIPS. But for the moment, I'll take a pass and merely coast today.

Actually, this reminds me of another kind of coasting that I did during a stressful time.  In April, after having spent a week with my boyfriend in Illinois, he and I had a rather serious conversation.  We had formed an attachment to each other, but at the same time, we both realized we weren't looking for a long distance relationship.  Slightly inconvenient since I've lived my entire life in Southern California.  What to do?  After hemming and hawing, discussing all the options, both mundane and those that defied physics (my brother was scheduled to have a transporter invented around a decade ago... my mother has reserved the upstairs closet for that express purpose for the past twenty-five years), we decided the best option was for me to go live with him.

After that decision I began my hand wringing in earnest.  Was I doing the right thing?  While I'd practically lived with boyfriends before, I actually hadn't technically moved in with them.  This was definitely something new.  I started to pack, and really freak out.  At that time my own personal therapy involved black cotton yarn.  When I had visited, I noticed that my heathen boyfriend didn't really use coasters.  Of course he had some nice ones featuring vintage bottles for wine glasses (but oddly no wine glasses).  So, when I wasn't packing and was trying to regain my tenuous grasp on sanity, I would sit and stitch these simple check pattern coasters to take with me.  In a silly weird way, it reminded me that we were knitting our lives together.  Just like knitting was uncomfortable when I started, it's become natural and a comfort.  I confess, it's the same living with Daniel (oh, incidentally, we use these coasters all the time, no more halos for the coffee table).

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