tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885437087015561902024-03-05T02:51:22.754-05:00STILGENBLOGGERme adding to the nonsensesarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.comBlogger414125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-56441051371315499792011-07-14T22:11:00.018-05:002011-07-14T22:39:20.573-05:00HistoryThe family mythology on my mother's side was that we came to the U.S. as fine English gardeners to a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">rarefied</span> family in Cleveland.<br /><br />This summer, I was at my grandmother's and found this album filled with images that provided us with unprecedented access into their lives.<br /><br />I followed them as they worked in the greenhouse...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheJENr76Mw_tHbO0zsur6pCmpbOEmfFPpp23nuSwxv1ZptCFYdb-xD4ykLv_Kp7W5n4X-LiEq5KpWojd3tVPs_OJEh6f6b9VTNiQfiQCNlo6_aTFjKmf3gXKX8tdH60It0SYrZIRMM6vk/s1600/in+the+greenhouse.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheJENr76Mw_tHbO0zsur6pCmpbOEmfFPpp23nuSwxv1ZptCFYdb-xD4ykLv_Kp7W5n4X-LiEq5KpWojd3tVPs_OJEh6f6b9VTNiQfiQCNlo6_aTFjKmf3gXKX8tdH60It0SYrZIRMM6vk/s400/in+the+greenhouse.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629413023193288306" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpd7GZWs0r8Udeek-jIUgGixpSDwnfPxzXpTNGCzPLi-0Rf_OWi7-1PftHx9SQXI6MRFtdQTSZvEQIf1UezqA5ujPOQAFTx16YVoIbKdo-DYBPxZZZN7p9uaQN8Hr8hVc4u_nU5gP7IM/s1600/girls+outside+greenhouse.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmpd7GZWs0r8Udeek-jIUgGixpSDwnfPxzXpTNGCzPLi-0Rf_OWi7-1PftHx9SQXI6MRFtdQTSZvEQIf1UezqA5ujPOQAFTx16YVoIbKdo-DYBPxZZZN7p9uaQN8Hr8hVc4u_nU5gP7IM/s400/girls+outside+greenhouse.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629413015521800834" border="0" /></a><br />Climbed up onto the roof...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsWA-W0aVLsq1mCkWT8RuA3TUytMw54rzUbiotCnxEF3voWX1PXd5ro74Ff0TT5tDiIX4IHoDj32K_BPp-gMdwjYPMmSQfLfXMRm91lHvvGcuLZuvx_BHh7SkbmwCOwDS4kxTr7jdnm98/s1600/on+the+roof.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsWA-W0aVLsq1mCkWT8RuA3TUytMw54rzUbiotCnxEF3voWX1PXd5ro74Ff0TT5tDiIX4IHoDj32K_BPp-gMdwjYPMmSQfLfXMRm91lHvvGcuLZuvx_BHh7SkbmwCOwDS4kxTr7jdnm98/s400/on+the+roof.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629413008142454834" border="0" /></a><br />Took part in a summer fair...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9G2hIqTQyoJCOsWacg_k4eCxNNGQG65Poh-owlT0iGfUjDCP8Afuw0HaukjVzrJXFm-qlAgzEvZqNxrK2EJVgPm1zH8UgCm2APYJPqVwWMeW6LKdVyojgdYxDvbtCPuCKSAytUpvCuE/s1600/fair.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9G2hIqTQyoJCOsWacg_k4eCxNNGQG65Poh-owlT0iGfUjDCP8Afuw0HaukjVzrJXFm-qlAgzEvZqNxrK2EJVgPm1zH8UgCm2APYJPqVwWMeW6LKdVyojgdYxDvbtCPuCKSAytUpvCuE/s400/fair.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629412990870154242" border="0" /></a><br />and danced around a maypole.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMXhcB7dmUEt1GFthH9w_hCrP3cw8FjijFZFe49VtVyPUgDCKVKZNKjUsEk1zHgPCBrlanofXSVe3bu__E_Iy2Z9K28jNvZOYYb_A9TQqzu19QJPwtlMGfF1r31DKhJjc5wwh-Zniugc/s1600/maypole.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMXhcB7dmUEt1GFthH9w_hCrP3cw8FjijFZFe49VtVyPUgDCKVKZNKjUsEk1zHgPCBrlanofXSVe3bu__E_Iy2Z9K28jNvZOYYb_A9TQqzu19QJPwtlMGfF1r31DKhJjc5wwh-Zniugc/s400/maypole.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629412976660086562" border="0" /></a><br />Fell in love...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGfHGjr-pFrMUU-9KxEGS4HnLZREZ_OA4ZB5cgdBEbRua56GkBrnQhOq-xr0MXlN_CrnqU9YBfNgnrfpRWCKq0Hz2KWlMrqSIsFio8DcaERjnyDWPPk3NJeCerZv-1QN1btWVFta9kKLw/s1600/wooing.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGfHGjr-pFrMUU-9KxEGS4HnLZREZ_OA4ZB5cgdBEbRua56GkBrnQhOq-xr0MXlN_CrnqU9YBfNgnrfpRWCKq0Hz2KWlMrqSIsFio8DcaERjnyDWPPk3NJeCerZv-1QN1btWVFta9kKLw/s400/wooing.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629415845840828530" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKBrvKLx7DOUbpL-LMKirwQDPc_NBV7hQjya3GZeRU-BWozyqds13J5IMlsmPwAVPYfk1njDkvSZiqJ4CQDOpij8GSrYCFk2U7C0nxaUQ_n2nLX17GcK-JYA7vAE4H5abe1w3Y18fcXE0/s1600/catlap.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKBrvKLx7DOUbpL-LMKirwQDPc_NBV7hQjya3GZeRU-BWozyqds13J5IMlsmPwAVPYfk1njDkvSZiqJ4CQDOpij8GSrYCFk2U7C0nxaUQ_n2nLX17GcK-JYA7vAE4H5abe1w3Y18fcXE0/s400/catlap.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629415833873809234" border="0" /></a><br />and played.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Xbb_bwitGOhBKj6j6PspPwQ02cM7QMQdR9mlfY6qgc8pilnFKwWyZF92x-3XyqdU7YYEmh59ko96HXsBSF0gPtvET2ZjlMhq3Axu_INrdAz_0hFticUQn4TCh1i6vAhHsO1Jd2eAhPA/s1600/hanging+in+the+garden.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Xbb_bwitGOhBKj6j6PspPwQ02cM7QMQdR9mlfY6qgc8pilnFKwWyZF92x-3XyqdU7YYEmh59ko96HXsBSF0gPtvET2ZjlMhq3Axu_INrdAz_0hFticUQn4TCh1i6vAhHsO1Jd2eAhPA/s400/hanging+in+the+garden.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629417522138787298" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimxPx9wln9hkWUEurOeAf8oDAbvhdH7RNbNSU1YFNOSypjrIBhV1VVdskRjQNjqfh64hPgOiq7271K4J_ycCSROVkUjFYSseO6L6Zt3mtzDMZZK3ZNX8H0OxSumopnA2-8KuQ8tacQsLk/s1600/nose-grabbing.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimxPx9wln9hkWUEurOeAf8oDAbvhdH7RNbNSU1YFNOSypjrIBhV1VVdskRjQNjqfh64hPgOiq7271K4J_ycCSROVkUjFYSseO6L6Zt3mtzDMZZK3ZNX8H0OxSumopnA2-8KuQ8tacQsLk/s400/nose-grabbing.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629415838684554082" border="0" /></a>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-27043222079038277912011-03-12T17:34:00.025-05:002011-03-12T18:26:05.482-05:00Finished (and unfinished) Woolly GoodnessThe LuniSolar legwarmers are getting there. But they've taken a backseat to a few other projects.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEickkOOsgJjiznif3r5oPf_5YnXe02rQ9liQvyjxJRIaFttCpPIhjdx4wMUXnbwRcWXOMmTamfnQw2y3DkfMoxzoFPTZnZkiODSUzgscCB_vmZCb9K0gyR4WmSHBR_3rEtLme4YWFbTwRo/s1600/LuniSolarWorn.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEickkOOsgJjiznif3r5oPf_5YnXe02rQ9liQvyjxJRIaFttCpPIhjdx4wMUXnbwRcWXOMmTamfnQw2y3DkfMoxzoFPTZnZkiODSUzgscCB_vmZCb9K0gyR4WmSHBR_3rEtLme4YWFbTwRo/s400/LuniSolarWorn.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583331362542817042" border="0" /></a><br />Like this hat.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41zbHUJxAxTdl_dGQMRtQb_OzSXy20heJ2H4AFJ0ou1aLEjvw4UIMDY_Ex-9bjngTD255_hhbIC_-_Ht14SDLO3Pgvrs5Mn2c0kQUhz7ZO8GH9D9ooK0fsNmnZVEx7jwDVeN5s5GekBo/s1600/BeesKneesHeadMold.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41zbHUJxAxTdl_dGQMRtQb_OzSXy20heJ2H4AFJ0ou1aLEjvw4UIMDY_Ex-9bjngTD255_hhbIC_-_Ht14SDLO3Pgvrs5Mn2c0kQUhz7ZO8GH9D9ooK0fsNmnZVEx7jwDVeN5s5GekBo/s400/BeesKneesHeadMold.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583328003221748530" border="0" /></a><br />A note on the silhouettes - the couple on the left are my grandparents, and the toddler on the right is yours truly.<br /><br />How lovely is this hat? It looks delightful with the green trench coat I wear in spring.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAtwsnyzXrfOyEMOACbDlCbespcTMphcRjujfELFq2qh2fEeWcibxpAzgh3CJi75QqXM_JBkzYQ7LdB5cR8yseWSLY1Ws0C9MwmsrWWk1BRFgVC8xAxFK5kO8xnv2wHnlTMlJMGQPogM/s1600/BeesKneesWorn.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 311px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAtwsnyzXrfOyEMOACbDlCbespcTMphcRjujfELFq2qh2fEeWcibxpAzgh3CJi75QqXM_JBkzYQ7LdB5cR8yseWSLY1Ws0C9MwmsrWWk1BRFgVC8xAxFK5kO8xnv2wHnlTMlJMGQPogM/s400/BeesKneesWorn.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583326504439536578" border="0" /></a><br />I recently finished the colorwork turtleneck.<br /><br />As a result, I'm increasingly grateful to designers for thinking out nitsy details like sleeve and neck circumference. These are the things that caught me off guard, since this project was the knitting equivalent to a solo jam-session.<br /><br />I haven't taken it off since I finished it last week....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieXevoVcAqk37bpsHKo3frnIobq3EKOkh3L6v2foxRQp_0QMwV1tcRhQbxilx1ywHrLgDCT6P0sV3VykoyLV1disAu0_myLkCVTDTulV6Vb-UHlKEBppHBanLpwp72Kb4b44tZrgVjnqQ/s1600/CitrusDone1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 289px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieXevoVcAqk37bpsHKo3frnIobq3EKOkh3L6v2foxRQp_0QMwV1tcRhQbxilx1ywHrLgDCT6P0sV3VykoyLV1disAu0_myLkCVTDTulV6Vb-UHlKEBppHBanLpwp72Kb4b44tZrgVjnqQ/s400/CitrusDone1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583326497278232514" border="0" /></a><br />And why should I? It looks awesome.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_EUs0dfO-W_lPbhdFylOTgfdJLgTGVclk0IkZyrgJ4K2_oTJ68Wm-7eopVHsjMXeIH09gqv4oOvDYOwDUanUEle5kcxciLPrq3B8iIQQ0eOCPy891HUjFuPQ0cpuGV6R781qYIRW0KE/s1600/CitrusDone2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 321px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_EUs0dfO-W_lPbhdFylOTgfdJLgTGVclk0IkZyrgJ4K2_oTJ68Wm-7eopVHsjMXeIH09gqv4oOvDYOwDUanUEle5kcxciLPrq3B8iIQQ0eOCPy891HUjFuPQ0cpuGV6R781qYIRW0KE/s400/CitrusDone2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583326494898783426" border="0" /></a><br />Since I don't feel right unless there's a sweater on the needles, I started this modular sweater. Each pentagon is created separately, and knit from the outside in.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTv2b4vp_zbjjh32oK5LPvwaEVzuOhCrFukuXP2sSLMvfUc6Ev2de3wr18il3uAlcqF2QjRGJe3_d7ZOSRoygunQz8MXe2PoFvFGWLwyQCAu1YJ8Js6eLl8EsxtTHRCsmysmJ_2d8VqB4/s1600/BuckFullCloseUp.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTv2b4vp_zbjjh32oK5LPvwaEVzuOhCrFukuXP2sSLMvfUc6Ev2de3wr18il3uAlcqF2QjRGJe3_d7ZOSRoygunQz8MXe2PoFvFGWLwyQCAu1YJ8Js6eLl8EsxtTHRCsmysmJ_2d8VqB4/s400/BuckFullCloseUp.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583326490025537714" border="0" /></a><br />Someone at knitting made the comment that it was like book chapters, creating a natural place to stop at the end of an evening. I agree, but it still doesn't keep me from knitting past my bedtime.<br /><br />It probably doesn't make sense to show it laid out like this, but it's a sweater, I swear.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsim3PnmCGyF36xZ6N4w-mtBgSm5UhMxyhdMCbu3yveyAmhv0spgn41fY2TPGefWnWa28wXIn-6ShPGKbfejCHZsyzc2PTXziGHyA156Fqeux9dzc8B91uurdgdRfwynTyD8gznGPnFk/s1600/BuckFullBeginning.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsim3PnmCGyF36xZ6N4w-mtBgSm5UhMxyhdMCbu3yveyAmhv0spgn41fY2TPGefWnWa28wXIn-6ShPGKbfejCHZsyzc2PTXziGHyA156Fqeux9dzc8B91uurdgdRfwynTyD8gznGPnFk/s400/BuckFullBeginning.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583326482245933010" border="0" /></a>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-39835756863803357432011-02-27T22:37:00.014-05:002011-02-27T22:59:23.517-05:00Aerialist-in-trainingWhen most people create their 30-something fitness goal, it seems that it always includes running and ends in "-thon."<br /><br />So not my style.<br /><br />But yoga is my style and I'm at the point where strength is my greatest hurdle.<br />I also realized that I am a frustrated acro/gymnast/balancing artist.<br />With barely any balance to speak of.<br /><br />I looked into finding a suspended yoga class, but alas, there are none that were easily found. What I found was aerial silks.<br /><br />I've been at it since mid-January. We do it when we can, since the teacher is a medical resident and has a wonky schedule. But I love the class and it's motivation for building strength. I'm not too terribly impressive, but I'm learning...<br /><br />Climbing...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXt4HvlW5U6buCmGbTjBY14mTxR1UZJRzUolsobS2vQzrWl7jsunL6m5dATaS7xlMlMsx5WFGenJX228vwrm8AG3at3es77pSG8gvLsTipgW-fDbqsRA3yVzAXRE7Qrix2D1iF3PXRq50/s1600/P1040805.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXt4HvlW5U6buCmGbTjBY14mTxR1UZJRzUolsobS2vQzrWl7jsunL6m5dATaS7xlMlMsx5WFGenJX228vwrm8AG3at3es77pSG8gvLsTipgW-fDbqsRA3yVzAXRE7Qrix2D1iF3PXRq50/s400/P1040805.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578580623247283138" border="0" /></a><br />Wrapping for something called "Man in the Moon"<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NgAqWzxWcRJMqq7T1z5x21dRdjUT68vQryz1cSDfUKXzyuXr1N9MrxVorMeX5HLfCi7e07khbnsz38QtiE7CllNQMi7j7uhy8VNkmNHBC1QHLDEOhjgJ1TntsUEzqGv5q_g0zphgT7I/s1600/P1040918.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NgAqWzxWcRJMqq7T1z5x21dRdjUT68vQryz1cSDfUKXzyuXr1N9MrxVorMeX5HLfCi7e07khbnsz38QtiE7CllNQMi7j7uhy8VNkmNHBC1QHLDEOhjgJ1TntsUEzqGv5q_g0zphgT7I/s400/P1040918.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578584510863605138" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOP0rIWyQMt7cSrc486VvlpraW5EFylU067s5fVcqObO3fSkUQFxmTOQkTJa3FrwK-SzOd3HCcVB9r2Vg8Z34P3eFv2yOWeN6UzIbJNXveIWHN1LB2FJ5zWlfYdwVEsDFWRCg350NNec/s1600/P1040920.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOP0rIWyQMt7cSrc486VvlpraW5EFylU067s5fVcqObO3fSkUQFxmTOQkTJa3FrwK-SzOd3HCcVB9r2Vg8Z34P3eFv2yOWeN6UzIbJNXveIWHN1LB2FJ5zWlfYdwVEsDFWRCg350NNec/s400/P1040920.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578580634581122482" border="0" /></a><br />Hip lock...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVQdCELWkqza1DVN-c_a8-x22SIfUwzyWElkMz8Nx6KSBPN2jDubaFBJpGao9jgpL_RELHggOmik8IFXSScYLMDNYhVelaj9AqoIHDfqTd0vggLE9X8VKWgssfPxE9lVpyNcHK_OFwxQ/s1600/P1040836.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVQdCELWkqza1DVN-c_a8-x22SIfUwzyWElkMz8Nx6KSBPN2jDubaFBJpGao9jgpL_RELHggOmik8IFXSScYLMDNYhVelaj9AqoIHDfqTd0vggLE9X8VKWgssfPxE9lVpyNcHK_OFwxQ/s400/P1040836.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578580630725345874" border="0" /></a><br />Splits...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQQ-JS6i1naZJJgnLIodVpwlSdmAxYuTRjPklniNHNvn4sRLy25MLBULB8VEdZyITpQF5mdfr7UiXYN_HgPclOMSP4Nm6S7GamKFJFX1zebHPG7Y6GDzpsbea6Xcd1PFejLUUuDdW7X8/s1600/P1040883.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQQ-JS6i1naZJJgnLIodVpwlSdmAxYuTRjPklniNHNvn4sRLy25MLBULB8VEdZyITpQF5mdfr7UiXYN_HgPclOMSP4Nm6S7GamKFJFX1zebHPG7Y6GDzpsbea6Xcd1PFejLUUuDdW7X8/s400/P1040883.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578580629200728354" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Crazy, right?<br /><br />You all can keep your "-thons," I prefer to defy gravity.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-51247913591362136262011-02-05T19:10:00.009-05:002011-02-05T19:35:20.200-05:00LegwarmersI actually finished something!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8VlWRQ5xekQLJ-AGpXp-iK3s9TJehQfarW3nv5nx-pom3wj5zi3uaZSb7yi8H2Lv5FWZ0i3aGdc9DNQNw6l-EE8VbfCyTeWwTj2Qg6VcKgvRZ4bmHGMRBkv0w2al-k0JQKFNvKj1apU/s1600/KaisoLegwarmers3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8VlWRQ5xekQLJ-AGpXp-iK3s9TJehQfarW3nv5nx-pom3wj5zi3uaZSb7yi8H2Lv5FWZ0i3aGdc9DNQNw6l-EE8VbfCyTeWwTj2Qg6VcKgvRZ4bmHGMRBkv0w2al-k0JQKFNvKj1apU/s400/KaisoLegwarmers3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570363625336142850" border="0" /></a><br />Apparently I need an external goal to urge me forward these days. Something akin to, "yoga - on Friday." I finished these Thursday and packed them up to wear the next day.<br />I really love these. And tried my hand at a self-portrait the mimics those in the pattern book.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCI-6ZSCU9iH2cgP7Ar4_5_VR2PedspI__UFO-NNEAMU7o9ikKlcUbSACe1gm1yTlgD9BLYK92kvDCgWx7O6juiORfa8w3TfGZe3mZzVSx2uuvH8JGr1fzCnk4tnLLG-UmjXZUsLmIc6A/s1600/KaisoLegwarmers2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCI-6ZSCU9iH2cgP7Ar4_5_VR2PedspI__UFO-NNEAMU7o9ikKlcUbSACe1gm1yTlgD9BLYK92kvDCgWx7O6juiORfa8w3TfGZe3mZzVSx2uuvH8JGr1fzCnk4tnLLG-UmjXZUsLmIc6A/s400/KaisoLegwarmers2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570363622551722866" border="0" /></a><br />I admit that I am quite self-conscious about my legs. Strong and flexible as they are, they just don't quite look the way I'd like them to. It was a big step to willingly photograph <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>post these. But the final piece was so lovely, it eclipsed the concern I had that you'd all be judging my cankles. Please don't judge my cankles. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3Mu6Us7XemVQpGJSC1P7k8WuszS24IPFLBmHtFgxPCGIv7Spx9j2rQjiyi0fzy2Ry0T4AZL_yCCaBz0q5gXYqWXT8xMZzjYDLttDJlGriiZMQBbr0pJnakd72_ilBo5dXP5-HrYy_oI/s1600/KaisoLegwarmers1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3Mu6Us7XemVQpGJSC1P7k8WuszS24IPFLBmHtFgxPCGIv7Spx9j2rQjiyi0fzy2Ry0T4AZL_yCCaBz0q5gXYqWXT8xMZzjYDLttDJlGriiZMQBbr0pJnakd72_ilBo5dXP5-HrYy_oI/s400/KaisoLegwarmers1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570363612983676242" border="0" /></a><br />I did indeed start the Lunisolar legwarmers Thursday evening. They look beautiful so far, and the yarn is a joy to work with. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4BZRbVs6qmI_C5_AsH1zdzJEb2mEmC8MhyOU5lItbU0suaU_A6xppvaa65NZEeOO4yjNdqelBmHodnFKNqfN8sNb5UQWiZ8bXJh8ssF9oblGxIGFkvBoS8TsKKvVTzIbS1iVsTQyhXE/s1600/Lunisolar+Cuff.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4BZRbVs6qmI_C5_AsH1zdzJEb2mEmC8MhyOU5lItbU0suaU_A6xppvaa65NZEeOO4yjNdqelBmHodnFKNqfN8sNb5UQWiZ8bXJh8ssF9oblGxIGFkvBoS8TsKKvVTzIbS1iVsTQyhXE/s400/Lunisolar+Cuff.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570368110725835986" border="0" /></a>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-72283970377516470612011-02-03T21:08:00.011-05:002011-02-03T21:51:01.543-05:00Happy New Year!In celebration of the Chinese New Year, the universe thrust some lovely red Madeline Tosh merino yarn in front of me and I did not ignore it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFCK_A_jfhQ1DE__cHFXRPStrrkV9ok-pw6slYyZNsa1QUcNB1Fvb4xk-yTAjqBHHsfna97zhsp9udeiAgiIY2kaGm9hvsUf3gmxplOg7SmFRLmOl6XGIhWjhzyji7VwHgTHZNriaYsKA/s1600/ChineseNewYear_lanterns.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFCK_A_jfhQ1DE__cHFXRPStrrkV9ok-pw6slYyZNsa1QUcNB1Fvb4xk-yTAjqBHHsfna97zhsp9udeiAgiIY2kaGm9hvsUf3gmxplOg7SmFRLmOl6XGIhWjhzyji7VwHgTHZNriaYsKA/s400/ChineseNewYear_lanterns.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569651016395312754" border="0" /></a><br />I finished my dove grey legwarmers tonight, and love them so much that I decided to go ahead and knit another pair (I do attend two, sometimes three, yoga classes a week). Both pair come from my current pattern book of choice, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Knitted-Socks-East-West-Inspired/dp/1584797991">Knitted Socks East and West.</a><br /><br />So I will meditate on the coming year as I knit and send thought of luck, love, and abundance to all those I know and love.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-19043549080695175422011-01-30T13:44:00.019-05:002011-01-30T14:56:36.096-05:00Acute StartitisBetween the cold, the snow and the basement full of yarn, I developed a wicked case of knitting startitis. Instead of blithely working through to the end of a project, you find yourself casting on one thing after another, forgetting the truth that an idea does not a finished project make.<br /><br />The most recent manifestation.<br />Legwarmers.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivFaxMtbX-otVw8nFT3INQK5Nlq2niXiCO_RjaJJFpddmAW8eGcroUVA6sZdwBjkvA8XwMul1NyQEl2JInsuYsIbNaKVMlPTGDLeI4YsS-GpX3qqs4Pa2i7Rlq7DaMUpqnyrJGC6QriQ8/s1600/KaisoBeginning.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivFaxMtbX-otVw8nFT3INQK5Nlq2niXiCO_RjaJJFpddmAW8eGcroUVA6sZdwBjkvA8XwMul1NyQEl2JInsuYsIbNaKVMlPTGDLeI4YsS-GpX3qqs4Pa2i7Rlq7DaMUpqnyrJGC6QriQ8/s400/KaisoBeginning.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568060449514582898" border="0" /></a><br />That's right.<br />Legwarmers.<br /><br />I walk to yoga after work and I hate that I've not been able to wear my capri-length pants without looking like a fool or freezing.<br /><br />So, legwarmers. <br />They'll look like knee-high socks, and I'm using an interesting pattern that I've modified for worsted weight yarn.<br /><br />I've gotten fairly far on the new colorwork sweater. I have no idea what came over me to start something else, but I don't think it's worth analyzing. Either way, parts of me will be warm and stylish.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibRZN-c_rFt_LoCAARukDoKqtcdzr237GKOEkc2ku2EyFfzEfGOE0aK-t0sDqTNEE5o9Z5UvbiuI89stxxvsxD-JZyf4zYcNlvZO3SVtbPKpRw6g9aRkt8sJS-8Qr_4Zxg92gWBmo9x6k/s1600/LimeadeTorso.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibRZN-c_rFt_LoCAARukDoKqtcdzr237GKOEkc2ku2EyFfzEfGOE0aK-t0sDqTNEE5o9Z5UvbiuI89stxxvsxD-JZyf4zYcNlvZO3SVtbPKpRw6g9aRkt8sJS-8Qr_4Zxg92gWBmo9x6k/s400/LimeadeTorso.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568060422767552002" border="0" /></a><br />See.<br />Warm AND Stylish.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMlMQ2mfpL9HUT5GvHmWC8uLs035p5hL_IWoxPqLpxIFJA4wyFBclMF-QHEaOMpYpUiOvAp6jf3fm3pJGrRJYF4vDmhLf8XMbrehQG_RqkXmlbzbLIrrsHi9EtI6hHr3YQGrwQLHkLsI/s1600/LimeadeTorsoWorn.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMlMQ2mfpL9HUT5GvHmWC8uLs035p5hL_IWoxPqLpxIFJA4wyFBclMF-QHEaOMpYpUiOvAp6jf3fm3pJGrRJYF4vDmhLf8XMbrehQG_RqkXmlbzbLIrrsHi9EtI6hHr3YQGrwQLHkLsI/s400/LimeadeTorsoWorn.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568060435317354338" border="0" /></a><br />Dig those pink plaid pants.<br /><br />And the lovely cashmere top that's been eclipsed by a riot of color, lace and distraction.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9027XMG3uQvpPtH7rK1ZlAlI0dvLw3ryhjGPK88VbtaI1X-idSXRClvqMSvaf_amZqXd-AL1saasF-4XmylLZnsiHR3_Kmqn3fxdOuJ-wIstd11S-IoGQhy3Ld9_7Gecdi-NSsvD7TAk/s1600/MilkMaidenTorsoFront.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9027XMG3uQvpPtH7rK1ZlAlI0dvLw3ryhjGPK88VbtaI1X-idSXRClvqMSvaf_amZqXd-AL1saasF-4XmylLZnsiHR3_Kmqn3fxdOuJ-wIstd11S-IoGQhy3Ld9_7Gecdi-NSsvD7TAk/s400/MilkMaidenTorsoFront.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568060447762217986" border="0" /></a><br />Sorry - I'm come back to you.<br /><br />I promise.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-29149483382644568502011-01-25T21:14:00.024-05:002011-01-25T22:48:47.138-05:00The hazards of moral hazard<style>@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p { margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="" lang="EN"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">I’ve been thinking quite a lot about how, when or even <i>if</i></span><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"> I will participate in another romantic relationship.<span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span>I’ve a long history of not-so-good experiences with men. I view so many of them as negative because I have long maintained a core belief that relationships, at least the more serious ones, are basically an exercise in analytics and economic concepts. Efforts you put in place to ensure that the initial chemistry goes unsullied by fights about things that are actually fights about other things. It turns out I'm somewhat rare in this belief. <a href="http://www.spousonomics.com/">Although not as rare as I would have thought...</a><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"> Anyway, lacking a good base in economics, I only recently came to the realization that these were solid and established concepts. I would go to great lengths to develop metaphors in order to explain myself, only to have someone point out to me that the last half hour of baroque language could be summed up as "sunk costs."<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">Take for, example, Moral Hazard.</span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><b><i>Moral hazard</i></b></span><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><i> occurs when a party insulated from risk behaves differently than it would behave if it were fully exposed to the risk.</i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><i>Moral hazard arises because an individual or institution does not take the full consequences and responsibilities of its actions, and therefore has a tendency to act less carefully than it otherwise would, leaving another party to hold some responsibility for the consequences of those actions.</i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">This particular one resonates with me, not only because I tend to be a pushover with men when it comes to demanding much of... anything. But also because it gives me that high you get from righteous indignation. (Am I right?)<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">We've long since lost any sort of robust social infrastructure that disincentives bad dating behavior, so now everybody is pretty much free to be awful to everybody else without consequence. Aside from the emotional leftovers of last year, weakened moral hazard is big part of why I've sidelined myself from any opportunity - reactive and proactive - to experience romance. I just don't care to open that door right now.<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">And I just keep seeing example after example of individuals who are merely seeking to find solid ground in their relationship being... ignored, undermined, blown off, and sometimes outright disrespected, because their own perspectives and demands no longer carry weight and it's ceased to be acceptable for a third party (hopefully objective) to come in and point out the problem.<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><style>@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p { margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> </p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">I assume we’re all equally guilty of suppressing that fantasy where you confront an individual in defense of someone close to your heart who is: taken for granted; used as a doormat; or being strung along. There are hundreds of conversations I’ve not had with the past, current and future partners of people in my life.<span style=""> </span><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">I can't help but wonder if maybe we were in the habit of holding people accountable for their bad dating/marriage behavior, maybe,<span style="font-style: italic;"> just maybe</span>, there would be less of it. Strengthened moral hazard = less weasely behavior.<br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">In my earlier dating life, I would have dissolved into a panic if my friends or family dared to step in to my romantic life, but now, now I would love to have some panic button, some way to call out the cavalry, led by an imaginary southern aunt who would come face to face with the offending chap in a not-to-be-interrupted rant that would go something like this:</span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">“Now boy, I hear you’ve been avoidin’ makin’ a firm commitment to our girl?<span style=""> </span>Now why is that, pray tell?<span style=""> </span>Is our baby girl not good enough for you?<span style=""> </span>Do you mean to tell me that after months of pitchin’ woo in such a brazen and public manner that would dare to back-peddle about what the intentions of those actions truly were.<span style=""> </span>Do you think I was born yesterday, boy?<span style=""> </span>Now it’s one thing to change your mind about something, but I would like to assume you were brought up with enough sense to know when you have gone a mile too far and son, I will tell you that at this point, you done passed that mile about three states back and your horse is about to die from exhaustion.<span style=""> </span>I know you weren’t raised up to be wild hooligan, so how about you make your momma proud and dig deep into that cavernous mind of yours and bring to bear some of the more gentlemanly behaviors we expect of our men folk ‘round here.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">See that, <i>THAT,</i></span><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"> would be that kind of thing that would strengthen moral hazard.</span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">But I do not have a southern aunt capable of letting my suitors know that I am not to be trifled with. And frankly, I do not see how simply adopting and enforcing stringent rules about what constitutes “good dating behavior” is going to turn me into anything but a ball-busting nag.<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">So I'm just staying out of the game for the time being.<br /></span></p><p face="times new roman" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-family: times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">But now and then, I do indulge in what I would want when I find someone new with whom I share chemistry. It would look something like this...<br /></span></p><ul><li style="font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">To be able to stop the inevitable emotionally-charged conversation with, "Wait. This isn't about ___________. Can we figure out what this is really about?"</span></li><li style="font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">To know that he understands that emotionally-charged conversations are fairly commonplace in emotionally-charged relationships, and frankly, represent a good way to quickly identify issues that could continue to cause problems.<br /></span></li><li style="font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">To willingly face those issues as you would face any other challenge: with research, data, trial-and-error and logical decision-making.<br /></span></li><li style="font-family:times new roman;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:100%;">To understand that doing this doesn't negate the chemistry and fun of a relationship - it tends to shorten the laundry list of Things That Cause Tension, which actually leaves more time and energy for all the fun stuff that we're all looking for from another person.<br /></span></li><li><span style="" lang="EN"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">To think it's adorable that I want to distill the logistics of a happy and healthy relationship to economic concepts and understands </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" >exactly </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">what I mean when I talk about how weak moral hazard leads to bad dating experiences, and then proceeds to tell me about the time when asymmetric information led to a truly awful first date a couple of years ago...</span></span><br /></span></li></ul><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="" lang="EN"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="" lang="EN"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p> <p></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="" lang="EN"> </span></p>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-70795265070443525702011-01-18T20:22:00.009-05:002011-01-18T20:27:29.680-05:00Sick Day KnittingCaught a nasty cold, stayed home yesterday: drinking soup, knitting, sneezing, more sneezing, some weezing and snuffling, more knitting and even more sneezing.<br /><br />Aces.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2koPIY5MArlJtcrpEtKKsKAe7efZW56M55GFzT3AtSf8kdpiYX9p2DH6EBWfABEQYjjUrju1tLUfolMyHbXV3FR_-5Tbx7Crb7C-_3nPG8VnZpLBbXx9FZ1j7hnq6md8WLZ6y6xiqTdQ/s1600/Citrus+Start.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2koPIY5MArlJtcrpEtKKsKAe7efZW56M55GFzT3AtSf8kdpiYX9p2DH6EBWfABEQYjjUrju1tLUfolMyHbXV3FR_-5Tbx7Crb7C-_3nPG8VnZpLBbXx9FZ1j7hnq6md8WLZ6y6xiqTdQ/s400/Citrus+Start.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563701611136770258" border="0" /></a>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-449103777845860262011-01-16T22:08:00.007-05:002011-01-16T22:39:51.888-05:00MeMeMeMeMeMeMeMeI was thinking about what to write, and I keep coming up with the same dilemma - do I continue the navel-gazing pseudo-psychology mumbo-jumbo? Or do I have the stones to share what I've been thinking about the current mess of politics? But I'm just not sure how my voice could add value to the discussions already taking place.<br /><br />I am an expert (in progress) on me, but I know only bits and pieces about politics. Same for economics. And alternative energies. And the hundreds of other things I read about in my free time. I refrain from bringing these things up and weighing in on them because I am aware of how little I understand regarding the nuance and subtlety of these subjects.<br /><br />Case in point - Ohio Politics...<br />After increasing the pay for his senior staff, Gov. Kasich decreased the salary of an Administrative Assistant from $35,000 to $23,000. As of late 2010, $23,000 was 212% of poverty for a household of one. At 200% or less ($21,660), one becomes eligible for energy assistance and a variety of other federal and state subsidies. I am appalled. I am outraged.<br /><br />But I also don't know the whole story. I assume it's one person getting a life-altering pay cut, but what if he's hiring some supporter's wealthy spouse/child/relative into the role? It certainly provokes a different negative response. Or what if that person has requested unpaid leave? Or a decrease in hours? I don't know these details and I haven't seen them listed anywhere. So I don't tend to consider things like that here.<br /><br />My job is all about detail, finding references and data and double-checking them - so in my free-time writing, it's easier to ignore these things and focus on the only thing I feel I can speak to with some authority - Me. <br />What you get is a truly self-centered blog. Which is probably a good reflection of who I am right now. Not terribly proud of it - but I'm totally willing to cop to it.<br /><br />So, increase my expert opinion on me where there can be no wrong answer? - Or go into more effort to discuss the rest of world and risk being wrong?<br /><br />Hmmm, maybe my next post should delve into my fear of being wrong...sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-71519054743423661302011-01-10T22:27:00.012-05:002011-01-10T23:03:36.578-05:00The Audacity of "No"<style>@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal">Despite a constant treadmill of thoughts, analysis, and decision-making that actually occurs in my life, I realize that I haven’t been delving into anything of any real substance here.<span style=""> </span>So I’m going to try to put some of it down into words.<span style=""> </span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">That was the whole point of this project in the first place.<span style=""> </span>It was somewhere to chronicle my experience so I could go back to it, somewhere I could put my thoughts – clear or jumbled. This <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">isn</span>’t for you, reader; it’s for me.<span style=""> </span>In the rush of doing, I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ve</span> neglected to document, and I’m going to try and remedy that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">So… where’s my head is these days? I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ve</span> adjusted to my new job, adjusted to my new habitat, adjusted to my not-so-new solitary state.<span style=""> </span>I seem to be focused on attaining larger goals through denial - which is odd for me.<span style=""> </span>I’m not a “no” kind of girl.<span style=""> </span>I spent the whole of my twenties saying yes: to food, to purchases, to ill-advised romantic entanglements.<span style=""> </span>It was a decade characterized by experience for the sake of experience.<span style=""> </span>No real goal – just living in the moment and placing the consequences of actions in that box over there labeled “Later." I placed blame for uncomfortable or unattained things on vague <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">externalities</span> and ran off in random directions to see if that thing over there was better than what I currently had.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">But that started to change, in small degrees, when I went back to school for my Masters.<span style=""> </span>I was 28 at the time.<span style=""> </span>It was a true challenge, since I used to hate writing. I hated<i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">process and methodical anything. <span style=""> </span>I was rash, impatient, impetuous, impertinent, and stubborn.<span style=""> </span>I wanted to jump from idea to conclusion without bothering with the middle bit.<span style=""> </span>But I was determined to succeed, so I learned to make lists, think through things and start tackling projects with smaller steps. <span style=""> </span>I learned that I had the strength to ignore distraction and meet procrastination halfway.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style=""></span></span>A bit of fallout from the degree and time that came before was debt.<span style=""> </span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">When one is rash, impatient, impetuous, impertinent, and stubborn, one tends to gather debt.<span style=""> </span>There is no such thing as “saving up” nor is there the inclination to deny oneself anything.<span style=""> </span>So I just kept adding to the debt with the belief that one day I would be able to painlessly manage it. <span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">But that was only one of a litany of unrealistic expectations.<span style=""> </span>I assumed that by 31 years of age I would have traveled the world. I would have a small wardrobe of clothes tailored to a body that was much different from the one I was actually lugging around.<span style=""> </span>I would have the mutual and unwavering love and adoration of a brilliant man.<span style=""> </span>There was no plan for how I would achieve any of these goals – they were just goals.<span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style=""></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">I think I may have actually believed that one day I would wake up and magically things would have fallen into place overnight.<span style=""> </span>My bank account would always be overflowing (without having to attend to it), my body would reflect years of tireless training (without sacrificing the time), my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">soulmate</span> would be at the ready (without having to search for him or compromise anything.)<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>Instead, I was carrying around a decade worth of plane tickets, suits for interviews, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">GRE</span>, entertainment, gas bills and groceries – my past was keeping the present from happening. <span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">In fall 2007, I saw the debt was becoming a problem that could no longer be ignored. I firmly said, “STOP.” <span style=""> </span>And thus began the time of fiscal austerity in earnest. <span style=""> </span>I stayed put to save money, I cancelled all my credit cards, I created a budget and learned to tell myself no. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">That final bit, the learning to tell myself no, was hard.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">Is</span> hard.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">So very, very hard.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">But “No” seems to be working for me. I am nearing the end of my debt.<span style=""> </span>By late spring, my car and consumer debt will be 100% retired.<span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Since I seem to be doing so well with these self-imposed austerity measures, I went ahead and decided to return to vegetarianism - something I left behind long ago when I lost the willpower to deny myself Dad's barbecue. Then I decided to tackle the weight thing, with a fairly high degree of success.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Now, before you get to thinking I’m all smug with my almost-retired debt and loose pants, know this.<span style=""> </span>There is a price to be paid – there’s <span style="font-style: italic;">always</span> a price to be paid – and that price is the word “No.”<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I hate that word.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I want that word to die and to go to hell. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Despite how well that word is working out for me, I hate it.<span style=""> </span>Hate it hate it hate it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Daily – <span style="font-style: italic;">Daily!</span> - I say “No” to myself exponentially more times than I say yes. And I have <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ADHD</span>, so imagine how many disjointed ideas, thoughts and concepts are freely bouncing around while my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">pre</span>-frontal cortex is left cowering in the corner.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">But ugh!, “No” – that word pulls the plug on indulgence and makes the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">hubristic</span> assumption that there will be another day to travel, another cupcake to eat, another man to love. Saying "No" in the present in order to have delayed gratification means you <span style="font-style: italic;">truly believe</span> that the day will come when you will reap your reward. <span style=""> </span>And for some reason, I have to work really hard at that.<span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>I see Now and I see vague, blurry Tomorrow – but this whole attainable future thing to almost too much for my head and heart to handle. I come from fatalistic stock - a people who assume the worst and can pick out the one grey, gloomy cloud in perfectly blue sky. I have an authentic optimistic streak, but at my deepest, darkest core, I seem hold a belief that It Will All End in Tears - so eat the god damned cupcake, kiss that questionable boy, and put it on the credit card, since you may not even be here tomorrow.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">So I'm treating this as an experiment. I've traded the small and ill-advised <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">indulgences</span> of the present for restraint that will bring me a greater measure of freedom and health in future I can't yet imagine.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-62152949671277210062011-01-09T23:22:00.009-05:002011-01-10T22:27:29.985-05:00The Good, the Unexpected and the BadEvery day I discover more interesting changes as a result of the weight loss...<br /><br />The Good:<br />I can do more yoga poses. I kept my strength, but decreased my mass, so it takes less effort to do more. And less volume means I can do <a href="http://www.google.com/images?um=1&hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-US%3Aofficial&biw=1373&bih=746&tbs=isch%3A1&sa=1&q=yoga+bind&aq=f&aqi=g1&aql=&oq=&gs_rfai=">binds</a> and a deeper <a href="http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/479">plow pose.</a><br /><br />The Unexpected:<br />Some of my shoes are too big now. I never thought of feet as appendages that gain or lose volume with weight loss.<br /><br />The Bad:<br />I've switched to a smaller bra.<br />Damn.<br />My boobs were always a feature I felt consistently good about.<br />Here's to hoping that sentiment will extend to an increased roster of parts.<br /><br />I can't say enough positive things about this process, but I also have twinges of guilt that "Too much food" is the problem I face. I exist in such a unique time and place in the world, when a legitimate personal challenge includes learning how to fight the evolutionary and biological directive to eat as much sugar and fat as possible.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-30871152335293206942011-01-05T20:25:00.012-05:002011-01-05T20:49:56.603-05:00Forecast: Quick and dirty is relative.So <a href="http://www.knitty.com/ISSUEwinter05/PATTforecast.html">this pattern </a>has been in my Ravelry queue for ages. After finishing the Urban Mandarin, I needed a quick and dirty sweater. When I added it to the queue, it seemed terribly daunting... the bobbles, the cable, the dramatic sleeve decrease, the all purled construction. (<span style="font-style: italic;">sneer</span>)<br /><br />I started it December 12, finished it on January 2nd.<br />Not too shabby.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYUNtgtPE0HPEmSp24GrKob4WBTEOs4sfJvcniGLLPo78ElXMLV45L9kiiUYFBdVBLr8CFzPg0xXxHYIY0B6ll9xLjeURAo2I1pEgqel1fisdfTmizdSsVU_jhW3D9B_yghYziZ9fznC4/s1600/ForecastFinalBack.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYUNtgtPE0HPEmSp24GrKob4WBTEOs4sfJvcniGLLPo78ElXMLV45L9kiiUYFBdVBLr8CFzPg0xXxHYIY0B6ll9xLjeURAo2I1pEgqel1fisdfTmizdSsVU_jhW3D9B_yghYziZ9fznC4/s400/ForecastFinalBack.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558878997854848386" border="0" /></a><br />Picked out some vintage buttons from my stash, 10 that turned to 9 when one was sacrificed to that place where things that you swear you <span style="font-style: italic;">just had</span> mysteriously disappear.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviwcinbo_oZBaplVx4vdn5dJj7w_688Ob5D5MoSbszACsdtY0Lw8rTHlGZce2qR3XZPmr3VgkEDbvw9ii1XrPECOrtpWhN_Swf-BbqQeHSvg1jdnR5syHFsLQB3NOU5HeKF5lsNYS6Ls/s1600/ForcastFinalFront.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviwcinbo_oZBaplVx4vdn5dJj7w_688Ob5D5MoSbszACsdtY0Lw8rTHlGZce2qR3XZPmr3VgkEDbvw9ii1XrPECOrtpWhN_Swf-BbqQeHSvg1jdnR5syHFsLQB3NOU5HeKF5lsNYS6Ls/s400/ForcastFinalFront.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558878994237357554" border="0" /></a><br />I mentioned in my last post that I got red glasses and provided no visual evidence.<br />So this is that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCjuQHylteInEvr2en0-TpH8NHU_WfSyrKIYgB3VNGu8PEE5vVsvW_pT0_rRhmKhBEjZ9xVgdAITzeXkI_EJAFdZ7J3_3pKGf-fZOwLHoKVXnUd8ujOccrUpk6koPNoZ934hPp9KRI5g/s1600/ForcastWorn.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCjuQHylteInEvr2en0-TpH8NHU_WfSyrKIYgB3VNGu8PEE5vVsvW_pT0_rRhmKhBEjZ9xVgdAITzeXkI_EJAFdZ7J3_3pKGf-fZOwLHoKVXnUd8ujOccrUpk6koPNoZ934hPp9KRI5g/s400/ForcastWorn.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558878989048068706" border="0" /></a>See, red glasses. And a model train over my shoulder - there, to the right.<br /><br />Knitting is very serious business.<br />Look how very serious I am about my knitting.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxwD90r5OgFbFpRjWAldbTaNtZZZLjZuNFfj3HuuY_MwqcHhcq8ddvdmdFtllyD50KhAIXOaP5k3zosLNiwpT2XGjrYr8vkJeyMSdBFTEGG3y5ZSBnYvPPDXbPstaLzDJse62OyW6QZw/s1600/ForecastYaDig.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxwD90r5OgFbFpRjWAldbTaNtZZZLjZuNFfj3HuuY_MwqcHhcq8ddvdmdFtllyD50KhAIXOaP5k3zosLNiwpT2XGjrYr8vkJeyMSdBFTEGG3y5ZSBnYvPPDXbPstaLzDJse62OyW6QZw/s400/ForecastYaDig.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558878988362576066" border="0" /></a><br />Or maybe I'm about to throw down.<br />I can't tell.<br />It's a bit unnerving, really.<br /><br /><br />Here's what it would look like if it were a vest.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-O53BaZdgaT5vWN2IhG3S6dde2ErD82N5CT3ftbHxCLdQy24GUS_weJmInAEymEiShnbAqU_s79mECUCpfQ_wGtXAc6lHCQZZZvqIFd6gy0od-nZFs-MpDMwtZKpzQD_ej8pPKM9Sexg/s1600/ForcastVestWorn.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-O53BaZdgaT5vWN2IhG3S6dde2ErD82N5CT3ftbHxCLdQy24GUS_weJmInAEymEiShnbAqU_s79mECUCpfQ_wGtXAc6lHCQZZZvqIFd6gy0od-nZFs-MpDMwtZKpzQD_ej8pPKM9Sexg/s400/ForcastVestWorn.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558878977032615570" border="0" /></a><br />Not that that was an option, but the light in that bathroom was just really good.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-71844828382094141802010-12-28T22:36:00.006-05:002010-12-28T23:11:59.437-05:00Saving faceSo this Weight Watchers thing is working and my face is starting to show it.<br /><br />To celebrate, I got new glasses: wide, rectangular ones - red, with a swooping silver architectural accent at the sides.<br />It's also time for a new haircut, so I had a consultation with a stylist. The topics ranged from bangs to color to growing out strategies. Scintillating stuff, I tell you. But I've had the same damn cut, in varying permutations, since 2006. I hoped to walk away from the consult with direction - a change to look forward to based on professional direction. But alas, it's still up to me.<br /><br />So I searched online... for bangs, for bangs with glasses, for side swept bangs and swooping bangs. For fringe bangs and blunt bangs, even hipster bangs.<br /><br />The question they all posed was the same, "What shape is your face?"<br />I don't know.<br />Face-shaped, I guess.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Square. </span><br /><br />I measured.<br />It's SQUARE.<br /><br />But... I'm in good company.<br /><a href="http://www.google.com/images?q=kristin+scott+thomas&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&ei=P7AaTdaiKJnhnQeevICKDg&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=1&ved=0CDMQsAQwAA&biw=1373&bih=746">Kristin Scott Thomas.</a><br /><a href="http://www.google.com/images?q=isabella+rossellini&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&ei=tasaTcn5MouTnwekienDDg&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=4&ved=0CFYQsAQwAw&biw=1373&bih=746">Isabella Rossellini.</a><br /><a href="http://www.google.com/images?q=jodie+foster&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&ei=WbAaTZmrIszLnAeatLzZDQ&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=3&ved=0CEcQsAQwAg&biw=1373&bih=746">Jodie Foster. </a><br />We of wide, angular jaws and broad foreheads.<br /><br />And I have a fabulous forehead (all the better for protecting my amazing pre-frontal cortex).<br />Can I really make a case for covering it up with bangs?<br />No lines to speak of (yet). No cystic acne scars.<br />Just a vast, clear plane of lily-white smoothness. And I say this with such poetic fervor because I am only now realizing the worth of such a feature.<br /><br />But I also know the worth and power that comes from drastic external change. Given the breadth and depth of the mental and emotional changes I experienced 2010, it's fitting that I find a way to present them to the world.<br /><br />I spilled into 2010 as an almost amorphous thing, my edges blurring into the people and world around me. But I've since laid out stricter perimeters, gained edges, and know absolutely where I end and others begin. <br /><br />So. How do I translate that into a haircut...?sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-51189038119083276282010-12-01T21:54:00.007-05:002010-12-01T22:13:59.038-05:00A pretty good week overall...I finished the lion's share of the Urban Mandarin Sweater.<br /><br />It's been a hell of a slog... through <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Spring's</span> upset, Summer's uncertainty, Autumn's changes and now that Winter is settling in, I'm eager to face 2011 with a sweater born of persistence and patience.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PwZjzH-1nAlRZ3zot9T3249tuPl7rUNBpltPjkyRou1ee-SFJe7Wzg-yOqEAB8RYwb-CQRmANx783xeRg56M2cnNd03HtrIzIuDeHtrQy0Z0TTdgecH5CfrcmwwmVFbthJC9szJSE5s/s1600/UrbanMandPostSteek.JPG"><br /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAbkPBKihXhOhd9Gt3tEr2flB15eH3kbS9SY2axSMpD3dUGNvbGM3w_01zwnEurLr0NqvEhve6UjEo2HrxErXRlKYyv-WFXCEfZ-6LaSm6OauZy9-Y3FsnsEfor1F6bmyplsI9jbLvg3s/s1600/UrbanMandBeforeSteek.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAbkPBKihXhOhd9Gt3tEr2flB15eH3kbS9SY2axSMpD3dUGNvbGM3w_01zwnEurLr0NqvEhve6UjEo2HrxErXRlKYyv-WFXCEfZ-6LaSm6OauZy9-Y3FsnsEfor1F6bmyplsI9jbLvg3s/s400/UrbanMandBeforeSteek.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545913703104641682" border="0" /></a><br />And even a little destruction. See, you have to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">steek</span> it, or cut it, before you finish it.<br />Scary business, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">steeking</span>.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PwZjzH-1nAlRZ3zot9T3249tuPl7rUNBpltPjkyRou1ee-SFJe7Wzg-yOqEAB8RYwb-CQRmANx783xeRg56M2cnNd03HtrIzIuDeHtrQy0Z0TTdgecH5CfrcmwwmVFbthJC9szJSE5s/s1600/UrbanMandPostSteek.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PwZjzH-1nAlRZ3zot9T3249tuPl7rUNBpltPjkyRou1ee-SFJe7Wzg-yOqEAB8RYwb-CQRmANx783xeRg56M2cnNd03HtrIzIuDeHtrQy0Z0TTdgecH5CfrcmwwmVFbthJC9szJSE5s/s400/UrbanMandPostSteek.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545913709054737970" border="0" /></a><br />In other news, I weighed in today and learned I was a mere 3 oz short of my first goal - losing 5% of my starting body weight. I won't share what that actually was (a lady has to keep some things to herself).<br /><br />To wrap up, this week there is 5% less of me, but at least 5% more of the sweater. <br />And I think that's an excellent trade off.<br /></div>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-19523858411596685432010-11-21T18:44:00.012-05:002010-11-21T19:52:12.497-05:00MeltawayOne of the perks of working for a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">healthcare</span> institution is that they prioritize preventative care and wellness - so much so that it's harder work to make unhealthy choices than healthy ones.<br />There's no sugar soda available, and the on-site options stress whole grains, low fat and low sodium. And they offer free Weight Watchers.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ok</span>, so a bit about me and size. I have been of greater than average size for my height since I was about 9 years old. I was never athletic, but I wasn't a slug, either. I've always been active, and relied mostly on activity to keep my weight in check, since I never really felt that I ate an unhealthy diet. In fact, I've often been somewhat proud of my weight, since 98% of those who find out what it is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">blanche</span> because it's a number we have incredibly low expectations for, expectations that I shatter.<br /><br />So I carry it well - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">yay</span> me.<br /><br />When I get tired of it or stumble into some motivator for change, I would join a gym and live there 4-5 days a week. Elliptical, weight training, 2000 meters in the pool - I would do it all and put everything else on hold for 3 months to lose a hard-earned 15-20 lbs.<br /><br />So I joined Weight Watchers at work to see what it was all about. I had low expectations for losing weight through diet and figured if I came out 5-7 lbs smaller in January, that would be good enough.<br /><br />Well.<br /><br />I'm midway though week four and have lost 8 lbs without single visit to the gym. Yoga, of course, continues twice a week - and since I've been at it long enough for the flexibility stuff to be easy, I've asked my instructors to challenge me to gain strength (it's totally working, too. I can get into, hold, and come out of <a href="http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/473">wheel pose</a> without shaking. My goal...<a href="http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/2470"> firefly</a>.)<br /><br />I found a pedometer outside my building (with instructions!) and have been making an effort to get to the suggested 10,000 steps. I average 7,000, but I can get to 8,200 without trying too hard. And I think that's the point. I want to make a change, but one that doesn't hijack my existing stable of interests.<br /><br />I value my time and the things I normally do with it: knitting, reading, exploring, spending time with friends, cooking, and tinkering - all things that are generally at odds with being at the gym or highly active. I'm sure I could listen to books on my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">iPod</span> or get my friends to go on a long hike with me - but history tells me that's a long shot.<br /><br />I value Thin, but inconsistently. I highly value it when I come back from a store where they didn't have my size or the things in my size were unflattering. Or when I thought that Thin would make my life better. But that was a different time - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">pre</span>-Physicist, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">pre</span>-career-change, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">pre</span>-Oh-my-goodness-my-life-is-really-pretty-great-what-am-I-complaining-about. Lacking that high value on Thin, I just haven't had the incentive to sacrifice all that other great stuff to a gym membership.<br /><br />Surprisingly, Weight Watchers allows me both: I clearly see the road to Thin without sacrificing the things I usually give up to slog my way to a measly 10% reduction in body mass. Based on how I'm doing so far, the ultimate goal they set (based on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">BMI</span> - but don't get me started on that measure) seems totally doable - scary as hell (because what happens when you actually get the thing you thought would both a) change your life and b) be impossible to achieve without fundamentally changing who you are.) - but doable.<br /><br />Here's to shattered expectations...sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-84496661372420698092010-11-08T22:15:00.012-05:002010-11-10T18:54:25.511-05:00Random act of CharmingThis afternoon, I needed to run a cross-campus errand. It was a clear, crisp fall day - full sun and blue sky. I was wearing my sweet knitted beret and my blazer that invokes a 1960s boys school uniform. Perfect. Collegiate. Lovely. I likely had a spring in my step and twinkle in my eye.<br />As I crossed the street, there were a couple of landscaping fellows on their industrial riding mowers and one nodded to me, so I smiled and nodded back.<br /><br />He was ahead of me on the sidewalk and kept looking back, which was cute... and flattering... and evidently filled me with hutzpah - as well as a bit of cheekiness to boot.<br /><br />I came up the crosswalk and stood next to him while we waited for the light to change, so I turned to him and made some comment about wishing I had my rollerblades so I could hitch a ride. His reply was to offer me a ride across the street (the seat was a bit of a bench, room enough for two).<br /><br />"Okay!"<br /><br />*hop*<br /><br />I had my own Patrick-Dempsey-on-a-lawnmover-"Can't-Buy-Me-Love" moment... (sans cowboy hat and sunset)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsui1L1MB96RTcc_hojSY6Nrwnw0_kzgpgkXh7XZopdpS6nqA0-As0yMeqOZNXeQG9sNtcdF9-DHjuwyppqHUfKXuXC27fuNX3-gXNoyZhok3HajlMc7lXJwkZJtkRd9caJcOtdGzn-MI/s1600/Can-t-Buy-Me-Love-caps-patrick-dempsey-7134093-720-528.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsui1L1MB96RTcc_hojSY6Nrwnw0_kzgpgkXh7XZopdpS6nqA0-As0yMeqOZNXeQG9sNtcdF9-DHjuwyppqHUfKXuXC27fuNX3-gXNoyZhok3HajlMc7lXJwkZJtkRd9caJcOtdGzn-MI/s400/Can-t-Buy-Me-Love-caps-patrick-dempsey-7134093-720-528.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538068373736134290" border="0" /></a><br />We got to the other side, I disembarked, laughed, thanked him and walked on.<br /><br />In the middle of the work day, sometimes a girl just needs a blue sky, a lawnmower and a mysterious chauffeur.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-3804811042662028822010-11-07T21:24:00.011-05:002010-11-07T22:02:48.494-05:00Getting settledI'm finally digging into my new home, getting things put away and tinkering with my environment.<br /><br />I want my little cottage (850 sq ft) to be homey, but lack much of the clutter than plagued me in my teeny apartment (485 sq ft).<br /><br />A great deal of this was achieved through deaccessioning - it felt great to get rid of this and that - although I have the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/26/garden/26inheritance.html?_r=1">heirloom guilt</a> in spades, exacerbated by being the child and granddaughter of makers.<br /><br />Knowing I was coming into a large space, I braced myself and made it very clear what I would and would not accept, and so far, it's working.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwxCziX8jfB96EzfBRcJXIkbYS6db33FJgqIQlf-k7XbQXLk7jLXOXSgWcv3x2VDyhiKKmjyMuRypQ00zpOeX6FIOlQOXSS4BB_3N_ytrGkeM_6sztyWNWOfa8z2O_899rFQrbq8EOMGY/s1600/P1040364.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwxCziX8jfB96EzfBRcJXIkbYS6db33FJgqIQlf-k7XbQXLk7jLXOXSgWcv3x2VDyhiKKmjyMuRypQ00zpOeX6FIOlQOXSS4BB_3N_ytrGkeM_6sztyWNWOfa8z2O_899rFQrbq8EOMGY/s400/P1040364.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537003868006792338" border="0" /></a><br />I'm attempting to make due with mostly used or family items (sectional from Craigslist, Knoll chair from my old office, etagere made by my grandfather, rocking chair from my great-grandparents'), but I'll admit I have purchased a few new things as a result of the drunken fog of aesthetic reverie (curtains, lamp, dreaming of <a href="http://www.cb2.com/family.aspx?c=170&f=5806">a rug from CB2</a>).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUTNeiHUbEXCSQom5_vwat2anIuZtTSuQV42RKY93CiNoUp93Xam20dOGsMI8QT4TfJQ6enTbF9dfri0gwiltQIjEI4oHyj8rb9gkTxc6Byw7QNCbH0cqKhCDycnUhwN7eu2po00q1J8/s1600/P1040363.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUTNeiHUbEXCSQom5_vwat2anIuZtTSuQV42RKY93CiNoUp93Xam20dOGsMI8QT4TfJQ6enTbF9dfri0gwiltQIjEI4oHyj8rb9gkTxc6Byw7QNCbH0cqKhCDycnUhwN7eu2po00q1J8/s400/P1040363.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537003875209112018" border="0" /></a><br />The fun has been in finding ways to showcase those items I've had squirreled away, unsure of how to work them into my life but hesitant to release them back into the free market.<br /><br />This kimono, for example.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3TIw6UeVqjX2wDqqCXJeLE9WpoI16jxCVJS0rfmzhPxK2DhqlNr0dg46Z_G6yf3EC6zyTCNtuLjJWk5f_xAccQvPNx4L5zSpU3SiM-XvPPRjtlQS2u4YdCk9cyFJeacFW9s28zLg-_g/s1600/P1040351.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3TIw6UeVqjX2wDqqCXJeLE9WpoI16jxCVJS0rfmzhPxK2DhqlNr0dg46Z_G6yf3EC6zyTCNtuLjJWk5f_xAccQvPNx4L5zSpU3SiM-XvPPRjtlQS2u4YdCk9cyFJeacFW9s28zLg-_g/s400/P1040351.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537003879003937250" border="0" /></a><br />Lovely, handpainted silk; I purchased it a Unique Thrift on Half-Price Monday for about $5. I was working at a museum at the time, and my urge to save all the poor helpless items of beauty was in full effect. It was folded in tissue paper with almost maternal affection and put in the closet, safe from rays of light, degradation of acid, and all the things that break down organic material (e.g., <span style="font-style: italic;">everything everywhere</span>).<br /><br />I couldn't give it up, so I was determined to bring it out in the new home. Somehow, I managed to amass a collection of thing accented in red with a vaguely Japanesque quality, so those things went in the bedroom. Among those items were two vintage Japanese paper lanterns, and Kt-friend suggested the following course of action:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtAn0pFpMrhA-Pq1_S7YZbO1q1wYUyYqbk8VsbcVvxEVhxmjwcHt9cKK025l7BGVknu86123LIUbVLNsh3lobPtB7QRCWWJfbb3_aWbqR93E-BYsde70PqRXAiDxMkqM6sZarsQB-Zef8/s1600/P1040352.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtAn0pFpMrhA-Pq1_S7YZbO1q1wYUyYqbk8VsbcVvxEVhxmjwcHt9cKK025l7BGVknu86123LIUbVLNsh3lobPtB7QRCWWJfbb3_aWbqR93E-BYsde70PqRXAiDxMkqM6sZarsQB-Zef8/s400/P1040352.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537003885132510370" border="0" /></a><br />Yeah, so that's a branch.<br />Screwed to the wall.<br />With lanterns.<br /><br />Kind of college-sophomore crazy, but I dig it.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-91472379016785916952010-11-02T20:09:00.018-05:002010-11-02T21:10:09.647-05:00Random things I learned at my new job<span>1.0 </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Toward</span> is American English, <span style="font-style: italic;">Towards</span> is British English.<br />2.0 The grant review processes for research dollars is not exactly what one would call "<a href="http://www.medcitynews.com/2010/07/inside-the-nih-grant-review-process-aka-catch-22/">objective</a>."<br />3.0 There is more jargon is the world than my mind can possibly process<span style="font-style: italic;">.<br /></span><span> 3.1 <a href="http://www.who.int/social_determinants/en/">Social determinants of health</a><br /> 3.2 <a href="http://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&q=cache:eImByqIBxREJ:oacu.od.nih.gov/arac/endpoints.pdf+nih+endpoint&hl=en&gl=us&pid=bl&srcid=ADGEEShsQ7iC5MKQ1VpfNpxJkm2bhJNA2sEGot9BYHWLFiUkzhzAaz7dQ3aeZtEiU_mTB0scmUjsNeGa1WKSNktGLLDJD5UR-vbbDujxnvmgUbjTLsEpdWn41LBtmnNL--AomIUcde8z&sig=AHIEtbQliehhCv7BeO7HKkjaH8qH7aSB-A">Endpoint</a><br /> 3.3 <a href="http://muafind.hrsa.gov/">MUA/P</a><br /> 3.4 Overweight as noun, as in "to decrease overweight and obesity."<br /> 3.5</span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"> </span>Endless alphabet soup: NIH; CLABSI; Rx, Dx, Tx; M&M; BRCA1; MMTV-neu mouse; etc...<br /><span>4.0</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">U.S.News & World Report</span> always, always, always looks like a typo.<br />5.0 Doctors don't hold elevators - even in the parking garage - after work.<br /> 5.1 Nurses always look angry. Now I understand why.<br />6.0 The Shoreway is the best commuter route in Northeast Ohio.<br /> 6.1 We have the best sunrises and sunsets in October.<br /> 6.2 There are always kite fliers at Edgewater - even at 7 am.<br /> 6.3 I still haven't seen the surfers, but I'm optimistic.<br />7.0 Dansko clogs are not considered work-appropriate attire.<br /> 7.2 But cowboy boots go unmentioned.<br />8.0 The money really does go to patient care.<br /> 8.1 Because we're still working with an early 90s donor database that reminds me of the Flying Toaster screensaver.<br />9.0 Despite warnings that it would, my printer does not actually jam when I re-use paper.<br /> 9.1 It's called recycling.<br /> 9.2 Deal with it.<br />10.0 If things that cured cancer in mice could cure cancer in humans, we'd have that checked off the To Do list by now.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-5243525312937661352010-11-01T20:06:00.009-05:002010-11-01T20:32:35.180-05:00My new lifeMy goodness...Is this thing still on?<br /><br />So I have this new life now.<br />New job in a new sector, new home in a new neighborhood, and new habits that go with my new surroundings and I am about a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">billiondy</span> times less anxious because I proved to myself that the status <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">quo</span> I was mired in could be escaped.<br /><br />So now, my lazy butt gets up at 6:15, out the door at 7:15 and is often the first one at work (!).<br /><br />I'm back to regular yoga, at work this time. We have class in a pavilion 9 floors up overlooking the city and lake - I actually get to do sun salutations toward the sun.<br /><br />I started walking with the Cleveland Hiking Club - with a goal to be capable of handling some significant hikes in the next few years.<br /><br />I also started Weight Watchers at work, because hell,<span style="font-style: italic;"> it's FREE</span>, and since my working environment is generally lacking temptation, it's that much easier to stick to the plan.<br /><br />I chose my neighborhood because it's walkable and can you believe it, actually I walk a good deal of the time. I am a bit concerned about winter - not because of the cold and snow, but because I haven't yet gauged how safe it is to walk alone after dark and I know it will soon be getting dark at 5pm (shudder).<br /><br />The thing I lost in all this is flexibility. I can no longer adjust to work flow and take care of this and that during the work day. My evenings are for errands and paying bills, making lunches and ironing. My weekends are for all those things I couldn't dash out at lunch to do because it would take longer than 1 hour.<br /><br />So it's certainly a trade off, but in this city and in this economy, I am happy to have a job I enjoy at a place I respect with perks I could only dream of (Did I mention yoga!). So I raise my glass to change, and hope I'll be posting here a bit more now that things have settled into a very pleasant routine.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-52557287823569693232010-08-19T20:52:00.009-05:002010-08-19T21:17:41.434-05:00Crazy-makingBecause starting a new job in a completely different sector isn't change enough, I decided to move within the first month.<br /><br />I've been in my tiny apartment for 11 years - ok, 1 month short of my 11 year rent-a-versary in 400 sq ft of urban treehouse.<br /><br />But living in a destination neighborhood has finally worn me out.<br />Parking's a pain, my stairs are too much for my family and the whole dang place smells of the steel mill and the asphalt factory.<br /><br />And it's become painfully clear that my neighborhood values the transient visitors' experience over the residents' (Where else would they fail to figure out resident-only parking. Little Italy, Cleveland Heights and Lakewood figured it out... Tremont, not so much.)<br /><br />So I'm done - I planned to stay put for a bit and see how the job went, but once I got my offer letter, pretty much nothing could keep me from getting the flock out of town.<br /><br />I am moving to a place with far more practical things within walking distance - things I do on a regular basis, not once in a while: a grocery store, an artisan bread shop, a yarn store, a yacht club, a natural food store and an entrance to one of the best hiking/biking trails in the region.<br /><br />I'm still keeping to my small house style, as it's a whopping 850 sq ft.<br /><br />But it has a porch and a dry basement - newly redone hardwood floors and an Energy Star programmable whole house furnace and AC. A peach tree, grapes and raspberries, lovely natural wood built ins and a <span style="font-style: italic;">DRIVEWAY</span>.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.allthelyrics.com/lyrics/julie_andrews/something_good-lyrics-181777.html">Somewhere in my youth or childhood/<br />I must have done something good. </a>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-22520496948344268272010-08-09T21:14:00.004-05:002010-08-09T21:21:23.146-05:00Random acts of leafing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh12coBI4RmYor6gYE4hXZguyK_1y6Y6tn-5PCn2AF3jixzxcBKbqXRSG9KJdEjTIgxw3PyW4K7z20knBNzjOtUyECl4D28YhUu1HX1Bdd29UobAG0LhfZHQfru9plB4nZeM_AJHvHHs0Q/s1600/Goldilocks.JPG"><br /></a><br />I start my new job in a week - until then, I seem to keep stumbling into people and projects.<br /><br />This week, goldleafing for the iconographer I worked for years ago.<br /><br />I forgot how enjoyable (but tiring) goldleafing can be.<br /><br />And how much fun it is to come home with gold on my forehead.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh12coBI4RmYor6gYE4hXZguyK_1y6Y6tn-5PCn2AF3jixzxcBKbqXRSG9KJdEjTIgxw3PyW4K7z20knBNzjOtUyECl4D28YhUu1HX1Bdd29UobAG0LhfZHQfru9plB4nZeM_AJHvHHs0Q/s1600/Goldilocks.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh12coBI4RmYor6gYE4hXZguyK_1y6Y6tn-5PCn2AF3jixzxcBKbqXRSG9KJdEjTIgxw3PyW4K7z20knBNzjOtUyECl4D28YhUu1HX1Bdd29UobAG0LhfZHQfru9plB4nZeM_AJHvHHs0Q/s400/Goldilocks.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503599851981981890" border="0" /></a><br />You swipe the brush across your forehead before you grab the leaf - the oils are just adhesive enough to allow for secure transport of gold from book to canvas (or wood, as the current case requires).sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-1251095019286354092010-07-20T13:51:00.007-05:002010-07-20T14:14:35.357-05:00A good dayToday is a good day.<br />I just got back from a long weekend in Erie County, visiting my grandmother, picking blueberries and lounging by my cousin's pool each evening.<br />The best news is that today I got an offer for the job that I have been hoping for.<br /><br />For better or worse, I've placed a good deal of expectation on this new position.<br />It provides me the opportunity to switch from art to science.<br />It focuses my currently broad set of skills into ones that I am keen to hone.<br />Its (relatively) secure status means that I should be able to finalize my debts pretty much on schedule (March/April now, instead of January/February).<br />This opens up a whole new world to me.<br />And the experience of busting my ass to pay off debt makes me that much more hesitant to take on any more.<br /><br />I feel a sense of freedom mixed in with a healthy dose of security that I haven't felt in a long time. I feel good about my ability to get on with the next phase of my life and grateful that I was able to find employment that - well - kinda changes everything about my career and the direction of my life.<br /><br />So, today is a good day.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-54083931359656678702010-07-13T09:54:00.009-05:002010-07-13T10:28:23.393-05:00State of StilgenbloggerI know that it's been very quiet around here. But it's been a cacophonous madhouse in my head.<br />2010 is now going to have title, "The Year of Loss" when I'm melancholy, "The Year of Change" when I'm optimistic.<br /><br />A year ago, I could have sworn I was on a path to follow another person's necessitating moves - and I let my adaptability float to the surface and authentically committed to the notion of being the person who would find work where I needed to, assuming I would be ultimately protected by the inherent safety net of couplehood.<br /><br />A year ago, my employer had, under the watchful eye of an amazing leader, transformed from an organization with a $300k deficit to one with a $11k surplus - there was no fear of downsizing.<br /><br />But now...<br />Now I find myself lacking either security blanket.<br /><br />I thought I had left this far behind, in the years before my masters degree.<br /><br />I am better prepared to find work, but my interests have changed greatly.<br />No longer committed to the arts and culture sector, I feel far more inspired by research and design - emerging technologies and alternative energies, medicine and science and things with precise goals, objectives and outcomes (the playground of the grant proposal writer.)<br /><br />One of the greatest defining things about me is that I am not a coward.<br />I have been told more than once that I <a href="http://thoreau.eserver.org/walden02.html">"Suck marrow" </a>- a statement which modesty rarely allows me to admit, but honesty forces me to acknowledge.<br /><br />I take chances with my life and career, and my reward is sometimes not so rewarding.<br />I splash about in waters far deeper than I know how to swim in.<br />But my reward is knowing I tried.<br />The worst part about this tack is the righteous indignation.<br /><br />I am far too keenly aware of how much security I have sacrificed in choosing to follow my whims.<br />And therefore I am easily frustrated by those I see choosing an "easier" path.<br />It's not right of me, but it's not wrong either.<br />It simply is.<br /><br />Where I stand now is at a cross-roads.<br />I have sent out a slew of applications, mostly outside the Northeast Ohio region.<br />I am awaiting word on one position that would be ideal and local, but lacking that, there is a good chance my future lies outside the place I've called home for most of my life.<br /><br />This is an exciting prospect, but frustrating as well, because I poured all my excess funds to pay off the debts I incurred from the last lay-off 8 years ago. I also closed my credit cards. Scary business, moving to a new city lacking a line of credit.<br /><br />So maybe 2010 is "The Year of Living Dangerously" or "The Year I Removed my Training Wheels" or "The Year I Moved to _________."<br /><br />Only time will tell.<br /><br />In the meantime, I am spending time with friends and family. Reading quite a bit and swimming as much as I can - but also focusing my time on splashing in the deeper waters of my imagined new life in support of research.<br /><br />I am doing pro-bono writing to strengthen my portfolio, and volunteering for a sustainability office in town.<br /><br />But mostly, trying very hard not to allow one imagined reality to win out over the others, as I know how much it hurts to see those home movies melt in the projector and fade to black.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-83593112174738499962010-07-10T19:09:00.011-05:002010-07-10T19:34:04.300-05:00Up in smokeHow many times must a coincidence occur before it becomes a correlation?<br />And when does correlation become causation?<br /><br />I ask this because things seem to catch on fire around me.<br />Not in a metaphorical sense - but in a real char and burn kind of way.<br /><br />And now I'm just kind of sure it's me.<br /><br />Case in point.<br /><br />About, ummm..., 2 hours ago, I was hanging laundry out back.<br />I heard the hum of the AC next door (a clinic, closed for the weekend) and then my friends, a POP.<br />It caught my attention.<br />So I turned and saw <span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;">THREE FOOT FLAMES <span style="font-weight: bold;">- SHOOTING OUT OF THE FUSEBOX.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span></span><br />And smoke.<br /><br />Lots of smoke.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span></span></span></span>So 911 was called - trucks pulled up and tall, burly, uniformed men came tumbling out like so much candy from one of those dispensers at the roller rink...<br /><br />but I digress.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Me and fire - an uneasy propinquity.<br /></span></span></span></span>In my 20s, it was the lightning storms in Arizona that seemed to follow me - and others noticed.<br />We'd get together for a nice evening in the park - blue skies and lovely sunset and... cue LIGHTNING STORM.<br />Then there were the security lights that turned off when I triggered them. <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span></span>(this still continues - street lights often turn off when I'm near - but maybe that happens to everyone now and then. Right?... <span style="font-style: italic;">RIGHT?!?</span>)<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span><br />My fire in 2005 showed me without irony how awful electrical fires can be, and that was swiftly followed by my car mysteriously overheating - to the point that it would visibly smoke - and had to be replaced by a new car.<br /><br />Earlier this year, I caught that familiar whiff of ozone coming from my laptop plug - as it too fried in my presence.<br /><br />So kids, what gives?<br /><br />Am I some rare thing that excites molecules to the point of combustibility?<br /><br />Can I harness this power and use it for good?<br />To smite my enemies?<br />To win friends and influence people?<br />To start awesome (though environmentally nasty) campfires for s'mores and general campin' fun?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span></span>sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1988543708701556190.post-74597317519937088302010-06-17T21:25:00.006-05:002010-06-17T21:41:53.978-05:00June - or - Where has this month gone?To a small succulent garden on a recently tidied up backporch.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFA5sXQOoHvZGfJnKN3FxGjvygPi8Ke4ZI-IaHhyoTY3CXJ94ls-kcu_VU_eEHo5xy2qvT7xHyz4k4u4uCo0NVbnXg-jd8Zn47rdnFkBrjn-6-0lIAFhT_38Un09048urUTIKcqJb9R7E/s1600/SmallSucculent.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFA5sXQOoHvZGfJnKN3FxGjvygPi8Ke4ZI-IaHhyoTY3CXJ94ls-kcu_VU_eEHo5xy2qvT7xHyz4k4u4uCo0NVbnXg-jd8Zn47rdnFkBrjn-6-0lIAFhT_38Un09048urUTIKcqJb9R7E/s400/SmallSucculent.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483936123214726690" border="0" /></a><br /><br />To a collage of ferns on that same porch.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_4Dpf8Tw11VlvpJP1pP87IBzaJp7F3MdvD28_bUXH-1V79dP-MdNCosrSnqPbU7XucUbGHFvB7chHO4XyoLVgx7pD4zSV3ubWL1w1UdG9f1gyUALvFQ9rKsDPm__OK9ahqS0Of7sY6c/s1600/Ferns2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_4Dpf8Tw11VlvpJP1pP87IBzaJp7F3MdvD28_bUXH-1V79dP-MdNCosrSnqPbU7XucUbGHFvB7chHO4XyoLVgx7pD4zSV3ubWL1w1UdG9f1gyUALvFQ9rKsDPm__OK9ahqS0Of7sY6c/s400/Ferns2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483936096865219602" border="0" /></a><br /><br />To a cotton sweater whipped up in 3 days.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1dX1vFoYpk1lnMIOzCutvG9q9MIi-q6q5jGDvPxkQfpf7kohM19ksCJl-kgHrtewGRTd3CZoBnIvLh8l0A3RcEisDFRqDYhEIul4fZmSsLbQYtlo24_rMWKUxa25y__2e-R7BpU1NJs/s1600/Emmaline.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1dX1vFoYpk1lnMIOzCutvG9q9MIi-q6q5jGDvPxkQfpf7kohM19ksCJl-kgHrtewGRTd3CZoBnIvLh8l0A3RcEisDFRqDYhEIul4fZmSsLbQYtlo24_rMWKUxa25y__2e-R7BpU1NJs/s400/Emmaline.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483936067839705090" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And to the coolest pair of socks I've ever made.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDieiNGPalE9cWbKnZ7e-JqH1lyDnl_3m4HYunqWtrrO9FUj4Eat12DQs56C40nOIVrrq1GNha39WG56yL0f_goyUmZNIqstXZYK78IccShN79c0djeb3NQXdXoBpp9kdAbYcrPQoGMTU/s1600/OrigamiSock.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDieiNGPalE9cWbKnZ7e-JqH1lyDnl_3m4HYunqWtrrO9FUj4Eat12DQs56C40nOIVrrq1GNha39WG56yL0f_goyUmZNIqstXZYK78IccShN79c0djeb3NQXdXoBpp9kdAbYcrPQoGMTU/s400/OrigamiSock.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483936050995502962" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Seriously, how cool is that lace?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwR_uGTM9iJyOmjwUUmwOhz-lpYiqwdFwjElxzOhXwZc4Vj-x4URQvGEetQWKwXt-D1AQQnbI_Lx0-SLPjHcWW-ek3RqbLrr9cAmRnKWCnWloFM7gLnolMVVf23OSIBqJqfN6aJB0cnQY/s1600/OrigamiSockDetail.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwR_uGTM9iJyOmjwUUmwOhz-lpYiqwdFwjElxzOhXwZc4Vj-x4URQvGEetQWKwXt-D1AQQnbI_Lx0-SLPjHcWW-ek3RqbLrr9cAmRnKWCnWloFM7gLnolMVVf23OSIBqJqfN6aJB0cnQY/s400/OrigamiSockDetail.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483936059470590146" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I got a book that marries western knitting with Japanese techniques - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Knitted-Socks-East-West-Inspired/dp/1584797991">Knitted Socks East and West</a> - and I'm making my way through the patterns. Each one is like a small puzzle - and I love the challenge.<br /><br />Also this month:<br />Birthday.<br />Back to yoga.<br />Playing happy homemaker making strawberry jam and fresh rolls.<br />Actively changing the direction of my career.<br />Phew.sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13434706486950207290noreply@blogger.com0