Up in smoke

How many times must a coincidence occur before it becomes a correlation?
And when does correlation become causation?

I ask this because things seem to catch on fire around me.
Not in a metaphorical sense - but in a real char and burn kind of way.

And now I'm just kind of sure it's me.

Case in point.

About, ummm..., 2 hours ago, I was hanging laundry out back.
I heard the hum of the AC next door (a clinic, closed for the weekend) and then my friends, a POP.
It caught my attention.
So I turned and saw THREE FOOT FLAMES - SHOOTING OUT OF THE FUSEBOX.

And smoke.

Lots of smoke.

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...

but I digress.

Me and fire - an uneasy propinquity.
In my 20s, it was the lightning storms in Arizona that seemed to follow me - and others noticed.
We'd get together for a nice evening in the park - blue skies and lovely sunset and... cue LIGHTNING STORM.
Then there were the security lights that turned off when I triggered them.
(this still continues - street lights often turn off when I'm near - but maybe that happens to everyone now and then. Right?... RIGHT?!?)

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.

Earlier this year, I caught that familiar whiff of ozone coming from my laptop plug - as it too fried in my presence.

So kids, what gives?

Am I some rare thing that excites molecules to the point of combustibility?

Can I harness this power and use it for good?
To smite my enemies?
To win friends and influence people?
To start awesome (though environmentally nasty) campfires for s'mores and general campin' fun?

June - or - Where has this month gone?

To a small succulent garden on a recently tidied up backporch.



To a collage of ferns on that same porch.



To a cotton sweater whipped up in 3 days.



And to the coolest pair of socks I've ever made.



Seriously, how cool is that lace?



I got a book that marries western knitting with Japanese techniques - Knitted Socks East and West - and I'm making my way through the patterns. Each one is like a small puzzle - and I love the challenge.

Also this month:
Birthday.
Back to yoga.
Playing happy homemaker making strawberry jam and fresh rolls.
Actively changing the direction of my career.
Phew.

Indicators of a coming Apocalypse

This never happens.

Ever.






When it's raining frogs and Pi ceases to be 3.14 - don't say I didn't warn you.

Knit Knit Knit

I finished loads of knitting in the past few months.

The St. Louise Spring Switchback Socks.


These quickly became my favorite spring socks, this fresh spring green color is fast taking over my wardrobe and I don't mind a bit.
The downside of these socks is that the yarn was unknown to me, and I since learned that it tends to felt easily. So I wash them in a Tupperware bowl with a lid, shaking the bezeezus out of it... whilst doing this last time, I had a vision of myself doing most of my wash this way - in a plastic bowl with a good lid. I imagine that when I take the off-the-grid plunge, that will be the best way to clean my undernothings, so I best get practice now.

My Lovely Lavender Cape!


Ok, so there is nothing remotely cape-like about this, but the way it's supposed to be worn renders the wearer truly triangular. If I were unfortunate enough to be transported to Flatland, my appearance in this sweater as designed would label me as one just recently removed from serfdom.
So I changed it up a bit and now it's a great wrappable vest-like thing.

And finally, the DRESS!


I love my dress. The blue yarn is cotton/cashmere and the brown is wool/silk.
I haven't yet worn this, as I cannot find my white short-sleeved blouse to wear under it - but I may need to take it out for a wear anyway.

I love it.

It makes my eyes bluer - and since I'm walking around aware that I knit A DRESS...
~no, wait~
...a dress with the most complicated lace I could ever imagine ~
...out of cotton spun with cashmere ~
...that my eyes sparkle with such accomplishment and grace that one cannot begin to imagine that I have ever felt a twinge of disappointment or imbibed anything but clouds and sunshine and true love.

Dismantling assumptions

Anytime I begin a project, I start by creating a list of assumptions.
It's something I learned in my Masters program as a way to create context for whatever plan or project you're preparing to launch.

I love a good solid perimeter, and assumptions provide that by defining norms that I can exist within. Lacking those, I lose my confidence, feel unanchored, become a chronic self-doubter and a general nightmare to be around.

I need my assumptions.

Sometimes, they're really helpful, like axioms or postulates.
Here's the tricky bit, when think your assumption is an axiom - or otherwise self-evident and lacking further demonstration - Truth is taken for granted.

If I am entering into something that I expect to get messy, I like to try and set some of these helpful guides - which removes all that tricksy human inconsistency - unless of course, it doesn't.

Then there are the bad assumptions, which is what this post is really about.

I'm looking to redirect my life, career-wise.
And to do that, I have to plow through some serious assumptions. My best friend pointed this out to me this weekend.

We've both limited ourselves through assumption. For me, it's that I let my past define my future.
I think things like, "I will never have a job that pays really well."
I think that mostly because I've never *had* a job that pays really well.

I think that because I only have experience in the arts, that I can only get a job in the arts
(see above about the whole not paying well thing.)

I assume that I cannot live in the markets I want to live in at my current salary, because I assume I will always make my current salary.

I assume that if I work for a corporation, that I will be selling out and lose my soul to corporate machinations.

I assume that the process of finding an appropriate posting outside my experience will be so daunting and awful that I can't bring myself to begin.

Until I did.

Guess what? People need proposal writers.
Lots of people need them.
And internal communications.
And people who can translate data into text and stories.

Guess what I do.

That.

I do loads of that with tight resources and quick turnaround and almost zero support outside of me.

And guess who wants these roles.
People who do awesome things with alternative energies and emerging technologies that I can get behind: Siemens, GE, Philips, and those are just the obvious ones.

Now, these postings, they're in PA and CT and IL and The Netherlands...
I could be in the Netherlands.

How Dutch am I? (Ok, not at all. More Anglo/Austro/Danish/Swiss, but still. I love a tulip.)

Point being - I gotta identify these nasty assumptions and crush them - so I can get on to being someone who isn't expending time and effort on twisting uncomfortably in their steely, suffocating binds.

The tremendous irrationality of Want

This has little to do with anything.

I bought an awesome sheet set about 7 or more years ago: blue with lavender plaid. Crisp cotton - generally lovely.

So, in my knitting frenzy, I've been watching an episode or two of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Netflix. In Season 5, I noticed that the same sheet set is used regularly in the set dressing.
I see it, I love it and I think, "I WANT those sheets."

Ok - I HAVE those sheets.

How can I be coveting something I already own and am, in fact, making use of at this very moment?

I ask you, what the hell is going on here?

Picking up the pieces

Break-ups are never easy - even more so when some outdated cultural nonsense is to blame.

So, what's a girl to do?

Knit.


Yarn - Lorna's Laces from my stash (via Laura's stash).
Pattern - modified ridge stitch from the Reader's Digest Complete Guide to Needlework (pilfered from my parent's house.)



And sew.
Fabric - Hobby Lobby in Kent (!?!)


Just to indulge in some serious self-pity, I celebrated the fruit of other people's successes to soothe (or maybe revel in) my current state of loss.

But with wickedly cute results....

Behold, I jumped on the appliqued onesie bandwagon!



Lots of nods to Mommy's love of argyle and turtles, and Daddy's businessman lifestyle.

Creativity: Brought to you by loss and frustration since 3,000 BC.