Over the last three weeks, I took an online writing class. It was so good. I enjoyed stretching my thinking and writing muscles even though it was difficult. Writing is hard. So hard. And good. So good.

The class, along with many other life things, kept me from writing here. I am still trying to figure out how to make blogging fit in to my days. I want to keep the conversation open, record what I am doing and how I am feeling and, well, write more. The thing is that I am so out of practice. I forget how long it takes to string a couple of paragraphs together. I don’t take as many photos as I used to. And, yes, I know I could blog and write without the photo, but I like visuals. Looking is how I learn and how I remember. So, yeah. I am figuring it out, albeit slowly. I keep reminding myself that progress is still progress even if it takes longer than I would like.

Case in point, Christmas quilts.

We are having the bathroom on our third floor renovated. This bathroom is adjacent to my studio and has never really been used in the seventeen years we have lived here. To keep the mess off the fabric and the yarn and the longarm, I covered everything with sheets, which were then covered with plastic. Additionally, my contractor put up a plastic barrier wall from floor to ceiling to keep the dust out. It has a zipper door so I can pop in and grab something if I need it, but I try to keep that at a minimum. When we started in early October, I moved my sewing machines downstairs and grabbed a bunch of projects that I wanted to work on and thought would be easy to finish.

You know where this is going, right?

I started making two tree quilts. And that photo shows the current state of them. I was hoping to finish them before Thanksgiving so I could gift them. It’s not going to happen. BUT I am still working on them, slowly, when time allows and when I am in the mood. It turns out, I really like sewing in my studio and not as much in our family room. I have been knitting a lot while exiled from my space and that feels good. And right now I am all about doing what feels good and right. So more knitting, less sewing for the moment. The tree quilts will be waiting for me. I’ll get to them when the time is right.

I’ve been craving baked good. Cookies, cake, pie (apple, please!), fruit crisps with oaty, sugary topping. Is it the time of the year? Possibly. The days are getting shorter and colder. I have worn my Birkenstocks for the last time this season and am pulling out my warmest sweaters. I’ve bought new boots.

I’ve felt very tender in the last couple of weeks. There is not one thing making me feel this way. It’s an accumulation of so many things - some big and some small. Mostly having to do with this stage of life. My children are grown, but not entirely out on their own. My daily focus has shifted from taking care of everyone else to just taking care of myself. And Sully. It’s a liminal time and I have to keep reminding myself of that.

When I find myself a little rudderless, I turn to making. Sewing, knitting, baking, cooking, painting…anything that moves my hands and creates something at the end. Although I have been pulled to baking, I haven’t been following through. It seems silly to bake an entire pie or a batch of cookies for two people. Especially when one of those people doesn’t really care for sweets. (Not me.) But I have found myself perusing the bakery section at the grocery store, hoping that something store bought would jump out and say, “Me! Pick me!” Yet nothing looks as good as what I can make.

I bought a bag of chocolate chips, although I was pretty certain there were some in the pantry (there weren’t!). That night before dinner, I pulled out my kitchen binder and flipped to the well-worn, hastily handwritten recipe and got to work. I portioned out 16 cookies on two trays and baked them. I portioned out another two dozen cookies on a small tray and popped that in the freezer. I licked the beater, satisfied. Some cookies for now, some for later. Today’s Erin creating comfort for future Erin.

And the next night, I made the apple crisp and it was heavenly. We’re still eating it.

I am here to tell you that I finally (finally!) figured out my knitting errors on the shawl. And it was all me not paying attention. I just didn’t have the bandwidth for a chart, I guess. That’s ok. I now know what I was doing wrong and I have righted my ways.

That’s to say….I bundled it up in a project bag and set it aside. My attention span seems to be be sparse and I really needed something that didn’t take too much thinking. I cast on the Felix cardigan, using yarn that I had in my stash. It’s all stockinette stitch after the raglan increases. Just my speed - I’m trucking right along. If all goes as planned, I’ll be knitting a sleeve this weekend.

I have also determined that I need more cardigans in my wardrobe. I think I have been avoiding knitting them because I don’t love purling. It takes me about 3x as long to purl one row as it does to knit it. Still, I like wearing cardigans so I am going to embrace the challenge and see if I can add a few to my wardrobe this fall and winter.

Stay tuned.

On Friday morning, I grabbed the project bag that has housed this Pressed Flowers Shawl for at least a year with the thought that it would be a great car knitting project. I have not felt like knitting on it for some time, but I do enjoy the actual knitting of it. I am also anxious to finish it so I can wear it. Anyhow, about 1 hour in to our drive, I pulled the shawl out of the bag to find two fatal flaws: The project was on a cord, but there were no needle tips and I didn’t have the chart. Sigh. No knitting for me.

Back at home on Sunday night, I printed out the pattern and joined the needle tips to the cord. Then I started knitting. After a few rows, it was obvious that I wasn’t doing something right. The chart is tiny and hard to read (and let’s not mention how I need to up the magnification of my readers. Ahem.). I then ripped it out and started again. After a few episodes of Bad Sisters (so good!), I put it down for the night and went to bed.

Fast forward to Monday afternoon….I picked it up, knit a bit more and, again, realized I was doing something wrong. Grrr. Rip rip rip. Start again. Got on track and then purled a whole row that should have been knitted. Yes, more ripping.

I do think I’ve got it now. I reprinted the chart at 150%, which helped. I’ll find out for sure later today when I pick it up again.

(The quilt is one of my favorite makes ever. The pattern is Halloween Haberdashery by my friend Melissa Mortenson. It’s a fun sew!)

I returned to painting this past winter. I wanted to say January, but I am not so sure about that. Regardless, for a variety of reasons (none of which I remember except that I starting on my medallion book), I stopped painting about six years ago. At the end of 2021, I felt like I needed to jump start my creativity. I wasn’t interested in sewing - after 1000’s of masks, that part of my creativity dried up for a long while. I had been knitting a lot. And I was baking bread. A lot of bread. But I wanted to do something more. Something different. Painting won.

I pulled my bag of paints off the same shelf where I had sat them six years prior. They were housed in a small plastic box, the kind that kids keep their pencils, crayons, glue sticks and treasures in at school. The plastic box was kept in a free-with-purchase art store tote bag along with my portfolio of brushes, some palette paper, odd photos of things I thought I might one day paint and one of Fatty’s old shirts, now covered in smears of yellow ochre and sap green. There was even a small canvas in there so I was ready to jump back in.

I quickly realized that the thing about picking up something I had put down many years ago was that I am not the same person. I know that sounds obvious, but it took me a beat. I now need glasses to read and, duh, paint. Lightbulb! I couldn’t remember how to gray out colors (add the color opposite on the color wheel!) or really how much white I use (a lot.) Lightbulb! Lightbulb! And back in the winter I was no longer confident enough in my abilities to start painting from those long forgotten photos. Instead, I did exactly what I did when I was a beginner the first time - I copied other paintings.

Being a beginner is entirely freeing. You are there to learn something - a skill, a language, a craft - and if it doesn’t come together entirely well or is a disaster, it doesn’t matter. You are learning by doing. By experimenting. By trying. By making. It can be empowering to find yourself picking up a new skill quickly or very humbling if it takes awhile. The end result does not matter. It’s the process - the showing up, bravely, and giving it a go. Trying new things. Failing and trying again.

After a few Thursdays in the studio, I finished a painting. It was pretty good for a restart. The second one was nice, too. I wasn’t happy with the third one, but I kept going. I have finished about a dozen canvases this year and I feel excited to get to the studio each week I can. For me, the key is not being attached to the outcome. Painting for painting’s sake. At least for the time being.

Which brings me to this blog. I know the writing is going to be clunky for a bit. Just like this post, which I promised myself I would not edit. So I am going to go ahead and press publish without worrying about it.

But I am here. Trying. Showing up. A beginner again.

We’ve had pretty perfect fall weather since the weekend. Low’s in the 50’s (and high 40’s!) with a slight breeze in the morning. The sun comes out and - bam! - it’s in the low 70’s. Definitely sweater weather. Also, my favorite time of year.

Monday, I received my covid bivalent booster and my annual flu shot. I went in around lunchtime, planning that I might possibly feel a bit puny by bedtime. I slept nine hours, in my fall pj’s with the window open and an extra blanket. It was heavenly. I purposely left my calendar empty yesterday so I could just rest. I woke up feeling off and spent the majority of the day on the couch, watching Making The Cut, dreaming about sewing clothes, knitting sweaters and buying shoes. Sully cuddled up next to me for a good part of the afternoon. Jane had the day off (big update: she graduated from college in May!) and hung out with me a bit, too. I forced myself to stand around five o’clock, walked Sully around the block and made an easy, low-effort, yummy dinner. After, I read a mystery and then turned the TV back on. Bedtime was a repeat of the night before - a glorious nine hours of sleep. I woke this morning, feeling better, but not at full capacity. I am taking it easy - sewing a bit, knitting a bit, doing laundry and planning to nap. All good. All needed. All restorative.

I haven’t been in this space for over two years. When I go back and read what I wrote in 2020, I can feel the anxiety in my writing. I don’t really want to remember that part of the pandemic - the racing heart, the inability to watch the news, the uncertainty of all of it, the fear I felt. For a year and a half, I was not myself. I struggled. Everyone struggled. We were all struggling ALONE and TOGETHER. It was so strange (still is a bit).

There were some good things and those I want to remember. I had both of the girls under the same roof for six months - something I had never thought would happen after Jane graduated from high school in 2018. Sully had joined us two months before lockdown and he brought the fun for everyone. We watched a lot of movies, taking turns choosing what to watch. I read and read and read - 91 books in 2020. The girls baked cookies and banana bread. I learned about sourdough and bought a pizza oven (hello pandemic purchase!). We zoomed with family and friends that we hadn’t chatted with in a long time. Our next door neighbors were our bubble - we shared drinks and meals outside on each others’ decks. We made calculated decisions about traveling and ended up driving to Colorado in a rented mini van so we could take the dog. Kate started college. The holidays were spent at home quietly. And I walked outside, no matter the weather, almost every day. I still do that now.

I have missed writing here. I didn’t feel very creative during most of 2020 and 2021 and I also didn’t feel like I had much to say. It’s strange, missing the creativity and the writing, but also not feeling like I could not do much about that. Anxiety was (is?) the problem. It crippled me, making me feel very much not myself. After long talks with my doctor and some self-exploration, I decided to go on an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety medication last fall. It was the best decision for me. Slowly, I have come back to myself and am feeling creative. I think I might even have some things to share now and then. Some sewing. Some knitting. Maybe some painting. Definitely some writing.

Hello.

Here I am.

Again.

Yesterday I started a new quilt and I truly have not been so excited about quilt project in a long, long, long time. While I make lots of quilts and enjoy the process each time, this is next level excitement. It'll be all log cabin blocks, each one finishing at 18". The dark blue plus print and the white/blue geometric print will be consistent in all the blocks. The Liberty of London fabrics will vary, but each block will have one dark and one light. I pulled all the fabrics, started cutting and sewed up the first block.

I needed this.

I walk outside almost every day. It might be five miles (most days) or three miles (some days) or just around the block (for Sully), but I do it. If it is cold, if it is hot, if it cloudy or sunny or windy or rainy, I do it. It can be difficult to motivate when the weather is bad or chilly - it is so much easier in the sun and warm air - but I do it. I go mostly alone and I never listen to anything. It's just me (and Sully) and the world outside. I relish that time, whether it is 15 minutes or 90 minutes. It's meditative and restoring. I let my mind rest, my thoughts go and just be.It's full-on spring headed into summer here and my walks are starting earlier and earlier each week. On my walk Saturday, as I crossed the second busy street on my loop, I took in the roundabout with the statue, all the spring flowers, the historic homes and the sun shining low in the sky. It hit me then, this overwhelming sense of sadness that I am feeling for a moment or two every day. It comes out of nowhere and on Saturday, it was because I realized that this should be Derby week. It is always a festive and happy time in our city, but not this year. On Sunday, the moment came when Kate showed me the video the school sent of the teachers on zoom all dancing to the Friends theme song. Yesterday, it was when I realized I had forgotten to get garlic bread for Jane's dinner choice at the market. Silly things that shouldn't derail me, but they do.These moments are just that: moments. I have to remind myself of this frequently. I am working hard not to dwell on the negative and it is difficult work for me. I have no reason to complain - we are healthy, we are together, we have what we need. I know this. Still, I have to look for the good, for the things I am grateful for, for the happy and carefree moments. They are there and I am trying so so hard to see them. To notice them when they are happening. To catalogue them. To hold them in my back pocket as reminders when the moments are not so good.To that end, I am lacing up my sneakers and taking it outside. I'm going to let my mind rest while my body moves. The forecast had predicted rain, but it is 60 degrees with 0% chance at the moment. One more good moment to add to the others I am carrying with me.