Casting off

I'm not a natural finisher. Getting to the final stages of any knitting project is an arduous task for me, as I love Beginnings (with a capital B) so much more. Thusly, I was so proud to have finally finished my purple wool socks on Monday, and fully intended to take photos and share them in glorious sockness on the blog. But I gave them away that very day. Why? Because my friend's birthday was last Friday and I forgot, and she came round, and they were immediately gifted away. So, in this empty space








is where the photo of the splendid purple socks would be.

Why I'm not Buddhist

I'm no good at the no-desire policy of Budddhism. Inherently, I'm a desirous person, lusting after happiness without guilt about it. But this morning, after a long hard week of soul-searchy heart-pinging junk, I realized anew that there is something very wise about not desiring things.

Because, in fact,
the world will not end because my parents can't cuddle their grandbaby,
and, in fact,
everything is okay in spite of us being broke,
and that my daughter will figure out how to have an evening without me,
and that this phase of no-work, all-at-home madness is temporary,
and that my partner loves me even when he forgets to show it,
and that my desire to write and knit and craft and be will return,
and that by just breathing
and relaxing
and enjoying the little tiny
minutiae,
I'll get through it, breath by breath.

It's all okay.

Away from home

I went out to do some contract work yesterday - a five hour shift away from Baby. My good friend came round to babysit until partner could come home... and I thought all was going well, until I called home at the end of the shift to check in. All I could hear was wailing in the background and a terse and tense voice saying, 'Yes?'. Turns out Baby had been an angel for my friend, but as soon as Daddy had come home, she turned on the waterworks for two solid hours. (This makes me appreciate how zen she is most of the time, tho.) I think his head was about to cave in by the time I got home (two bus stops and a cab ride later in one of the most uncomfortable journeys I've ever made)... it's hard to go back to work. That's the moral of this story.

Too many blessings

Well, I spoke to my mother yesterday on the magical video-phone, and received a bombshell... which is that airfares between Bristol and Seattle are so cheap in March that she was considering travelling to see us. Now, I can't even begin to explain how stressful it would be to have my mom here during the week we're moving. Can't even begin. Because partner and mumsie don't exactly get along swimmingly. But here's the really tricky part - she also offered that I could use the ticket to come see them. And I swore that the next time I went back to the states would be with my whole British family (and we're so broke, it was all fantastic and hypothetical anyway.) So now I have hard decisions to make - and quickly.

Here's the really heart-wrenching part... it's not just about me. Last night, my father was tracing his computer cursor around baby's head - as if trying to cuddle this first grandbaby from 4,000 miles away. So to just say no is not as simple as it might seem.

But to go would mean missing part of moving-week, and flying with Baby by myself, and getting baby's international paperwork sorted in a hurry, without any finances.

I'm just not sure what to do. It feels impossible and necessary at the same time. Garh.

First smile

It's happened.

It's actually happened over a dozen times in the last two days...

from serious little buddha to laughing buddha overnight.

it's glorious.

hoorah for big sisters

So my partner's daughter came round to sleep over last night. Usually we have her every other weekend, but with all the extra kayaking seminars right now, we've been short on quality visit time...

it was lovely. She's really generous and gentle with little Baby Buddha, and she loves to pick her up when she cries. It's like having a full-time babysitter. So we did our nails and did 'girly' things as she likes to call it. (Never mind that I hate girly things and the stereotype that accompanies them with a passion. Not a murmer of this... only smiling acquiescence. She's just too damn pleasant and accomodating for me to dream of popping the balloon.) And the two girls fell asleep up in her loft bed at the same time, which was just the most simple and beautiful sight I think I've ever seen.

Too bad partner missed it all...

I hope this spate of over-committing and under-seeing ends soon. He's better than this, I know he is.

valentine

so my lovely sister-in-law has offered to babysit for us tonight,
and we will be going out sans baby, for the first extended period of time,
(discounting quick trips to the shop and long walks by the harbour.)

emotionally, that's just fine.
but DAMN, that's a hellaofalotof milk to pump.

that's all.

looking in the mirror today, i see smile lines around my eyes,
but the truth is
i'm relieved.

it's almost as if my life up till now
has been spiraling towards this moment
when the lines finally crease
folding in toward a centre
i'd been holding,
waiting for the rest of me
to catch up.

welcome.

i find, in the sloshy aftermath
of a household war state,
that true love means
you can both look at each other's gaping flaws
with patience, and controlled rage,
and eventually all of that cooks down,
like a plummy applesauce,
cinnamon and pulpy
toward a sweetness, resonant with spice
loving each other in spite of it
because of it
and the smile lines
emerge whether we willed them there or not,
because true love means
you laugh when you didn't mean to,
and forgive it all
in the end.

in perspective

i just finished reading today's reports about the australian bushfires... and i've concluded that i'm pretty lucky in the grand scheme after all. it's so humbling.

Frustrated tempest in a teacup

Garh! Yesterday was not a nice day. It began well - with a lovely walk to the sea, and up the hill that will be our new home, and a nice bus ride with a bunch of silver-haired retirees, who all got a free senior fare, while I had to pay almost 5 quid to finance the entire bus load's journey. But it was gorgeous and sunny and the air was February clear, and the sea was crusty and rolly and zesty, and everyone was smiling, even the creepy heroin-addled street people. But in the evening, after I'd had good long talks with both my good friend in the states and my best friend here in the UK, when partner got home, we had a good rip-roaring fight about our eternal Fight Spark issue, and as a result, I offered to spend the night elsewhere, and then he offered to spend the night elsewhere, and instead we ate in pretty icy silence and he went to bed at 9, and at 4 AM, I finally fell asleep on the sofa. And in the morning, dammit, it still wasn't solved, which is just the most discouraging start to a day ever. And now I'm awake earlier than I want to be, and sleep deprived, and discouraged. And worried we've done serious damage this time. Because we told truths and they hurt, and I'm not sure where we go from here. Garh. That's all I have to say at the moment.

Retraining my brain to be
intellectual and witty
is hard
when for so long i have
lived in my body
all juices focused
on growing this creature

i feel the rust that has grown over once-smooth stainless steel gateways
smell the lichen that coats once-sparkling pathways
roll over at 1130 wondering how i ever rose at 6 who does that?

having slowed down to a trickle was arduous
but speeding up again feels like a much repressed lust
and a creeping disease all at once.

to be more than an animal self is a crime and our human blessing
but i find that this humanness is alien - another life of mine,
long forgotten.

Chamomile with honey and the hoover

Today was supposed to be all about visiting with breastfeeding mums, but our postman delivered the wrong letter for that plan to manifest. So instead, I sorted out our overdrawn bank account due to the MAD electricity bill increases (yowza, but the credit crunch just hit home...) and now we are hoovering and drinking tea. Both of which are relatively inexepensive pasttimes.

So we'll scrub the whole house, make some cookies, and start sewing 3-6 month baby grows. I've decided I'm done buying baby clothes. Except from charity shops, where they cost 49 p at most. We are cutting up all the old clothes that we never wear and turning them into baby clothes. I'll take some photos when I'm done. So far, I have three disheveled and ratty outfits, but it's all experimentation, so that's okay. We'll get there.

In the interests of perking up the day, I include a recipe for carrot cake from Whipped that looks divine, and when I can buy carrots next week, I shall make. Mmmm... carrot cake.

Baby whimpers with colic, we are broke, and it's colder in the English Riveria than it has a right to be. Poor palm trees. We had hail and snow last night!

The only other consolation right now is that by April 1st, this will be my daily view. Hooray for filing our rental application! Hooray for more room to sprawl. (And maybe the sewing machine will finally have a proper home.)

Onwards and upwards.

Well, the house hunt is in full force, and we find ourselves at a crossroads. Is it more important to be able to walk with ease to the town centre, or is it more important to have vast sweeping views of the ocean from our front window?

As per usual, it appears that beauty is outdoing utilitarian reason once again...

providing me with a mountainous ascent of a hill in order to get into town. Sigh. Isolation breeds creativity, tis true, and I know that I'll keep myself busy. Oh yes. I'll have to.

But DAMN, it's a gorgeous view...
provided our credit check goes through.

Fingers crossed.