i live in michigan with my teenage daughter, my partner, and our three cats. i am a paralegal, legal manager and corporate governance specialist, and when i'm not reading contracts or maintaining the dusty archives of our arcane corporate history like some weirdly specific librarian, i enjoy knitting, books, running slowly, making candles, and bird-watching. i started blogging way back when I was an expat living in australia and in recent years have tried to be more diligent about keeping this space up to date and as a creative outlet for the things in my life that inspire me and balance my 9-5.
If you’re mad about what’s going on, I urge you to investigate grassroots efforts to show your disgust.
DEI is NOT the monster that MAGA makes it out to be. Personally, I have benefited from DEI and I would imagine many of you have, as well, even if it’s not transparent to you. DEI initiatives support pay equity and job protections for working women (so we have a job to return to after maternity leave, for example, and facilities for nursing mothers). They also ensure equal hiring opportunities for women and prevent discrimination and harassment in the workplace. These are things that I and most if not all of the women I know have relied upon, even if they’re not aware of them or don’t intellectually understand how critical they are to our ability to support ourselves and our children and pursue our careers with dignity and equality.
In addition, they provide accessible workplaces for employees with disabilities, and they prevent gender, race, and age discrimination in employment, among others. These protections exist to ensure that companies attract, consider, and support a broad range of candidates and that ANY qualified candidates – no matter their race, gender, ethnicity, age, and status – are not overlooked in hiring.
These are just a few of the most obvious ways that DEI has made our workplaces safer and more efficient. I fail to see how these are bad practices.
So I will be planning ahead and participating in the February 28 economic blackout.
Seeking the snow last weekend, our first stop was my mom’s house – almost 4 hours north, on the west side of the state. Snow was knee-high (conservative estimate). Brandon and I woke up Saturday morning to run the Betsie Bay Frozen 5k, which is one of my favorite events. It hasn’t been run since 2020, before the world shut down. In the olden days I would have posted a full separate race recap with my time but in today’s world, post-50 years old, having survived a pandemic, menopause, teenage kid years, the Orange Menace and his Nazi cohorts attempting to ruin democracy as we know it, and various other life events, just getting out there and running it is enough.
We then drove 2 hours further north, to the village of Walloon Lake, which is most famous for being young Hemingway’s Michigan playground. We found a historical marker, and there’s a statue of him somewhere around, but the wind was blowing fine snow into whiteout conditions everywhere so we gave up looking. Instead, we skied at Boyne Mountain (the kid snowboarded) and enjoyed our perfect little Vrbo. As we get older, my ability to stay in a hotel has decreased significantly. I hate being cheek to jowl with mass humanity, having to either pay for every meal and snack or rely on hotel coffee and crumpled snack bags. Give me an AirBnB or a Vrbo every time. I know they’re wreaking havoc on small communities but selfishly I want exactly what we had this weekend. Which was a cozy cottage on a private lot with a fireplace, hot tub, separate bedrooms for us and the kid, a beautiful living space and kitchen, fully appointed. We cooked, we had good coffee, we had a fire, we watched movies, read books, I knitted, and we had privacy. I threw caution to the wind and ate what I wanted to eat, drank Horny Monk from the Petoskey Brewing Company, and made a fool out of myself on the slopes. (I fell. A lot.) The snow was almost claustrophobic – piled higher than street signs and just continually sifting down. The drifts outside the Vrbo were up to the windows with paths cut into them to access doors and the driveway – if you don’t have a snowplow or a snowblower running constantly, you would have big trouble.
All in all, it was a perfect swift getaway with my two favorite people. The world is hard right now and being away for a bit is a luxury. We don’t have a lot of travel planned for the year, so the times we do have together will be all the more important.
We are headed off for a long weekend in northern Michigan – we have a Frozen 5k to run on Saturday morning (it is going to be COLD), a rental cottage further north, and a couple of planned days skiing and snowboarding (and maybe knitting in the lodge for one member of the travel party who shall remain nameless). But I’ve had some really pretty images swirling on my PInterest feed and wanted to quickly share them before we leave!
I’ve been saving my Harney & Son’s tea tins to reuse as knitting needle holders in my home office but I also love this idea and this one as well. I’ve made candles in my old tins before, as well. (I may or may not have actually ordered tea from them because I loved the tin it came in.)
I’m going to have to knit these fellows for the same reason as I loved the fish tattoo a few weeks ago.
I’ve never had much luck with seed starting indoors. I don’t have the space for it, and Emmett is a voracious plant-chewer. But I wonder if this idea would work for just a few tomato plants…
This week has been a total blur – but I look back and feel like I traveled miles. There were work complexities, three days in the office, depression and rage over the current political situation (always, now), a comparatively and thankfully minor ice storm, and an evening spent at EMT Cadet training for the kiddo. (As usual, this was the high point for me. This week our intrepid heroines strapped the lifelike dummy to the gurney and fluttered around him performing industrious lifesaving maneuvers. Then, they took turns hurtling the gurney up and down the halls, banging him around the corners, and loading him into and out of the ambulance. I’m glad that the dummy made this appearance; a couple of weeks ago it may have been volunteer moms strapped to that gurney. I speak from personal experience.)
I finished the latest Haruki Murakami book. “The City and its Uncertain Walls” was not as swiftly immersive as “1Q84”. The book felt a bit disjointed, which makes sense as I learned it was written in two different time periods of Murakami’s life. The cast of people and places include a teenage couple in love who become separated; there is a walled city with a library of dreams, perishing unicorns, and characters who become separated from their shadows. There is another library in another world, a ghostly librarian with a quirky fashion sense, and a boy with a Yellow Submarine parka. The plot and poetry lies amid those details. If you love Murakami and would read his writing even if it was on a bathroom wall in a Tokyo train station, you’ll enjoy the delicate unfurling of this book. If you don’t, or if you’re not familiar with him at all, this may not be the book for you.
In other reading news, perusing the NYTimes, I saw this starter pack of romance novels and I’m intrigued. I think the last romance novels I read were back in early high school. One summer vacation, our rental cottage had a rickety bookshelf full of old Harlequins and I worked my way through all of them with single minded determination, staying up late, gritty eyed with fatigue but determined to find out if the romance between the plucky yet wilting amnesiac with a secret twin and the arrogant aristocrat with the eyepatch and the tortured history could ever bear fruit. That led to spending allowance money on a few Regency romances at our local bookstore ‘The Printed Word’ (where I also bought my Tiger Beat magazines, horoscope rolls, and later, the biography of Ed Gein which made the clerk ask suspiciously if my mother knew what I was reading). I really only remember ‘Lady Lochinvar’, a Barbara Hazard banger (no pun intended) with the requisite strong-willed heroine and a worldly and fairly smutty viscount, but I know for a fact there were more than that on my shelves for awhile, until they became embarrassingly unsophisticated for my high school literary ambitions. One of my mom friends has a Goodreads account full of ‘new’ romance – she says she likes her reading to be “spicy”. She’s Canadian (and btw Canadians – I am SO VERY SORRY about our embarrassment of a “president” – over 75 million Americans did not choose this for you or for us) so many of these are centered in the hockey world, and have seemingly endless riffs on the word ‘puck’ in the titles. So there’s definitely a market for it and if romance is written up in the NY Times, it HAS to have an aura of respectability, right?
Several of the classic titles I may have read as a teenager, and one that I most definitely did not…
I feel like I might be coming down with a head cold so perhaps some time spent under the duvet with a couple of recommended steamy romance novels may be the best plan for the weekend ahead. I will report back.
It’s the final day of January and I’m cautiously optimistic that we have made it through what was a very long month of frigid cold, post-holiday crash, political chaos, and dry skin.
1. Dry January. For the first time in several years, my Dry January was a booming success. I made it the entire month (plus an alcohol-free NYE). For the last few years, I’ve made it for some time period (17 days; 28 days; a few years ago I only made it as far as January 6 as you may remember what happened on that date) but usually not for the full 31 days. While I felt like I flew through it without ambivalence or struggling, I did put work in – I joined the Dry group on the Weight Watchers app, which is full of some of the best people I could have hoped to connect with. I read sober curious literature and listened to several podcasts (‘This Naked Mind’ being my favorite). I think it’s the influence of our societal approach to drinking that I feel self-conscious about bragging too much on my Dry January because I worry that people will think I did it because I have a “problem” with alcohol. I could write a much longer post about this (particularly what our modern culture deems “problematic” when it comes to a highly addictive substance that is not only socially acceptable, but widely encouraged) but for now – no, I don’t feel that I have a “problem” with alcohol. I really enjoy red wine, and have a fairly high tolerance for it, but I do not categorize myself as a “problem” drinker. However, there is a preponderance recent evidence that any amount of alcohol may not be good for us. I had such a positive Dry January that I have now determined that I will also commit to being alcohol-free for the month of February and see where it goes from there.
2. Vibes at home. Emmett, who is our most loving, anxious, needy cat, had a dentist appointment on Tuesday and had two premolars extracted. All of our cats have “emotional problems” and require accommodations – two of them are on Prozac and the other is a small, cute, virulent sociopath. When one of them disappears for a day and comes home loopy and smelling of the vet, the other two become unhinged and treat the patient like a dangerous interloper. So there has been hissing, separation, pain med dosing, treats, sleeping accommodations, and general household disruption. Emmett is fine and recovering nicely. Sarge and Josie, on the other hand, are still recovering from his ordeal.
3. Journaling. One of my goals for the year is to use my physical journal more. I have used a Hobonichi Techo Cousin paper planner for a few years now without taking full advantage of all of its space and features (monthly, weekly, and daily pages). I’ve been scribbling more thoughts this month. I plan to use one of the layout pages for an informal monthly goal-set, using key words, quotes and actions, and update the bottom half of that page at the end of the month with my reflections: what went well, what didn’t, what I achieved, etc. I’m looking forward to settling in at my home office desk tomorrow morning (early, because I’ve been sleeping so well with Dry January) with a big cup of coffee, my sticker folio and my nice pen and washi tapes to reflect on January and set up the February page.
4. RTO. Next week begins the more organized RTO (“return to office”) push at Widget Central. Executives have been hands-off about office time, leaving it to managers to set their department’s guidelines. I’m usually in one or two days a week and set my own schedule for what those days are on a weekly basis. Next week, however, the mandate is for three office days for everyone with Tuesday and Thursday mandatory. This can be a polarizing issue for people but I’m fairly ‘meh’ about it. I like working from home and think I’m pretty disciplined about it, but I also like the office. I do appreciate that feeling of separation of my home space and workspace. I am productive in either space with a possible productivity edge in the office, I like my coworkers, and as an introvert, it’s good and healthy for me to socialize with people on a limited yet regular basis. I’m much more opinionated about the quality of my work experience. Trust and flexibility are key – I do not want to be micromanaged, nickel-and-dimed about coming-in times and leaving-times, I want the ability to flex my time if I need to be home for any reason, have an appointment, etc. (I think a lot of the issues that people have with remote work come down how well managers are trained to identify and handle a poor performer – if you have an employee, ANY employee, that you cannot trust to do their job and be responsive during core work hours, that’s a performance / management issue, and it’s not going to be addressed or resolved based on the location of their workplace.) The biggest issue for me is going to be organization – meal planning and prep for full days in the office with a commute, packing my breakfast, lunch, snacks, and workout clothes, and making the most of all my days, office and remote.
5. Weekend. No big plans. Babying the neurotic and recovering felines: Brandon is planning a redo of our master bathroom, so we need to go to Ikea to buy the vanity we’ve selected; the weather in Suburban Elysia will be clear and seasonal in the 30’s, so I hope to get out for at least one run. I’m working on a small secret knitting project and will likely finish up my recent read, Haruki Murakami’s ‘The City and its Uncertain Walls’ which I’ll review next week.
Hope everyone has a peaceful, healthy weekend! xoxo
I should feel sheepish that I’m posting my finished Christmas socks a month after Christmas. But for me, this is actually fairly timely as I think I once finished Christmas knitting in March. Progress not perfection!
These are a mashup of the Vanilla Socks on 9 inch Circulars basic pattern from Kayla Litton and the Summer Camp Socks by Jill Zielinski. Main color is West Yorkshire Spinners Sparkle “Yuletide” and heels, toes, and cuffs are WYS “Evergreen”. I usually do 64 stitches on US 0 (2mm) needles.
Inauguration. The Trump train rolled noisily into Washington with their toots and whistles and backfiring pickup trucks and a predictably low class display of capering. Like a carnival of the bizarre and deeply stupid, in its wake it trailed a dribble of toadie weirdos running the gamut from Proud Boys to Nazi tech bro oligarchs glitching out from their boutique drugs to MAGA fembots wearing lingerie to the Rotunda. The yokels outside with faces pressed against the glass were festively adorned with their cult leader’s name and face on their polyester (made in China) shirts and hats and waving their lil flags. God Bless GW, Bill and Hillary for a few unguarded moments of uncontrollable merriment over some of the more gauche and ludicrous aspects of this spectacle (never in a million years pre-MAGA did I think that I would ever have cause to utter the words “God bless GW” but here we are). It’s going to be a long four years watching this gang of thieves mugging for the cameras while they grab all they can with both grubby fists. Luckily, if the Orange One’s prior administration is any indication, they’ll start turning on each other sooner rather than later and then there will be something to see besides bullies and tackiness.
2. Seems like a good time to pull this out of the archives.
3. To round out my political content, it feels like there are a lot of folks out there who could use a reminder about what throwing a Nazi salute actually means.
4. Moving on. In other news. Polar vortex – the beginning of the week was pretty freaking cold. The kid didn’t have school for two days due to wind chills (what do they do in Alaska, I wonder? Or Minnesota?). I got my office days out of the way early in the week and it was really good to stay in my shearling slippers and fleece leggings the remainder of the week. I usually feed the wild birds and squirrels once a day (and keep a heated bird bath full of clean water available) but when the weather is this cold I fill the feeders as often during the day as they empty, and throw out lots of peanuts. The little guys can use as much help as they can get.
(This not so little guy needs not as much help.)
5. In lieu of watching the news (see number 1) we have been diving deep into the DVR. Brandon always has a massive selection of old movies to pick from. Among other things, we watched a silent film from the great Buster Keaton, “Sherlock, Jr.” It was a masterpiece of comedy and the quality of the 2015 restoration was incredible – crystal clear. I am not usually drawn to movies that old but this one was an absolute gem and what he was able to achieve with film at that time is nothing short of genius. And while I know that his path was a difficult one, may I say that in my estimation, young Buster was kind of a hottie.
Onwards. Keep the faith and as my higher power reminded me this week in a moment of meditation, render unto Caesar.
“Twin Peaks” premiered in April 1990. It was the spring of my junior year in high school. I was growing up in a small Midwestern town as a high strung, overly dramatic ball of anxiety, hormones, self-consciousness and insecurity. I knew that I was on the cusp of jumping off into the deep, cold water of my young adulthood, but I didn’t know that I would choose some hard paths for myself over the next several formative years. I would go to a big university that I was completely unprepared for; I would struggle with depression and anxiety for the next two decades; I would live through bad experiences and toxic, exploitative relationships. All of those things waited out along that dark highway for me as I curled up breathing in the safe space of my childhood home. I alternately chafed against its cornfield boundaries and craved them, increasingly mad with boredom and yet terrified of what was next. I did not know in my own heart what I would do, if made to choose between being called to my own lesser version of the hero’s journey, or marrying the high school quarterback and living in those safe neighborhoods for the rest of my life.
I already loved David Lynch. My dad took us to Meridian Mall to see his “Dune” (we were probably too young, but we ate it up). I fell madly in love with Kyle McLachlan’s Paul and immediately spent my pocket money on Frank Herbert’s books and a “Making of Dune” companion book. (That series also became a lifelong companion for me.)
I had never seen anything like “Twin Peaks”, shot through, as it was, with wide ribbons of gentle absurdity, eccentric comedy, innocence, tenderness, beauty and the darkest vein of evil and violence. That flavor was addictive. It showed me that the boundaries of my small town may not just exist to keep people out, but to provide a terrarium that allowed certain things to root and flesh and flourish. It is a series that I have revisited dozens of times.
A couple of years later, my brother and I would see “Fire Walk with Me” in Frandor and the darkness took over the flavor. I think it’s a necessary part of the “Twin Peaks” tale but it is still very difficult for me to watch. I have mixed feelings about many of Lynch’s other works (“Mulholland Drive” being one of my other favorites – but I found his 2017 “Return” to Twin Peaks incomprehensible). I read his book on meditation and while I am not a TM adherent, meditation is still an almost-daily practice for me.
In his book, he associates meditation with catching the big fish; sending a line into the unknowable water and coming back up with something magical. I believe that David Lynch had a conduit to his own subconscious and was able, at deeper and more profound levels, to dredge the silt of our own collective unconscious at the bottom of that water and bring images, visions, concepts back to the surface, into the sunlight. Some of them, blinking in the harsh light, were grotesque and horrifying. Others shed silver water from their scales and breathed with an almost unbearable beauty. I know that David Lynch is in the white lodge now. He was the dreamer and his dreams set a match to some of my own. I will forever love and be terrified by the way he saw the world and grateful that he was able to share his visions (and reflect our own visions back to us) for a time.
It’s cold here in Michigan. And not as dark as December, but still pretty dark. Cars and people don’t want to start. Work is work. It’s going to be even colder next week. That’s that. I promise that my Friday posts will get more substantial as 2025 warms up but in the meantime, without further ado, some more recent pins for your viewing pleasure.
I probably need to warn Brandon that I am pinning a LOT of hairstyles that look like this lately. I won’t do it until I get my braces off but that day is coming up in the not-too-distant future!
Could those be handknit socks there? I have those exact Birks, some olive trousers, and a whole lotta knit socks so I see myself copying this look.
I absolutely love this closet. I wish I had a window in ours but at the very least I’m thinking I could put down a cool rug and maybe add a small antique (or antique-looking) dresser or chest of drawers in ours, and maybe some baskets for storage. Maybe even a string of battery-operated fairly lights.
I absolutely love this and I think that even my very limited sewing skills could accomplish something similar. What a great way to add a unique, artsy vibe to an otherwise standard shirt.
Six Ten 