Eva Gale

Moving is hard work. Much, much harder than I thought. Even though I planned and had a strategy, the physical aspect of it took me unawares. I’ve lost a lot of weight, that’s for sure (which is so not a bad thing). Today is the first day I’m not hauling boxes or breaking them down, and I had hired movers. The main rooms are unpacked and ready, some painting has to be done and the school room has not even *begun* to be unpacked, but everything else is functioning…mostly.

What has really blown me away was how much it all affected my desire to write or be creative. Up until the past two days I thought I might never write again. I mean, I had no desire like a person who doesn’t read has no desire. I didn’t even want to LOOK at a book. All of that thinkingtinkeringwonderingdreaming that goes on in a writers head when they’re NOT at the keyboard had gone far, far away. That place where creativity sits was lost. I couldn’t even bring myself to crochet. But slowly, as my physical surroundings start to settle down, as everything finds its place, I’m getting glimpses of ideas.

What I’ve learned is that it’s ok to be like this. I am a person that needs her surroundings to be calm in order to be creative and for the longest time I thought there was something wrong with me that I couldn’t write through hell or high water. I wasn’t a *real* writer because I couldn’t power through. Perhaps when I have 15 single titles under me I’ll be able to. I’ll have some sort of process that I trust, that I can rely on. But for right now, calm order is a part of that process, and, thankfully, calm order is a part of my life. Especially now that I’ll (probably) never move again (Yes, I love this place that much). I’m seeing an end to the chaos, and that is the ticket, I think. I can’t yet–I’m far too tired, but I know that soon, perhaps a few days, I’ll be able to sit and start knocking at the keyboard again.

My life is a mess to say the least. We’re moving but not yet. This week, next week, stop, go. My septic is ripped up, not able to use water, wash, toilets, you know how it goes. My life is packed up in boxes and I just spent all day in the Dr.s office. No worries, Dd needs glasses, tis all. The office just overbooked the Dr and I spent 3 hours waiting. With the kids. Thank God a friend lived 5 minutes away and skipped over to pick them up and watch them for me.

In the midst of one of the most tumultuous times in my life, I need to say how grateful I am. Deeply, marrow dwelling gratefulness. I can’t put my finger on why, just that I am. I’ve always been one to say how maintaining an attitude of gratitude is the sugar that makes the medicine of life go down easier.

There. Now onto something more fun…

Look who was trying to say hi!

I would say he was about a yearling, not a big bear like the one who actually ripped that door down last year.

First, the dishrag directions. Crochet Dishcloth

I did it in a schematic form because that’s the way I love my crochet directions. I HATE typed out directions. Let me SEE it. That said, it’s so very easy. Chain thirty, plus one. Skip a chain, single crochet in the next chain, then double crochet. Single double, single double to the end. Then chain one, turn and if the last stitch in the previous row was a single, make your new row start with a double. You’re zigzagging. It makes a bumpy tight square that keeps it shape really well.

I make them in Sugar N Cream 100% cotton which is pretty inexpensive. Therapy for less than 2 bucks.

I mean with a crochet hook. So far I’ve been making myself dishcloths which although I was skeptical about-I now adore. They’re much…more firm? than the knitted type and are sturdy in your hand as you wash. I make them from 100% cotton and they’re SO much more green than sponges. You just toss them into the laundry and I actually like the feel of them in my hand better, too. So, Bonus.

But I just wanted to share the anticipation…

Because I want to make these, but in my own design:

I can just see rows of these in my daughter’s closets. Teh cuteness, ZOMG!

Wait, it gets better…

*drool* You know, knitters get books like this all the time. But not crocheters. Crocheters are the pop fiction to knitters literary fiction. We don’t get no respect. But every once in a while someone comes up with a brilliant breakout book. I hope this one starts a wave of luscious crochet design books.