The first post of the year always, always, always equals New Year's resolutions....am I right?
I actually have proof that :
B.) Resolutions are not my forte. Have I ever finished a quilt? No. Did I knit a sweater a month that one year? No. Are all my needles free for starting new projects whenever I desire? No. 50 pairs of socks?!? What was I...on crack cocaine? Dear Baby Jeebuz. I'm embarrassing myself.
Which is really the thing I'm trying to say, here....what's the point? What's the point of making resolutions? I mean, when I say I'm going to give up sugar only to scarf down seven no-bake cookies three hours later, I'd say it's a lost cause.
I think it's mostly about the rigidity of it all. The all-or-nothing . I think I used to believe the only way to take myself seriously was to become an all-out, balls-to-the-wall fanatic.
Fanatical works if you have all the time in the world, or a less-than-desirable social life, or willpower.
I have none of those. Obvs.
I do, however, have three resolutions I've made--and stuck to--so far in 2014, which makes me kind of like a success story.
1. Write one letter every day. I realize that I am so utterly attached to my iPhone that I have physical pains--not unlike substance withdrawal--when I leave it at my house for a quick walk or trip to the grocery store. Writing a letter is my little rebellion against myself--or maybe a way to appease my own guilt? (If I write a letter or six, it kinda makes up for spending an hour on Pinterest?!?) I have lots--LOTS--of thank-you letters to get caught up on, so it helps to have a goal.
2. Try one new recipe a week. This is me trying to be a better wife, really. Poor Curt. He really doesn't ask much of me, truly, except that he'd like some hot food on the table once in awhile. That little sweetie, he'll even eat leftovers. The very least I can do is attempt to mix it up a little bit--for all of us. Sasha is eating little snippets of real food all the time, including avocados, beans, noodles--she even had her first bite of chicken on Saturday. So making real food from scratch is becoming increasingly more important; it's totally fine to poison my body with undicipherable ingredients in pre-packaged food, but my baby deserves a little bit more effort. Some of the winners from this experiment so far include: Skillet Italian Chicken with Orzo (Cook's Country), Venison Meatball Soup (Betty Crocker), Crockpot Applesauce (the Pioneer Woman) and No-Yeast Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls (random recipe search).
3. Read one book a month.* Again with the digital dependency. I read tons and tons of content, all over the interwebs, every single day. Heck, every single hour. The only thing that has kept me from reading more books is laziness. Plus, a better reader makes a better writer.
Aaaaaaand, it's a new year, so I have new knitting progress, yo! Behold, a trio of hats:
Project: Gift Wrap Bonnet by Carina Spencer.
Started & Finished: sometime in fall 2013. I just can't remember. (Mom Brain. Not to be confused with Pregnancy Brain. Close cousin.)
Yarn: Malabrigo Worsted in small amounts of Natural, Continental Blue and Lettuce.
Needles: Addi Turbo 16" in US 5s & 7s.
Notes & Mods: Love this pattern! The only thing I changed was the bind off on the top...I used Kitchener stitch vs. a three-needle bind off. This is the baby size....I think I'd knit a larger size (the Toddler size is the next size up) for little miss, even though when I finished this, she was only 7 1/2 months old.
I don't know...I think it's a little small for her?
A wee elvish thing I knit from some of my own handspun back in December, in the two days we traveled to the U.P. to say goodbye to my wonderful grandpa. I will miss him so!
Trying on a hat I found in my stash--mystery yarn, pattern I created myself about 10 years ago.
It suits her.
*Edited to add: I started this blog post in January and here it is February...I did not meet January's goal on this resolution. I am about halfway through American Pastoral by Philip Roth--I am trudging along, but wishing it was better. (I mean, it did win the Pulitizer, right?!?) I have rifled through about 40 pages of Rabbit, Run by John Updike and gazed longingly (twice) at Benjamin Busch's memoir, Dust to Dust (which I started two years ago!) but have yet to finish anything.