The carrot and the stick

Well, we all know what the stick is here (as opposed to the schtick, which I haven't quite settled on yet). Miles and miles of stockinette. (Thanks, btw, to Carrie for pointing out that listening to World Without End whilst knitting miles and miles of stockinette is a bit too coincidental; I think I'm cursing myself.) I didn't even take pictures of it all on one needle (although it is, it is!), because it looks like nothing so much as a giant heap of stockinette. Probably because it is a giant heap of stockinette. Each row is now taking about 15 minutes, and my shoulder is hurting, but they're a bit less boring since, four times each row, I get to do a bit of work on the lace panels, and on each RS row, I get to decrease four stitches (yes, Helen, I am a bit of devil, aren't I?; I'm just living the high life here, I tell you!). In another several inches, I will get to not only do the raglan decreases, but also (hold on to your hats here) the neck decreases! Excitement! Drama! High jinks!

Or not.

So, given that I have this giant stick, it seems that I need more of a carrot than just my desire to have this done so I can wear it. I thought I'd show you some recent acquisitions. These have not come all at once (lest you think I've gone completely crazy with the credit card and tattle on me to Rick), but I haven't had a chance to show them to you. I have taken them out and keep them nearby for fondling and drooling purposes, and because as soon as I'm done with this sweater, I get to play with some of them!

First, I got several sets of clasps from Schoolhouse Press. The top one is for The Stockinette Slog, the middle one is for the sweater I finished recently for Younger Daughter, and the bottom one is for the Cardigan for Arwen I knitted for Older Daughter last year at about this time. (All of these photos are crappy and blurry; by the time the girls and I got home and took Kia out for a little stroll, the light wasn't so good, but we can work with it, right?)
Aren't they lovely? And honestly, well worth the price, especially since I'll take them off of the girls' sweaters as they grow out of them and repurpose them for other knitwear.

Also, contrary to my usual tremendously bad luck with drawings and raffles of all sorts, I won Rachael's Heifer donation raffle! Me! And what I won was a gift certificate to Briar Rose! It just doesn't get better than that (what a generous thing to give to support the raffle, too). And I won it because the girls and I went shopping with their charity money for the year and bought a brace of rabbits and a flock of geese for some people who really need them more than we needed our charity money (1/3 of the girls' weekly allowance goes into a charity jar, and at the end of the year, they get to choose the recipient of their donation, and Rick and I match it; the last couple of years it's been Heifer. I will someday wax poetic about all of the reasons why I like this organization, but today you are spared). It really seems unfair to win something for doing something that a) is important anyway, and b) we would have done in any case, and I appreciate Rachael setting the whole thing up. So, what did I get, you ask (assuming you haven't gone to sleep by now; you there, in the back, wake up!)? Why, this, I answer!
It's hard to tell, but this yarn is all lovely deep rose pinks with darker purples. It's gorgeous, and while I'm not sure yet what I will make of it, for the moment I'm happy just looking at it. I also got this:
I'm considering using it for the lotus bag, but I'm not sure yet. Thanks Rachael and Briar Rose!

There's some lovely sock yarn all in blues and greys whose picture was so bad I'm not going to share it right now, and another skein that makes me think of spring:
People, I do not understand my love for this yarn. I would never wear pink and green together in real clothes (as opposed to socks), but I see this yarn and it makes me happy. I have been drooling over it at the Loopy Ewe for months and months and months, and when I ordered the yarn for my Loopy Ewe Swap buddy, it somehow slipped into my basket and I didn't have the heart to tell it to go home. Doesn't it just scream spring? In a tulipy kind of way?

Finally, there's this:
This has a purpose. It is going to be ZigZag Mitts, yes indeedy; just as soon as I'm done with The Stockinette Slog, and my Loopy Ewe swap knitting, this lovely skein is going to become mitts for me. Nice, small, portable knitting, with an end in sight, to keep my hands warm on chilly nights. Yup, there's my carrot.

EZ rides again

Where did the weekend go? No, wait, don't answer that. I don't know that I want to know, because then I'd have to acknowledge all of the chances I had to actually get something done that I didn't take. Ah, well.

The concert was great fun last night. Lavay Smith has a gorgeous voice, in a sort of Ella Fitzgeraldish way. And her backup band was amazing, particularly the piano and trombone players, who pretty much blew me out of the water. And, better yet, the pub we went to for dinner before the concert was willing to make me a corned beef sandwich the way I really like it without laughing at me to my face, so all in all, it was a good night.

Other than that, it's been a quiet weekend. I had a lovely walk with my dear friend Kathleen yesterday morning, and then she and her son hung out with us for a couple of hours to eat lunch and relax. Today, the girls and I met up with another good friend and her two daughters to go see National Treasure (I have a secret love of ridiculous actions flicks of this sort), which was good fun. But that's about all that's happened.

Mostly I've been knitting. The body of the sweater was finished to the armpits on Friday, and as of today I have a second sleeve. As soon as I'm done posting, I'll be putting everything on to one needle, and the knitting of the yoke will commence. So, why the reference to our beloved EZ in the post title? I'll tell you.

I've been reading a lot of Elizabeth Zimmerman lately. While my parents were here, I dragged them to La Jolla, ostensibly to buy coffee (it's the closest Peet's), but really there was an ulterior motive, in the form of this yarn store, which carries a lovely selection of knitting books. I'd been wanting The Opinionated Knitter for ages and ages, and it seemed that the time had come to acquire it. While I was there, I saw, as I have in many places, The Knitter's Almanac. I've never bought it, in large part because I didn't think that I'd follow the plan to knit any of those things in any of those months. However, it is by Elizabeth Zimmerman, and I do so enjoy reading her writing (it actually, in a nice bit of synchronicity, reminds me of Betchen Barber's writing a bit; very practical and down-to-earth, and imbued with a tremendous sense of wonder and adventure, even when regarding small things). So I got it. And I am loving it. While it is true that I don't know that I'll ever actually knit any particular thing in it, her writing is wonderful, and her explorations of knitting as a craft are an education in themselves.

And her idea for a handy use for hair elastics (which we call "ponies" in my house; you should see the look on people's faces when one of the girls runs up to me at soccer and asks, "Mama, can I have a pony?") is more than worth the price of admission. While camping, she came up with the lovely idea of using an elastic to put around her knitting when it's on three dpns, to keep the stitches from leaking off the edges of the needles. In knitting the first sleeve of my sweater, I had to switch to four dpns plus one to knit from, instead of my usual three plus one, simply because the stitches were starting to fall of the ends of the needles. With the second sleeve, however, I did this:
Will ya check that out? Pure genius, I tell you, pure genius. Nary an escaped stitch, and that's saying something, because not only were there a lot of stitches on those (sock-length) dpns by the end, but this alpaca is slippery as all get out. Stitches were positively leaping off of my Addis during the knitting of the body; I was considering the purchase of wood-tipped circulars to finish the sweater, but I will persevere. Nevertheless, this is an idea that's worth passing on. Thanks, Elizabeth!

I hope you've all had relaxing and knit-ful weekends. I will try very hard to do something more interesting before my next post. Wish me luck!

Stockinette slog

Wow! I can't believe how many people had either read that book, or knew of Betchen. Thanks for all of the comments. I'm most of the way through it now, and am loving it as much as I did before. She does say one thing in talking about high-whorl drop spindles, though, which has me confused (or in awe, take your pick). She says that really expert spinners don't have to reach down to grab the spindle to wind on their yarn; they can just give the spindle a yank, and it rolls right up the yarn like a yo-yo. Seriously? You can do that? What about unhooking the yarn at the top? Does anyone know how this works?

I am in Stockinette Hell. (Why, oh why, did I choose to try serial project monogamy on two projects that are almost all stockinette?) The body of this sweater is not knit in the round, and the purl rows in particular are killing me. It's taking me about ten minutes to finish a row, on average (why yes, I am having trouble getting through this, why do you ask?). I spent a good period of time yesterday listening to Word Without End (Ken Follett), and knitting. At this point, I'm about an inch shy of the body, which means six more rows, which means an hour. I'm hoping to pound it out before I pick the kids up from school at noon (although a glance at my watch suggests that this hope is futile). The photos are boring, but I figure I should offer some kind of concrete proof that I'm not just griping for the sake of griping (well, a little bit, but mostly this is gripeworthy).
It's getting heavy. If this weren't going to be distributed across a whole sweater, I'd be worried about the total weight of yarn going into this thing (if I use all the yarn I bought, it'll be about a pound of alpaca). Once I'm through the body, the next sleeve is going to feel great (knitting in the round, and I get to M1 twice every seventh row; you know knitting is monotonous when that just makes your day). In order to make up for the boring stockinette pictures, here:
A rare photo of Gwilim and Atticus sharing a chair (they'd rather we all think that they are too cool for cuddling with one another, but I know better). (BTW, you can blame this on Bea; she said that more cat photos were called for. Hi, Bea!)

Rick just found out that the band who played at our wedding, and since got much better known, is playing in Escondido tomorrow night, and got us tickets. He also arranged for the girls to spend the night at a friend's house (good Rick). The band is Lavay Smith and Her Red Hot Skillet Lickers. I love that name. I love that I had a band named that at my wedding (my father is still holding it against me; he wanted a classical quartet). Think Brian Setzer Band, and you've got a sense of their music. A date! We're going on a date, like real people. Who knew?

Tomorrow, exciting plans for the spring. I am insane, and I will prove it to you.

In which I provide further evidence of my unmitigated dorkiness

Or: I think I've finally figured out why I took up knitting

Dork: N., a foolish person
Dorky: Adj., having the attributes of a dork; unfashionable
Dorkiness: N., the quality or condition of being dorky

How I do love linguistics. Not only for the fun of morphological analysis (see above), but also because I have just realized that it is a big part of why I am a fiber junkie. To wit:

As I was waiting impatiently for my spindles and roving to arrive, I had to do something to take the edge off, and I did what I so often do in times of stress and turned to reading. I mean, if you can't do something, at least you can read about it, right? I read the two spinning books I had laid in for just that eventuality, but it wasn't quite enough. So I turned to one of my very favorite all-time academic books, which I hereby recommend to all of you. Women's Work: The First 20,000 Years: Women, Cloth, and Society in Early Times, by Elizabeth Wayland Barber. And therein lies the latest evidence of my status as a geek.

This book is fun for so many reasons, but I should tell you first that Betchen Barber (as she was called by her students) is the reason why I am a linguist. I don't think I've told this story yet, so here goes (if I have, skip down a bit). I was an English and Comparative Literature major in college, with plans to go to law school after graduation, practice for a bit, and then see if I couldn't become a judge. (Ah, yes, the idealistic plans of youth.) I minored in French, but it was mostly because it's my mother's first language, and I wanted an excuse to study abroad somewhere for a semester my junior year. For that minor I had to take a linguistics class, which I did in the winter of my junior year, and from that moment on, the jig was up. I was hooked. It turned out I had always been a linguist, I just didn't know there was a name for it. I completed my major while applying to graduate schools in linguistics (to the screams of "You're going to be a what?! We want a refund of your college tuition. Now." from my parents)(they now think that this was all their idea and insist they're very proud of me).

I realize now that my conversion was due in no small part to the professor I had for that class; it's not that linguistics isn't a great field in its own right, but it can be ruined by the wrong prof (ask me how I know), and if I'd had that wrong professor I might be a lawyer today. But I didn't. I had Betchen, who always came into class looking as if she were having the most fun ever, as if she knew some secret that we didn't know yet, but she was going to let us in on it. She clearly loved what she was doing, both the field, and the teaching of it. Her presence was quite a gift. She was always moving, and moving fast. Her braid was askew each day, as if she'd started it neatly down the back of her head, and then had grown impatient and pulled it hurriedly over one shoulder to finish it off. She had intense blue eyes, and a marvelous smile. She had originally trained as an archaeologist, and her specialization was and is textiles. She is one of the experts they call in to evaluate the clothing of bog bodies and mummies, to see where and when and how it was made. She also taught folk dancing, had many looms in her house, and spun. I still want to be her when I grow up (isn't it nice to have a role model?).

So she wrote this wonderful book about textile technology in Europe and the Fertile Crescent. She traces how the tools change from place to place and over time, and the words that are used in different languages to talk about these tools. Her argument is that while the textiles themselves don't last, and so much of women's work is perishable, we can glimpse what they did by their tools. It's wonderful. And when I read it, lo these many years ago, it clinched a long-standing desire I had had to learn how to spin. (I contend that it is impossible to grow up, as I did, with a fascination with Greek and Celtic mythology and not want to learn how to spin.)

But there is this annoying practical side to me (this is the side that would have done just fine as a lawyer, the side that was raised by a surgeon and an ER nurse), and I kept asking myself why I would learn to make fiber for which I would have no use (weaving seemed like quite a big leap at the time; still does, really). So I shelved the idea. But I wandered regularly into yarn stores, wandered back out, tried to learn to knit from a book and failed, got a friend to teach me, knit for a while and stopped, took it up again and stopped, hit my stride.

And then I got my spindles and am trying to learn how to spin, and I had a great big ah-ha moment as I re-read Betchen's book, and remembered how much I wanted to learn eighteen years ago when I first read it. I learned to knit so that I would have a reason to spin. Doh. Now, don't get me wrong, there are other reasons why it was knitting and not, say, weaving that I took up, reasons which I won't go into right now but which fit right in with why spinning appeals to me (I could briefly mention portability, that long shadowy line of women standing behind me when I make a humble pair of socks, or any one of a number of things, but I won't now), but I realize that there is this other reason which I hid even from myself.

Joke's on me.

A post that isnt quite so short as I thought it would be

My parents have safely and happily come and gone. We had a lovely weekend, about which more in another post, in which much was accomplished. However, as I woke up on Thursday morning with a stunningly horrific head cold, and spent a great deal of energy during the weekend ignoring it, I am pretty washed up right now. This is why I haven't been quite so diligent as usual in replying to everyone's comments -- I'll get back on track, I promise!

Knitting did, in spite of all of this, occur. I finished the strap for the Calla Lily bag on Thursday evening, and felted it on Friday morning before we left for the zoo. It felted amazingly quickly, and turned out, if I do say so myself, quite well.
I don't know how well you can see there. It's been raining cats and dogs and it's still extremely overcast. The whole state has been deluged (Mammoth got 10 feet of snow; can I tell you how much I want to pack up and head out?). The upshot is bad natural light for photos, alas. (It also made for slow drying time on the bag. My impatience got the better of me and I used it on Saturday when it was still outgassing, and everything inside it was a bit damp and limp by the end of the day.) However, here's one with flash of all of the lovely folds and openings that the construction of the bag makes possible.
Three compartments! How fun is that? And look at the wonderfully subtle variegation in the malabrigo. I have a serious love on for this yarn. I could sleep in it, it's so soft.

So, to recap. This is the Calla Lily Bag by Cat Bordhi, from The Knitter's Book of Yarn, made with Malabrigo Merino worsted weight on size 11 needles (Addis, if you're wondering).

I have entered into a period of serial project monogamy (a nod to Stell, here, who just went through the same thing, with great success). In the case of this bag and the project I'm working on now, it's because I really really want the FO; moreover, I'd really like to have them done when classes start, in a mere two weeks (no panic here, though, nosiree bob), which means some dedication. The one which will come after my current project is the knitting for the Loopy Ewe swap, which comes to a close in early February, so I'll need to bust a move on that. I must be missing my usual promiscuous ways, though, as I dreamed last night that I'd accidentally knitted a sock for myself when I wasn't paying attention (knee-high, too -- how come that never happens in real life?), and I felt pretty bad about not focusing on this next project.

One thing that is making all of this much easier is the love I bear for the yarn in these two projects. You've already heard how I feel about malabrigo, but this next yarn is It. My love for the malabrigo is as nothing compared to how I feel about this yarn (just finished re-reading the Princess Bride, can you tell?). I bought it when I visited the Temecula Yarn Company the other week, as you may remember. I only bought one skein, figuring (for reasons which will soon become apparent) that I'd make something small from it, like a pair of mitts. I took it home, and rubbed it on my face and neck and thought about it some, and petted it some more, and thought some more, and figured too warm be damned, I'm making me a sweater.

See, it's alpaca. One hundred percent pure North American undyed happy-making alpaca. And alpaca is warm. And weighty. However, once again The Knitter's Book of Yarn came to my rescue. Some words about this book before I go on. I bought it a few months ago when I was starting to think about maybe getting into this spinning thing, and thought that knowing about fiber might be nice. And boy howdy, is it ever. (I'm starting to feel like this post should be entitled "Love Fest", but who knows what kinds of hits I'd get then?) This book is well worth the price of hardback admission. The fiber information alone is amazing. The detail and clarity of explanations are excellent. I'm a slow learner, but I'm starting to understand little by little why some fibers work as they do, and what they can be used for (notice it actually occurred to me to worry about the possibility that an alpaca sweater might be a bit much; this is major progress, even if I have gone ahead with the project -- at least I know what I'm getting into). And then it's got all of those lovely patterns, including the bag above, and this sweater that I've just started.

I have only one minor critique regarding the patterns, and honestly, it's very very small, and should in no way deter anyone from getting this book (no, I am not being paid to say this), since the fiber information is worth every penny, even without the patterns. The small critique has to do with the somewhat telegraphic nature of the patterns. I think that this brevity is an understandable reflection of the fact that this book is not meant to be a pattern book, it's a fiber book, and the patterns are just there to give an idea of what can be done with different weights and plies of fibers. I don't usually mind really telegraphic instructions (a la EZ), but it is nice to have one of those merry little diagrams that shows all the pieces with all of their top and bottom and lengthwise measurements; makes it easier when fudging yarns and construction. That's all.

In spite of this, though, it is this book which inspired me to go forward with the all alpaca all the time sweater. Mostly because of the all-angora sweater that they have in there, which has construction details geared towards mitigating the heat factor of particularly warm fibers. To wit: 3/4 sleeves, an open cardigan front with just a clasp, and lovely little lacework detailing up the raglan decreases. The gauge of the yarn they used was exactly the gauge on the label of the alpaca yarn I'd bought, which pretty much clinched the deal (when I really want to do something, I am inclined to see Signs from the Universe all over the place; thank goodness the Universe thinks as I do about these matters). So I called the store and asked them to send over four more skeins, and busted a move on the bag so I'd be done when they arrived.

I was, and I cast on immediately, and I have now completed the first sleeve.
Yup, all stockinette all the time. The only fiddly bits are picking up the hems at the beginning, and later when I do the raglan and neck decreases whilst knitting the little lace pattern. Something to look forward to. In fact, I'm thinking that the body is going to be so painful that I'm going to do it next, and save the relatively quick-moving second arm for a reward. Isn't this yarn lovely, though?
That, my friends, is alpaca-colored (one of many, as I understand it). Isn't it beautiful? The label says grey, but it's a browny, heathery grey and, as I may have mentioned, I love it. It's heavy in the hand, almost oiled, and feels a bit like a silk blend. I can see why my friend who ordered the Kauni yarn with me had so much trouble going from the project she'd been working on with alpaca-blend yarn to the Kauni yarn, which is admittedly rather rough. It's far rougher by comparison to this beauty. So this is by way of saying that project monogamy isn't quite so bad when each of the projects involves such luscious yarn. (Is this an excuse to buy something equally luscious for the Loopy Ewe exchange project? Why yes, I do believe it is.)

I have also been spinning, although less than I would like. I'm alternating between my two spindles, trying to get a feel for them both. Here's my latest attempt on the high-whorl spindle (I don't have pics right now of the turkish one's results).
Sorry about the flash-bright picture there; the ones without flash were much prettier, but made the actual spinning impossible to see. It's still in no way even, and I am still having great fun. In fact, the plan for this day is to wade through my inbox to beat it into something resembling submission, to get through one chapter of the reading I'm thinking of assigning in my new class, and to order some books for that class on interlibrary loan. Then I will cast on for the body of the sweater and maybe take a nap. This is the last day I will tolerate this cold, so fair warning, oh cold, you'll be gone by tomorrow.

A quickie

My parents are on their way from the airport now, so this is just a quick update, as I probably won't be able to post over the weekend. Pictures of the Endless Blue Blob were demanded (I am nothing if not obliging), and it is true that malabrigo in and of itself is worthy of a picture, so here it is:
It's huge. And the knitting is endless. As is the purling, now that I'm no longer working in rounds. However, I am close to finishing this second point, and then it's a strap, and that's all she wrote! Maybe by the end of the weekend I can felt it? One can only hope. As a reminder, this is the Calla Lily bag from The Knitter's Book of Yarn, and the pattern is by Cat Bordhi.

I have also embarked upon another, much-needed crafty fabric-oriented project. Here's why it's much-needed:
Do you see that seat cover? These were Grandmom's chairs (some of you may remember Grandmom from our trip to the Bay Area this summer), and when she finally gave up her home, she gave them to us. We love having them, as they are a wonderful connection to many happy meals shared at her home. But they haven't been re-covered in ages, and the need is dire. See the batting in there?
Under that (get this) is straw. I kid you not, straw. I have no idea how long it's been since these were redone, but it's time.

So yesterday I hit the local fabric store and managed to find (on the remainder table, go me!) seat fabric, fabric for the backing, and batting, all for a grand total of $25. I love sales. I got through two chairs last night, which was a pretty painful job, as Grandmom had done a lovely job of stapling the living heck out of the seats when she re-covered them, lo these many years ago. So I pried out all of the staples with a screwdriver, threw away the old batting and the straw (still in shock about that one), and recovered them. The results?
Here's the seat.
If I were a more anal person, I would have unstapled the webbing under the seat and tightened it to, but I'm not.

So, my folks are here, and I am going to enjoy my weekend and keep trying to fight this cold. I'll take lots of pictures and try to post on Sunday. Have a great weekend!

Three sets of eight

Being new to this blogging thing (only started late last spring, which I know seems like an endless amount of time to those of you kind enough to read these ramblings, but is really quite short in geological terms), I have checked out the blogs of others to see what it is that one does on New Year's Day as a blogger. Because you know me, always concerned with doing What Is Done. And it appears that the done thing to do is to be somewhat retrospective and somewhat prospective. So, I hereby present you with three lists of eight (three because it seems like a nicely balanced number, representing past, present, and future, or some such thing, and eight because it is now 2008; there is always a method to my madness).

List One: Odd and Quirky Things About Me That You May Not Know, And That You May Be Glad You Don't Know, But Now You Will Know Them
1. I sometimes dream in text. As in, I read my dreams (character descriptions, dialogue in quotes, the whole nine yards).
2. (probably related to #1) I have a great deal of trouble getting puns. Particularly if they're written. Because I have this completely unconscious habit of linking words to their written representation, if two words are spelled differently, they're different words, even if they sound entirely alike. For example, I used to eat at wonderful bagel shop in Berkeley, where the motto was, "Protect your bagel, put lox on it." You're all laughing now, but for years, I imagined that I should protect my bagel by putting a condom-like layer of thin smoked fish on it, rather than that I should lock it up. Rick finds this utterly amusing, and now makes me read puns out loud to ensure that I really get them, and that I'm not just laughing to keep from being mocked.
3. While I will try almost anything once, there is a certain class of foods that I prefer not to eat unless I have to, based entirely on texture. This includes: pudding, flan, creme brulee, tapioca, etc. Congealed snail snot, all of it. Except the tapioca, which is congealed snail snot with eyeballs in it.
4. I am tremendously shy and introverted. While I very much enjoy the company of people I know, walking into a room full of strangers is a painful experience. This makes the first week of classes every semester difficult at best.
5. My very first job, at the age of 16, was as a piano teacher. Who knew?
6. I am left-handed.
7. I am terrified -- truly, weak-kneed terrified -- of exposed heights.
8. I can drive anything with four wheels, under almost any conditions, and do a pretty good job of it (this falls under the category of Strange, Undeserved and Unworked-at Talents). This includes driving on the left-hand side of the road on one-land roads inhabited by sheep, as well as on the left-hand side of the road in London, and it includes driving on the right-hand side of the car on the right-hand side of the road, which let me tell you makes passing large trucks quite hair-raising.

List Two: Things That I Am Fairly Proud of Accomplishing In This Past Year, Or That I Am Glad That I Tried
1. Tenure (fooled them)
2. Kauni (a whole adult-sized sweater, with steeks)
3. Test-knitting a pattern
4. Going back to yoga after having back surgery. And doing a back bend without a) crying from sheer terror, or b) having titanium pop out of my back.
5. Really starting to work on figuring out what it is that I want in a given situation, and how to keep my eye on that. This has meant learning to try to say "no" a whole lot more often to things that I do not want.
6. Knitting a sweater without a pattern.
7. Taking the leap into the whole spinning thing.
8. Starting a blog. For me, this was a scary, putting-myself-out-there thing, but I'm so very glad that I did it. I never would have met some folks whom I now consider to be good friends, and that would have been a real loss.

List Three: Things That I Didn't Get to Do This Year That I Wish I Had, Or That I Would Like To Try To Do In The New Year
1. Sea kayaking in the Pacific;
2. Surfing;
3. Try spinning on a wheel;
4. Move my body, preferably outdoors, at least a little every day;
5. Keep writing regularly on the blog;
6. Work more on that "no" thing;
7. Spend less time doing things just to fill time, and more time either doing what I really want to do, or in just paying attention to where and when I am;
8. Be grateful for the abundance in my life, and try to find a way to share that abundance in little ways each day.

I truly am grateful to and for all of you, for the abundance of friendship and support and laughter I have received from you this year. Thank you! And welcome to 2008 -- it's going to be a good year.