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blissed out


today i lay on my window seat in my new library/office and watched the beautiful northwest rain fall from the sky. when i sat up and looked out the window i saw more shades of green than i ever remember. all the green was off-set by our beautiful new orange family pet in the little pond outside. the frogs here are chorusing up quite a bit…any frog experts out there? what is a group of frogs called? what is the call and response they do called? too blissed out to google.

knitted like a fiend on the plane. my carry on consisted of ten cakes of bmfa str and medical supplies. knitted for two hours in the lounge then about five hours on the plane.

pictures of it all tomorrow.

have not felt this relaxed in about five years.

i really missed this washington. it is a place that is home for me. lived here mostly since i was twenty. almost thirty nine. still love this place with a stillness and a craziness that are inexplicable.

miss you all and so happy that you all have come with me in this move. especially in my heart.

too blissed out for upper case letters.

Checking in


Well, we are completely packed. Many, many boxes. 413, to be exact. We load in the morning. Note to self- do not eat food with raw garlic on the day they pack your toothbrush. Especially when you can’t find the back up one.

Kiss me. Now.



So to any move there are many moving parts. And there are many, many parts to our move. Debra runs the whole show (she has been talking me down every day for weeks), then there is Zack who manages a specific segment of our move (Hi Baby Loretta!) and then there is Marion. Oh how we love all of them!

As I have mentioned, the company that is providing all our relocation services is treating us like rock stars. Well, my knitting and sewing friends, let me tell you about Marion.

Marion is my On Site Moving Manager- yeah, – I know hate me if you want, at this point I could give a fig. Not not Sandy’s Fig- we love that Fig. What is an On Site Moving Manager? Essentially she is my handler. Sounds pathetic and wonderful all at the same time, yes? She makes sure my wig is not too big, answers questions from the crew, and even humors the kids when needed. At about 10 am Thursday morning Craig, Marion and I were chatting and I BLURTED out…”This is the easiest move I have ever had!” It was SO calm, so quiet and so kind. (Yes, we are Montessori parents.)

Remember how I said my La-bor-a-tory wasn’t where I wanted it to be? Well, Marion kept me away from the open windows and helped me finish the organizing . At one point she was folding fabric and went to put it in a XXL Ziplock (LOVE THOSE). Marion said to me-”We can’t put it in that other bag, because we KNOW that Fabric and yarn CANNOT go in the same bag!”

Yes, my friends- Marion is one of us. She is a Knitter. She is a Fanatic. How great is the Universe when it sends you a Knitter to help organize your stash?

PS: Marion had never heard of Mason Dixon or The Harlot so I slipped her a couple of books (evil giggle here). And she wasn’t too clear about blogs- so I explained. Also I asked her permission to post her picture, with the agreement that if she was uncomfortable or didn’t like it I would remove it on Monday. (She comes back Monday and I will show her then.)

PPS: In the picture above, we had just spent a whole bunch of time finishing up my Laboratory. Then I went into the bedroom and found my nightstand full of yarn. While we laughed out loud I realized I could not pack more yarn. I had reached my moment of It Is What It Is and May the Wind Be At My Back. Marion is taking the yarn and packing it up for me. Bless Her.

Thank you all so much for all the moving good wishes. Love to you all. Going to bed. Hope to sleep in tomorrow-No movers at o’dark thirty. We fly Thursday! Yay!




That was really good for me! By the time the movers left tonight they had packed ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY SIX BOXES (by my count). They packed over two thirds of our house- and we are pack rats in the EXTREME. The entire basement-packed! My LA-BOR-A-TORY packed! Our kitchen, half our pantry, half the play room, the dining room. the sitting room, and SO much I can’t even recall- PACKED.

We have moved FIVE times in the last NINE years and this crew is the most wonderful and efficient I have ever encountered. A very productive team of five beats an inefficient team of twelve ANY DAY.

My knitting room- 33 boxes. No joke.

And tomorrow, I will tell you about Marion. She rocks it HARD.

Love you all- KT

ps: Today with the move- I was BLISSED out and spent most of the day in my Jammies.

Love y’all (again!).

Here we go


Our animals flew to Seattle yesterday and will be boarded in excellent places. Earl will be boarded at the place he has gone since he was a puppy. He even went to puppy boot camp there for 5 weeks when he was 6 months old. He loves it there and they love him. I feel very confident that he will have a great time. And the kitties are very complacent. Also as long as they are together, they will be great. Here is a picture of Earl the Wonder Dog. Man, I miss him already.

The knitting has not been happening all that much and the organization of the sewing room is not what I envisioned. Eh. At this point, I am envisioning waking up a week from Friday in our new home.

Ack! The movers are driving in the driveway! Wish us Monsters! (right Susan?)

The joy of breathing


Often times I will sit and knit, feeling guilty about all the stuff I am not doing that I currently need to be doing. Enough of that. As the pace around here picks up I am going to carve out time for myself. Two hours a day to knit. The boys will be in school until the day before we leave, so most likely it will be in the morning. Yesterday was the first day of my new regime and it worked wonderfully. After two hours of committed knitting I emerged a happier, more peaceful person. So to avoid The Head Weasels my goal is to knit two hours a day and check in with you each day. Craig is getting on a plane tomorrow (back Tuesday) and get a little anxious when he travels. I would get anxious before Angus’ diagnosis but now I get anxious. Funny when he is home, I sleep like a log and would sleep very late if I could. Knowing that he will be travelling Wednesday, I have been waking up at about 5am for the past few days (no alarm clock). Also having dreams/nightmares that I forget to give Angus his insulin or give it to him twice or that his number is really high (888 to be exact). GAH!

Did you hear the great news? Eunny is the new editor at Interweave Knits. So very exciting for all of us. Her writing, her tutorials and her esthetic are wonderful and I couldn’t be more excited. She is very inspiring to me in her vast knowledge and the way her brain works. Eunny has me wanting to devote more brain power to my knitting…On that note, miles to go before I sleep…

I have a confession: lace confounds me. I can Yo. I can do all sorts of things but when I tried just the sample beginner swatch in Victorian Lace Today (and other patterns) my stitch count varies from row to row. When it is not supposed to. This is really frustrating and a wee bit humbling. No idea where I am deviating from what I am supposed to be doing. Maybe I am overthinking this…I realize my confession is vague but I need help! I will ask Craig if he will take some pictures of what I am doing so we can figure this out together.

Off to knit now. Mwah!

I’m going in…


The Stats:

Move date: March 29

New House: Bought. Close on March 15. Yikes, next week!

School for boys: Check! Duncan will be home with me till Summer program starts and they are going to evaluate Angus for the Elementary program for Spring and if that doesn’t work out (which we know it will), he will do the Summer Program and both boys will be in full day in the Fall.

Pets: Check! The pet transport people pick them up on March 21.

Craig: Check! Really excited about his new job, starts March 30. Flies out to close house and set everything up for us next week. Then flies home- Pack & Load- and we all fly out on the 29.

Packing: Nope- they do it all. We are being treated like rock stars and I am soaking every last ounce of it up- once we get to Seattle it will end. Sigh.

Knitting: Yep. Crazy ass cardigan, which I have knit before (out of Magpie-moment of silence for our dear departed Magpie). This time out of STR Heavy Weight- Main Color- Lover’s Leap. Doing the 2 sleeves at once thing- here is a peek…

Cars: Shipped- again with the rock star treatment- for which I will not apologize.

Sock Camp: Cannot wait! I get to drive instead of fly.
Mommy’s Magic Laboratory: Disheveled, but getting better. I am doing all the organizing before hand so I can unpack it and it will be exactly what I want. Happy Happy. Still in love with all the Ziplock Big Bags. Now they even have HUGE and SMALL. Yarn organized by vendor, fabric folded and organized by color.

This is about half the fabric stash, some quilts that need binding and I will try to take a picture of the wool, but you may need medication before you see it. There is quite a lot. Right Emily?
Me: Pretty calm through all this. Freak out occasionally but all in all doing really well.
Angus’ Diabetes: It has been three months now and I can report he is doing AWESOME. He is the most even kid now (while still being a 6 year old little boy). All the things we thought were behavioral/bad parenting/ ADD kid- SOLVED! through the magic and science of insulin. His attention span has grown exponentially and the kid I always knew was in there is coming out. His sense of humo(u)r slays us.
You: Love you all and have missed you terribly.

Silent Poetry


This is one of my favorite poems, simply because every time I come to it I am once again sitting at my father’s knee and he is reading it aloud. He has read us the poem many, many times over the years and I am pretty sure he will again, given half a chance.

The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.

Why he left his home in the South to roam ’round the Pole, God only knows.

He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;

Though he’d often say in his homely way that “he’d sooner live in hell.”

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.

Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn’t see;

It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,

And the dogs were fed, and the stars o’erhead were dancing heel and toe,

He turned to me, and “Cap,” says he, “I’ll cash in this trip, I guess;

And if I do, I’m asking that you won’t refuse my last request.”

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no; then he says with a sort of moan:

“It’s the cursèd cold, and it’s got right hold, till I’m chilled clean through to the bone.

Yet ’tain’t being dead — it’s my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you’ll cremate my last remains.”

A pal’s last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;

And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.

He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;

And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn’t a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,

With a corpse half hid that I couldn’t get rid, because of a promise given;

It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: “You may tax your brawn and brains,

But you promised true, and it’s up to you, to cremate those last remains.”

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.

In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.

In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,

Howled out their woes to the homeless snows — Oh God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;

And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;

The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;

And I’d often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the “Alice May.”

And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;

Then “Here,” said I, with a sudden cry, “is my cre-ma-tor-eum.”

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;

Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;

The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see;

And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn’t like to hear him sizzle so;

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.

It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;

But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;

I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: “I’ll just take a peep inside.

I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked”; … then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and said: “Please close that door.

It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear, you’ll let in the cold and storm –

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

If you want more info about the silent poetry reading, go here.

All roads lead to the Doghouse


This is random and likely long- get a beverage and hunker down.

That spur of the moment blogging last night was really fun. I think entirely too much about blogging and do it entirely too little. I was kicking this thought around in my head last night (as I have been for a long while) and it hit me. About a year ago I saw an acquaintance of mine and she said: “Hey, I saw your knitting blog.” Simple enough and yet I felt totally stripped bare, invaded and grossed out. My reaction was visceral. She had (to my mind) gone too far. Never had I mentioned that I knited nor that I had a blog. She wasn’t a knitter and she was ON MY TURF. IN MY WORLD. I didn’t like it one bit and I felt exposed. Then I started to get self conscious and started to fret about what was blog fodder and what wasn’t. There are many blogs that I love and for different reasons. Some people do a great job of letting it all hang out and other folks do a great job of keeping it very civilized. I admire both sorts equally. What I admire most is people who have figured out what works for them, what is real, true and authentic. That is admirable and enviable. Qualities that I want my kids to have- be yourself and make your way in the world- just make sure you have good manners, dammit!

So when we moved to Virginia from Seattle about three years ago it was almost a lark- hey, let’s do this and see what happens. Let us see if this is our way…It seemed fun and brave and an adventure. The kids were young enough (Duncan was 14 months and Angus was 3 and a half) and I love to travel and meet new people and WOW! The Nation’s Capital! How can you go wrong around all that history? The day trips and one of the best school districts in the country? Bring it on! Plus, honestly I was a bit done with certain aspects of the particulars where we lived and relished the change. I was looking for a new way.

We came here so the Hubbalicious could take a job at a company that has three initials in its name and deals with computing type things. You know who you are Big Company and you know how you treated my husband. May you sit on a DPN and may it puncture you in awful, old boy network places. My husband is a persistent and dedicated man. Truly I have never met anyone with as much long term vision and determination to make something happen. How else would this Bennington College going, Grateful Dead following, used to live in a glass blowing studio gal come to be a suburban soccer mom and think it not such a bad idea too boot? There are other facets (like my love of luxury leather goods and fine yet interesting upbringing) to me but these illustrate my point beautifully. The husband is BEYOND A BULL DOG.

Never in our years together have I seen him hit the wall so hard and so fast with a job. Never. The people (I use the term very, very loosely) are like the Dementors from Harry Potter. They just suck the life and passion right out of you. We discovered after a month or two into the job that Hub was MISERABLE. Finally, it looked hopeful- like MAYBE it would work. Then someone did something and all Hades (Hi Cara!) broke loose. It was beyond appalling and hurtful. In my opinion, that person’s Mama just raised ‘em WRONG! Shame on him/them.

Stay with me folks…..there is a point- I promise.

We began to talk about other options. We talked about moving to London, we talked about moving to Canada, we talked about California (where I grew up- in Malibu no less- ha!), we talked about staying here. We talked and talked and talked and TALKED. Then Angus was diagnosed with diabetes. We talked of nothing but that for a LONG time. When we talked about moving again (as there is very little for us here- and really no reason to stay), we realized that while I would love to move to Helsinki (yes, it really was an option) that sorting out a brand new place with only one or two options for where Hub works, did not work for us and our family. Finding our way as a family is awesome and hard sometimes. I had resisted moving to the best place for us in terms of opportunity and quality of life and almost most important FAMILIARITY. The diabetes sucks and is awful and could be something SO very much worse. Really, right now I don’t want to pile a new geography and a new way of life on top of Angus’ diabetes and a new ROCKIN job for the hub.

That is right, my friends we are moving back to Seattle. Redmond to be exact. This will be the third time in my life that I have moved to King County, Washington. Possibly the universe is trying to tell me something? We are targeting the middle of March, but not the Ides. We are very excited and relieved. Furthermore- I am SO SO SO happy to let this cat out of the bag- it has been weighing on me for a LONG time. Oh and last night? That post? Craig was on the phone with the recruiter, being made an offer. He goes out next week to accept, look at schools and look at houses that I found on the internet.

This is all joyous news- we have been stewing here for almost THREE years. Wahoo!

Love- KT

ps: did I ever tell you we bought our current house without ever going inside it first? And we love it!

pps: knitting and pics very soon

ppps: this post is probably the closest to me that I have come in blog land. Feels good.

Right this very minute now


Right this very minute now Craig, the Hubbalicious, is on the phone. This conversation could result in a great deal of change. Good change, welcome change. Pins and needles change. I will keep you posted. This is B-I-G folks. Details and back story later. Love to you all.


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