Goodbye tastes a lot like frosting.

I had a big post prepared on moving, and my feelings on moving, and the crap I’ve found while getting ready to move.  (Pay stubs from 2007? Oh yeah.)  But that post was probably boring, and way less important than this one.

For the past I-don’t-know-how-many years, knitting has been a huge part of my life.  Not just the craft itself, but largely the community that has been built around that craft.** I’ve been lucky enough to live in a city with a fabulous yarn store, which has a weekly knit night.  (Or stitch and bitch, or sit and knit, or whatever you want to call it.)  This community is made up largely of women (though occasionally we are joined by some super talented male knitters as well), and I get to be part of it every Thursday for three blissful hours.
These people have listened to me cry about boys, jobs, room-mates, boys and school, and I’ve heard them go on about the same.  We’ve celebrated births, birthdays, graduations and marriages together, and eaten some of the greatest baked goods of all time.  Even life’s less happy events have their place at knit night, and they are met with all of the necessary love and support.

Last night, the knitters overwhelmed me.  They planned an incredible surprise goodbye party, complete with cake, and presents, and a wonderful card signed by everyone.  I really can’t describe how thankful I am, and how wonderful and loved they made me feel.  I’m super grateful to be part of such a great group, and sad to be leaving.
I’ll be back for visits though, and I’ll make sure to bring cookies.

**My friend Angela did this really great speech about the knitting community.  It makes me a bit weepy.

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My Funny Run

Among other things, part of what I want to use this blog for is to document my running progress, and to give myself some place to be accountable for that progress (or any lack thereof).
Running has always been a bit of a sore spot with me.  While I’ve never been an overly athletic person in the ‘played-all-the-sports-in-high-school’ sort of way (I was a band geek, full out), I’ve always been in fairly good shape (more on that in a later post.)  But I have never liked running.  Or rather, I’ve never liked running when other people can see me.

I always thought it had something to do with my physique – until recently I was pretty stick shaped, and I’ve always been pretty tall.  I just assumed I was kind of gangly, and that physically translated into not knowing what to do with my limbs when I ran.  My legs kind of kick out to the side; I’m not sure how to describe it really.
It’s kind of like this I guess.

Anyways, kids made fun of me for it, as kids do, and that really got to me.  So much so that I stopped running.  And not just elementary school kids.  This went on all the way through high school, and even throughout the better part of my university days.  When I decided last year to pick up running again, I did so with the caveat that I would only do it in the dark.  This means running either late at night (which sometimes feels dangerous), or super early in the morning.  Because if no one can see me, no one can make fun of me.

But the other day in the park, I saw this girl running the same way I do.  Head up, eyes forward, legs swinging out all funny.  And with the exception of myself, no one was looking at her.  Seriously, no one.
I pointed this out at knit night, and was told that probably, no one gives a crap how I run either.  They see me running, and think….well they probably think nothing.  It was also pointed out that kids (and assclownish university students) will make fun of ANYONE for ANYTHING.  Which I know, obviously.  But more in an ‘of course everyone knows that’ kind of way, and less in an ‘I’ll apply that to my life’ kind of way.

So why am I writing about my funny run?
Angela at Oh She Glows posted a challenge for August: to tackle one thing each day that scares you.  For me, that means working my way up to running in the daylight.  Where other people can see me.  It’s something I have to get over, because I signed up for a 5K in October, and those are typically run in the daylight.

*On the phone the other night, my Nana asked me what an internet “blob” is.  I’ll probably call it a blob from here on out.

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Oh dear…

…I appear to have started a blog.  Just like nearly everyone else with an internet connection EVER, I’ve tried this before.  And then life and school get busy, and it languishes on the internet until I delete it some months later in frustration.
But not this time, internets.
The paper journal I carry around has been weighing me down, and it looks like total crap.  The pages are stuffed with odds and sods; notes and news clippings and god knows what else.  The spine is held together with duct tape, and the cover is all warped from that time my water bottle exploded in my backpack.  And I could buy a new one, but hell, I’ve got a whole shelf of those, so I thought I’d give this a try.  I can always delete it, and pretend this never even happened.

In some ways, the idea of a blog smacks of vanity to me.  It makes me think of a Tanya Davis poem:

“I think of the significance of my opinions here,
is it significant to be giving them, does anybody care?
Just because I’m into this does that mean I should live like it
and really, do I dare?”

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