Like a madwoman

So, I was driving home from work the other day. I do occasionally stop working and leave the studio.

Maybe I've mentioned this before? Hard to remember.

I live near a lake.

Yes? Have I ever said that?

And as I was driving home, this was my view.

It's not a bad life.

I wanted to take a proper picture, but the sun was setting quickly, and a storm was moving in.

So I did the only sensible thing. 

Drove like a bat out of hell until I could pull my car over, hoping not to miss the light.

Because, I kid you not. All of these pictures were taken from the same vantage point. Straight ahead and to my left, the epitome of why people live here.

Lake Superior in August.

You can see the curve of the earth here.  You can see four quadrillion gallons of fresh water.

And to my right, a thunderstorm that had spent hundreds of miles gathering warm, humid air from the plains, charging towards its final clash with the bubble of chilled atmosphere surrounding Lake Superior.

I wasn't fast enough to catch the lightning. Also, I like to try and avoid death whenever possible.

And to think in just a few short months, we'll go from this

and this:

To this

and this:

If there's one thing Lake Superior is not, it's boring.

That, and warm.

project queue

This post could be about my knitting queue, which grows more extensive the longer I sit here. By the time you're done reading this, I'll have two more sweater projects hanging over my head.

It could be about my recipe queue, which is expanding my waistline as we speak.   

Hello, stretchy yoga pants? It's me. The girl from yesterday?

I need you.

It could be about the many, many projects this beast has forced me to undertake, mostly in the form of paint touchups, shoe repair, and accessory replacement.

Horsedog? Why? Why so cute? Why so bad?

Why so kissable and snuggly? Why so destructive and enormous?

She's at the kennel right now. I miss her doggy smell and her snoring.

Instead, I'll give you an update on my dining room. It's nearly finished. Just waiting for a few things that I can't do myself, like moving the location of a radiator. I can tell you that there are no longer 650,000 paint swatches on the walls, and that approximations of these colors are present in great quantity.

Wish I could point you to a color number. Sadly, being who I am, I had to tweak and mix and fix and perfect until I got the shade I wanted.

It's a sickness. Have pity.

Here are some other projects I've got queued up.

I have never owned a headboard. I think I'm old enough now, I've earned my stripes in life.  How cool are these, made out of vintage doors?

I just need to either locate a door that will fit the width of my king size bed, or figure out a way to combine more than one door.

Secondly, I cannot tell you how much I want one of these. Preferably with mosquito netting on the front and a fire pit just outside.

I need a platform to put it on. And I either need to locate an old canvas tent -- perhaps from a military surplus source -- or find a place to buy canvas yardage.

I could even bring it inside when the weather gets too cold here, which will be in in about eight weeks. I have an unfinished basement, but the ceilings are tall, and this could be a way to cozy it up, with a rug, a space heater, an old sofa, and mountains of books. What kid wouldn't want to get lost in a reading tent?

Heck, what GROWN UP wouldn't want to get lost in a reading tent?

I have two dressers that are both potential candidates for repurposing as a bathroom vanity.

My plumbing skills are...sketchy, at best. I'm thinking I can keep the existing water lines, disconnect the faucet, install the new vanity, and then...call someone to help me, because my plumbing skills are sketchy. At best.

I have a library table that looks a lot like this, except it's currently in a 1980s honey oak color. Perhaps it needs to be turquoise.

And my back entry way is in dire -- DIRE -- need of reorganization. I have an old bookcase that I could remove the doors from, paint it up, and assign the young 'uns some kind of storage bin, like this. Especially with "MOM, I CAN'T FIND MY OTHER __________(mitten, boot liner, skate sock, coat sleeve, half of my brain)!" season fast approaching.  (Please tell me you have "MOM, I CAN'T FIND MY OTHER __________" season at your house too.)

Of course, I have about 500 other projects in the queue. But these are at the top of the "Actually attainable before retirement" list.

For sources on my project ideas, you can click on each picture. And if you'd like an invite to Pinterest, send me an email at threeirishgirls AT gmail DOT com (or use the contact button in the upper right), and I'll send you one. You can follow me, if you like. I'm Yarnista.

What projects are you working on?

Activate jealousy mode

You might hate me a little bit by the time this post is over.

Not only do I get to make cool stuff professionally, but this is the view less two blocks from the place where I get to make cool stuff professionally.

Also? It is 78 degrees Fahrenheit. (Because the weather is so beautiful, I'll even do the conversion for you Celsiophiles: 26.)

There is a refreshing breeze, which stirs up the lake bottom, creating the subtle color striations in the water. A refreshing breeze also means low humidity.

Sadly, I can't use the phrase, "Not a cloud in sight," because, well, there is a little cloud there.

For those of you trapped in a cube somewhere, I'm sorry that we have seven miles of lakefront walking and biking trails, which also run from the place I get to make cool stuff professionally to the quirky old house where I get to make nifty stuff just for fun.

I'm sorry that we have a cool brewery, too. And that it's right on the lake.

Just to add insult to injury, the view facing away from Lake Superior is verdant. Beckoning.

So, go ahead and make fun of us for being hypothermic and for having to travel by dogsled nine months out of the year, that's your prerogative. But as of today, August 19? I'll take diamonds on the water, breezy warm air, trees in full leaf, a chocolate malt, and a chocolate lab.

Before I return from my lunchbreak and go back to making cool stuff professionally.

while eating alone in a cracker barrel

I am such a huge, huge winner.

I am now at a stage in my life -- namely, the, I don't care if you think I'm a weirdo stage -- that I can tell you this.

On Sunday, I ate alone (ALONE!) in a Cracker Barrel restaurant in Oklahoma while reading Elle Decor magazine. 

I believe that is the single definition of winner.

I don't often eat alone in restaurants. It's lonely. And I don't often eat in Cracker Barrels. They serve meatloaf.

One of the reasons I don't like eating alone is that people like to talk to me. They like to stare at me.  They like to talk to other people about me when I'm in earshot.

I would rather just eat.

But I'm used to it now. I have coping mechanisms like Elle Decor and laptops.

When i finished my magazine filled with overpriced home furnishings, I turned on my computer to edit some of the photos I'd taken while visiting Oklahoma.

The couple at the table next to me began to talk about me as though I couldn't hear them.

"Must be such a lonely life to have to eat dinner alone with only a computer to keep you company."

"People are just so much happier when they have a person to talk to instead of a machine."

"I think I'm going to have the blackberry cobbler."

When the waitress came to take my order, she saw this on my screen.

"Oooh, look at that!" she remarked. "Is that in Rome?"

"No, it's here in downtown Tulsa," I told her.

"Wow. Are you a photographer?" she asked.

"Not really. I just like to take pictures," I said.

Which then prompted the person sitting behind me -- a woman who looked to be in her 60s -- to join in the conversation.

"What are you taking pictures of here in Tulsa?"

I explained what I was in town for, and she said, "So you are a photographer, then."

"Well, not in so many words," I answered. "Photography is just one small part of my job. I don't do it professionally."

"Honey, you just need to call a spade a spade."

Oh, Oklahoma, I do love you, despite your ridiculously too hot weather. Your people are charming.  People here call you ma'am and run to open doors.

(And the couple talking about me as though I couldn't hear? They later drove away in a truck with out of state license plates. So there.)

I asked several people from Oklahoma what they would like the rest of the world to know about them.

World, the good people of Oklahoma would like you to know that yes, they have actual buildings and cities.

That no, they don't all live on cattle ranches or in tee pees.

Not everyone wears a cowboy hat. And they have actual motor vehicles, not just horses.

They have a couple of amazing yarn stores.

(Did you know Amy Butler now makes knitting bags? Want.)

These yarn stores, Loops, are owned by an adorable family. And I do mean adorable.

And fun. And funny.

We can talk for hours about things like being attacked by bats while out for an evening swim, or which roads you would take if you wanted to take a little jaunt to Morro Bay, California, or the birthplace of Nicolas Cage.

Everyone in Tulsa was very pleased that the temperature had dipped to a mere 95 F. 95 is a vast improvement over 115.

It was cool enough -- and by cool, I mean staggeringly hot -- to take a portion of our Yarnography class outside to get a little practice time in.

We learned about taking still life portraits of your yarn stash and projects.

We learned about camera settings and how to adjust them.

We learned how to sweet talk your yarn into posing nicely for the camera, and how to edit the apples and bananas on your kitchen counter out of your finished photo. I could have jabbered all day about yarn photography.

But then, Diana had to do THIS to me.

A two week old little boy with a blonde mohawk.

So unfair.

The babies! They smell too good! They are too kissable!

What's a girl to do?

While I was pulling up these photos, I heard the couple sitting next to me -- the ones talking about me in a normal tone of voice from three feet away -- say incredulously, "She came all the way down to Oklahoma to take pictures of babies!"

All right, fine. I'm willing to call a spade a spade. Just this once.

see? told you.

Babies like me.

I met a lot of really beautiful babies at Sock Summit. I did not actually take any of them home with me, much to the relief of their mothers. But I did give it some serious thought.

I got to hold this sweetie more than once. She's extremely squishable and kissable.

And these bright green, handknit socks...

...belong to this charmer.  His hair sproings from his head. He has dimples.

Oh dear.

Look at that little face. She has the most adorable button nose. The sweetest strawberry blonde hair.

And while her older brother informed me that he is, in fact, a big boy and most definitely NOT a baby, he still has really excellent taste in yarn.

As most babies -- and big boys -- do.

I'm headed to Oklahoma this weekend, and would love to see you (and your babies, if you have them). There's a trunk show. There are two fun workshops.  I understand there is just a teeny amount of sunshine.

I'm going to see what I can do about bringing y'all some cooler temperatures. And some yarn.

Check out my pics from my last trip to Oklahoma here, and here.

See you soon!