It’s a good think I’m on vacation for the next week, because I’m starting to google things like Huey Lewis and the News so I can compare my hobbies to drugs. I made homemade cinnamon rolls for lunch. And I can’t put down the hairpin lace thingy. Look at my first swatch!

Say it all together now on three: MENTAL HEALTH BREAK.

I could vacuum the floor. Or just vacuum the dog who sheds all over the floor.

Now we’re thinking on all cylinders.

Stitch markers I’m posting soon to the etsy store.

And some pretty things that need to go as well, but I just want to admire them a little while longer.

Truth be told, I never made this room in to the creative retreat I envisioned. Instead, it became a nice little guest bedroom for my nephew last summer. He has since moved on, and the room is still a nice little guest bedroom.

It clicked in my head a few weeks ago what I needed to do to finally carve out my creative retreat. I purged closets, shuffled furniture around, hung some curtains, and wouldn’t you know it, I’m already making stuff in my… what shall we call it… office?

No, not office. Craft room? The word “craft” makes me itchy with flashes of corn husk dolls and hot glue guns. “Studio” feels too artsy fartsy. I’m grasping for a legitimate name, you know, to justify the time and money I spend doing these things that make me happy. I like “work room”. It’s what Tim Gunn would call it. Plus, I like the ring of his voice in my head. Let’s try this on for a while and see if it sticks.

I can always use my fallback: play room, which let’s be honest, it’s all I do in there.

Aunt Connie’s fault. She told me about this thing called hairpin lace.

When I saw this rosewood lace loom and realized I had a 40% off coupon, I threw myself right down this rabbit hole with reckless abandon.

My advice: if you’ve been looking for a new way to induce a migraine, teach yourself using the instructions on the back of the box. If that’s not your cup of tea, make friends with YouTube.

A random page from McCall’s Needlework & Crafts, Fall-Winter 1968-69 that totally read my mind.

I want to open a yarn shop.

My shop will be friendly, and airy. It will smell charmingly nice and have a big fat resident cat. I picture it full of people that go there to feel good and be creatively nourished. I will feel good and be creatively nourished.

My shop will have cozy furniture, samples of every knitted thing, and plenty of space for people to stretch out with their sticks and string. Hot coffee and cookies on real china. In an old house with creaky floors and wavy windows and yarn sky high. I will host events and free classes. It will have a knitted screen door and a swear jar. A fucking huge one.

My shop will have something for everyone. I will encourage customers to swap their stash yarn for a little cash for new yarny treats. There will be loaner books and community needles and hooks like a library. I will stock all the delicious yarns I admire. I will have an online store as well. I’ll distribute and sell hand-spun yarn and any other handmade relevant thing I think of. I will commission my own line of needles from exotic woods.

My shop will give me the environment to write patterns and invent projects and daydream. I will blog about all of it. I’ll publish a book. For now, I’m visualizing. You know, all that universey business, so it can really happen one day.

A short story on why you need never doubt your crazy friend, Diane. But first, I finished this lovely thing last night (which my mom sticky fingered away from me). Go grab the free pattern, it’s pretty easy (just looks complicated), I promise.

So once upon a time, a wild hair struck before the long holiday weekend. I decided I would knit socks and watch movie marathons. My best weekends are the ones where I shower only to put on clean pajamas again.

A few weeks ago, I ordered this book. It has lots of big photos and really clear instructions, essential for a beginning sock knitter. I suppose this was a little premeditated now that I think of it. Then last Wednesday I headed to my local yarn shop just before they closed for inspiration and some pretty yarn to hold me over until after the holiday rush. Because that’s what thinkaheaders do. They stock up on necessities like toilet paper, wine, and yarn. They also double-check their Netflix queue before leaving work, because the work computer is faster.

A very nice woman helped me pick out yarn and needles. Then a knitting instructor nosed in, “What are you making?”

“I’m going to try knitting socks. Toe up. Magic loop. Maybe two at a time. Not sure.”

She rolls her eyes and disapprovingly says to the rest of the store, “HA. She thinks she’s doing toe up magic loop two at a time, I don’t even do that!”

Well, crankypants, I do. And it’s going swimmingly. Flips finger*.

*In my head I did. I didn’t actually. But I REALLY WANTED TO. I still might.

Anyway, enough about all this. Go shop and tell your friends!

Look at who just figured out how to let dough rise without using plastic wrap and cooking spray! The latter, I refuse to purchase because it creeps me out. And I hate wrestling with plastic wrap.

One less disposable item in my kitchen feels good. Ah, the simple things.