Growing up in a large school system, you become just a number in a class of 30+ students. Your teachers know your name, but not who you are. You spend an entire day just waiting to be noticed, but there's no time. You aren't the squeaky wheel. You are a folder in the records room… Continue reading Not invisible
My yarn stash is something that brings me great comfort. I enjoy pulling a skein, or hank, out of the bin and imagining what it may become. It's an activity that I can stretch to fill an entire afternoon, occasionally a full day.
Vienna is an astounding city. I exaggerate not. It boasts historical buildings, flourishing public gardens, cafes and bars on every corner, a diverse population, and a dog loving culture. We couldn't have moved to a better place. But one thing I didn't realize before moving here is that the street art is spectacular.
I can’t remember a time when I looked forward to snow. Sure, I gleefully accepted the chance to stay home when my high school cancelled classes due to snow or freezing temperatures. I’ll even crochet 50 scarves with the hope of wearing one, yet still be displeased when it’s cold enough to wear one. Again, not Winter’s biggest fan.
If you've known me for more than 30 minutes, you'd know I am a total yarnoholic. I walk into a yarn or craft store and the euphoria sets in. I'm a giddy 5 year old gazing at a chocolate fountain. When I open the door, all I see are stacks of worsted weight and shelves of alpaca.