Fabric in, books... tumbling

My Betz White books about making new stuff with old materials (from castoff shirts and sweaters and jeans and so on) arrived this week and they are enthralling. I think there was only one pattern I felt I absolutely must make, preferably 6-8 times, but I got ideas for several more as I studied the pages.

When I was ready to set them aside, though...

I discovered there is no place left to set them. My already-right bookshelf space is stretched to the max, and I still have at least two more essential reference (oh, all right, KNITTING) books to acquire and jam in there.

I've decided to not think about this problem for a few days: I'm going to go shopping for castoff shirts and sweaters instead. Hey, you never know! Maybe I can dream up a way to build a bookshelf out of them.

bump bump bump

I can't seem to settle down to anything these days.

If I look over the sweep of a week, yeah, I'm still pulling off more than most, but by individual hours or days, not so much. And it's driving me craaaaaaazy.

Especially when there is so much that needs to be done now - like, making fingerless gloves so I can knit when stuck outside, thereby buying myself more indoor time for other things.

Is it a coincidence that this chaotic internal state is happening just when I've managed to mostly kick the chocolate habit?

h'mmmmmm.

Crunching onward

It's been that kind of week, in spite of finding out I can in fact share some recent excitingness, and Wednesday's just started. Urg.

Last night I cheered myself up with some corner store chocolate, in this case, a Crunchie bar. And you know what? Every time I have one, I can still taste those giant squares of sponge toffee you could buy from the candy counter at the Grimsby Arena when I was in grade school. I'd come off the ice with my red nose and my freezing toes and my skates slung over my shoulder, facing another ten minutes before Mum or Dad came to pick me up. I probably forked over 15 cents for one of those things, if that.

I always forget this between indulgences, but sponge toffee really, really sticks in your teeth. I wonder if eating so much of it has anything to do with all the cavities I got back then?

Not so very crafty

Oh dear.

I finally gave in yesterday and ordered some craft books about making things with old fabrics. And you know what that means:

more shopping
(in second hand stores for old fabrics, since I gave away all my own old fabrics to second hand stores) and
more time spent doing anything but writing.

Interestingly, I've been thinking a lot lately about the story I left behind, aka the novel I worked on at the Humber School for Writers. I got to a tricky part and thought I'd set it aside until I had worked out a solution for it. That was about 14 months ago. I still don't have one, but I'm kinda caring about the two main characters again, so maybe they're working on it for me.

And in the meantime, I can deliberately shrink a lot of old wool sweaters and make Christmas ornaments out of them. Yay!

Ratta tat tap

Whenever I'm really stuck on what to do next, I deflect to YouTube to watch tap dancers at work. How can you not be inspired by this?

I don't think I ever saw an Eleanor Powell movie before I came across that clip on Soulemama (during another elaborate procrastinatory effort) and definitely hadn't seen her dance, which seems like a loss. So I did more hunting for her and found this one, which is one of the best tap dances I've ever seen.

When she's paired with Fred Astaire, though... it's hard to keep your eyes on her. Is it because of his trousers that his movements seem so much more fluid, or does it come down to all those insanely long hours of practicing he did?

Criminy - hard work does pay off, doesn't it. Maybe I'd better go do some.

Mum's the word

This is one of the many things I love about fall:

being able to buy a colourful planter filled with lots of cabbage that I suddenly like the look of after years of not so much

and having it look magnificent once home

and knowing that there will be enough rain falling not to have to water it

and enough leaves gone from the tree above to allow the rain through

and being able to take a picture of it to enjoy

while nice and dry, from inside the house

with a cup of hot chocolate.

All caught up

Finally!

I've been, at best, three weeks behind on my New Yorkers for almost a year, after many more years than that of being, at best, ahead by five days (at worst, six and a half). But no more! I'm caught up, and halfway through the current issue, which arrived yesterday.

Ahhhhh, normalcy.

I am guessing by this fact, and also by the rather large novel on my nighttable (Cloudspitter, by Russell Banks, recommended by Binnie) that I am reading again.

However, I noticed this morning a growing obsession with reading this book, and that does not bode well for a return to literary, as opposed to crafty, life.

Oh well - at least I'll always have chocolate...