An Eggstraordinary Dozen

Twelve years.

A whole dozen of them. Into the second decade.

It's a long time to have someone in your life. Especially as friend, companion, and lover.

A dozen years means a lot of changing and growing when you get together at such a young age.

It means expanding your world views, discovering who you are as a person.

Not everyone's relationship can survive such reinventions of the individuals involved.

But we have.

We have not only survived, but have thrived.

We have been through the fire and the flood. We have overcome obstacles and challenges that we've never even dreamed of.

We are completely different people than when we started this relationship. Vastly different. Our entire relationship itself has changed.

We're a little older, a little wiser. Way more secure in our individuality.

And somehow, someway, we're still head-over-heels for each other.

We still love waking up next to each other and falling in bed together every night. We can still talk for hours, laughing and carrying on. We're still each others greatest support, cheerleader, and constant companion.

We spent this past Saturday celebrating our anniversary at the Cleveland Art Museum. And in front of the Van Gogh's they have on display, John reaffirmed what I already knew: that he was committed to us and what we've built together. Even through all of our life changes, he was still in love with me.

We're finally at the point in our lives that we feel happy and content with the people we've become. And we want to reaffirm and recommit ourselves to each other, to our new selves.

So, next February, we've decided to throw one hell of a party. Something we're calling a recommitment ceremony.

Not a wedding. Not a vow renewal. Something new and different. Something to celebrate who we are, what our lives have become.

Which means I have one hell of a year of planning and crafting in front of me.

So, happy anniversary, my love. Hope you're ready to bust out the glue sticks and glitter. Because we're in for one hell of a ride.

Life's a Truck... And I've Been Run Over

Well, it has been a little bit, hasn't it?

I haven't gone this long without a post in a very long time.

Life kind of bowled us all over and not in any sort of good way.

I suppose I'll start with the latest finished project, then go on a bit about what else we've been up to on this unintentional hiatus.

In exactly 3 weeks, I was able to knit an entire blanket, much to the astonishment (and maybe annoyance?) of some of my knitterly friends.

The pattern is Alistair's Rose Pi Shawl, with some special Ashtan tweaks.

It's done in worsted weight yarn instead of lace. (6.5 skeins of Malabrigo Rios in Liquidambar) 

I stuck an extra repeat of one of the earlier charts on instead of an edging and had only went up to (I think) row 26 on the final chart.  I didn't want it to be too open and lacy.

I also stuck tassels on the points because I'm extra like that.

It came out to a diameter of roughly 6 feet, which I suppose is a decent enough size. I kept envisioning a 9 foot monster, but that's because I always have unreal expectations of my knitting.

I managed to finish it in time for the next pj party, which was my entire goal. I had planned on taking pics that weekend, but we ended up being super swamped.

Saturday, we had gone to John's late grandmother's house to take what what we wanted of her possessions. I ended up with a gorgeous antique vanity and dresser.

The dresser will probably become more yarn storage, because, let's be honest, I kind of need it.

The vanity I was more excited about.

I had a beat up, chipped paint, uneven legged monstrosity serving as my makeup storage. The dogs regularly knocked the supports we had under the legs out and I was just waiting to hear a giant crash in the middle of the night as hundreds of dollars worth of makeup broke apart on the floor.

Now, everything has its place and the dogs can't really knock it over.

The stool had to be recovered because it was... "scary" might be the kindest term.

Did you really expect anything less from me?

I've only had one chance to actually sit at my vanity and use it. We had yet another funeral/memorial service to attend. We've gone to so many in the last 6 months that I have a go-to makeup look for them now. That's something I never thought I'd have to say.

Anyway, we came home from that and I had started coughing a little bit.

The next day, I had been knocked flat on my ass with some sort of cold that made me feel like getting hit by an actual truck may have been preferable. AND my ulcer decided to act up. AND my body decided that I needed a bloody cherry on top of the already shit pie.

Needless to say, I haven't been doing much of anything since then. Yesterday was the first day that I actually felt well enough to get out of bed. And I managed to shower without feeling like I was going to pass out. And I made dinner. Praise me!

I also managed to finish John's last anniversary present, which was a little unexpected.

I missed the opening of the Ravellenic Games, so I thought I'd just use his triangle scarf as an easy-ish way of still doing a project for the Games without pushing myself. Expect I managed to do it in two days and I'm already stash diving for something else to do.

Yikes, I look a sight.

Better pics when I can convince him to actually model it for me.

For now, though, I think I'm going to start working on a giant scrap blanket.

Because I don't understand the words "break" or "relax."