nostalgia

An old college friend came all the way uptown to the Columbia neighborhood after work one evening last week to meet me for dinner. It turns out she hadn't been up here since graduating more than a decade ago, and we talked a little about the weirdness of coming back. It didn't really strike me until later how odd it is to live in a city so big, so sprawling, that one can be nostalgic for it, or fragments of it, without ever leaving.

crocheted chuppah

It took the better part of the living room, but turned out beautifully. Old-fashioned and delicate and elegant (not that I'm biased or anything). Crocheted from silk, merino wool, and alpaca laceweight yarns, with clear silver-foil lined beads and pearly white beads along the edges.

crocheted chuppah, now available in my Etsy shop

notes on a cold january morning

When it is 20 degrees outside not as many people wait for the bus and then the trip goes unusually fast and then one arrives at work even earlier than usual. Which is not a bad thing, necessarily (those quiet minutes before the library opens and the lights come on and the world comes crashing in are some of the best library moments of all), but makes for a long day when one still has to stay until 5 o'clock.

Also, on days when it is 20 degrees outside it is not ideal to dash out the door sans gloves or scarf. Luckily I at least remembered my hat, for which my ears are very, very grateful. The hat that Ken recently thought was a slice of pizza perched jauntily on the corner of my desk when caught in passing out of the corner of his eye. Yes, pizza. And yet I continue to wear said hat.

Last week I finally worked up the nerve to tell my coffee stand man* that I want only one sugar in my coffee. He's been teasing me in increments ever since. "What, half a sugar?" or "And today? Five sixths?"  This morning it was a cheerful, "Alright, alright, seven eighths of one sugar! I got it!" I am wondering when this will grow old for one or the other or both of us, but for this morning at least it continued to send me smiling across campus to work, gloveless fingers curled tightly around hot paper cup, breath exhaling in icy laughing gusts.

*This would actually be my OLD coffee stand man, who sold the cart to my new(ish) coffee stand man awhile back, but who is covering while my new(ish) coffee stand man is visiting his family somewhere far, far away. My new(ish) coffee stand man would never forget how much sugar I take in my coffee.

going home, 1.15.12

winter holiday knits

sage-green leaves shawl
white lace shawl

a-town walk, new year's day

going home, 1.3.12