Sunday, February 18, 2007

winter girls

I've spent five minutes debating the vanity of posting a photo of myself, but I think I've got my argument straight: Sadie is in it. There is a general lack of photos with the two of us together so I am indulging. Also, my last post was entirely for Jay and I don't want to neglect the fabulous little girl in my life who was so fun to be with this weekend, even if we had to pile on loads of winter clothing for a trip outdoors. Oh, and the TVO Kids hat isn't so much a staple of mine (it's downright blasphemous, being a knitter and all) as it is swag Jay got the other day and Sadie's choice for me.

It would seem that there's not much "making" going on, but I have been busy with my sweater for the class I'm taking at Knitomatic. Ragdoll and I have been making headway and I can't believe how much I've got done (proving that taking a class is the only way I'll ever finish a big knitting project). On other creative fronts I plan to donate a piece to this event/great cause, and I'm working on a submission to the wee space at this shop in Vancouver. But with my full-time work at the fullest tilt I can imagine and Jay working furiously towards a show in Chicago I'm just trying to keep my mind functioning and our little family fed and smiling.

At least there's lots of inspiration out there: Loop, Egg Press, Lucy Jane Batchelor and Thornback & Peel.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

love letter

We've had ten years of Valentine's Days.

I wanted you to be mine a long, long time ago. I wanted to protect your ears and be the only one to enjoy those breathtaking eyes. I wanted to hold your hand because it was beautiful and had the ability to create anything and everything.

In return you've given me my own soundtrack. You meet my every grumpy morning with a joke, and you know how to leave me alone. You challenge me, and I love you for it. Even at the worst of times, we can laugh so hard we cry. There is simply no end to your humour and to your talent.

Thank goodness for kitchen stools and locked doors.

(And I promise never to gush in public again.)