Granted, it’s only been three practices and a Sunday afternoon working on skills independently at Berkeley (pictured), but my return to the pool feels like a return to myself. I’m not recommitting to joining the synchro team forever and ever, but I know it’s good for me. Or better than what I’ve been doing.

There’s something about that first dive in#&151;the deafening rush of water and air as you break the surface followed by the dulled silence underneath. Supported, life doesn’t feel so heavy. My mind isn’t thinking about the upcoming workout or the preceding workday’s stress. It’s a transition between then into the now. (Sometimes made even more “now” if the water’s super chilly!)

I’m not in the same shape I used to be in. I’m not able to do the same moves. I’m learning the beginners’ routines and just trying to have fun.

I looks like the flickr posting to WordPress is working for me once again… if this is true, what’s to stop me from doing a better job of capturing a thought each day, if only a photo?

Nothing that’s what.

I’ve been inspired by The Happiness Project’s one-sentence journal. Heck, twitter has been functioning as this by default. Dusting off this ol’ domain will help me curate some mo’ memories (less problems).

Give us this day our daily bread. Or daily digital recording.

One life, kids. We only get one.

…and I just got up!

All this cross-country back and forth, up and down, and today’s driving round and round is exhausting. Work has me in Toronto to do store checks for two days. As someone who takes no pleasure in shopping or riding in cars (as driver or passenger), this is not how I’d choose to spend my time. The fact that the 60 locations are in suburbs (including Niagara Falls) makes it all the more tedious. Bright side? East Coast + Canada = trip down memory lane, albeit my first time in Toronto.

On an even brighter note, my old mini iPod fell out of my jacket in the hotel bar and I didn’t notice until hours later after we had eaten down the street. I ran down to the lobby and the front desk said to check with the bartenders. Sure enough – the waitress found it and held it aside for me.

Lesson learned: always be nice and chatty because you never know when you’ll want another person to remember you. Thanks, Sandy.

Now? Back to prone. G’night!

I saw on Twitter nau was looking for photos of people sporting their clothing, so I made my sister take this picture during our afternoon in Seattle.

As a knitter and designer, it’s very rare that I buy a commercially-knit garment. I’m very particular about both aesthetics and fibers. I had no qualms about adding the Bunny Goat Hoodie to my closet: simple clean ribbing adds well-placed structure to a luxuriously decadent person cozy. It’s a favorite wear for its warmth, looks and packability. cashmere and angora? C’mon!

Thanks, nau, for having (and keeping) my back warm!

This was just packed this morning in Port Ludlow, WA. It’s now sitting downstairs in the kitchen as I lay me down to sleep with my little doggie. I’ve got to unpack & repack it tomorrow morning to get my butt across the country and into the one just north.

Toronto, here I come! Rumor has it I’ll be hanging at Lettuce Knits tomorrow night. Another rumor has it that me and my office girlfriend / colleague will be traveling to Niagara Falls as part of this work trip! It’ll be just like Superman 2. I only hope that I’ll be a healthier version of myself.

I got to wear Brian’s Sunday Socks, from his 14-socks-at-once-on-one-giant-circular-needle quest (now finished):

I think, when push comes to shove, that this is probably my favorite sock. I love all of them, but because of the sentiment attached to this sock, it holds a special place in my heart. The yarn is Zitron’s Trekking Maxima and is actually the most conservative of all the color ways used in this project. The stitch pattern, however, is what makes this sock so special. I decided to make this sock in memory of my father, who was a minister. The pattern is based on one of his favorite scripture verses. “I am the Vine, you are the Branches”. I don’t think I’ve ever made so many bobbles!

what better place to wear ’em but at sock camp? Go check out his photos and stories of all 7 pairs.

Alas, my iPhone ate a post about pausing and being still in the middle of a crazed life. Hence, this pale imitation of a rewrite. As the Sock Campers were scavengering around, Debbi shared a bottle of Chardonnay with me. It was just us and our knitting looking over the beautiful Ludlow Bay.

How often do we stop our daily grind to enjoy what’s around us and be still – even amongst chaos? It wouldn’t hurt, but nor would delicious bottles of wine!

Looking down from the precipice of my 37th birthday, I can see how fractured my life has become, between work, deadline knitting, Twitter, Flickr, email and even plain ol’ laundry. I don’t do enough of any one of those, except maybe the laundry.

Sock camp always leaves me inspired. Tonight’s talent show didn’t disappoint. This annual tradition with my mother is slightly different this year, as I’m a camp councellor. I am so fortunate to have so much love in my life.

That all said, I’m dozing off and will expound on that in a future post.

Ever since high school, I’ve been a fan of fountain pens. I like their quality of line, expressive nature and the importance they impart into the words they write. Taking notes in real ink made me pay more attention to their content and celebrate the human hand that keyboards will never replace (especially the touch screen one on this phone I’m using now).

Before I knit, pen shops were a destination I’d seek out when traveling. Fountain pens are what I’d look for at flea markets, too. It’s only natural that a paper fetish followed from there. (I’d love to show you my pad and stationery collection one day.) Oddly enough, I never got into inks. I was content to use the bottles from Farhney’s (my dad’s favorite mail-order pen pusher) or one of the other two bottles I had (pure black Parker Quink and some electric royal blue from Krone).

Life goes on and I amass a little pen stash of pens (only ten or so). I use them for work, but sadly never fully develop the journaling or letter-writing habit I wish I had. I’ve had one flea market find boxed up for repair for years, but never gotten around to it. Heck, there are a few pens that have bever even been used!

So as part of my creating order in 2010, I dusted off my pens (like this blog) and decided to clean them out and put some of the newest ones into rotation. It makes me so happy to ride the glide of a nib across some smooth, heavy paper. like a good pen owner, the ones that haven’t been in use were already cleaned and perfectly content chilling in the cabinet.

Lo and behold, in the same cabinet, I found two bottles of French ink I received in the mail last spring. Back in February, I agreed to review some J. Herbin fountain pen inks. I thought I’d receive one bottle, but two arrived, along with a mini Rhodia notepad. (They import thissuper-duper paper as well as inks and planners.) I had played with the Orange Indien when I first received it. How could I pass up an orange? It’s is confident and strong. Unfortunately, the Parker 51 I’m using with it is very generous (down-“write” slutty!) and leaves a fat wet line. But the ink remains as a very handsome and unique stroke.

The Lierre Sauvage is vibrant and perky green. Bright and alive, yet maintaining the dignity of a deeper forest green. I’m going to enjoy playing with this. I filled a Récife pen purchased during our 2007 trip to Paris that has languished parched and empty for these past two or so years. It’s about time this beauty sprouted words and thoughts onto paper, and the new leaf colored ink is well-suited for shoots and tendrils awaiting to unfurl from my hand.

With freshly cleaned pens from work stored away, a filled blue-black and a bright blue trusted sidekicks in my bag, and these new orange and green friends, I’ve got quite a bit of writing to do. I hand write my designs in their idea origins and as I knit them. I’m counting on these new inks to help realize the many new designs 2010 holds.

So this is the New Year… I never could have predicted that 2009 would contain all of the surprises and plot twists that it did. My life is better for it, for sure.I grateful and working hard at beig present to enjoy it all, the good and the bad.

Starting back in January, a recall at work, the first time for the company, only to be followed by a smaller recall later on. It rivaled the intensity of training for Ironman and ultramarathons (only I barely worked out other than circus class through June – note to self: sign up again – it’s been too long, do something! . March: I spoke at SXSW interactive about crafting and community in Austin, TX. Work was highly productive with sites and an iPhone app launched, and the groundwork for a strong 2010 laid. Then, my boss announced he was leaving in August. I followed suit in October, and now work a short 12-minute bike ride to downtown San Francisco at a sweet-smelling dream job.

On the knitting front, YKNIT is on hiatus which was first going to be me flying solo but never quite took off the ground. The jury’s still out whether I can devote the time to publish the three episodes I have recorded. Of course there was Sock Camp where I met a new BFF. I returned to Albany for the MSKR with my evil twin Sean. A few months later Sock Summit happened, full of so many memories and people and inspiration to cherish forever. Fall saw the MFKR where I taught and met more incredible guys, and drove with Cat and her chatty GPS. My second Rhinebeck included my mom, who patiently put up with Sean and my shenanigans. November: I’ll never forget the hours of microwaving dyed yarn from Knot Hysteria’s Dye to Knit weekend. Over the year, there were a couple of designs completed and more to come (I’ll share as soon as it’s kosher). I ended the year casting on at 11:14 am for the full moon on this very special blue moon New Year’s Eve and knitting on Herbivore in BMFA Silkie as the clock struck midnight.

2009 was a year full of love (Paris honeymoon), work and wool. Other than snuggles with Janie Sparkles, I couldnt ask for much more. I am grateful it turned out to be a stellar, if not watershed, year for me. I am so excited about what the future may hold, so bring it. Although I may not have acheived all of last yeat’s resolutions (darn you, unicycle!), but what’s tomorrow for if not trying again?

My predictions or goals for the new year? More of the same: growth, challenges, finished objects, creativity, great food, and time spent with friends.

(And you, unicycle? I’m coming for you!)