So this weekend, replanned!

Thursday:

Take in Sean's shirts

Take in shirt for Friday

Start cutting fabric for Meg's quilt

Saturday:

Clean floors in kitchen

Unpack car

Start laundry

Sunday:

Organize basement, sort stuff

Finish quilt backing

Start cutting Meg's quilt

Go to Garment District

... PRAN.

More Goals

Very excited for the quilt I want to start, after finishing alll these other projects. Sean's, the mix of men's shirts (or perhaps it'll be flannel instead of dress blue) will be stunning for his birthday. I very much hope he enjoys it. And for me? A scrap / strip quilt. I think it'll be fantabulous.

Also -

Write a book.

Inspiration struck last night at 4 am. A book about a young, almost 30-year-old book editor who takes over the sale of her grandfather's house after he passes away. They've always been enormously close, and they bond over their shared love of literature, as not only was her grandfather a bestselling novelist, but he was also dearest friends with everyone from the Beat poets to J.D. Salinger. After his death, her mother goes into a deep depression, and the young book editor decides to handle the sale of the house, her grandfather's stunning sprawling Long Island dream-house. During all this, she meets a handsome young fellow on the commuter train who challenges her ideas of romance. Alas, a tragic accident befalls him, and he almost dies in the middle of their blossoming love, which in turn teaches her about death and acceptance. She sells the house and decides to write a book, inspired by her grandfather's legacy.

Sit With It

I love this expression.

All of its iterations: tease it out, live in it, breathe through it, allow it in, ponder it.

Sit with it. The idea for me, when it chimes in the back of my brain, is incredibly soothing. I feel my breath slow down.

There are many moments throughout the day when emotions rise up, suddenly, and they strike far more fiercely than they should. Read: sitting at my desk right now, thinking suddenly: "I'm lonely!"
And then: "Why does nobody love me?!"


Immediately, I thought, "Well Kate, why don't you sit with that."



So I am.

I'm lonely because I'm not getting tons of emails from the people who usually email me. But of course, both of them warned me it would be busy post Veterans-Day. And they're not not emailing me because they don't like me. They just have a lot going on.


And if I don't join anybody for lunch, I can do what I toyed with the idea with of doing already, which is parking my ass down at Starbucks and reading The Book Thief for an hour in one of their comfy chairs while sipping a yummy hot cider.

ALONE. Alone is A-OK. Alone is nibbling on caramel rice cakes. Alone is yummy sweats in my room, braiding my hair, taking off my makeup. Alone is turning on the heat, or just bundling up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Alone is sewing away in a patch of sunlight, or taking a nap, or reading a book in bed, a shitty book. Alone is singing along to the radio and not thinking I have to sound good. Alone is good music, smiling at strangers, and the profound sense of well-being and of place, when I am just one of the milling masses, but I am deliciously strangely intrisically me.