Marie Grace Designs

Quick!

Before they make me put it in a box... look at the yarn!!

Pretty, pretty yarn.

Anyway... I’m working on packing up my workspace contents. I’m a bit mystified at all the stuff I managed to jam in here.

Darwin is a bit confused at all the hustle and bustle and isn’t sure what to do with himself. I’m sure he’ll be a bit nervous with the move but all in all he’s generally pretty laid back as long as he’s with us so I’m sure he’ll be fine. I am a little concerned with how he’ll react to the new neighbor’s horses though. Their fence is right on our property line and being that its an electric horse fence Darwin will fit right under it. I want him to be able to enjoy all the new space he’ll have to explore but we’ll need to contain the little bugger too.

Here’s the real problem... (queue the Godzilla music)

Now... I know this is a knitting blog and right about now you’re thinking just how cliche it is for one more knitting blogger to show pictures of a cat but really I’m going somewhere with this.

See, Toby isn’t your typical play-with-a-yarn-ball-kitty-kitty. He weighs 24 pounds, has all his claws, and apparently comes from a long line of bi-polar cats that haven’t been domesticated nearly long enough.

Most days Toby would rather play with your intestines than a ball of yarn.

When we brought him home 5 years ago he was tiny, malnourished, filthy, and pathetic. I think we fed him too well and we must have at one point given him the impression that he rules the house world.

I have had to literally peel him off the head of a child who was innocently sitting too close to Toby when he had one of his “episodes”.

The girls need to keep their bedroom door closed because Toby truly believes Tater’s bed is his and its his favorite place to nap. If he manages to get in it the kids have to get me or Mac Daddy to remove him.

I’m pretty sure I’m gonna need one of those doggy control sticks and some welding gloves to get him in the cat carrier to move him to the house.

He may have a bad attitude and be a little on the touchy side but I love that cat more than I can admit to while still keeping a little of my dignity. I love that he’s so sure of himself when he walks through a room and that he’s bigger than he should be (physically and mentally). I love that he just hauls off and smacks anyone and anything that gets in his way. I love that he has absolutely no concept of what it means to be self-conscience or awkward.

When he does feel like being kitten-ish its me he generally comes to. He’ll sit with me and he even does that “talk” thing if I converse with him. He’ll usually come find me if I call him and often follows me around the house when I’m cleaning or doing laundry.

So I put up with his mood swings (and he puts up with mine). But I’m pretty sure moving him is going to be an ordeal. Luckily my medical insurance is up to date.

Newton, on the other hand, shouldn’t be a problem...

Counting...

So here we are, the last week in our “old” house.

I suppose I should be concentrating on the final round of packing. I should be counting boxes and shuffling piles and trying to wrangle odd shaped items that just don’t really fit anywhere.

But instead I’m almost in some sort of grey space. Wondering more about how the kids will really feel once its all said and done. Wondering if it will be as sweet as we hope. Hoping this huge decision, because that’s what it is, will turn out to be the good decision we planned for it to be.

Okay... so maybe I’m over-analyzing here but really these things are the things the kids will talk about when they’re grown. The things Mac Daddy and I will look back on with that 20/20 hindsight years from now.

Years ago when we moved here (where we currently live) we thought we were making the “right” decision. I wanted more than anything to get away from all the familiar places and people I was so used to. Things had changed so drastically that I knew we would never be the same so what was the point of being where we were and doing what we did.

Moving away didn’t change what had happened but it did put some distance between the old and the new and made it a little easier to look at. It took us far enough away that I didn’t have to feel like everybody at the grocery store was looking at me and the kids wondering how we were getting along without him since he had died and we were alone.

Moving here put us in unfamiliar territory so we had other things to occupy our otherwise circling brain space. It gave me a chance to take a breath and I’m sure it gave Mac Daddy a feeling of not being behind everything else for once since he had taken on this new instant family that came with so much baggage.

I guess we’ve had enough time now to separate the actual hurt from the longing for home. One person may be gone forever but there’s so much we left that we can’t wait to get back to... parents that stop by unannounced before you even manage to get in the shower on a Saturday morning... nieces and nephews who live just minutes away. Places that bring back memories of wilder times when I was too young to have any idea what the future would bring (and was too dumb to care).

So begins a new adventure and yes I know that sounds really like a tacky greeting card but really if you can’t look at the things you do as some sort of adventure what are you doing? Just sort of shuffling through?

Besides... that picture up there is our new back yard... quite literally. Our house is half a mile from the water’s edge up on one of those ridges in the background. Who can argue with that?

On knitting...

There’s a new design firmly pinned to my blocking board as we speak. It may be simple but its lovely and was soothing to knit these past few days.

When I'm not packing or cleaning...

Psst... TGB is gearing up to release a newsletter in mid November. Are you on the email list? If not you can take a minute to stop by and sign up.

Outside the box...

The great part about having family and friends who are glad you’re moving home is that you get lots of help. Dad will be bringing the Big Truck. My sister has been collecting empty boxes at work. Several people have offered to babysit Tater and there will be plenty of hands to help with the work.

The scary part about everyone helping is that they get to see all your stuff!

I mean... they know about the things you own (mostly) and things you collect and love. They know you have tattered old things and over-priced new things and even some useless things.

They know the kids are spoiled and you buy too many books even if you do read all most of them.

They’ve guessed at what’s in the closet and under the bed.

Maybe Mom wishes she’d get the chance to toss those old boots you won’t quit wearing in a trash bag when you aren’t looking.

Sure... they see your house and all the stuff in it but its a totally different perspective when its all labeled and categorized by its new destination and sitting in stacks all around what used to be the dining room. Its different when they have to help carry it all up onto the truck.

You know they’re reading all the boxes...

Barbies, bears, and pipe cleaners... girls’ room.

Legos, RC cars, and black light... boys’ room.

Beautiful water pitcher that’s entirely too heavy when its empty never mind when its full... kitchen.

Tools, spools of wire, various electronics.... garage.

Yarn, yarn, and more yarn... well... I’m wondering just how much of the yarn I should admit to.

I mean... here’s my chance to squelch the rumors that I’d rather buy yarn than shoes for myself. I could write anything at all on that box... and that one... and that one. They’ll all make it to the new house no matter what I write on them, right?

Should I be ashamed? Should I be proud? Should I be mortified at the fact that we could have had a bigger down payment if it weren’t for the fiber? Not to mention the fact that we’re moving into a smaller house!

And as if the yarn weren’t enough... there’s also yards upon yards of everything from batiste and calico to flannel and fleece!

Its gonna be like a fiber intervention if I don’t get a little creative about this labeling boxes stuff.

Maybe I could come up with a code... or just hide some of it in the bottom of the boxes under other stuff like extra sheet sets and cookbooks.

Maybe I should smuggle it in my own truck and hide it in the new basement and just not label the boxes at all.

But ya know denial has always worked well. I'm pretty sure that's how it got this bad.

"I do not have that much yarn. At least not in this color."

"Of course I'll use it... for something......... someday."

Oh well. I guess we all need to face the music sometime. We reap what we knit sew sow and all that.