My dear Martha and Mila arrived yesterday from Boston. They're here this time for an entire week. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! So happy!
P.S.: Thank you for all of the sweet anniversary comments :) :) :) xoxoxoxoxo
My dear Martha and Mila arrived yesterday from Boston. They're here this time for an entire week. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! So happy!
P.S.: Thank you for all of the sweet anniversary comments :) :) :) xoxoxoxoxo
In the heart of summer lies our wedding anniversary. I remember the year of our engagement vividly. We lived in Montana. We drove down through the majestic Bitterroot Valley to a wedding-dress store in Hamilton. I was ridiculously excited, imagining. I couldn't wait. When we got there we laughed. There were garters and polyester satin and unity candles, but no paper flowers, handmade invitations, or eyelet-tied boutonieres. (I had been imagining those.) I made my dress myself, all through that year, trying it on alone in our tiny apartment while Andy was at work. I hated my job then but I had a lot of work friends who indulged me like crazy. I was the youngest in the group by far and everyone took care of me. I went to Nancy's friend's house so that she and her sewing friend could help me do the final alterations on the dress. The enormous windows looked out over a huge golden field backed by a snow-capped mountain range. I stood on a chair in the great room in the big white dress, surrounded by taxidermy, and the ladies circling, smiling at me.
Every year has been filled with more love than I've ever deserved. This one has been the best, far beyond words.
Amelia's Chicago cousins and grandma were here this weekend and we had a wonderful time! Oh, to be smothered in love like this girl is! After taking everyone to the airport Tuesday, she fell asleep before we were out of the airport parking garage, and conked out for the night at 5:30 p.m. Yesterday was much the same. Oh, my love. Happy girl and happy days.
I started a pink Lilla Koftan. It's funny how there can be so many variations of the same basic sweater and they all look (and fit) a little different. This one's worsted, very chunky. I'm using 7s. I can't find my size 8 needle tips. Second set I've lost. What project could they possibly be sitting on? Agh. Dumb things. I think this pink Lilla will have red buttons, and maybe a red outline, like this one. Pretty cute. The leaves are already drying up and falling off the trees. Autumn thoughts. Plums and seed pods. Knitting for size twelve months. As everyone says, the days go slow. But how fast the year is going! Oh, incredibly fast. Just incredibly fast. She was nine months old this past weekend.
It's in full swing now, this lovely summer. The weather has been glorious, the nights long. The sun shines and the breeze blows. The flowers bloom and fade, and the plums are already starting to fall. The baby is learning to chew, and every day brings new foods to try. My lady loves the water, and taking her to the pool (we went three times last week) is like a dream. She is mellow and trusting and fearless, though quiet at first; she presses herself deeper into my arms as we walk onto the deck, and sits heavily, with her cheek pressed to mine, as I hold her up to see: This is the pool. It's zero-depth, so it's like a beach — you can sit in only a few inches of water if you want. I rub water on her arm, trickle it down her belly. Rub, rub, trickle, trickle: You know this water. And yeah, she does; within minutes she's sitting on my submerged lap, and in a few minutes more she's waving her foot, splashing. Soon, it's all hers: Hands slapping, feet slapping. Her toy boat squirts, her whale-shaped cup drains. Shoulders, arms, belly, legs, back, hair, everything's wet now, and it's good. The sun is white bright and the water shines. Big kids splash and chase and scream with delight, erupting past us. Her face drips; she ducks her head and blinks the water away but then looks right back up, eyelashes dark and glistening. She doesn't cry. She says, "Da da da da da da da da DA." She presses her forehead to mine, still talking, holding her boat. It's the best day of my life. The fountains shoot long arcs of giant droplets or gurgle up small towers of white froth, but all are met with the same quiet observation, and then, eventually, the determined reaching-toward: Give me. Is there anything better than watching someone reach for a column of water with her dimpled baby hands for the first time? Clutch the bars of her crib and try to stand? Open her tiny mouth for even more ricotta cheese? Stretch to touch a bobbing allium blossom, just beyond her fingers? Keep reaching, my dearest darling dear sweet lovey lovey love. Reach, and reach, and reach. I will help you.
Wow. It's July. And supposedly will be 97 degrees today. [SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAM.] Ugh. The heat takes every — any — the single — ounce of energy I have and vaporizes it. Poof. There it goes. That one ounce. Up in a puffball of steam.
Previous to reaching this shameful state, I was managing quite nicely. It was cold and lovely. I finished this sweater. I started this one. I made this (which is a great recipe but if you make it, do NOT add 4 teaspoons of salt to the marinade and 3 teaspoons to the sauce — those have got to be typos; add 1/2 to 1 teaspoon kosher at the most). I made that quinoa salad. I worked, I watered. My lady love and I had breakfast here. We walked in the woods and looked at people's gardens. We saw a goat in someone's back yard. Everything was so green and cool and lush and fresh. Then, the temperature rose: Oh no, oh no. I turned on the AC. It kept going up. I waved my arms hysterically, from inside the house, at people walking down the sidewalk: OMG! What are you doing? Be careful! It's too hot to go out!!! I saw a woman running on the track. That was when I was in the air-conditioned car for a minute. I was just agog.
I am nuts.
Pooooooooooool. I need the pool. Going today. Can't wait. Baby's first swimming pool!
My name is Alicia Paulson
and I love to make things. I live with my husband and daughter in Portland, Oregon, and design sewing, embroidery, knitting, and crochet patterns. See more about me at aliciapaulson.com