Drilling, drilling, drilling ....

There are upsides to having your landlady live downstairs. When I couldn't find my keys anywhere (they were in a random drawer), she loaned me the key to the front door so I could walk to Giant Eagle with Michael. She's always been very attentive to things that need fixing or improving in the apartment, and now that she's just one floor down she is even more prompt about taking care of things.

I know this is a good thing, and so I'm trying not to be grumpy about the really loud hammering and sawing that's going on just outside, especially since Michael seems to be sleeping through it. But it seems like ever since our landlords have moved in, they've had some sort of worker over here every week or two. Jackhammers redo the concrete steps (twice, since the first time they were all crooked); plumbers turning off the water; electricians making more noise than one would expect electricians to need to make (although they fixed our bathroom switch, yay!); workers installing central AC in the downstairs apartment.

I wouldn't even mind, in general, except for Michael. When they were installing the AC and doing other work prior to the landlords moving in, he was pretty scared of all the noise. And it's not as if he's a great napper anyway.



Speaking of naps. Nighttime sleep is a lot better around here. Not perfect, but I'm okay with that. Michael now goes down around 8pm, sleeps until 1 or 2 before waking up to eat, then sleeps until 4ish, at which point I take him into bed with us, otherwise he'd be waking up every hour until it was time to get up. Often he'll wake up anywhere between 5-30 minutes after going down for the night and protest being in his crib, but he either goes to sleep right away if I go in and pat his back or, if that doesn't work, will cry/fuss for 10-15 minutes until going to sleep.

Ferber worked for us. The hardest night was #2, when he woke up every hour literally all. night. long. Uggggggh. But after that he settled into the pattern we have now, more or less. We had a setback when he caught a cold and had to start over, and he cried for 45 minutes the first night after that. But I no longer have to lay down with him for half an hour (or longer) and then sneeeeeak away only to have him wake up again ten minutes later.

Praise God.

Naps, on the other hand. Oh, naps. They are still like that. He will not stay asleep for more than half an hour. Will not. Naps reenergize him for about twenty minutes and then he gets super grumpy because he hasn't slept enough. By the end of the day neither of us is pleasant to be around.

This week I resolved to have him nap in his crib (rather than in our bed), even if it was only for 10 minutes at a time, just so he'd learn that crib=sleep=crib, even in the daytime. This resolution sort of fell apart yesterday, when he took one nap in his swing, one in the cars eat, and one in our bed. And we will be visiting parents for the next couple nights, so obviously naps and sleep in general are going to be different.

Maybe next week.

these halls are DECKED! :)

Keith and I are only at our apartment for another night before packing up (again) and heading north for Christmas, but I finally got around to taking pictures of our tree and decorations with his camera. (Well, technically, I made him take them.) They aren't the best pictures, but at least they exist!

I am glad to be going home for Christmas, but it also seems a little sad that our home will be all decked out and lonely during most of the actual Christmas season. Maybe these decorations will stick around for a bit longer than Epiphany. :)




Our Fontanini Nativity. There are shepherds on the right, where you can't see them; on the left are the musicians (the Little Drummer Boy, a bagpiper, and some other sort of piped instrument that may or may not actually exist). Baby Jesus isn't in the manger yet.




Our mantel, decked out with trimmed branches from the Christmas tree, and extra strand of lights, and two mini stockings. :) You can't really see in this picture, but the stocking on the left says "Casey's First Christmas," because that was a possible name for Keith before he was born, and a sort-of nickname because his initials are KC.

Our TV doesn't usually live in the fireplace, but we've rearranged things to accomodate the tree. When we had friends over for caroling, we played a video of a fireplace on the screen. ;)



The Christmas tree! We don't have a tree skirt yet, or a star for the top, but we have plenty of ornaments--some of mine, some of Keith's, and some that we've started collecting together. And ... it looks really, really crooked in this picture. I don't think it actually leans that much in person. (Maybe it does ...)

Speaking of pictures ... some long-distance friends (who are also pregnant) have been bugging me, so I want to take a "bump" picture sometime soon ... maybe in my (maternity) Christmas dress! :) Probably at my parents' place; but maybe here. :)

Gathering the Pieces ...

A week (two weeks?) ago, Keith bought a rosemary plant and some nasturtiums for the back porch. The idea is that the nasturtiums will climb the railing and be all pretty.

They haven't climbed much yet, but they've started blooming. As of today there are two orange flowers and one yellow. I keep meaning to take a picture of them; maybe tomorrow, if it isn't raining.

And the weekend before last we went to Ikea and bought some lights for over the sink, this lampshade (for a lamp that Keith will bring with him when he moves in), and we also ended up adopting another plant. (I collect yarn; Keith collects green and growing things. And we both collect books.)

I really love the lampshade. The last time my mom was here, I told her that it reminded me of a lampshade in my Great-grandma Ivy's house, and she had been thinking the same thing. It's funny, because I don't actually remember Great-grandma's lampshade, in the sense that I have a picture of it in my mind. But I look at this one, sitting on top of the bookshelf, and I have an image--part sight, part feeling--of sitting in her living room looking at it.

Anyway. Things are going well at the apartment; slowly but surely boxes are getting unpacked and belongings set up and furniture moved to its proper place (at least for the time being). The only bad thing is the fleas which I've finally pinned as the culprit for eating me alive for the past three weeks.

Yes, fleas. Ugh. I have NO idea where they came from; I'm glad, I guess, it wasn't bed bugs or mites or something harder to get rid of, because they don't bite ANYONE ELSE except me. But still, it's gross and itchy and a pain in the butt. On Thursday Keith is bringing over a vacuum and we'll sprinkle powder on the carpet and spray the couch etc and hopefully kill the HECK out of them. (In the meantime, my friend Stephanie tells me that they won't bite you if you take vitamin B. I would like this to be true, please.)

Long Goodbyes

I'm sort of cheating on the yarn along this week. For one thing, it isn't technically Wednesday anymore. For another, although as of this week I've finished knitting and seaming an avocado-green slipper, cast on for the fourth and final bridesmaid stole, and bound off the third one, I have been so busy that I've had no chance to photograph these things.

Nor have I had a chance to photograph my lovely Easter Annis while wearing it. I do, however, have pictures from blocking it last week. So that is what I'm posting. I love how the points look like stained-glass in this picture.


As for reading, I finished Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's Yarn Harlot and got a copy of Free Range Knitter on my Kindle. She has an essay about writing, knitting, and creativity vs creating in the latter that is brilliant, and addresses many thoughts that I myself have had. (It just occurred to me that calling someone brilliant for writing down things I have thought myself is perhaps a little narcissistic, but oh well.)

Things I did today rather than take knitting pictures: cleaning for Keith's mom's visit + the subletters who will move in on Sunday; packing; meeting with Fr. Josh for the honkin' huge marriage-communication-quiz-thingummy; and getting the keys for our new apartment (!).

Our landlady has painted the bathroom walls a beautiful blue, and I transfered a few boxes of books into the 2nd bedroom before we left today. That is the room I'll be sleeping in a few nights out of every week, until Keith and I get married. The master bedroom will wait for both of us.

In the meantime, my bookshelves are looking very empty. It's a little silly how difficult it was for me to pack Chesterton and L'Engle and Regina Doman into a box. It's not like I look at them on my shelf every day, but the fact that I can't just glance over and see them or pull them off and hold them is a little lonely. Lewis and Tolkien are still there. And my knitting books. (My yarn is all still here, too, although I contemplated taking it over to the new place today.)

I've lived in this apartment for almost two years, and it really is a home to me. I'm looking forward to living with my parents for a while, and to building a new home with Keith. But I shall be sad to say goodbye to this place.



I did not get done any grading today. It seems I can't ever get things done without falling behind first. Sigh.

Making it Real

Keith and I signed a lease on an apartment this week.

We're pretty happy. It's a two bedroom, like we wanted; it's in the neighborhood we wanted; the only less-than-ideal thing is that the lease starts May 1*, which means we could possibly be paying rent on three places in May.

I'm hoping to find someone to sublet my current apartment, though. I'll be moving back up with my parents sometime in late May; my stuff (half of which is actually Keith's stuff, really, which is ultimately a moot point anyways since it is soon no longer "mine" and "his" but "ours") will go into the new apartment and wait for us there.

It's crazy, really. You have all these images of being married, and even though the reality will be different, now there's a place for those images to inhabit. I have these moments where I picture the Fiestaware sugar bowl on the counter, our coats in the closet, our towels (courtesy of the bridal shower!) in the bathroom.

And there is something sacred about that space, and those things in it. The makings of our life together, of the home it shall become.



*Well, that and the carpet color. And the weeeeird mirror thing in the living room. But that's what life's adventures are made of!

Holy Shamoly ...

I got 59 hits over here today! Which is ... not a lot in the scheme of things, but you know, it's the most my little blog's ever gotten in one day. My readership is small but dependable, and then there's Twitter and the magic of tags. So--wootness. :)

As for this even littler blog, it is still going through a process of self-discovery. I have been reading too many design blogs lately, and so sometimes it asks to be that. That's when I remind it that I know nothing about design, am not remotely artistic or crafty--at least not in a successful way--and can't live up to its dreams.

...

That being said, I have measured Keith's couch for a slipcover. It currently lives in my apartment, and it is a very masculine shade of charcoal grey. Needless to say it will be getting in touch with its feminine side in the not-too-distant future.

I have also started my toilet paper wall art venture--so there will be a post on that soon.

I get so carried away with plans of redecorating that I forget I have a new roommate moving in less than two weeks from now, and she may, in fact, have something to say about how the apartment looks.