And here we are in June, still mainlining Noah Kahan (with an odd smattering of Kate Bush, particularly Jig of Life which was apparently written from the imaginary viewpoint of an Irish woman hallucinating while drowning?), and still feeling my age. School finally gets out this week for the girls, and then they begin an insane summer of daycamps which will leave me driving up and down 295 multiple times a day. The lilacs have gone by, but the wisteria is making up for it. My peonies did not bloom at all this year, which is an odd mystery. It’s the first time in years; I can only assume the buds got hit by a late cold snap as the plant looks otherwise healthy.

Ruminations: the small town grapevine being what it is, I learned that someone I grew up with is moving to the south. This automatically threw me back to the years I lived in Memphis. Now that I’m a parent, I cannot believe my parents let me go (mind you, I was 27 years old and I wouldn’t have listened anyway), and I also still cannot believe the utter insane drama that happened with my then-boyfriend over those years. There’s a Taylor Swift line about knowing everything at 18 and nothing at 22 — and in retrospect, I knew everything at 19 and nothing at 27. At the very least, my 19-year old self knew herself much better than anyone gave her credit for, including me.

ANYWAY. I have complicated feelings about the south (and this particular person, but that’s a whole other story). The end.

This is supposed to be about finding joy, which I admit has been sparse these days. We finally had court for our foster son a few weeks ago, and without getting into the weeds he will be remaining with us for the forseeable future. This comes with its own challenges, mind you, but I can’t even tell you how physical the relief was for me. I didn’t know what I was carrying until I put it down, you know? (Maybe that’s why I’m listening to a song about drowning.) But I also didn’t realize how I’d been neglecting myself. It sounds trite, there’s so much blah blah blah about self-care and all that, but I have been SO deep in the weeds with all three kids over the past few years that I don’t even know who I am anymore. I did remember that I like to read, and so I’ve been devouring books over the past few weeks. The Spy Coast was great (and I just started the sequel yesterday), as was The Things We Never Say. I also read The Collected Regrets of Clover which was good, although starting it the night before my BFF’s dad’s funeral and then finishing it while one of my kids was at grief counseling was probably not a great idea given the subject matter (the main character is a death doula). And now I catch myself fretting over things like who is going to write my obituary (because so many of them are SO badly written) and worrying that someone will choose music that I hate. The temptation to sit down and script the whole thing is so control freak of me…

I also started knitting a sweater for the little guy. I worked on it at the courthouse while waiting to testify, and the security guards joked with me that I could knit a blanket because it was taking so long. This is at least the 5th sweater I have started for him, maybe I will finish this one. The pattern is a pull-over, it’s the Mithril sweater by Lisa Chemery (you can find it on Ravelry if you wish). I’m using an dark green aran wool that I find pleasant to knit with; I find that knitting with thin yarn and small needles makes the tendonitis in my right arm act up. I’ve been reading more than knitting, but I have a few months before we break out the woollies again.

The big leap for me is whether or not I can get set up to sew again. My oldest daughter took over my sewing corner so she could set up a kennel for all of her stuffed dogs, and at this point I don’t even know where anything is. It will take some time to find my way back to this, but I really want to. One of my coworkers does beautiful embroidery, and I’ve been inspired to try that again – at least it is portable, unlike my sewing machine. I used some of my birthday money on a new LL Bean Boat and Tote to be my “analog” bag – ie, a stash of things to do that do not require technology such as my book, my knitting, my journals, some card games – and I can easily add some hand-sewing projects in there. I have a smattering of days off this summer and I am hopeful that me and my bag will have some adventures along the coast. Or honestly, at this point I’ll be happy to just sit on my porch and watch the wisteria grow.