Sometimes Mondays

The Reality Of It

. . . is that sometimes I have trouble starting my own engines on a Monday!

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Although I'm back home now, I've been up north for a while. Long enough . . . that I have a lot of catching up to do now that I'm back. (I'm not complaining. Just explaining.) 

I'm looking for a jump start for myself today, so . . . no interesting links for you. But I can still share my quote for the week:

"How did it get to be so late so soon? It's night before it's afternoon. December is here before it's June. My goodness, how the time has flown. How did it get so late so soon?"
        --- Dr. Seuss 

Happy Monday, everyone.
I hope your week is off to a great start!

(Anyone have some jumper cables?)


Don't forget to join Bonny, Carole, and I tomorrow for our Read With Us Discussion of this quarter's book selection . . . Wild Game.


Sometimes Monday

. . . is also Earth Day!


(And sometimes it even lines up with a beautiful spring weather forecast.)  

Make it a point to get outside today - no matter the weather. 

Take a walk.
Work in your garden.
Just sit and enjoy the fresh air.

Or . . . do all three!
(That's my plan.)

Celebrate Earth Day.  Get outside!

"In nature nothing exists alone."
            --- Rachel Carson

Sometimes Mondays

. . . look pretty mundane; all too ordinary.

Same old stuff on the calendar.
Same old items on the to-do list.
(Especially when you procrastinated doing them last week.)  
(Just sayin.)
Same old same old.


But maybe . . . not really so mundane; not necessarily ordinary.

My challenge?  To seek the patches of blue in the puddles of my day!

(Happy Monday.)



Sometimes Mondays

. . . are quiet.


As in . . . really, really quiet.

Like living-in-an-upturned-barrel-placed-over-your-head kind of quiet.  

You see, I flew out to Colorado last Thursday with a little touch of a cold.  While there, the high altitude and super-dry air did a number on my sinuses.  And then I flew home.  Let's just say . . . the pressure in my head (and particularly in my ears) has not quite normalized.  

In other words, I can't hear a freakin' thing!!!

Today is quiet.  
Very, very quiet.

(And Tom wins the True Love 4-Ever'n'Ever award.  Because he watched the Oscars with me last night with the volume set on MAX and didn't even complain.)  (Now that's love!)

How's your Monday?


Sometimes Mondays

. . . mean it's time for another Stash Giveaway!


These two skeins of yarn have held space in my stash for a very long time.  They are probably the most lovely yarns in my stash -- they are a true treat for the eyes, AND they feel like a dream!

But, alas.  They do not spark joy for me.
Perhaps they will for you?


Each skein is Silk Lace hand dyed by Sundara of Sundara Yarn.  1000 yards of 100% silk.  The colors?  They shimmer!  The reddish skein is in the Copper Over Bamboo colorway, and the grayish/bluish skein is in the Granite Falls colorway.

Truly, these are gorgeous yarns.  They deserve to be knit up in a beautiful lace pattern.  Or even to just be displayed.  Or touched.  

Interested?  In one?  Or both?  Just let me know this week in the comments.  On Friday, if there is interest, I'll draw a name (or names) out of a hat -- and the yarn will be yours!

Happy Monday.



Sometimes Mondays

. . . just feel tedious.


Even though February is a short month, winter does drag on, y'know?  And I have reached the End of My Rope with it.  More snow.  More drizzle.  More freezing rain.  Then more snow.  Another Winter Weather Advisory.  

I've pretty much had it at this point.

I'm cranky and out of sorts.  All I want to do is get outside and wear flip-flops and cut fresh herbs and cook on the grill and take the dogs for walks without worrying about ice on the roads and whether the sidewalks are shoveled enough.

Pardon my whining.  But I really am officially over winter now.

It happens every year.  And I know I'll get through it.  
But today?  It feels like a slog.

How about you?  How's your Monday looking?

Sometimes Mondays

. . . look like a giveaway!

“No matter how wonderful things used to be, we cannot live in the past. The joy and excitement we feel here and now are more important.”  
                                                                 --- Marie Kondo

I am going through my yarn stash, which is probably not as extensive as many people's yarn stashes, but certainly includes more yarn than I can ever knit up, even if I live a good, long time.  I have some really lovely yarn . . . that I will likely never use.  Nice yarns, pretty yarns . . . that just never seem to be quite what I'm looking for when I want to knit something.

It's time for me to let them go -- out into the knitting world where they may "spark joy" for someone else.

Each month (or maybe more often, we'll have to see), I'm going to offer something from my stash here on a Sometimes Monday. If it "sparks joy" for you (or for someone you know), just let me know in the comments section at some point during the week.  On the following Friday, I'll package it off and ship it to you.  (If more than one commenter wants the yarn, I'll have Tom draw names from a hat.)

Let's begin!


First up, I am offering a Reykjavik mitten kit from Carol Sunday.  (That's a Ravelry link there, if you're not a Ravelry user, you can see the kit here, on Carol's website.)  The kit I have is in the charcoal colorway.

This is a beautiful mitten knit with lovely yarn.  I've had it in my stash for . . . a good, long time.  And every January I take it out and consider it.  And then I put it back and say, "Not this year."  (Clearly, this project is not going to happen in any year.)  

It's just not sparking joy for me.  But I'm hoping it may spark joy for one of you!  Because this yarn is too lovely to just sit there in my stash.  

So.  If this kit (or even just the yarn) sparks joy for you, just let me know sometime this week in the comments.  I'll be happy to send it off to you.

Have a great week.  And stay warm!



Sometimes Mondays

. . . call out for poetry.


Starlings in Winter
 --- Mary Oliver

Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly

They are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,

dipping and rising;
they float like one strippled star
that opens,
becomes for a moment fragmented,

then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can’t imagine

how they do it
with articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,

this wheel of many parts, than can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.
Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,

even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard.  I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.