Dishes, Dogs, and Red Thread

Today, my house was a mess.  

Clean laundry on the kitchen table.  A sewing machine set up in the front room.  Fabric scraps and an ironing board in the hallway.  Pine needles strewn across the carpet.  Muddy paw prints running from the back door to the front. Dishes stacked next to the sink. Dirty laundry covering the bathroom floor.

Today was the Christmas program for the younger two. We needed to leave by 6pm.  The Eldest needed to be picked up from swimming at 4:40.  The younger ones got off the bus at 3:05.  We had little over an hour before we needed to leave to get the Eldest.

They came in, dumped their stuff on the floor. Had snack.  I looked at the clock.  I looked at the piles of life stacked everywhere.  I sighed.  I made a choice.

“You guys wanna take a walk with me and the dogs after snack?”

Their eyes lit up, they were totally excited.

It was almost freezing outside.  Literally.  I think it was 34.  I leashed up the dogs and we headed out.  We carefully walked along the main road to the next street up, which is a quiet residential loop.  I worked with my littlest and the dogs.  She did great, and now feels comfortable walking both dogs – not at the same time though.

The boy chatted the whole time.  Running ahead with a dog, running back.  Switching dogs and running some more.

The walk made us late to get to pick up the eldest, but we were all happy.  I was freezing, wet feet and muddy jeans, but happy.

Once home with all the kids, I cooked some taquitos for a quick meal before heading down to the school.  The eldest showered all the chlorine out while I put on dry clothes. Everyone was happy, coloring and eating. 

My house is still a pit.  Actually, it's worse, because of the added dishes from dinner and I had managed to switch the loads, so more laundry piled on the table.

But you know what?

Not important.

They are important, spending time with them. Not racing back and forth trying to find the floor or cajoling them to help clean up. The smiles and laughter are important. 

Their program was great.  They did great.  Getting home, getting them settled in bed, I realized what I want.

A low key holiday. A happy, homey holiday.

I want them to remember the day, spending time with Mommy and Daddy.  I don’t want them to remember frazzled Mommy.

This year, it’s going to be simple.  Low key.  Fun. Spending time focused on the now.  Enjoying the time as is comes, not striving and stressing to make it "perfect."

One of my friends posted a link on Fb to a blog post entitled “Please don’t stress on account of me” 

The author is traveling to family and doesn’t want them to stress about creating the perfect holiday.

I’m not traveling this year, I’m hosting Christmas Eve dinner.  

I’m making a choice.  I don’t care if my coat rack is full of backpacks and coats. I’m not going to stress about the piles of papers that need filed.  Or the full clothes hampers.  Or the cobwebs in the corners. 

They're not coming to spend time with my coat rack or papers.  They're coming to spend time with me and mine.

I’m not going to pretend that everything is going swimmingly and easy. It’s not. I’m also not going to complain about how hard life is right now.

Not important.

I know what I want my holiday to look like.  I know what I want the kids to remember.

Yes, it includes vacuumed floors, clean bathrooms and tasty food.  It also includes laughing with my kids, working on a puzzle, playing Mario Kart and drinking grownup hot cocoa.

It doesn’t include complicated recipes, cleaning the tops of the cabinets or 8 different desserts.

It includes clean dogs romping with the kids and cats hiding from the twins.  It includes singing along to White Christmas while wrapping presents.

I might even put away the living room sewing machine.

Maybe.

It is a green one, so I might just thread it with red thread and call it good. 

Letter to a Friend

I heard that a friend was struggling.  A good person, someone I've worked with off and on for a couple years.

I hand wrote this in purple ink on a card with disney stickers.  They should receive in in the next day or two.




I heard that you’re having a hard time; that you’re seriously struggling.  I’m so sorry.  I wish I could make it better.

I wish I had a magic wand that I could wave and take away your hurt and stress.

You are loved. I care about you. I want to help.

October 2013 marked the end (I hope) of the hardest year in my entire life.  I went through more tragedies than any one should have to experience in their life and I got them all in twelve months.  The highlights? (low points?) included the death of my father in law, the suicide of a family friend and the collapse of my marriage (a 16 year relationship)

Lessons I learned:

• The shower is the best place to cry
• Eventually you will run out of tears. But they replenish quickly.
• The sleep of the emotionally drained is healing.
• Humankind is amazing.  Kindred spirits appear.
• An unexpected shoulder to lean on is a precious thing.
• The clear night sky will put it all in perspective.
• Let it go.  You can’t do everything, all the time.
• The sun will rise and tomorrow will be today, regardless of your wishes.
• Find a joy.  Everyday. Smile.
• Say thank you for every kindness.  (You’ll say thank you more than you realize)
• Don’t lose sight of the truly important.

Know that people care.  Know that unexpected people care.  Accept the caring.

Love,

Kristin

Saving My Pennies

Back in August, I was talking with a friend.  She was telling me how she saves money for special things.  At the end of every day she opens her wallet and takes out any $5 bills and stashes them.  It adds up and she’s able to treat herself to special things.

I went home and thought about it.  While $5 is too much for me to stash, I often have $1 bills in my wallet at the end of the day.  I decided I would try her method and see if I could keep out of the stashed cash.

I did.  It worked.  Over the course of four months I stashed $1 every time there was one in my wallet and I remembered to look at the end of the day. I didn’t count it, just stuck it away.  

Last week I counted.

And I had to think.

Hard.

I had originally started putting the cash aside for a tattoo I wanted.  It has been such a crazy year, I had designed a bit of art to commemorate the events.

I was now torn.

Since I had started saving, things had changed.  Christmas wasn't looking so hot, things were tight.

Then good things started to happen.

I got a card in the mail from one of my favorite people.  With a check, to help with Christmas.  Inside she had written “I remember”  It touched me.  I know she had been where I was.

A dear family friend decided to purchase Santa gifts for the kids.  She had extra this season, and has loved our family for 8 years.

Being on the receiving end of help is hard.  Very hard.

I was still torn.

Then I got offered a job stage managing a holiday concert.  2 days of work.  It fit perfectly into my holiday schedule. And the fee will pay for Christmas.

My parents offered to help too, but since I got the Christmas concert, I won’t need it.

And because I don’t need it, I felt okay about using my saved cash for its original purpose. 

So, Sunday I went and got my art done.  It’s different from my other tattoos and I was nervous it wouldn't work, but I adore the art.

It turned out great.  totally wonderful.

I got one on my back and a small one on my wrist.  Doing them at the same time made so much for sense, the small one only took about 10 minutes, and I didn’t need to pay for the setup and equipment, since she was already using it on my back.

Wanna see?

The text around the rose is a quote from Alice - "it sounds uncommon nonsense"

I am happy.

Blankets, Fries and a Rainbow

Wow.  It’s been a totally crazy two weeks.

Lots and lots happening, busy with rehearsals for Camelot.

Lots of thinking time. commuting.

Not a whole lot of processing time, which explains the lack of posts.

Something coalesced last night/this morning and I think I can articulate how I’m doing.

Rewind back to 1998.

Believe it or not I spoke at my high school graduation.

In front of a billion people on stage I spoke into a microphone.  

(I know, totally hard to believe isn't it?)

I really don’t remember what I said, but I know I quoted one of my favorite songs as being very relevant to that time in my life.

The song is still one of my favorites. 

It’s by Green Day - "Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)”

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,
I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth it was worth all the while

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,
I hope you had the time of your life.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,
I hope you had the time of your life.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,
I hope you had the time of your life.

Totally relevant to a graduating high school. Right?

Okay, back to today.

This morning I woke up to my kids’ radios playing that song. As I lay there, cuddled in my cozy nest of pillows, blankets, and quilts, I listened.

And it clicked.

I was there again. Just past the fork in the road.

“Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time”

I survived the test.   I accepted the turning.

I just couldn’t see where it would lead. 

“It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right, I hope you had the time of your life.”

I did. It was. Even knowing that we’d end up where we are today, I’d do it over again.

I enjoyed it all.  The good and the not so good.

For the last six months I've been going on the blind faith that if I just keep going I would get to a point where I could see further than a few months ahead.

I got there.

Late Friday night -  after rehearsal - I sat in my cold, dark car, exhausted and emotionally drained.

Long week.  Short sleep.

Then.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I looked up and there was a friend. Asking me to get a birthday drink with her. (Friday was my 34th birthday)

I agreed, swallowed the creeping darkness, and put a smile on.

An hour and half later I was back in my cold, dark car.

In a much better place.

I’d gotten a fancy-smancy drink, shared a plate of boring fries (I adore simple food), tasted a super peaty scotch (didn't adore it) and had a crème brulee (oh, yumm.)

The night wasn’t so dark.  The car wasn’t so cold.

I can do this.

I can see a future.  It’s still pretty darn foggy, but it’s there

and I have support to help me find my way in the fog.

I can entertain the idea that there might be someone who will fit perfectly into my life.

More importantly, I can entertain the idea of getting to know someone to see if they’ll fit into the very-specific keyhole in my heart.

My hope is that both Josh and I will find our Someones. 

They’ll both add to our family, because we are still a family.

It’s going to be difficult to find Someones who understand and enjoy being part of our family

Someones who are ready to accept the whole package. 

I will be ready to open my heart when he finds his someone.

He will be ready when I find mine.

I’m not saying I’m going to be out searching for my Someone.

Nope.

Not at all.

That’s totally not me.

I’m just open to the possibility that my Someone is out there somewhere

and if the timing is just right, we may find each other.

It’s the faintest rainbow on a rainy day.

But it’s there.

And I can see it.

Getting Lost

Have you ever gotten lost in someone’s eyes?

There you are having a completely normal conversation with someone you've talked with a hundred times, you make eye contact and completely lose all track of what you were saying?

like this:

There you are having a nice normal conversation and

 – BAM –

Out of nowhere you are suddenly think, “Blue.  His eyes are bl...”

Then you realize that you were talking and now you’re not

and he’s waiting patiently for you to finish your sentence.  

You have no idea how long you've been standing there, saying nothing and staring.

Suddenly your brain starts working again.

“oh shit.  I was talking.  What the heck was I talking about?”

You blink, time resumes, and you rack your brain to recall anything about the conversation.

All the while he’s just standing there, looking amused. 

You fumble for the words to finish the conversation.  As soon as possible you walk away and realize you have no idea what just happened, but hope he didn't notice that you just acted like a complete idiot.

Before you ask, No, this is not a recent occurrence.  Maybe I made it all up. Maybe I’m remembering something from a long time ago.  

Or maybe I saw it on tv. 

Maybe it belongs in that same daydream where Orlando Bloom is driving around the countryside, gets lost and pulls up to my house to ask for directions. We hit it off, get married and live happily ever after. 

I do like daydreams.

Christmas

I have a warm, safe home and food in the fridge.   So many do not.  

For years as a kid my dad and I spent Christmas Eve volunteering at the Tree of Joy delivering the gifts to those who were home bound.  People whose only gift was the one we delivered.

I remember. I have so much to be thankful for, and I am. 

It doesn't make it any easier.

We've never had lavish Christmases full of presents, but Santa always brought toys and gifts that Mom and Dad couldn't afford.

Not this year.

This year, between the divorce and other unexpected expenses, it’s going to be tiny. 

I’m know that Christmas is about family and being together.   Not about gifts, but giving back and all that. 

But you know what?

For my kids – it’s about that Christmas magic of Santa coming and leaving exactly what they wanted.   It’s about going to sleep Christmas Eve and waking up at the butt-crack-of-dawn to find the tree lights on, the train running, and presents waiting to be opened.  It’s about whispering to each other and sneaking out to look the gifts over before the appointed time.

Magic.

I can’t do it this year.  And it is breaking my heart.

I know they’ll be happy regardless, but I so love making their eyes sparkle and hearing the excitement in their voices.

I mentioned to them that this Christmas was going to be smaller – they know things are tight.  They agreed and said they understood, but then my eldest turns to the others and says, “There’s still Santa. Even if the gifts from Mom and Dad are smaller, Santa’s gifts won’t be.”

My heart hurt.  Oh, my precious child. If only it were so.

(Yes, she’s 11 and still believes in the magic of Santa)

J and I are combining our limited resources for our kids’ Christmas.  We’re working very hard to talk through the money part of Christmas. 

This Christmas will be different.   We will split up the decorations.  The tree will be smaller, not scraping the top of my vaulted ceiling. No fancy tins and boxes for home-made treats to giveaway.

All those holiday tasks J and I did together, I’ll do alone.  Wrapping gifts.  Waiting for them to go to sleep to arrange the Santa gifts.  No need to make rum balls and caramel corn for him to take to work.

Santa will still come, but their stockings will be a bit thin and the things on the top of their lists won’t be under the tree.

Will I have a hard time? 

Yes. 

Heck, I have a hard time just thinking about it.  

I can fall apart after they’re asleep in bed.

While they’re awake we’ll make treats and wrap presents and watch White Christmas multiple times. We will smile, laugh, and be normal.

I can do that for them.

Age

I was discussing kids with someone at work.  Actually, I worked the conversation in that direction on purpose. They were shocked to find out that I have three kids.  AND that the oldest is eleven.

“Wow, you don’t look old enough to have three kids, let alone an eleven-year-old.”

Sigh.

It was pretty amazing how quickly he started treating me with more respect, like I actually knew what I was doing.  (Or in this particular case, had no clue what I was doing, but was doing my best to learn enough to get through the day.)

Don’t get me wrong, I love that people seem to think I’m younger than I actually am.  Really, it’s great.

I remember a time I was at Freddy’s turning in a winning scratch-it and got carded. 

Seriously?!? For a lottery ticket?!?!

I just looked at my cart, which at the moment was full of children.  My niece was with me too, so I had FOUR children ranging in age from infant to five.  I pulled out my ID and the clerk kinda sheepishly said “oh.”

Back to now.

I already face challenges in my chosen field because I’m not a man.  When you add the inevitable challenges that being perceived as “young” adds it is frustrating.

I’m not twenty-two.  I’m thirty-three.  I have three kids, two dogs, two cats, a flock of chickens, and a mortgage.

I’m a grown-up.

I have invested many years into learning my strengths and weaknesses.  I know what I’m good at, what I’m capable of, and what is beyond my abilities.

Everyone who’s worked with me treats me with the respect I've earned.  (At least to my face)

This summer was the first time I didn't have my choices and decisions questioned repeatedly by those who believe they are older and “wiser.”

I have to laugh at those that haven’t worked with me, because otherwise I’d be so frustrated all the time.  

At 5’4” and under 120 lbs, I’m not very physically impressive or dominating.  But don’t discount me.  Don’t assume that because I chose not to yell, curse, or be abrasive that I don’t know what I’m doing.

I do.

And I’m doing what’s best for me and mine.

Titles, Family and... Guitars?

There are so many things that I wanted to talk about this week.  I started a bunch of different topics, only to have them dissolve into “gut reaction” posts.

Too many sensitive topics for me at the moment.

Too many unfinished sentences. 

Not enough sleep.

This week has been exhausting.  I’m still figuring out what my job encompasses.  I was the LD (lighting designer) for a concert at the venue I work at.  I know there are people laughing.  The last time I did anything more than push “go” on a light board was 15 years ago.  Totally not qualified to do much more than push go.

I have a theatre background – not a concert background.

The band had a billion guitars.

Do you need a different guitar for every song?

Seriously?

EVERY song? 

And does it have to be so loud?

I digress.

Today was the 16th anniversary of the day my former husband and I started dating.

Honestly, I had been so busy trying to keep up with work and kids and home that I didn't realize it was the third until I got a text from him asking if I had time for coffee.  At that point I was in the middle of trying to trouble-shoot a passel of wireless mics that didn't want to function.  I am so not a sound tech.  Basically, I know how to turn a mic on and make sound come out the speakers.  I don’t know how to troubleshoot.  

Sink or swim, right? 

I think I managed to tread water. Barely.

Anyway, I replied sure, but asked if there was a particular reason – There’s no emotion in a text, so I couldn't tell if there was something amiss.  Nothing amiss, just wanted to spend a bit of the day with me.

We ate and talked.

He bought.  Pizza and salad.

It was nice.  More than nice.

At some point he made a comment that stuck with me.

“Even if I knew what the outcome would be, I’d still do it all again.  It was an amazing 16 years.”

It was. 

Still is. We’re still good friends – best friends.

Know why?

We didn't push it. When we figured out it was over – we weren't in love with each other and we weren't going to find that kind of love in each other again. We accepted it.

We grieved that loss, together.  We moved forward.

We didn't “try” until there was no trust and all hate.

We looked at the three beautiful children we had created together and decided to do what was best for them.

Know what?  We did it right. 

A professional even said so. We made an appointment with a child therapist to talk with us and all three kids to help them process everything that had changed.

We all talked with him together, then the kids went out to the lobby and we just talked with him.  He was truly amazed that we never – not once – argued in front of the kids; never talked negative about the other parent.  He commended us and commented that he wished more parents he saw would do what we had done.

We truly care about each other and want our family to continue – our marriage ended – not our family.

Which brings me to the other bit I wanted mention.  I don’t like referring to the man I spent 16 years with as my “ex-husband.”

To me that sounds so negative.  And then what are my in-laws?  Ex-in-laws?

Same rule applies – just because our marriage is broken, doesn't mean that our family is broken.  After being part of my in-law’s family for 16 years, I’m not just going to walk away – I care about them too much to do that.  They’re as much my family as the family I was born into.

So, we decided that we’re not going to refer to each other as “ex’s”.

Former husband/wife

Or

“We used to be married.”

My kids’ dad – doesn't seem to encompass what we are to each other.

We both know that we have no clue what comes next.  We might end up bitter and hateful. But we are doing everything we can to avoid that.

I cherish his friendship and he treasures mine. 

A Little Bird

I don’t always close the chicken coop.  But tonight I did.  The weather had turned and I’ve gotten over 3 inches of rain in the last 36 hours.

It was dark, wet, and windy.  I pulled on my raincoat, grabbed a flashlight and slipped on my boots.  Trudging through the rain, almost slipping my way down the mud-soaked path, I closed the pop-door and went in the coop.  They were all on their roosts, settling for the night.  They all have their particular spots that they roost. 

I turned to leave and stopped.  On a whim I counted.  Twenty-five.  I was short one. I counted again, and realized which chicken was missing.  

Cheetah – Tess' bantam Sicilian buttercup hen.  She’s tiny; lays tiny white eggs in very unlikely places – rarely in the next box.

I checked the roosts, to make sure she wasn’t scrunched up next to someone to keep warm.  Nope. Managed to annoy quite a few of the hens, trying to see if she was hiding.

Back outside, with the wind blowing the rain sideways, I checked around the coop, shining the flashlight in all the dry-ish little nooks and crannies.  Nope.  Trudging across the yard, I checked the dog house and the other smaller coops that aren’t in use right now.

Then I saw her.  She was huddled in the corner against the house, sopping wet.  She’s a skittish little bird and doesn’t like being held, but she didn’t run or fight at all.  I picked her up, setting her in the crook of my arm to keep her a bit drier.  She didn’t squirm.

I carried her back into the coop and set her on the roost.  She just sat there shivering and staring at me.  Then, slowly, she started “purring”- little chirpy, purry noises.  Still shivering, she shook and fluffed her feathers a bit, then cuddled up next to the rooster who almost tucked her under his wing, chirping back at her.

I left and trudged back up to the house.  My pants were sopping wet, my coat dripping water, my boots covered in red mud.

But I felt better.

Forgive Me

After almost 12 years of marriage my husband and I stopped putting band-aids on our problems.

The result?  We are no longer married.

On August 8th we went to the courthouse and stood together in front of a judge, as he read thru the paperwork we did together.  He asked a few questions, signed the documents and then it was done.

We were married for 11 years and 11 months – to the day.

We are all still adjusting.

I still talk with him almost daily – we have three children together and while he isn’t living with us, he is still parenting with me. We are much better at being friends than being married.

I’m not saying it is easy.  It isn’t.

I don’t have a partner that will help me shoulder the burden of life.  It’s a lot.  It’s hard.

Friends and family want to know how they can help. 

The hardest parts are things no one else can do.

No one else can get the kids ready for school in the morning.

No one else can make dinner decisions every night, and then make dinner every night.

No one else can be there at 2am when the smallest has a bad dream and wants to sleep in Mommy's bed.

Those are the burdens I must bear myself.

I made these choices and I accept responsibility for them.

I am not whining.  I am not looking for sympathy.

Really want to help?

Come wash my floors. Mow my lawn. Drop off a bag of groceries. A tray of Tess-safe goodies.

Listen when I need to talk to someone and accept when I don’t.

Forgive me when I forget your birthday.

Forgive me when I don’t respond the way you want.

Forgive me when I don’t seem to care about your troubles.

I care.  Believe me, I care.

I don’t have anything left to give; I’m pouring it all into making life go on for my three. 

I’m remembering to wash their shin guards.

I’m helping with homework – patiently.

I’m watching as they make cookies and not grumping (too much) when the kitchen is trashed.

I’m remembering that they asked for bagels.

I’m walking them to the bus.

I’m smiling as I stand in the rain watching soccer practice.

I am doing the best I can with what I have.

Everything else will be there tomorrow.

Gratitude

* note: When I committed to re-starting my blog, I had a completely different topic in mind to share as the first topic.  This is where it went, so this is what I’m sharing.*

I've heard a lot of “I had no idea” lately.  Well, duh.  Of course not.  I’m not exactly a social butterfly, and I’m not one to share the challenges of my life on facebook. 

I’m more likely to post pictures of my awesome chickens, like this one:

Than I am to share something that most people would respond by saying “I’m so sorry” 

Really folks, pity doesn't help.  Thanks for your concern. 

I agree, the situation is not ideal.  Yes, it sucks. No, it is not easy. Yes, I’m sure the right decision was made. No, thank you, I really don’t want to rehash all the details for you. 

Someone told me my explanations sounded too rehearsed to be the truth.  Well, when you've said the same thing over and over to different people, it’s bound to sound rehearsed.

I had an incredibly stressful summer.  For MANY reasons.

In my job as a stage manager I spend 5-6 hours a night, six nights a week with a group of actors.  Not only with them, but scheduling them, managing them, and enjoying all the quirks that actors have. 

Every actor is different, but man, they've all got quirks.  The key to my success is to identify those quirks and individualize my communication and management based on those quirks.    I digress.

So, my summer sucked royally, and throughout this mess, I was stage managing a fully staged musical with a cast of over 50, which included almost 20 children. Which by the way, was also one of the most problem-ridden productions I have ever worked on.  On SOOOOO many levels.

S.T.R.E.S.S.F.U.L.

I like to think I did a pretty good job of leaving it all at the door and focusing on work.  Certainly the majority of people didn't even notice I wasn't quite myself.   I had an amazing assistant who was able to pick up quickly for me in those times when I needed to leave to regroup for a few minutes.  Truly an amazing lady. Honestly. Amazing.  She listened.  She got it. She shared the humor.  Amazing.  

Erin – thank you.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

There were others too. 

People I've known for years and worked with off and on, who seemed to sense something wasn't right. 

Those people too, amazing. 

The little kindnesses; the quip that made me smile for the first time in days, the 45 second conversation about nothing related to anything. 

The awareness.  The genuine concern without needing to know why I was struggling.

Did you know there were people like that still out there in the world?

My life is forever changed by the kindnesses they showed me over the course of the summer. 

I cannot adequately thank them.

I’m sure some of them are not aware of how much I relied on those looks, quips, and conversations to make it to the next cue/performance/day.

I am and will always be in their debt.  They have my gratitude.  They are the kindest most honest individuals I've had the honor of knowing.

I thought about telling them.  Saying thank you to them.  But that was too scary.  That was giving too much of myself away at a time when I couldn't afford that.  Still can't.  This is probably as close as I'll get to saying thank you.  It also might have made them uncomfortable. I didn't and still don’t want anything to screw up those relationships, some have continued and grown and others were put on hold when the show closed.

And I’m okay with that.

Sometime I'll make it up to Seattle to stay in a pink guest room for a few days.

Distilling the Chaos

Distilled Chaos is a spin-off from my first blog, Sew Chaos.

A few months back I decided to change the focus of my blog from sewing and crafts to writing.  More than a few people have commented (in person) that they enjoyed reading it, and also more than a few commented that the "sew" part of the title no longer described the content of the blog.

So, here we have Distilled Chaos.  All the jumbled up random thoughts inside my brain, distilled until I can express complex feelings and situations in a coherent form.

In the next few weeks I'll be moving the relevant posts from the old blog to the new one.  On the rare occasion I actually am able to craft or cook, I'll post it over at Sew Chaos.