I wrote a book.

And it's about the Navy SEALs.

That's my name on the cover. You can buy my book on Amazon, and it's in the Library of Congress. The whole thing is insane.

The bulk of my work is in educational publishing. I really love it, and I get to do all sorts of neat things like script interactive textbooks, create continuing education courses, and edit actual textbooks. Recently, I've been able to write a lot of fiction (such a treat), historical fiction, and non-fiction. It's pretty much the job of my dreams. It was a twisty, strange path that got me here, but I'll take it.

Anyway. I wrote the book last summer, mostly while I was spending a week and a half at my parents' house with Henry. I researched it for about a month beforehand (and realized how very little I write things by hand - major cramping via note-taking) and then wrote like a madwoman every night after I got home from teaching a fiber daycamp.

Seven months later, two hardbacked copies showed up at my door. I don't know if I've ever been so proud of anything. True, it's not the way I imagined my first book would be published. It's not a novel, it's not widely distributed, and the target audience is 4th - 6th grade boys. But the joy of having my own "about the author" bio more than makes up for it.

I have two more books on the way, one about the influenza pandemic of 1918 and one about the Oregon Trail. Is there anything cooler than that?

Tangled Dress

I finally got the nerve to start drawing in my Tangled Fashionista book. It's kind of a coloring book for Zentangle, and it's pretty awesome. I tangle while I write (it's much better for processing words and phrases than putzing around on Facebook), and I did this page while working on some web copy over the past few days.

My favorite tangle is the one on the right sleeve, Paizel. I have a pretty tough time with feathers and paisleys, so I was pleasantly surprised by how great that one turned out.

The Mighty Steek

So Justin wanted a sweater. Well, really, he wanted a sweater two Christmases ago and nobody would buy it for him because it was $130. (I swear it was $230. I would have paid $130 for it.) He sidled up to me at the end of October and told me that he still wanted the sweater. Could I make it for him? Could I make it for him cheaper than if he bought it?

Well, okay.

I've never knit Justin a sweater, and I felt bad about it. But hell, I haven't knit myself a sweater in years. So while part of me was glad to be able to do the wifely thing and crank out a nice cardigan for my nice cardigan-loving mate, the other part of me was all, "Yeah, I'll get right on that after I finish RAISING THIS CHILD."

But I was somewhat smart and chose a yarn that would work up quickly. I didn't finish by Christmas (I was buried in deadlines of all sorts and wrote a kids' book about the influenza pandemic of 1918 - no joke), but I spent much of that holiday week knitting knitting knitting. And when we came home, I ripped, ripped, ripped, because I didn't like the way the decreases messed with the pattern. Now we're all better.

Time to steek.

Sing the Jaws theme with me!

This was my first time actually machine-sewing twice on either side of the steek. It was much, much easier than I anticipated. I'm glad I didn't dilly-dally and put it off until spring.

And the cutting? I fear no scissors.

Snip.

Now all that's left is button bands, a fancy shawl collar, and sewing the underarm seam. I also need some leather buttons. Have any good button sources?

Take it away, Carlos

There hasn't been much sewing going on lately, so I was glad to have my pedal foot forced by our first Local Quilt Along meetup. Just a few friends, baked goods, and lots of squinting while we try to make sense of this pattern.

I haven't done much paper piecing before, so I was...unsure of how things would progress. I had a really hard time figuring out which color went where (the first block has almost 30 pieces), but it all got much easier once I sat down to sew. I think I only had to rip out pieces three separate times, which is pretty good, considering I was simulatenously yelling at the Golden Globes.

This is a really neat pattern. There are actually nine paper-pieced patterns inside. Each comes with a story about that particular house and the person who lives there. When we're done, we'll have the whole neighborhood. This is Carlos's house:

Carlos is a painter, and he's currently focusing on the color blue. I've deviated from the original color story. My quilt will be the neighborhood at twilight, and I'm hoping I can make the sky look like the sun is setting to the right. We'll see. I think it will work.

We're meeting monthly to work on our blocks, but I kind of want to start #2 now. I think I love paper piecing. It took me three and a half hours to get that thing together (not counting planning time), but it zoomed by. Next month: The Cahills.

The Naughty List

Oh, small child. You just turned 17-months old. For all of our sakes, I suggest you don't revisit this age again.

I can't wait until you understand Santa so I can use him as a threat against you. I can't wait until you can form the words for what you want instead of just flexing your little fingers and yelling. I can't wait until you stop destroying lamps twice your height. (We have a morgue of broken lamps in the guest room, Henry M. This is your fault. You have already been docked more allowance that you will ever get in your life.)

But 'tis the season for snuggles and thick down comforters and sweaters that make you look like a fat German child. You're in to all of that, too. But now that you can run - nay, stomp - every where you want to go, you are less content with sitting and lying down. You are constantly climbing, opening, throwing, banging, and wobbling. Daddy thinks you're part Weeble. I'm glad you're not twins.

We went to see Santa a few weeks ago. Your initial reaction was disgust and horror that Mommy would put you in someone else's lap. I think if we did it again, you'd be okay with it because you're learning that Mommy doesn't do anything you like. Mommy is your arch-nemesis (and your greatest love. You're a complicated person.). So the first picture we got looked like this:

We went back in time to 1962 specifically to take this picture. They validate parking there.You were very stoic in the rest of the forced photos, probably because you a) noticed that Mommy and Daddy were still there and b) there were ladies watching.

Luckily, Santa lives in a Crayola-land of slides, mirrors, and so many things to touch. So we spent the next half hour going down this slide:

And all was well once more.

You are a trial of patience, Henry M. I was not fully prepared for toddlerhood, nor for your stubbornness and curiosity. I didn't realize that once you could walk, you'd want to charge directly into the street to have a little lie-down, leaving me to wrangle a screaming banshee back into the house so I can remove the leaves from his hair. I had no idea that your little fingers could do so much damage in such a short amount of time and that your mild interest in the telephone would grow to a full-blown obsession. (Daddy gave up today. I have no idea who you called. I'm just glad we have free long-distance.)

I think about your Santa picture from last year, when you were so small and snuggly and ... easy. I liked you more back then. But - and don't tell anyone - I think I love you even more now. Sneaky little turkey.

Love,

Ma...ma...ma