“Live! Live! Live!…Life’s a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!”

~ Auntie Mame ~

April was certainly an interesting and eventful birthday month this year ’round. It usually is.

I took a still-very-much-in-its-infancy practice of trying to see the positives throughout the month, even on the days that I sincerely couldn’t, and I think it helped. I am definitely one of those folks who hates their own b-day due to past experiences so every year, outside of my extraordinary husband’s above and beyond surprises and thoughtful efforts, I usually can’t wait until the day is over.

This year had some rough moments, still, even spending most of the afternoon the day prior sobbing into some fur babies snuggled near by just to wake the next day to the awe inspiring creativity of my husband’s planning. This birthday was the first one phasing out the HP theme (so long, JK, you are trash) and, though I’m glad he finished all of the Hogwarts years, I was ready to move into something different and was beyond surprised.

This year, he incorporated our jointly, newfound lover, Taskmaster, into our favorite bakery goods as well as fun ‘Tasks’ to follow throughout the day (wax sealed and all!):

He also did something insane. He secretly took woodworking classes in order to rebuild one of my favorite shelves that was recently ruined (thanks fur-babes). This man actually left work early on multiple occasions without my knowledge to take these classes *Swoon*:

After almost 11 years together, I keep thinking I could not adore him more, yet here we are…

I also made sure to keep myself busy in the weeks leading up. I had a fantastic girl’s date night with a dear friend, bought a new car, binged way too much Love is Blind with the bestie, and had another wonderful friend make a whole birthday dinner for the hubby and I, serving my favorite seafood: CRAB CAKES!

Feeling grateful for this year so far and finally feeling a sense of hope.

I know there will still be many a roadblock and hurdle ahead, but it feels good to reach a place I haven’t been before. Here’s to continuing to hold onto hope for whatever the remaining year has in store.

May your day be filled with moments worth remembering and if it is not, that you make them yourself,


I’m Still Here

“Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

~ Buddha ~

Oh hey there new year, where’d you come from?


It has been a long time, over half a year now, since I last posted or was active on social media. Taking a break for both my physical and mental health, the first part of ’22 had me in the hardest and lonliest spot I’ve found myself for a very long time. If there is any advice I can take away and pass along to anyone that may need to hear it in the new year, it is this: no amount of money is worth a toxic/abusive job situation. End of advice.

The first part of last year was so rough, I sincerely do not know why I am still here, to be flatly frank. Between February and July, I had cried more than I had eaten and dropped 30 pounds from the constant anxiety and nights filling up with horrible, reoccurring dreams; the loneliness of each week was eating me alive. I had briefly taken some time in the spring to attempt the job search but by summer, I had so many interviews and submissions go poorly due to my anxiety that I had fully convinced myself I was too stupid to find another job. Mind you, I’d been in my field for nearly ten years by that point.

After rigorous soul searching and lots of pep talks from the beautiful people that made sure I got out of bed every day, I threw myself back into not only finding another job, but also getting my head on straight. By mid August, I had already begun therapy and was offered a new role in a research company I had been trying to get into for over 5 years. It took a month and a half straight after starting the new position for a specific reoccurring nightmare to stop and another month for me to finally get my confidence back. By month 3, thanks to an eye opening 1:1 meeting with someone previously wrapped up in an identical toxic work situation, I was thriving and have been ever since.

I am so thrilled to be back with like-minded folks and for the first time since the start of the pandemic, I am actually excited to log into work every morning. My yearning to learn has returned and I finally feel like I’ve restored a piece of myself that I had forgotten was there. I AM extremely intelligent. I AM capable. I AM an asset. How any person was capable of ripping that away from me in such a small window of time is and will remain a mystery that I will have to work through forgiving myself for over time. Perhaps that is a post for a different day because today I want to revel in victory and hope as I push towards a stronger future.


I would be remiss if I did not mention the wonder and beauty that is my amazing partner. Over ten years of life together now, Joshua has remained so incredibly immersive in my care and continues to be the most supportive human being I, personally, have ever known. He has forever changed my definition of what love can look like and I am beyond proud to call him my husband.

On top of his care, this past holiday, he made me the proudest owner of a functioning 1930’s Underwood typewriter. An identical match to the one and only Taskmaster’s typewriter. My typewriter. The very first I have ever owned in my thirty-some years of writing. I suddenly feel 9 years old again, back to wishing to be the next Jo March, recklessly chasing the next perfect row of words.

As I practice getting used to the heavier keys, I feel a new flame to continue down the vein of my writing journey. I’m not sure where this new path is going to take me but now that my thought is no longer riddled in crippling, daily fear, I finally no longer feel like I am drowning anymore and can start living again.

To those who have cared for and about me during this time – you know who you are, and I will never ever have the right words or ways to show my immense gratitude for your presence during my lowest point. Thank you for believing in the part of me that I thought was long buried. Your care will never be forgotten.

I hope y’all enjoy the new Blog layout and sections and I hope to have the resources page up soon.

XoXo, me

Grow Baby, Grow!

Hello lovelies…

Stepping outside the usual today to brag about how amazing my friend Nia is and to ask for you folks’ help in spreading the word about her work on a new KickStarter Campaign.

When she first approached me about helping put together this KickStarter, it was not even a question in my mind. Getting to put into words (and y’all know I love words) how I feel about Nia and her small business mission and outstanding products has been such a complete honor and I feel so incredibly blessed to be able to share in her joy.

Click Here to see full details!

The KickStarter, since its launch on Friday, has already received close to THIRTY backers and is nearing the 2k mark. Reward levels are available for the yarn lovers and the non-yarn lovers, as well as anyone who just wants to contribute to helping someone achieve their dreams. Even if you are unable to help out financially, just sharing Nia’s story helps support this KickStarter in reaching its goal.

Appreciate you all! xoxo


“Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes.”

~ Oscar Wilde

Sometimes the rough points in life seem endless. There is no light at the end of the tunnel and bad things are just going to continue to occur without pause. That is life and it goes on, so they say. 

2022 has been one big pile of unimaginable tragedy, pain, illness, and trauma, not just for my husband and I, but for folks within our tight knit little “framily”. My heart has been at a complete loss for why all of these incidents and heartaches are taking place at the same time. Is it just our age? Have we reached a strange place where this is just, how things are for a bit? If so, I cannot say I am enjoying it in the slightest. Nope. 

“Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die”

~ Buddha

So here we are in February after a lot of pain and mourning, hard decisions and healing, feeling surprisingly ready for whatever the rest of 2022 is here to bring. Priorities, plans, and finances redirected to finally begin pursuing what we have been putting on the back burner for our own growth. Feeling immensely grateful for the grace, empathy, and support we have received in our little circle during the heavy when it could have just been an “I told you so!”. Sometimes it is the littlest things that have reminded both of us we are worthy of better.

I could not feel more thankful for this moment of feeling a strange, unimaginable sense of peace. 

For those feeling less than worthy, I implore you to start your new year now. Redefine and rearrange what amplifies in you “I AM WORTHY!”. Find yourself a few folks with integrity who will check you when you need it and lift you when you cannot lift yourself. Fill up those timelines and follows with focus on the positive, the uplifting, and the safe.

The power of taking control over your own space is one you will never want to give back. 

X’s O’s and Skittles


“unbeingdead isn’t beingalive”

e. e. cummings

Another draft from the beginning of December for my fellow winter, bluesy babes because vulnerability is all I got left. Hang in there folks, it’s war out there.


I hate the cold season.

In the warmer seasons, I already tend to feel fidgety and anxious when saying out loud ‘I am not well, at the moment.’ There are many reasons for this, of course, but none of the reasons help ease the discomfort. The cold just makes it worse.

It’s come back in spades over the most recent weeks, whether it’s a sound or a phrase, the instance of the holiday season, or the ever timeless triggering social media post. A collection of tiny things haphazardly stacking themselves on top of each other.

I have not been able to write much lately. Dealing with medical issues while in a phase where I am just trying to get through the work day so that I can kiss my husband, potentially eat food, maybe touch yarn, and sleep (maybe even pet a cat or two). I rarely have the energy to take care of myself. Showering feels like hiking up the side of a mountain and back down again and then by the time I am clean, it’s time to go back to sleep. It’s the time of year where waking up causes anxiety and depression because you were hoping, just hoping, for things to look different that morning.

I’ve held on to this fleeting notion that I’ve experienced so much growth and change over 2021. Starting another book, sharing my story unashamed, speaking up, speaking out, and being honest (for the most part). Trying. Just trying. It’s amazing how one moment, one sound, one human, even, holds all the potential to rip it all away in a day. Suddenly the growth is just taking ten steps back to square one. The thought, feeling, floods of worry have hit the front lawn. You are nothing again and everything is doomed.

Well, of course this isn’t true, but the mind IS a terrible thing.

It cannot be put into words the gratefulness I feel when I step back (forced or otherwise) and remember those who hold space for me when I am unable. People who let me vent when I do not understand what is happening to me, and who remind me I am loved when myself and others have convinced me I am not. No strings attached. No gaslighting. No risks of abandonment or loss. Just being allowed to have feelings and reminded I am loved despite them and how illogical they may be. Sometimes feelings are just that. Feelings. But they still matter.

I have started to have a love/hate relationship with my occasional ability to wear my heart on my sleeve now. Just tell it like it is. Where I am in life, what I’m feeling; my hurts. Currently, I really hate it. My ‘standing naked in a crowd’ is set somewhere cold and my feet feel like ice.

No matter my particular feelings in this case, however, I know there are other humans out there feeling the exact same kind of empty and hopeless. Sometimes it’s just nice to know we are not alone in feeling alone.

This time of year is such a trigger for so many, it does not matter how much you physically or mentally attempt to prepare for it. It can feel heavy and endless. The days of roller coaster emotions will feel like eternity. I am so sorry if you are one of those many.

It’s going to be ok. We are going to be ok.

For those feeling the same: I see you, I understand you, and you are loved.





Recently I’ve realized that, outside of my pretty yarn photos and goofy comments, I have not properly introduced myself to all the new people that I have gotten to know on the social interwebs…so instead of writing one out again, I did a thing…

Who knows. Maybe I will do another one…😏




I drafted this dude back in the last week of November, after the recent eruption in the Fiber and Textiles community on the topic of racism. When Kristy Glass broke everything.

No matter the intensity of blue skies and sun this week, it has felt like a particularly dark one.

In the beginning of 2019, the internet’s Fiber and Textiles community blew up and rippled throughout the year over the topic of the thick, unrelenting racism that has tethered the white-washed, fibered halls for generations.

Finally. Not for a lack of silence, mind you. It had been brought up on countless occasions before by many, myself included, on the very clear and distinct line etched in the cement between the BIPOC community and the caucacity in crafting that be. Up until that point, the discomfort felt over decades of trying to pierce the mass bubble of exclusivity had gone mostly ignored.

‘It would figure,’ I thought to myself, bitterly. I dove back into the social ether after all of this occurred, during the beginning of the pandemic when the thought of seeing no-one ever again loomed imminent. I had been on a much needed break from “the social network” that ended up lasting well beyond a year because when I break, I break pretty hard. 

I had no idea the conversation had finally shifted from a whisper to a roar and I was elated. Within the first few months of being back, I had found so many POC creators and was falling in love with fiber all over again through a new lens. I went on a social media unfollowing spree and replaced them with as many new creators I could find. I removed all of the current yarn shops I had in my favorites and started ordering yarn exclusively through Black-owned, indie dyers. I was floored by the amount that I hadn’t known about prior to this point. One could say, this was a very large reason as to why I made it through 2020.

The mood and vibe had changed, and noticeably in some cases. Many white shops and creators were finally working with and incorporating the POC community into their world, bringing a call to action on what types of changes and conversations need to take place in order to break up the crafting clique that had fused so strongly. It was a long, long, LONG overdue change that needed to take place and the gears felt like they were at least beginning to turn. 

It’s incredible how quickly a tide can shift from one direction to the next in a snap. 

Kristy Glass (a popular crafter in the fiber community, of whom I knew literally nothing about until last Friday) decided to open all the wounds within the POC community that are still only at a stage of working towards closing up. The blood hasn’t even coagulated yet, y’all.

The details of the incident are not for me to rehash. In fact, I highly HIGHLY encourage any retellings of the story to be done through the Instagram videos of the POC creators themselves, cited below, as well as the ONLY news article so far that has provided the actual truth of it all, courtesy of the Daily Beast. These, as well as the poignantly portrayed details laid out by one Heather M. Collins, who has specifically summarized the incident through a series of blunt and humorous tweets.

The tornado of discussion is now back in full swing and this time, I am actually here for it. I am feeling it. I am hearing it. I am seeing it; the frustration, the anger, the hurt, and the emotional exhaustion. Folks back to showing their true colors and standing up for KG because, well, she ‘apologized, stop yelling at her, she’s sensitive’. I just can’t.

As someone who grew up in gas lighting heaven, noticing the stark differences between a true apology and what you are SUPPOSED to accept as an apology is like noticing what makes daytime different from nighttime. It’s not science, it’s the POC community’s reality. Sincerity versus sinister.

Amongst the many problematic incidents cited for Glass’ behavior was charging Black women for their one time highlight on her social reaches. A stunt she still had the audacity to pull immediately after we JUST had the reparations discussion ten times over in 2020. Sinister.

During this whole rehashing of the bigger discussion of racism, many have mentioned that they ‘had no idea that this community even HAD any racism in it’. Outside of the mass muscle strain on my eyes rolling too far into my sockets, for them, I feel a strong sense of sadness. I feel sorry that their world is so centralized around their own privilege that they forget the bigger picture, which is older than any person living today: racism is fuckin’ everywhere. EVERYWHERE. E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. If you are still saying ‘I had no idea it was there!’ or, ‘I am not racist because…’, my dears, you still have miles upon miles of learning to go. A state’s long amount of miles. Like, the size of Texas or California, but you have to walk it, miles.

For anyone reading this that is not within the Fiber and Textiles community, I encourage you to share these creators’ stories and the (factually correct) news articles. I encourage you to speak the hell up when you know something is wrong, continue having the difficult, uncomfortable, and hard to have conversations, and stop sitting in one place.

Change is not comfortable but change is the only way to continue moving the gears. The conversation has to keep going, whether you like it or not. Nothing in this life that is worth fighting for is easy.

POC Creators you should know and follow and love and buy things from:

Adella Colvin – Lolabean Yarns

Laverne Benton – Bzy Peach Yarns

Diane Ivey – Lady Dye Yarns

Gaye Glasspie – GG Made It

Tenita Neals – Broke and Crafty

Nia Miles – The Crochet Cove

Do you remember…?

“The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.”

– E. E. Cummings

Sometimes posts just need to be light. Remember those really ridiculous surveys we loved as teens that were around every xanga (yeah, I said it, don’t you feel old) corner? Well sometimes when I drink I do funny things, like write ridiculous to-do notes to myself, laugh at things I probably shouldn’t, and occasionally write dumber shit than normal (among other things).

So enjoy the fruits of my drunken labor. You’re welcome (and feel free to fill it out in the comments! I’d be interested to know who is enjoying my insanity):

Favorite time of the day: Any time of day that is not the morning
Favorite song that was released between your 5th and 15th birthday: How can anyone answer this question, you dumbass…I don’t know, literally anything
Favorite song released within your birth year: I Think We’re Alone Now, Tiffany
Favorite dessert: What is this question, though? Probably chocolate related…
Twitter or Instagram: Insta
What’s a unique skill you have: I can somehow almost always know when an actress is pregnant on a TV show…my husband says I have “the gift”…I would like a cooler one…
Favorite past-time: Playing with and/or being within a reachable vicinity of yarn
You’re stuck on an island and you can only take one of your favorite movies, what would it be?: Auntie Mame, Rosalind in ’58, NOT Lucille…
Favorite season of the year: Any season that is not Summer
Favorite beverage: Coffee
What was the last Drive-in film you saw: I think it was an X-Men film…or cowboys?…it’s all the same thing
Morning person or night owl: night owl
What was the last country, outside of your own, that you visited: Germany
If you could be standing anywhere right now, where would it be: Somewhere in the area of Greece
What was the last story you told to someone: Probably a story to my husband about something stupid and/or adorable that one of our ridiculous cats did…
What did you want to be when you grew up: Book author
What is your dream job now: Self employed
Introvert or extrovert?: both
Describe how you feel about the current year in 5 words: It could be much worse.

Oh, and in case you thought I was joking, here’s a favorite note I wrote to myself this year…

Note to Self

Cheerios. xOxO

Work it

In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.

Robert Frost

I come with a lot of flaws, it’s true. So much so, that I am usually pointing out even the most minute flaws that others probably do not even notice.

My self esteem is a toilet.

Maybe I did not pick the most alluring career environment for someone as emotionally disheveled as I am; my armor tends to not be as thick as it should be and I know that. Another flaw. However, last week, man…last week was another hurdle I am struggling to get through.

I have seen a lot in my work life over the last sixteen years. Things that have opened my eyes thoroughly to the “shut up and do your job” mentality towards Black employees. It’s obviously an old ass concept, I am not talking about anything new, unless you have been living under a rock of ignorance. Young people make darkly humorous Tik Toks in this day and age to the very tune, but the grim reality is starkly contrast in humor.

I wish I was lying when I said that I have worked in places where the HR department accepted an employee’s use of the nickname “ni$%er lips” towards a fellow employee because we just “couldn’t lose someone with his talents”. Or the time another fellow employee, a Black female, much smaller than myself, was escorted off of the premise by multiple security guards in front of all of her co-workers without even being allowed to remove her personal effects from the floor. She apparently was not using “please” and “thank you” enough in her email correspondences.

It really is an ugly reality, but reality nonetheless. We work through it because we have to but that does not mean that the emotional burnout doesn’t happen, perhaps, a bit quicker than our lighter counterparts.

Last week I had just come back from a much needed week off with the hubby to celebrate our nine years of life together and seven year wedding anniversary. I was refreshed and ready to jump back in, happy to have the break.

Admittedly, I am not always the best at communicating all of my thoughts so when I fall into an anxiety attack, it is like trying to wrangle thoughts and speech inside a wind tunnel. I start shaking, I cannot really talk, I cry a lot, and none of it can be controlled no matter how hard I try. I hate it, but sometimes it just happens. So, here I am at the end of day Friday, getting back work I had been waiting on that should have gotten to me the day before. I am not really able to process mentally how I could get all of the late assignments completed in the next hour and forty five minutes and it hits me. The anxiety attack. Maybe I can ask for help, maybe someone else can stay on with me. Perhaps we can move some due dates. That is what I had wanted to say. But that is not what came out and the stuttering had already kicked in. Then it happened again. My Manager’s piercing, shrill screams reverbing through my headset as it did so many times before:

“Oh my god, why are you crying now? This is your role, you just need to do your job because this is what your role is!

Why do you have a problem every single time you get assigned something?”

“You don’t even do that much! Of all of the people on the team, YOU’RE the one that works the least and has the least amount of tasks!”

“YOU are scared to communicate with ME!? YOU’RE scary, YOU’RE the scary one! I ALWAYS get attacked, you attack me all the time!”

In less than five minutes I crashed and burned. I just wanted to understand the timelines and in less than five minutes so many degrading insults had gutted me and the attack just got worse, so I did what I always do. I agreed. I added more flaws that I would “work on”. I apologized for all the stress I had caused and ensured I would fix it.

After satisfying her with more self deprecation and hanging up, I could not help but just stare blankly ahead for a bit. What had just happened? Every bit of self love that I had worked hard on holding onto that week came crashing to my feet. This had already occurred a few times before so I had a feeling it was coming again. The first time it had happened, I had not even been at this job for two months. Again, much of the same. Why am I crying, why am I giving attitude, I do not work enough to be stressed out. A hollow deja vu.

I spent the weekend knitting, frogging, and re-knitting the sock leg that should have taken me no time at all. My head could not stop sending me flashbacks like a boomerang and concentration ended up being impossible.

“Good god, you must be one worthless, lazy fuck, huh?”

I could not keep that thought from pinging back and forth through my head. I had never been accused, until the new job, of being lazy. If anything I was always overdoing it, late night hours, weekends, working on travel, you name it.

I allowed this five minute rant to dictate how my brain would function for the rest of my weekend break. Now, Monday is here again.

I really have nothing pretty or positive of note to end this post on. Frankly, I want you to be as uncomfortable as it should make you. I am afraid every day of stirring the pot, saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, and messing up tasks from nerves. It is not what I had hoped for but it is the reality at the moment. This is reality.

Remember to be excellent to each other.

Cheers, xoxo

the office

No, not the funny one with Steve Carrell. 

I’ve been working on making my home office a personal sanctuary (or bubble of sorts) for a longer amount of time than I am willing to admit. Trying to make a workspace that feels safe amid the unsafe. Conundrum!

Setting up the room, though, has made it more than just a work space which is exactly what I was trying to accomplish. I have such beautiful display pieces and furniture from fam that I can FINALLY utilize and I have more (or not enough?) plants than I will ever need. 

I did the DIY desk build from two filing cabinets and an unfinished oak slab from Ikea that I slapped some clear finish on, which felt like a big accomplishment. It has an amazing amount of space to fill up and I can set it up any way I want. 

The yarn and knickknack shelves are all IKEA born and raised. I love collecting unique boxes and vintage cameras (some of which I have definitely operated). 

I’ve also always wanted a regal, deep blue, velvet couch from the 1930’s so for now, a futon with a blue cover and velvet yellow pillows will do. My gifted, personalized pillows could not go better (shout out to anyone familiar with the quote!). 

Also, a moment of silence, please, as we bask in the glory of the Martha Washington Sewing Cabinet gifted to me by my equally antique obsessed mama in law a few Christmases ago. Is she not gorgeous? All of my many (many, many…) knitting needle sets and tools fit PERFECTLY. Though my decorations change from time to time, Groot will forever protect her while perusing through some of my favorite issues of Vogue. 

I still have a few things here and there that need sorting but overall, I finally feel comfortable; success achieved.

Now, time to get to work.

Cheers, xoxo.

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