365 Days Handmade

Making life a better place, one day at a time

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Day 347/365: Rainy Sunday

This week I have to work from Monday to Friday because of a mandatory training course for all mental health staff.  It had been a long time since I only had a two-day weekend.  These last two days just felt too short of a time to recover from the past four ten-hour days.  I told Sean, “This two-day weekend gig, I don’t like it.”

“Wait until tomorrow,” he suggested.  “And then tell me how you feel when you get home at 3 PM, and you’ve got the whole rest of the afternoon ahead of you.”

Anyway, it rained most of today.  I did a lot of sitting around and crocheting.  I added several more rows to the Coastal Ripples afghan, and I got to enjoy a nice view out of our sunroom windows.  At least tomorrow when I get home, it’ll still be light and I’ll have a chance to watch the sunset over the water.


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Day 323/365: Knitting Break

Back in February, I started crocheting this afghan, the Coast Ripple Blanket designed by Lucy of Attic 24.  It’s one of three remaining unfinished projects that I’ve got left to complete.  Since this afghan is a crocheted project while the other two are knitted, I just may be able to get this done by the end of the month.  Also, I need a break from those dang mitered squares.


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Day 271/365: Cherry Cola, Revisited

Remember the Cherry Cola crocheted afghan?  I’d planned to make it a large afghan that I could use as a blanket when I watched TV on the couch.  The problem was that, the more I added crocheted rows to it, the more the afghan became bulky and unwieldy.  When I pulled it over myself for a test run on the couch, it stretched and was too hole-y for my taste.  It just wouldn’t do as a crocheted afghan.

So I did what a lot of other people won’t do:  I accepted the fact that I’d hit a dead end with this project.  For all the hours I put into crocheting it, I knew I wouldn’t use this afghan.  I didn’t want to waste the yarn, so I spent the afternoon frogging it.

And then casting on for a new project…



Day 157/365: Second Day of My Mama’s Visit

When I was a little girl, my mom crocheted several cute dresses and tops for me.  (Of course, I didn’t appreciate them at the time because I wanted to be wearing the same kind of store-bought mass-produced clothing that the other kindergarten girls wore.)  I remember admiring those handmade childhood dresses as an adult and asking her once, “What patterns did you use?”

She shrugged and said, “None.  I just made it up myself.”

Today she asked me if I had some extra yarn and a hook that she could borrow.  Naturally, I had those things.  When I asked her what she planned to make, she showed me a white crocheted vest that a friend had given to her as a gift.

“This,” she said.  “I will just copy it.”


Relaxing in the sunroom and starting a crocheted project with no pattern.


Day 139/365: What A Pound of Crocheted Yarn Looks Like

I used up my big ol’ Lion Brand Pound of Love Bubblegum ball of yarn.  In case you were curious, here’s what that much yarn can produce, in a repeating pattern of crocheted shell stitches:



“Don’t stretch it,” I told Sean as he held up the afghan and I tried to take a photo.

“I’m not,” he said.  “It wants to stretch itself.”

Here’s what it looks like when resting flat:


Right now it measures 35″ by 37″, which I think is too small to be of any use to anybody except a very small child.  Since I’ve decided that this is going to be more of an adult-sized blanket, I’m going to have to add at least one more Pound of Love.  I wonder how it would look if I add the new yarn as a border and work my way out, rather than adding more rows to lengthen it.  I’ll keep you posted.


Day 137/365: Bubblegum Afghan and Chinese Food


Changing things up.  I worked on the Pound of Love Bubblegum afghan today.  See how much yarn is left?

At around 10:30 this morning, Sean and I were discussing where we should go for lunch.  (Our 8 AM breakfast must have already metabolized and evaporated.)  He suggested a Chinese restaurant called Sesame Garden.  He’d eaten there the other day with friends and enjoyed it.  He wanted to go back and thought that I would like the food, too.

I went online and checked Sesame Garden’s website.  “Hours are from 11:00 to 4 PM on Sunday,” I read off their home page.  “They’re closed right now.”

“You know what they call that restaurant when it’s open?” Sean asked.

“Open Sesame,” I said.  And:  “Oh god.”

We are not the kind of schmoopy married people who finish each other’s sentences.  But because I’ve known my husband for so long, I am able to deliver the punch lines of his corny jokes.

I don’t know which is worse.


Sean says, “Hang loose!”

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Day 135/365: Human Beings and Common Courtesy


Today, one of my patients was complaining about a tier officer who he didn’t like.  “I just ignore him and keep to myself,” Mr. F said.  “If he say good morning to me, I just keep walking.”

“Hold up,” I said.  “I seem to remember a time when you told me that it hurt your feelings when you greet staff on the yard, and they act like they don’t know you.”

“Yeah, but that’s an inmate talking to free staff,” Mr. F reasoned.  “This is different.”

“Nuh uh,” I told him.  “Put all that ‘inmate-staff’ business aside.  We’re talking inmates and staff as people.  Human beings and common courtesy.  How would you feel if you saw me on the yard and you said, ‘Good morning,’ and I just ignored you and kept going?”

Mr. F thought it over.  He looked like he was about to say something and then changed his mind.  He heaved his shoulders with an exaggerated sigh.  “All right.  You’re right, Doc.  I hear you.”

A few hours later, I happened to be outside, walking across the yard, when I heard someone calling my name.  I glanced over at the line of inmates sitting along the bench and immediately spotted Mr. F.  The one with his hand raised in the air and waving at me.

I stopped walking and looked him in the eye to make sure that he knew that I knew he’d called out a greeting.  Then I turned, lifted my chin haughtily for a deliberate snub, and kept walking.  I glanced back.  He looked stunned for a moment before the light bulb turned on above his head and he started laughing.

I pointed a finger at him:  Bang!  Gotcha.