My brain is boiling, I think.

The weather guy said we’re headed for triple digit temperatures this weekend, and it’s not even July yet. Whew. I think it’s safe to say that it’s hot. I know it’s a fictional concept, but I always feel like I’m getting Sebacean Heat Delirium this time of year – and this year is no exception.

I don’t want to do anything when it gets really hot. I don’t want to leave the house (obviously), but I don’t even get much done in the house, despite the air conditioning. I can barely think clearly most of the time.

I can barely string together this post, frankly.

I think I was never meant to live in this climate.

I totally forgot the point I was trying to make here, but I’m going to post this anyway, as a testament to my boiled brain.

An open letter to (the other) Sarah.

Dear (Other) Sarah Crowder,

I’d really like you to get a new e-mail address. I’m not 100% sure what your e-mail address actually is, but it must be pretty damned close to mine because I continually get your e-mail.

No, I don’t know your LinkedIn business associates. I’m really glad that your friend’s massage business is going well, and that the opening party was a success, but as much as I need a massage, I don’t know your friend, and I don’t live in the Pacific Northwest. I also really appreciated the invitation to your family reunion BBQ, but again, I don’t know your family. I’m sure they’re lovely people, though.

Maybe you get e-mail intended for me sometimes, too. I have no way of knowing. Feel free to tell my friends “Hi” for me. Go ahead and reply. They’re mostly a mellow bunch, and who knows – they might even like you more than me. I am pretty cranky, after all.

Look, I know we have a very common name, and I’m almost sorry I got to Gmail first (and truly sorry that I did not include my middle initial in my handle), but here we are. If you don’t want to get a new e-mail handle*, at least make sure that the people trying to contact you have your correct address. I seriously get a lot of your e-mail. (Was it misprinted on your business cards?)

Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. But if you’re feeling a little stressed out, I bet your friend would give you a discount on a massage. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

Sincerely,
Sarah L. Crowder

*Both “SCisAwesomeForevs@hotmail” or “scrazyscrowder@juno” sound fun, right?

Resolve.

Cemetary monument.

Well, 2012 was not very eventful for me (and probably a terrible disappointment to a lot of New Agers, too – hahaha) – but I did read 54 books and I finished 20 knitting or sewing projects. I never kept count before last year, and I was pretty impressed with myself. I’ve been sick so long that I had come to believe that I never finished anything anymore, so that was a nice surprise.

I’m taking an online photography course starting tomorrow, so I’m trying to stay quietly busy.

I know I said (around the same time last year, if memory serves) that I was going to decide what to do with this blog, and besides torching the archives in a fit of righteous destruction, I never really did. Oh, well! I think it’s time to just face up to the fact that it’s not going anywhere, even if I never post again. Harrumph!

I’m starting the new year slowly, but I have two simple resolutions:

  1. Put lotion on my hands twice a day. (Which is, for some reason, much harder than it seems. As evidenced by my cracked and red hands.) This also involves lots and lots of “Silence of the Lambs” jokes, because they never get old, oh my no.
  2. Get comfortable sewing knits. I’m one of those ridiculous sewists that are still wary of knits. I’m not afraid of them, but I have ruined so many projects that I know I simply do not have the same level of skill as I do with woven fabrics. So I’m taking an online course in that, and this is the year I’m finally going to get okay with knits – even if it means ruining ever piece of knit fabric that I buy. Maybe this resolution just means that I will get comfortable with ruining knits. That’s entirely possible. But I’ve been sewing for more than half of my life now, and it’s just silly that I can’t sew the kinds of clothes that I like to wear.

And that’s it. That’s all I’ve got. Nothing too outrageous. Please note that I made no promises or resolution regarding this webpage.

2013: The Year of Hand Lotion and Knit Sewing.