On Crocheting I'm a beginner crocheter and so as my experience has evolved, through much help from Youtube, I've learned some tips that have been quite helpful in my endeavor. Crocheting is very relaxing and fruitful. Nothing like completing a scarf or hundreds of granny squares (I am addicted to granny squares and one day, I swear, I will do something with them, other than pull them out and admire them from time to time and oohing and ahhhing at my own work). Yes, I do that. I usually do it to fish for compliments. However, no one is really ever that excited, anymore, over one more granny square completed! Some of the tips I've learned are how to make a slipknot easier, how to crochet on the round and how to make lovely flowers in varying sizes. What I haven't learned is that you should never crochet at the bus stop. Suuuure, it seemed like a good idea at the time. That way, as we waited for the bus, I'd have something to do while we wait. Like it's not enough, listening to S whine about something or the other little girl, D, from the bus stop perched at my window. Doesn't she realize it's cold outside and the reason we sit, with windows, closed is to keep the heat in? Get in your own car, kid! But she's six, so I'll let her slide. So, there we were in the heated car, comfy, relaxed. S was going on about "look mom, I only have three fingers" or something like that and D, perched at my window, was apparently trying to claw her way into my car. I was crocheting so I wasn't really paying attention. Crocheting can be very labor intensive. Oh, I forgot to mention, I also have been taking a neighbor's kids to the bus stop, as well. They were in the backseat ignoring Savannah, too. They were probably in the backseat counting their fingers or waving at D. I heard the squeal from D that indicates the bus is coming and so I put my partially crocheted scarf and needle down on the console between the seats and preceded to exit the vehicle and get S and the other kids out to board the bus. I thought I felt like I dropped something but no, the scarf was still sitting on the console. It had fallen a bit to the side. Not a big deal. Or so I thought. The kids get on the bus, I do my waving to S and the other kids and I turn to my car. What's that thing hanging out the door? (I left the door open, not sure why...it's just what I do) and I realize it's a string of yarn. My first thought was, that's silly...who crochets at the bus stop? As I got closer I realized that the yarn must have rolled out of the car and into the gutter and that's when I also realized that I do park freakishly close to one of those drain thingys. I'm always telling S to watch herself.(she's too big to fit down one) BUT I don't want to waste the bus driver's time by having to unwedge a Chuck Taylor from the metal grid. I know, I know....stop parking there, right? Yeah, I should. So, anyway, there's my yarn, in the cold, dark abyss of the drain and I look into my car to the console and there's my needle and what used to be a partially crocheted scarf, that now is just a less partially crocheted scarf. It had unraveled about 3 rows of hard work. I grab the end of the yarn and begin to pull it from the drain, but it DUH! You can't do that. It's just unraveling more and I refuse to stand out, in the cold, winding yarn into a nice and neat, tight ball of yarn. Plus, I don't know what's in that drain. I took my lighter out, since I don't carry a pair of scissors with me to the bus stop and I probably never will now! I burned the yarn to detach it and jumped in my car and came home. So, you heard it hear first, Do Not Crochet at the Bus Stop!

To Love It takes hard work to love. It's always worth it in the end. Extending your heart to, A child, a spouse, a friend.

Self Imposed Prison I peer through the bars of this self imposed prison. The bars look, vaguely, like windows. I spend my days inside the cell waiting for my freedom. As if a warden would suddenly appear and grant me the #life I used to have. A #life lived free, free of fret and looming fear. A #life that used to mean something, if not to anyone else, to me. Perhaps locking myself inside this cell was to protect me from the anguish this world has poured on me. Maybe in some ways I like this place.

A ReInvention 2013 is going to be THAT year. I am going to take on some incredible experiences, set some ridiculously outrageous goals and start living outside the box, instead of merely thinking outside the box. Write a book. Publish a book. Start a business. Create. Create. Create.

Hmmm, Opuss. What will I find here? A muse? A creative outlet? A friend? Oh what is Opuss going to do to help me find my way in this dark and desolate world?