Yarnlove

A rose is not just a rose. It's also a metaphor for quite a lot of things, though mostly related to love and female bodyparts. I'm quite certain I'm not the only Swedish girl who unknowingly has sung "Flickan i Havanna" (the girl in Havanna) and the line "kom, du glade sjömatros, du kan få min röda ros" (come, you happy sailor, you can have my red rose), convinced she wanted to give him a flower in the most innocent way imaginable and not prostitute herself.

The only thing of beauty that was growing in my garden when I moved in was a rose, and a couple of days ago it started flowering. I'm quite moved by this, and I find it a very nice gesture from this rose to flower as if to welcome me. I took a crappy picture and will reward the well-meaning plant by cutting it down to an almost nothing at earliest convenience, in an amateurish attempt to make it grow better next year. All my neighbours have beautiful, two metre rose bushes just exploding in beauty, and I have the same height but in two poor stems, carefully tied to the fence. And I want what they have. I might be ungrateful, but I'd rather like to think that I see the inner beauty that lies within this rose; I see its potential.

Tonight I finished my first Salina sleeve. It looks a bit odd.

Inspired as I was by Katarinas new and improved blog, I took advantage of my vacation, downloaded a new template and updated my links.

Tonight I'm going to my old place to see if my last SP package has arrived - the secret "M" sent me an email last week to say she had posted it. I'm so excited!

On the knitting front: a few days ago I joined, as many others, the "Mystery Stole 3" project after reading about it on the Yarn Harlot's blog. I dug up the precious raspberry red silk yarn my still very secret pal sent me in her last package, even though the instructions recommended black or white yarn. However, after knitting a small triangle that looked quite nice I browsed the comments on the Yahoo group and found pics of stoles that had come a bit further than mine, and I didn't like the look of it at all... I like my lace to have rounder, more organic patterning, and this one seemed to be of the more geometrical kind. But it was good to have a few hours off from the endless sleeve knitting on Salina. This pace is not normal for me, and I would like to blame it on my absent sofa. Sitting on a matress on the floor isn't too comfy, and knitting doesn't help. I have a few centimetres left to the armhole on the first sleeve. I'm so tired of it, I might knit a cuff or a collar in between sleeves...

Earlier this week I sent the last SP package to my "downstream" Mary - check out her blog.

I'm still waiting for my own lovely upstream to reveal herself. She's been awesome, I can't wait to see who she is!

Yesterday I moved to my brand new place. My. Place. A tiny terrace house. I bought it! (Sure, technically it was the bank who did, but the bank won't be living here.) It's so surreal. Last night, as all my beautiful, lovely, box-carrying friends had left, I was not only dead tired but also kind of confused. I love the apartment, but I couldn't help but not knowing how to feel about it. I've been waiting for this moment since I started living on my own nine years ago, and now I didn't know how to feel about it. The feeling persisted until today, but it might have passed now. (I can imagine it's the same thing as many new mothers feel.) It's kind of scary knowing that I am responsible to myself fo making holes in the wall, and presumtive disasters will paid for by myself. The people living around me are my neighbours, and I have to be nice to them. Everything depends on me. And I'm all by myself. This place is for me and only me, and I will be living here until somebody suggests we move in together someplace else. And may I say it doesn't seem to be happening very soon, either...

Tomorrow my best friend will come here with his family, and his dad has promised to help me drill holes in my walls (iiix), his mum is going to have coffee with me and hopefully my three godchildren will play in the yard and my best friend help me carry boxes to the repository, throw junk away and admire my little garden, and since they are wonderful people I know I'll feel much better and more at home having them around.