Monday, January 31, 2011
Flowers for grandparents
Flowers galore
Flowers galore
Flowers for grandparents
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
DarkCopy - Simple, full screen text editing
DarkCopy is a simple, full-screen text editor for distraction free writing.
DarkCopy is for anyone who enjoys the simplicity of a typewriter, and wants to increase productivity by focusing only on writing. It was created as a free, web-based clone of WriteRoom.
Go ahead and try it! Simply start typing and toggle to full-screen editing mode to clear your mind.
Add DarkCopy to your browser: DarkCopy (drag the link to your bookmarks toolbar)Help us spread the word: Stumble this Digg this Del.icio.us Facebook
via darkcopy.com
So useful!
DarkCopy - Simple, full screen text editing
DarkCopy is a simple, full-screen text editor for distraction free writing.
DarkCopy is for anyone who enjoys the simplicity of a typewriter, and wants to increase productivity by focusing only on writing.
It was created as a free, web-based clone of WriteRoom.
Go ahead and try it! Simply start typing and toggle to full-screen editing mode to clear your mind.
Add DarkCopy to your browser: DarkCopy
(drag the link to your bookmarks toolbar)
Help us spread the word:
Stumble this ??
Digg this ??
Del.icio.us ??
via darkcopy.com
So useful!
Clearing my mind
This is my new document and I'm just going to write and write and
thing and write. There has been a whirl of things going on again. Looking back at old
posts, I used to write so freely and happily and feel better for it.
And now, I don't write at all, just give floods of images because I
don't know what to say. I feel at once little and huge, that strange sensation of my body
looming and my mind shrinking. One blurs away from the other as if I
am being distorted or liquefied. Where do you out your creativity when you can't use it? Is there a
little box somewhere where it lives until you need it? The gloves are
helping. Beautiful wool whirling into numbers and stitches. I read the
old glove like a pattern and try not to rip back too much. Will they match? That is the question. People look amazed at the tiny
stitches and a la the Yarn Harlot, I nod, smile, explain and take the
compliments. I don't get a lot of those these days and I need the
reassurance like air. Working so much, so hard is irritating me, but I will remain faithful
to this goal we're striving to reach. Come February, we'll know one
way or the other how our lives will go for now. Faithful, faithful,
faithful. In the reading of the Word, in the praying, in watching and listening,
in being, in trying to live all things as we are meant to. I hate
struggling, but it feels like we must for just a little longer, a
little longer. I would like to go on holiday some where quiet with wine and food, and
just knit and write and paint. Almost like Devon at Christmas, but
perhaps with less people. Or I'd like a lazy afternoon with friends just talking and being, or
on a gentle walk. Not worrying about life, or tomorrows. Actually
living, not just muddling through.
thing and write. There has been a whirl of things going on again. Looking back at old
posts, I used to write so freely and happily and feel better for it.
And now, I don't write at all, just give floods of images because I
don't know what to say. I feel at once little and huge, that strange sensation of my body
looming and my mind shrinking. One blurs away from the other as if I
am being distorted or liquefied. Where do you out your creativity when you can't use it? Is there a
little box somewhere where it lives until you need it? The gloves are
helping. Beautiful wool whirling into numbers and stitches. I read the
old glove like a pattern and try not to rip back too much. Will they match? That is the question. People look amazed at the tiny
stitches and a la the Yarn Harlot, I nod, smile, explain and take the
compliments. I don't get a lot of those these days and I need the
reassurance like air. Working so much, so hard is irritating me, but I will remain faithful
to this goal we're striving to reach. Come February, we'll know one
way or the other how our lives will go for now. Faithful, faithful,
faithful. In the reading of the Word, in the praying, in watching and listening,
in being, in trying to live all things as we are meant to. I hate
struggling, but it feels like we must for just a little longer, a
little longer. I would like to go on holiday some where quiet with wine and food, and
just knit and write and paint. Almost like Devon at Christmas, but
perhaps with less people. Or I'd like a lazy afternoon with friends just talking and being, or
on a gentle walk. Not worrying about life, or tomorrows. Actually
living, not just muddling through.
Clearing my mind
This is my new document and I'm just going to write and write and
thing and write. There has been a whirl of things going on again. Looking back at old
posts, I used to write so freely and happily and feel better for it.
And now, I don't write at all, just give floods of images because I
don't know what to say. I feel at once little and huge, that strange sensation of my body
looming and my mind shrinking. One blurs away from the other as if I
am being distorted or liquefied. Where do you out your creativity when you can't use it? Is there a
little box somewhere where it lives until you need it? The gloves are
helping. Beautiful wool whirling into numbers and stitches. I read the
old glove like a pattern and try not to rip back too much. Will they match? That is the question. People look amazed at the tiny
stitches and a la the Yarn Harlot, I nod, smile, explain and take the
compliments. I don't get a lot of those these days and I need the
reassurance like air. Working so much, so hard is irritating me, but I will remain faithful
to this goal we're striving to reach. Come February, we'll know one
way or the other how our lives will go for now. Faithful, faithful,
faithful. In the reading of the Word, in the praying, in watching and listening,
in being, in trying to live all things as we are meant to. I hate
struggling, but it feels like we must for just a little longer, a
little longer. I would like to go on holiday some where quiet with wine and food, and
just knit and write and paint. Almost like Devon at Christmas, but
perhaps with less people. Or I'd like a lazy afternoon with friends just talking and being, or
on a gentle walk. Not worrying about life, or tomorrows. Actually
living, not just muddling through.
thing and write. There has been a whirl of things going on again. Looking back at old
posts, I used to write so freely and happily and feel better for it.
And now, I don't write at all, just give floods of images because I
don't know what to say. I feel at once little and huge, that strange sensation of my body
looming and my mind shrinking. One blurs away from the other as if I
am being distorted or liquefied. Where do you out your creativity when you can't use it? Is there a
little box somewhere where it lives until you need it? The gloves are
helping. Beautiful wool whirling into numbers and stitches. I read the
old glove like a pattern and try not to rip back too much. Will they match? That is the question. People look amazed at the tiny
stitches and a la the Yarn Harlot, I nod, smile, explain and take the
compliments. I don't get a lot of those these days and I need the
reassurance like air. Working so much, so hard is irritating me, but I will remain faithful
to this goal we're striving to reach. Come February, we'll know one
way or the other how our lives will go for now. Faithful, faithful,
faithful. In the reading of the Word, in the praying, in watching and listening,
in being, in trying to live all things as we are meant to. I hate
struggling, but it feels like we must for just a little longer, a
little longer. I would like to go on holiday some where quiet with wine and food, and
just knit and write and paint. Almost like Devon at Christmas, but
perhaps with less people. Or I'd like a lazy afternoon with friends just talking and being, or
on a gentle walk. Not worrying about life, or tomorrows. Actually
living, not just muddling through.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Train train
Train train
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Most of something knitted.
Shown here on the patchwork quilt made by my gran out of scraps of fabric from our lives, that she gave to Tom and I when we moved in together. Oh and some more bits me devon.
Most of something knitted.
Shown here on the patchwork quilt made by my gran out of scraps of fabric from our lives, that she gave to Tom and I when we moved in together. Oh and some more bits me devon.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
What was your worst travel experience?
I honestly can't remember a particularly bad travel experience because I really love travelling, and even when it doesn't go to plan it can be interesting.
If you could only listen to one song for the next month, which would it be?
I would listen to the Vitamin String Quartet cover of Paramore's Halleujah
Do you have any scars on your body? If so, how'd you get them?
I have 4 scars on my stomach, one from having my appendix out, and 4 from the removal of an ectopic pregnancy. I have lots of scars on my feet from dancing, and a chicken pox scar on my forehead.
Monday, January 03, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)