Knits of 2017

At the beginning of the year, I like to reflect on the prior year's crafting. Not only does this tend to inspire me for the year to come, but it greatly appeals to the data analyst in me. You can find all of my knitting-related posts by clicking the "knitting" tag in the sidebar, or peruse the 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2016 lists here. Ravelry, which allows me to easily track my progress and record my projects, reveals the following yearly yardage totals that are 100% predictable when you consider how residency went:

• 2014: 851 yards
• 2015: 1,988 yards
• 2016: 5,159 yards
• 2017: 5,909 yards

The second half of 2017 was particularly productive, as residency was over and I had a bunch of cross-country drives during which to knit. The tally for 2017 is as follows:

• 2 pair of mittens/gloves
• 3 scarves
• 4 hats
• 9 baby sweaters 

The baby sweaters continue to dominate the knitting focus, and I anticipate that this will continue into 2018!

Step 3: Remove the ugly/dangerous/dirty things from the ceilings.

It had not previously occurred to me that there were so many ugly/dangerous/dirty things that could be on ceilings. I think I'd imagined that anything dirty would fall down from the top of the room, rendering the floor filthy, but somehow leaving the ceiling pristine. Not so. The original ceilings in our place are bead board - planks of wood with rounded edges and a groove in the middle such that it looks like twice as many smaller boards. On top of the [undoubtedly lead based] paint on these gems was a layer of wallpaper (likely with asbestos), and then eight inches of cobwebs and random wires and extension cords, and then a drop ceiling. As those things have come down, we've only found one hole in the ceiling, and it's small. 

Work-life has been busy, so this step has been almost entirely conducted without me present, but still consulting on the phone and demanding constant photos of the progress. Here's how things are looking:

The bedroom with the drop ceiling tiles removed, but with the frame still up and the wallpaper underneath. It almost looks like a geometric pattern, but it's really just water damage...

The ceiling revealed, including a small hole...

The bedroom in its current glory. This time it's the air scrubber sitting jauntily by the fireplace. You can particularly appreciate in this photo that the white paint on the walls stops where the drop ceiling was placed. It now gives this wild edging effect wherein there is white paint, and then about six inches of unpainted faux-wood paneling, then a gap with crazy looking wallpaper, then the picture molding, then the ceiling. Somehow beyond shabby chic...

The living room ceiling is the same material, but a slightly different color of blue-gray. Also, there is still peel-and-stick linoleum in there. I think the previous residents kept the linoleum company in business. There are miles of it...

Overall the bead board is in good shape, and it's beautiful. Once it's scraped and repainted (with lead-safe masks, mom, really) it will be restored to it's former glory. 

I'll leave you with a funny list of how this move has altered my search history in my phone seemingly irrevocably. When I type the word "Durham" into Google, it prompts me for the following items:

• Durham Toilet Rebate Program
• Durham dispose of bulky items
• Durham bike groups

In fairness, I did once Google the toilet rebate program after seeing an ad for it on a television in a lunch place. Only in recent weeks have I heard "Do you need a more water efficient toilet?" on a television and thought, "Why yes, I do!"

Step 1: Remove the ugly/dangerous/dirty things from the floors.

There are so many ways to define the beginning of adulthood. Those of us who are still trainees in our 30's tend to spend a lot of time justifying that we transitioned to being "real adults" when we graduate from college, started supporting ourselves and our scholarly endeavors, moved away, became a "real doctor," or completed all of the training necessary for licensure and board certification. I will stand by my insistence in all of these milestones as markers of a truly adult existence, but will qualify that by staying that I've come to believe that there is not really a firm threshold to cross from young person to adult. 

And then we bought a house. As a milestone, it's out of reach for so many that adulthood certainly can't be predicated on home ownership. In the setting of the recent financial crisis, frankly, it seems imprudent to even suggest that signing for a mortgage is a right of passage. Nonetheless, I don't know that I've ever felt more like an adult than when we sat and, rather anticlimactically I might add, signed on the dotted lines and received the keys to our new home. 

As soon as the deed was registered, we started on the massive project that I anticipate chronicling here: restoring a 1933 gem to it's previous glory. There are layers of tile and carpet over the hardwood floors. The paint on the door frames and baseboards is so thick that they appear rounded in places, and there is certainly lead in the deeper layers. There are likely asbestos-filled wallpaper and tiles in many rooms, and although less medically ill-advised, the decor choices in most of the rooms were not good. 

Step 1: Remove the ugly/dangerous/dirty things from the floors. 

 Distressing carpet gives way to bright green carpet pad, which is stapled to thin wood paneling over the original hardwood floors. Oh, and some of what were supposed to be delicate nails holding the tack strip around the edges are actually 2.5" carpentry nails. 

 The first real glimpse of the hardwood floors. 

The shop vac poses jauntily with the fully uncovered hardwood floors. 

And now for something completely different

I've been her in North Carolina for almost a month now, and life is so different from San Francisco. Here is a little table I've prepared to illustrate just how different it is (click to enlarge):

You can appreciate that fellowship is objectively, quantitatively better than residency, despite the steamy weather that heats up early, and that many aspects of living in Chapel Hill are amazing. I miss some of the food options (read: State Bird Provisions and Uji Time Desserts) that were close and delicious in San Francisco, but there are tasty things here that we're discovering every day (like The Root Cellar, which is literally right outside our side door).

Walter does not enjoy the heat. He is, however, loving having more rooms in which to lounge and a guest bed to sleep on during the day. Here

he is recovering from a long walk in the heat, and drinking from a twirly straw:

Just kidding, he cannot drink from a straw. I just posed him like this in solidarity with a friend who was limited to liquids for a bit. 

Good by to the slogan "Brown is the new green!" that was all over municipal green space in San Francisco during the drought. Here in North Carolina freeway rest stops are beautiful!

The view from the passenger's seat on our drive in.