How memory worked before google:

From the pages of my journal.

all or

I will read until my eyes close, knit 'til my wrists bleed, and keep running until I'm out of breath.

Radio Companionship

Is this a bad time? No, no I'm just sitting down to knit. Oh, because I thought I heard a man's voice. Oh that? That's just Ira, you know.

Too much privacy.

One of the things that ain't so great about living alone is that when I drop something and then make a great save no one is around to comment on my excellent reflexes. At times, my reflexes warrant comments.

Minor Regret

I wish that I had been more easy going about temporary tattoos when I was younger.

Twenty-One-One

I am limiting my alcohol intake. My apartment is clean. I've reorganized my furniture in a most satisfactory way. I'm thinking about everything lots and looking forward to being forced into thinking about even more stuff all the time. I'm excited for what's coming. I bought a whole chicken from the Capers. I'm embarrassed that it's delicious. I'm taking my yarn out of the closet so that I can't ignore it. It's right there in front of me. It says, "Knit me". I'm getting ambitious. I think I can do better this time. I'm going to keep my teeth in order. I won't be afraid of checking my e-mail. My rock collection will grow. My hair will grow. My nails will grow. I will add another podcast to my routine. I may or may not be concerned with answering text messages. I won't beat myself up about any of it. I will maybe settle in more. Get a few lamps. Buy some more furniture. All that jazz.

It's not even 6 yet

It smells like yeast in Walkerville in Windsor and depending on the day it smells either comforting (like a fresh loaf of bread) or not. With the most extreme patience imaginable, Suzanne taught me to knit. The old ache in my wrist is coming back again, but what can I do about it and how can I avoid the pleasure of needle crafts at Christmas time? It's impossible. Now I have a hat to wear, and one that isn't fur. Suzanne spent a few minutes teaching her sister to knit last night. I woke up at an ungodly hour with her parents to find that Sarah had knit herself a little rectangle and kept a note about the ever-rising amount of stitches she had collected. I gave Sarah a big kiss on the cheek to say goodbye and I like to think I didn't even see her cringe.
Reluctantly Andrew agreed to watch a bit of Chevy Chase's Christmas Vacation with dinner, just for a bit. Never did I imagine myself wedged between Suzanne and her father watching this movie over wine, lamb sausage, and vegetable lasagna. I looked over at Andrew, usually so cautious to crack a smile, bright eyed and beaming through much of the movie. Martha was laughing wildly.

And last night as a gift for their parents the Robinson children (including the dog Darcy) went and got their photo taken, and they even let me into a few frames.