Monday, December 5, 2011

Bouquet of Daisies

Not this kind of bender.
I don't know if it's the high of finally putting a pattern up for sale, with its sense of accomplishment, the stress and desire to supplement our income with whatever I can offer, a desperate need to distract myself with anything other than household duty, or the need for all things New and Fresh, but I've been on an absolute knitting bender, and most of it I've been mixing-up on my own. Unfortunately, for the moment I'm short on pictures because Jason lost the SD card. Sorry. We're trying our hardest around here and working with what we have. It's not much.

Add caption
I've had a hank of Malabrigo Rios in Archangel burning a hole in my stash since May. I've known for about ever what I wanted to do with it- it was just a matter of timing. I guess the time was when the trees matched. It's a totally unoriginal cowl, but what can I say? I was impatient. I think that the daisy stitch does a great job of showing off the colors while obscuring any pooling.  I used a provisional cast on for 25 stitches with US size 8 needles with the Knitting On The Net formula for a daisy stitch. When it measured about 24 inches I grafted it. Voila- gerbera daisies!

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

It's Never Too Late To Be Grateful

While everyone else has been talking about gift knitting and breaking out the Christmas music, I've been thinking about what I'm grateful for- why? Because I've never been on time for anything in my life.

These skinny ankles are just begging for some fancy knit socks
  • I'm grateful for my dear friends. They appreciate my obsessions  hobbies without question, humor me when I go overboard, and show genuine interest when I don't.
  • I'm grateful for easy transportation in the cities. For a fraction of what it would cost me in gas and parking, I can hop a bus or train to my most important destinations (and plenty more) any time I need to.
  • I'm grateful that Shane and KJ had tasty vegetarian options in spades.
  • I'm grateful for new friends I'm making all the time.
  • I'm grateful for Drew's preparedness, with just enough phone battery to snap a couple shots. (Jason left my SD card at work).
  • I'm grateful for my mind and  body, literacy, imagination and the internet.
  • I'm grateful for knitting, and all manner of woolly animals.
  •  I'm grateful for my best friend, lover, partner, and co-parent. I'm grateful for our kids. My family is incredible. I'm also grateful that my kids love to travel. I'm grateful that every time they see something they want they say "Can you knit me one?" even if it's physically impossible, and every time I cast on they say, "For me?!"
  • I'm grateful for our apartment, and that when we sleep on couches now, it's to visit.
  • I'm grateful for the things I've experienced and that which I will yet experience, for the perspective it will give me and the inspiration it already has.

    What are you grateful for every day- not just on Thanksgiving? 

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Toe Headed

I've always wondered where on Earth the English language came up with the term "Toe Head." I mean, seriously? Toe head? I can't begin to tell you the imagery that invokes. And what the heck does it have to do with blond hair? My toes sure don't look like a Fanning girl.
I couldn't help but think of this when I started making Cal a yellow hat that he'd requested. The interesting part is that he's as blond as the sunshine. He always draws himself with yellow crayons. Strangers have commented on more than one occasion, quote, "Kid, you are yellow!"
Being thus compelled, I started searching the internet, only to find out I was wrong all along. All these years I was thinking "Toe head," when in fact it's "Tow head." According to most sources, tow is the Germanic word for flax or hemp that is ready for spinning! Flax and other similar fibers, when ready for spinning, are blond.
You learn something new every day.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Black Pansy

When I was a kid (middle school- high school) my mother had a couple of whiskey barrel planters at the front of our little house. I wasn't much for doing any of the actual gardening (I felt more like that was her thing). For the most part it was just an extension of my mother's house decor. I appreciated the flowers well enough, but it was wasn't my project, and I kind of saw it like "The same old thing," every spring: purple petunias and varied pansies.
 It wasn't even so much that the flowers she picked were the same each year, but that everyone picked the pansies and petunias every year. They were all over the neighborhood, in all the store front planters, at the city park, by the freeway exit, and into the next town! Same old purple petunias and yellow, burgundy, and purple pansies.
 The spring of my senior year of high school, my mother brought home a flat of seedlings labeled "Pansies-varied." The buds hadn't opened at all, so I expected the standard yellow and purple. Imagine my surprise when I came home a couple days later to find the whiskey barrels gushing with the most beautiful, pearly, black  blossoms! Every single pansy was black, with just a hint of iridescent blue-violet toward the yellow center. I'd never seen anything like it (and frankly neither had anyone else on my block)! It was still classic in its familiarity, but suddenly elegant, even a bit playful or mischievous looking! A flower had taken my way of thinking and turned it upside down for a whole different perspective. And I was in love with it.

That's what Black Pansy represents to me: taking familiar, classic elements to create something that is fresh, unexpected, even a bit mischievous. It emphasizes the unique among the ordinary. It's about the allure, the magic of taking a fresh perspective.

P.S. I can't wait to have a container garden of my own this spring.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011


Lala insisted on choosing her own outfit today. Got to love a girl with a mind of her own. She's wearing her new stealth booties.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

It's Dark in Connecticut, but the Future's Lookin' Bright

In a nutshell (maybe a coconut):
     Isn't that for responsible knitters?
  • I had the best birthday I could remember. I felt so loved. My little ones were soliciting loves like it was going out of style. My mother came to visit and assured me that in the two weeks she'd spent at my sister's, the two of them couldn't keep up with the dishes (if you only knew what an incomparable gift that was). And my dear love brought me three different kinds of vegan cake (slices, but combined to the size of a whole cake) and Boomerang by Michael Lewis (since I just got so much lovable fiber at Rhinebeck). This was clearly one of my favorite birthdays.
  • I don't know what happened to me after Rhinebeck, but I came home, got into my stash, and started swatching. And I liked it! I never do that! Who is this person and what are they doing with my yarn!
  • Halloween pictures, and the Finn the Human hat I knit for Jason in two nights, are coming- just as soon as my mother emails them to me.
  •  Thanks to a crazy Nor'Easter snowstorm the weekend before Halloween, my place became someone else's  temporary residence: my sister and her 3 kids came to stay after the 3rd of 6 days without power, practically frozen. She ranted a bit about the disorganization of the CT authority, but mentioned a friend who proclaimed that the state had used it's emergency help from other states when Eirene came through with out paying it back, and that the utility company had fired a huge chunk of it's staff. It makes sense, but I wish I could get the facts. It's the kind of thing I think people should know about- it's totally the thing I want to go back to school for.
  • With all of the fun that comes from a house full of cousins, we just couldn't keep the noise down, no matter how hard I tried. After a thinly veiled email from our landlord (on the floor below us) about how we promised to get rugs, we explained that it'd only been two paychecks time, whilst my extended family was in need. All was forgiven, but I decided to make the kids some booties to help muffle the sound. I used the formula for Ysolda Teague's Grown-up Booties, and I've got to say, they're kind of awesome. The kiddoes are looking forward to their new "Stealth Ninja Feet" and I'm just hoping that it doesn't backfire with them falling on their faces all over the place.
  • Stealth ninjas like rosebuds, right? 
  • I finally got Berklee published. Talk about crazy-accomplished-excited-anxious-nutzo. It's totally surreal. I'm so green. 

Sunday, October 23, 2011

The Things We Do For Yarn

Friday, 15, October, I headed through torrential rain with my nearly-empty suitcase. It had been a disappointing day. Then, of course, the subway was backed up. The bus was late. Based on my previous trips, I'd be getting to New York at about 11:30 PM (we didn't actually arrive till after 2:00AM). But every now and then I'd get a reassuring text from my friends, promising they were already going to be up late, that they were happy to have me.

How could I not be upbeat? I was going to be with some of my favorite people in the world.

And I was going to Rhinebeck.

After I arrived at Shane and KJ's, we caught up, covered the weekend agenda, and they went off to bed while I went to wash off the chill that had dampened through three layers of my clothing. I note this, first, because KJ's shower is an obligatory destination I look forward to every trip to Manhattan; in both apartments they've had, they manage to get perfect shower pressure, whilst stocking the bathroom full of the wares of her employment (she works for a certain lovely soap+ shop famous for "fresh, handmade cosmetics" wink wink). Second, it meant that I didn't get into bed until 15 minutes to 5AM.

I completely slept through my first two alarms, waking to the third at precisely 5:30AM.  Yet, miraculously, I managed to dress, make a fruitless phone call, get downstairs, hail a cab that got lost and turned around in construction, and be at the Park Slopes bus on 6th Ave at about 6:02AM- I don't know if I've ever been so on-time in my life. Then we waited for half an hour because someone who was late called ahead. Oh, the irony.

I managed to get some sleep on the bus, but didn't miss out on the lovely scenery or getting acquainted with the awesome people around me.
We were one of the first groups to arrive. There was no rush, no busyness. I was able to take it all in at my own pace.

I saw scads of fun, diverse animals.

And was giddy to pet the only Angora bunny I was able to find.

I met lots of wonderful people,

a few of my heroes,

Some South End Knitters

and some old friends.

I stood in line for over an hour (others waited longer) for a legendary yarn I had yet to try, and missed the Ravelry meet-up for it, but I got the coveted yarn. It's beautiful. I'm told that by Sunday there was practically nothing left.
Seeing is believing

This had better be good yarn.

I actually got everything I set out to get, and a few things I couldn't live without, but everything was a "find." I knew what vendor I wanted to visit, but not what yarn/color; I knew I wanted a new drop spindle, but no specific one, etc. (And I have yet to photograph any of my treasure.) I had so much fun that I'm still feeling the glow, over a week later!

We called it a day just in time for my satisfaction to be at its peak, and I got back to Shane and KJ's just in time for dinner. We had a fantastic evening, and didn't turn in till after 2AM again. It was beyond worth it.

Needless to say, I slept in the next morning.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Burned, and a Close Shave

Playing in the New Apartment
I had a beautiful post last night. OK, maybe it wasn't the best stuff, but it was good, and I had worked on it for hours and hours during whatever time I had over the course of several days. It was all about how after weeks of couch surfing we finally were settling into a new apartment and all these little serendipitous events (like my landlord and her room mate having combined expertise in what I want to study when I go back to school next year)  that were were making me optimistic. Then I wrote a bunch about my knitting group and how much it's meant to me to have some sort of anchor in a free-floating situation and that it had taught me a few things about how to keep my sanity in the future, as I have no memory or future plans that don't involve travel.

I should have seen it as an omen when none of my photos would load.

I must have hit "Publish" six times before I navigated away from the page, certain it would be posted and pretty on my front page. It wasn't. I went back to the drafting page, and everything was gone.

Thankfully, my word processor has an auto-save function that I discovered this morning, when I thought I'd lost the final draft of my pattern for the Berklee hat. That was close.

Knit Night is tonight, my anniversary and Cal's first day of school (on account of our late move-in-date) are tomorrow, and my first Rhinebeck is in 9 days- and that's just the first half of the month...

Monday, August 1, 2011

What Happened Part 2

So when Jason called and told me that he had two takers- one in Cambridge and one in Southie, I leaped on it. The Southie apartment was cheap and beautiful,  convenient, but a longer commute. We'd be close to connections we'd made over the past year and we wouldn't have to change any official city stuff. The Cambridge place was alright, a little more expensive, but surrounded by parks and preschools, and a 10 minute walk to his office. Plus, we'd already seen it; it was the place that had gone to another tenant, which had apparently opened up again. He didn't see why we shouldn't take the Cambridge place right way- after all, I'd seen it and liked it before! But something about it didn't jive with me this time. Something was shady. We decided to sleep on it and hadn't made any progress by the next morning, so I told him "Jason, I don't like this. But I'm on the other side of the country and I have to rely on you in the end. Make a decision so I can come home."
     So he signed on the Cambridge place and booked me a ticket out of Salt Lake for Tuesday. We spent Friday evening at my bother's house eating pizza and telling stories while the kids played and I jammed on my ukulele. For all the dry heat and bleakness I get out of the West, I'll go back again and again for those kinds of nights.
     Saturday Nana (my mother), the kiddoes, and I drove through Coeur D'Alene, ID and Missoula, MT down to Salmon, ID pop. 3,300 to stay the night with my grandmother. Sunday we had lunch with my grandfather and his wife at the blue-green ranch where my mother grew up. By blue-green ranch, I mean that in ever sense you can imagine. The house is painted sea foam blue-green. It's in the center of green hay fields, Weeping Willows, and Russian Olive Trees. The blue Beaverhead Mountains are everywhere you look. For 5 years we made plans to come visit, but every time we'd run out of money by the weekend. This was the first time I'd seen Grampa Dee and Gramma Violet since Jason and I got married. It was the first time they'd met Cal and Lala. It's things like this that fuel my conviction that sometimes geographical distance is the best thing for family relationships.
      Anyway, we got in to Jason's parent's in time for dinner on Sunday night. Having spent two days with "Grandparents" they hardly new, Cal ran up to the door and cheered "This is my real Grandpa and Grandma's house!" After dinner we made plans for the kiddoes' stay and Jason's mother to fly back with them and visit when we got settled in our new place. I talked it over with the kids, who, between the cousins and the sandbox, had a much easier time saying goodbye than I did, and drove to You've-Never-Heard-of-It, pop. 3,000.
      We meant to spend Monday working on the house my parents have been "working on" for about 35 years, but I think we ended up spending more of it napping off road-lag. But the wakeful parts are for another post.
     My mother dropped me off at the shuttle to Salt Lake at 2AM Tuesday, I started reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks in Phoenix, AZ around 2PM, and I got into Logan Airport at about 11:57PM. We burned 3 nights in a hotel in Dorchester, where we got one night rebated because there was a used condom behind the nightstand of our first room. We couldn't spend another night in a hotel, so Friday we went to a late viewing of Harry Potter, then hung out the rest of the night in a hotel lobby in the Back Bay.  Saturday afternoon we finally got into the Cambridge apartment, which is when the fun really began.
     It started with the landlord giving me a hard time about wanting to move furniture- it was "partially furnished" which really meant making money off my storage unit,- even though he'd made a big deal about how we could move anything and everything when we first viewed the place. Now anything we wanted to move he'd suddenly "...have to throw good stuff away!" He'd complain about things that didn't jive with what he'd told us when we'd first viewed the place. He'd go on and on about what a horrible tenant the past tenant was, then a couple days later the tenant showed up, saying he still had the place till August! He said he was a traveling nurse moonlighting at the nearby hospital, and though his family had moved out because the place was unlivable two months ago (his company had rented it on his behalf) and the landlord was a lunatic, he couldn't get his money back so he'd crash there between shifts. Then he started telling horror stories that creepily fit Landlord's odd behaviors. The next morning Landlord showed up two hours earlier than expected with "An Inspector," and left him there. I proceeded to follow him around and learned from him that the apartment wasn't de-leaded as expressed to us, but going through the process of de-leading (he'd have to pass the lab tests from this session to even get certified), pointing our things that had been worked on, things that hadn't, things Landlord had strait up lied to us about, how "It's not Anthrax, this is how you'll need to keep the window sills clean," while I'm mentally freaking out about how I have a hard enough time keeping up with the dishes and referencing how one of the kids' favorite games is playing cars on the window sill- their stirring up dust, getting it on their toys, their fingers, itching their noses, eating snacks-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH!!!!  I called Jason and told him everything, who called the inspection office, then the landlord, and by the end of the day we got the last month's rent back, were promised the first month's pro-rated upon re-renting, and were in contact with the complex in Southie.
     I went down to the Southie place the next day and spent the whole trip wondering what had messed so badly with Jason's head that he would even think twice about living in such a beautiful complex! The agent showed me the available apartment, with a view of the skyline out one room and a view of the ocean out the other. I told him the story of our credit and how it got so dismal and he assured me that it wouldn't be a problem. We got things squared for the background check and he waved me off with ever reassurance. Saturday morning at 9AM he called us to tell us that our credit hadn't passed after all. He was sorry. Our income was great and there was a little hope left, but he'd have to wait till Monday to talk to his manager about it. What compelled him to call us at 9AM on Saturday, however, is still beyond me.
     So that's what happened. That's why we have a stroller and two suitcases in the snack room at Jason's office and Jason is at a good steady job, and on paper we're not doing too bad, but in actuality we are homeless and pretty much broke.

Saturday, July 30, 2011

What Happened

Here's what happen in the smallest nutshell I can offer. It might turn out to be a coconut.
With the generous help of some contacts from our church, we were able to get all of our belongings packed up and in a storage unit by July 1, despite not owning a car. When people started showing up to help, I had our suitcases 90% packed, but before I could get them zipped up, the patterns that I'd intended to go with my selected yarns/projects were swooped up into a truck and long gone. At least I still had my needles and my ukulele!
Getting into the cab to take us to the bus station, I managed to drop a suitcase 2 floors onto one of our beta fish tanks- which I couldn't see at the bottom- in order to prevent dropping my daughter or spilling my jewelry box. We tossed him in with the other beta, filled his tank back up in the neighbors' sink, and got him back in it- all with lightning speed. According to our fish-sitters, he survived a couple more days.
We took the bus to New York where we saw friends we hadn't seen in over a year, two new babies, and had a ton of fun together. Jason's work informed him that all needed to work together remotely to meet a deadline dropped on them Friday and due 7:30AM Tuesday. Jason and I had a fight, which stalled our decision making skills, I had a freak out about being bad guests and having no where to go ( that place I mentioned on here had gone to another prospective tenant), and my little girl- who is terrified by anything she can't predict- got bitten by our friends' terrified pet ferret. I think we're both scared for life. Anyway, since Jason had to work, we had to leave before any festivities could start Monday afternoon. Everyone fell asleep on the bus except me, who spotted the occasional fireworks display from the freeway.
After carrying around our luggage and Priceline-ing a new hotel for 3 days and two nights, we assessed that there was no way our funds would last unless we found a new apartment in a day or two. We didn't have any contacts who could take all of us in, so rather than risk it we booked a flight across the country to my mother's.
We were broke and exhausted, but we'd have a roof over our heads. It was a great chance to see family and friends we hadn't see in a long time, and my parents are unfailingly generous. That being said, staying at their house, (which would take a bunch of coconuts to explain, but it is impossible for me to relax there) with no money, no car, while my husband was on the other side of the country sleeping at the YMCA one week and some friends' couch the next, being told over and over that our credit sucks too bad to rent to, and there's nothing I can do but wait, brood, and be bored...

Just Shoot The Hat

     Oh! how ridiculous- it occurred to me the other day 'I have a blog called the Perpetual Vagabond. I've been traveling almost nonstop for weeks, and not even because I wanted or planned to- but I haven't written or taken a picture the whole time!'  I would probably less forgiving of myself  if circumstances had been more pleasant.
     When Jason came home from work on June 28th I was in a scramble to throw on a decent top and some make-up. We had two days to be ready and out of the apartment, we didn't have a new place lined up, and I didn't know when we'd get another chance to take photos of the finished Berklee hat. We'd been packing all day, so the kids and I hadn't even really gotten dressed- shorts and flip-flops were flying, I was shouting "We're losing light!" and we barreled down the stares in a comic cloud of dust and limbs.
     The conversation that followed went something like this:
"OK, just get some good shots of the hat."
"Right. Go over there. Now look up. K put your hand over there."
"Shoot the hat. You don't need to see below my shoulders."
"I know, I know- it's cool. Go over there I want to get the light post."
"Jason, shoot the hat!"
"It's cool! I want it to tell a story,"
"What are you talking about? I just need a couple good shots of the hat!"
"Like a clothing catalog."
"That's not going to work! Just shoot the hat!"
"It looks great- just trust me."
     We had some fun taking the photos, I felt like a total doofus, but we enjoyed the beautiful street we were on and playing around with the kids.
     Later that night, when Jason uploaded the shots to his computer he said to me "I think we're going to have to do this again. I should've just shot the hat." I had a good laugh over that.


Thursday, June 23, 2011

The Migration of the Atlantic Hermit Crab

It's been over a week since I touched a knitting needle or yarn, except to clean them up or put them away. I know- I've tried to schedule a psych appointment, but the clinic is pretty backed up right now.

 In all actuality, the bulk of my time has been devoted to stressing, freaking, and hunting the web till my eyes go bloodshot, that goes with trying to find a new apartment as soon as possible. This has been especially difficult, given that the Boston Housing Market has a peculiar seasonal behavior unlike anywhere else in the country- maybe the world, by my knowledge- which is heavily influenced by the concentration of universities and the like. The rule of thumb is that all leases in Eastern Massachusetts start and end on September 1st, but it's a little more curious than that. Ten months of the year, apartments are scarce to the point of legendary. Then, at the end of April, a coveted handful of apartments crops up. The graduating class, transfers, and newly-christened "Young Professionals," (and let's face it- drop-outs that can't get Mom and Dad to pay for their partying any more) have flown the coup, leaving their landlords scrambling to fill their vacancies. But as the days get hotter, these early bloomers get fewer and fewer. That is, of course, until August. By the last week of August, a prospective tenant may very well have their pick of residence. I've literally seen processions, of real estate agents and clients taking turns for viewings. Of course, one problem arising from scheduling and entire metropolitan area for moving simultaneously is the outlandish traffic. My theory is that August 30-September 2 is what sets up the entire reputation of Massachusetts drivers.

Anyway, despite everything, we seem to have found a place for us from the Spring Flee. It's not a done deal, but I feel like I can finally chill with my charts and yarn.

As per my hat pattern, I'm practically done. It's lovely, it's exactly what I wanted, and I've stalled. Jason finally started his full time position, and we couldn't be happier or more grateful about it, but my once on-call-jack-of-all-trades partner is now technically only available for photo shoot assistance in the evenings and on weekends. I haven't even had time to knit, much less time to get gussied up for picture worth publishing. Hopefully, I'll have something before the week is out.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Dear Neighbor...

Dear Neighbor From The Floor Below,
You may not recall, but you stumbled into my apartment at about 3:30AM the other night, piss drunk, wearing nothing but your boxers. I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for your visit:
  • First, thank you for wearing the boxers with the button. Not that they leave much to the imagination- it just goes to show that being 6' 3'' and built, doesn't necessarily imply endowment. I trust that "Sherry," (or whomever) doesn't mind. 
  • Thank you for giving some legitimacy to my little girl's freak-outs. Lately she's been acting strangely agoraphobic in the stairwell. Instead of going down the stairs ahead of me, as I'd like, she jumps up clamps onto me like a starfish, fussing at the slightest noise about Strangers. I try to assure her that we know everyone in the building, and no strangers can get in the front door. But it all must sound like the adults on Charlie Brown for the good it does. After your behavior the other night, I'll definitely be more patient with her from here on out. 
  • And finally, thank you for teaching me the valuable lesson, that even if our building is security-card access, we are acquainted with or neighbors, or even awake, there still may be a good reason to lock our door.  
Now, if I may offer a word of advice: Life can actually be fun, entertaining, and meaningful without getting plastered every single weekend (or in this case, the middle of the week)! Being sober doesn't mean being an Old Fogy (I'm only a year older than you- judging by your assurances to my husband that "Dude, I've lived in this apartment for 6 years,") nor does it imply having a stick up your butt. Ironically, it's the other way around, and your head- it's no accident they call it getting "Sh**faced."

The Apartment Above Yours

    • Friday, June 3, 2011

      There's No Harm in Trying.

      Do you think that if you want something hard enough, that it will happen, or is that just for the rare few? Even the seemingly impossible? The pipe-dreams?
      I've been designing my own knit pieces, more or less, for some time now. Trusted friends and passing acquaintances alike have been complimentary, even asking if I sell and flatly declaring that I should. I haven't gotten to the point of publishing or selling them for one reason or another; frankly, I think being a chicken has been a big factor.  But I'm at a point where I have, literally, nothing to lose, and I want it bad enough that I have to try.
      The truth is that we can't stay in this apartment. We don't have the money. We've know we have to find a new place for a long time, but as all of the new job leads dried up we burned through our down-payment money. Jason's been doing what he can to find freelance while applying for permanent positions, but it isn't enough. I've been out of the workforce for 5 years raising our two kids, but that's been foundational to our parenting philosophies. Throw in child care costs, education, so much more, it just gets wicked complicated.
      I was lying in bed the other night, wide awake between 3:30 and 4:00 AM trying to figure out what to do. I had/have to do something. Yarn wasn't even in my mental slide show when, suddenly, a design for a hat from start to finish slams my brain! It was too good- I couldn't not try. Anyway, I would love it and wear it constantly. I've been aching for good hats to wear without overheating, as my hair is growing to unmanageable lengths- for me, that is.
      I was walking home from Washington Street the other day, looking at the ivy and dogwood trees in front of brownstone townhouses, wanting so badly to have a place of our own like that- not somewhere to stay till the lease is up and cheaper rent comes along. Not somewhere to stay until the kids are too old to share a room. Somewhere they can grow up. I started to get the determined, almost defiant feeling I get when I isolate what it is I want, and decide that I'm going to do it- I'm going to do whatever I can do to make it happen. It's the fuel that got us to Boston, and it's the sole cause of anything else I've ever done that's worth noting. So here it is. Let's do this. I'm ready.