You might remember that I shuttered my studio in February nearly two years ago. I went to teach at a small private high school, with fond memories of my teaching at the University of Maryland as a strong motivator for that move in my life. I taught college composition, creative writing, and English literature to undergraduates for twelve years and loved it. Most of my students were thoughtful, motivated (or they became so), and I watched them change and grow over the course of a semester. I am still in contact with some of my students who have now become friends, gotten married, started families, and have interesting lives. It was rewarding, satisfying, intellectually challenging work. But my students of nearly 15 years ago are not the students of today. . . smart phones, and laptops, and the wifi in the classroom transform it and I’m not jazzed about how. It is not my cup of tea anymore.

I decided not to pursue that path though I am now glad I had the short experience I did in spite of the significant pain it caused me at the time. Even negative experiences are so valuable for helping us make choices about how we want to live our lives. For a long time I focused on my garden, on settling into my life in a different way. I read books. I cooked really pretty dinners. I was recovering in a way. Contemplating. Quiet.

Since late this past summer I have been spending time working in a brand new (and thriving!) yarn store called Knits and Pieces of Annapolis Maryland. I love it. I has re-awakened the designer in me and I am working on some new things I will introduce you to in short order, so more on that later.

I have also been in pain. It turns out I have really bad osteoarthritis in my hips. My grandmother on my Dad’s side had both of her hips replaced in a time when the technology was not so great. So I knew I was in for it: I have always had troubles with my hips. But now it’s official and since last winter for sure, it has been debilitating. It takes up a lot of brain space to be in pain. It is a series of constant calculations. How far can I walk. Can I do this. . . or this, or this.

On Monday the 4th of December, I had a double hip replacement. I am healing. I am excited. I am thinking about the mountains I will climb next summer with my son. We have the goal to hike all the 4,000 footers in the Adirondacks, all 46 of them. We will be called 46ers when we are done. We will get special patches that we will proudly wear on our backpacks. We have 44 to go! I’ve told Soma that he better be ready to hike every day for a week next summer.

Some of you may want to know how I am doing as I continue to recover. I will keep in touch with you through my blog and through my facebook page. I will let you know how I am doing and what I am up to, both in my recovery and in my creative life. This parentheses of recovery will be a time of renewal for me: there are some creative projects I want to tackle and I’ll bring you along with me as I do that work. And then there are the designs I will introduce to you.

The picture here is a walkway on a hike that Soma and I made this past summer. It was more or less level ground on my account. The walkway crosses a wetland and is all crookedy because bad spirits can’t turn corners. I love this. And I love the iconography of journey that is embedded in walkways that lead into the unknown. Our lives are full of twists and turns, jaggedy journeys to places we never expected. I invite you on this journey with me.

Thank you for following me. Nora