I started making a messenger bag for Q for our anniversary, but got frustrated with some sew in stabilizer and gave up. After being guilted about it (more than once), I finally finished the bag. A lot of the stitching isn’t up to par with what I feel I can do, but Quinn is more than happy with it.

In addition to the cassette on the front, there is a magnetic closure for the gusset, a large back zip pocket, one inside slip pocket and one inside zip pocket. This bag is the first time I actually used a zipper foot on my tiny little machine and it worked out well!

There is so much to post about!

The other day, I went to the KIA with Q and a friend of ours because we were bored of sitting around. I’ve been unemployed since November (though I finally have a job offer! I’m not sure if it will be enough to pay my bills, but at least it’s something for now) so I’ve been feeling very shut-in lately. Q and Josh both had film to develop, so we went to the photo lab. On the way, I grabbed some yarn I had spun years ago to give to Mary. I have so much handspun sitting around I feel isn’t good enough, or long enough, or whatever enough to sell, so I hope others appreciate it.

Q and Josh developed their film and then made prints. I’ve never been involved in the process of doing this before, so it was stressful for me. The tiny, dark labs where you put your film into tanks is unbearable. When you turn the lights out, you see… nothing. Im pretty sure it was lighter with my eyes closed than open. It caused me to panic since I’d never been in such extreme, stifling darkness before. I did notice one thing, though: when you’re in complete darkness, you see colors in front of your eyes when theyre open like you normally do when theyre closed. Like galaxies. I wonder if it’s part of your anatomy you’re noticing?

There were three of us in the tiny (TINY) room and I kept imagining we would run out of air. Then Q couldn’t get his film into the spiraly thing and it freaked me out even more. I kept thinking we would be in there forever, with me cramped in the corner doing nothing except listening to the two of them swear at the canister. I think keeping my eyes open freaked me out even more than imagining we would run out of air, so I kept them closed, breathed, and was eventually fine.

Printing was FUN. I want to experiment with different lights, different exposure times. I think that part alone is enough for me to pick up another hobby and get a film camera. Q and I printed three of the same picture and it turned out marvelously. While we were in Chicago for Lollapalooza, there chess tables set up out of nowhere and it was so… whimsical.

Has anyone else ever developed their own film and printed before? What is your favorite part?

In other news, I’ve just bottled all the rest of the kombucha we had. Katy and I have been making Kombucha since October, and we determined it’s just too cold in our apartment over the winter to really sustain a SCOBY very well, so this was our last batch. I brewed it (as I have the last few batches: I think Katy is just fine with that). One batch of Mandarin Orange Spice, and one batch of Lemon Ginger. I once read you shouldn’t brew tea for kombucha that has a citrus in it, but the last few have turned out fine. We already know we love the lemon ginger (it was one of the batches last time, along with passion tea), but I’m not sure about the mandarin. It’s VERY vinegary, which is how I like it, but the residual spice scent was nauseating during bottling.

Me with my delicious Kombucha

Right now, I have a lot of Kombucha. I can’t wait until it’s Spring again and we can get another mother to brew with.

For graduation, my aunt and uncle sent me a nice amount of money and I figured I should make them something nice in return to thank them. Inspired by a thank you card I made a few years ago, I crocheted “THANK YOU” out of cotton and stitched it to nice card stock. The inside is two layers of paper: one print and one vellum.

I quite like the outcome:

I’ve been trying to spin a lot more lately so I can sell it and hopefully gain something from this habit. Here’s a bit of spinning:

Long tubes of air
colored pink to orange to twinkling
licking water, tasting with neon ends.

Carpets of coral like a discarded bath mat
hanging off the side of rock
soft and short like babies toes.

I am outside of these, filled with dissonance. I, quiet on the couch with legs crossed and eyelids half lifted, am watching outsiders that the torch coral cannot sense - even with hundreds of bubble ends that taste and feel but cannot see.

A wheel squeals protestingly down the hallway, carrying chairs to an impossibly filled hotel. It is unheard through inches thick glass but the sound echoes in my head even after it has rounded the corner of the long corridor.

Three men, business suits. One skinny, one fat, one good looking. They buy and sell, talk currencies of water pumps and fish. I cannot look at them because I cannot look away from the slow dancing of the coral. It is swaying to a silent melody with a velveteen partner who slips, waves and slides, envelopes. I cannot look at them because I have no eyes for seeing men who look back but do not notice.