2019 Plans

Hello! At the start of 2018 I didn’t want to set any goals or make any plans. I was living with a lot of unknowns and wanted to avoid adding self-made responsibilities to my plate. As 2019 dawns I have answers to many of those questions and they make me want to approach this year differently. I try to keep this space devoted to my crafting, but I’m going to briefly share an update on my health, as it’s the motivation behind all of this. I have chronic colorectal cancer, which means that my at least with current medical treatments my disease cannot be cured. I’m going to be doing chemo every other week for the foreseeable future. There’s a rhythm to the cycle, and I’m ready to have some goals to work towards, wherever I may be each day.


I love crafting books, and I’ve amassed a huge collection of unread ones. This year I’d like to get through all my unread paper books, most of which are craft books. You can see the list of all these books on the associated Goodreads shelf here. I’ll be sharing some of my favorites on the blog, starting with Kate Davies’ Handywoman later this month.


Thanks to a night of sleeplessness earlier this week, I went through my entire pattern and fabric stashes and set up an exciting queue for myself. Sewing has been hard for me the past year - between pain and exhaustion it has seemed out of reach to accomplish the physical tasks involved in getting projects going. With the mental work of this queue done, I am ready to tackle my fear and go for these projects. At a sewing weekend later this month I’m hoping to add some much-needed knits to my closet with a new dress and a couple new tops. My goals for the year include a jumpsuit and pants, both firsts for me.


My knitting was side-lined last year when I developed carpal tunnel (Listen to your bodies, y’all! Don’t push through pain!). I took 2 months off entirely, and since then have been working on it in PT. I can do some knitting know and hope to increase my stamina in the coming months. For the Ravelry Project Challenge I set a goal of 6 projects - definitely on the list are a bunch of boxy cropped sweaters and I’d also like to knit up some accessories with some kits and other perfectly matched skeins in my stash.


To make sure I hit new year’s blog post bingo, I have to include that I would like to blog more regularly this year 🙃. But truly, it is one of my goals to get back to weekly posting. I’d like to include more writing about crafting, and not just my personal projects. If you have something you’d like to hear my thoughts on, you can tell me in the comments below or email me from the contact section!

Looking forward to another year with you, dear readers! And, if you do want to keep up with my health, you can read about that on my cancer blog at bearingthewait.com.

Dressing like me


I’ve been thinking about Kate Davies’ blog post a question of proportion ever since she published it in July. She talks about how her disability and her feelings about it have effected what she wears. And this week’s topic for Slow Fashion October is What’s Your Look. So I want to respond to all of that and talk about dressing like me. 


Last December I began wearing a medical device on my stomach that I prefer to conceal. Additionally, I’ve gained weight over the past year. The combination led to a body that I didn’t know how to dress. 

I started with the most vital - clothing that accommodated my new medical device. It needed to have a rise up to my belly button so the whole thing was covered. Patterns and tighter fits provided the best camouflage.

A wide variety of influences led to my selection of tops. In Shrill Lindy West talks about looking at larger bodies helping her to find them beautiful. And as a chronic cancer patient, the rules about what certain bodies and ages should wear don’t seem deserving my attention. I dove into a new wave of inspiration and experimentation, nothing was off-limits.



And this is the silhouette I love - slim fit high-waisted pants with a cropped top. My belly is bigger and home to some of the most intimate parts of my illness, yet I feel like I have found my style in baring it. I feel cool and sexy and comfortable in my skin.