Our dear friends JLD and HFD recently welcomed a baby boy into the world. So, of course, some knitting was in order.

Hat

Legwarmers!

No, HFD did not give birth to a Sesame Street character. (Although he does totally have hair like Ernie - jet black and spiky.) Grover is just modeling the ensemble because he's the only baby-sized thing I have. But he clearly lacks the fat baby thighs to do those legwarmers justice.

This weekend we made pasta from scratch. This is what married people without kids do. We make pasta. From scratch. Because we can, and also because there's nothing else to do. Someday if we have kids we'll barely have enough time, between helping with homework and keeping the peace, to throw some boxed spaghetti into a pot of boiling water. And we'll look at each other and say, "Remember when we used to make pasta? From SCRATCH?!" And while we may be a tad nostalgic, I'm sure we won't feel resentful because raising a family is incredibly fulfilling, even if little Robbie just dumped the jar of tomato sauce on the kitchen floor.

But this was pretty fun, too.

To make the noodles, we used a KitchenAid attachment that I borrowed from a co-worker. It was SO COOL - like Playdoh! To make flat noodles, you could also just roll out the dough and slice it with a pizza cutter.

I used the dough recipe that came with the attachment. Just flour, eggs, and water. And it can be varied in so many ways. Next time I think I'll make whole wheat pasta, and I'd also like to try spinach or tomato.

The recipe made oodles of noodles, so we dried a bunch to use later.

The difference between fresh homemade pasta and the boxed stuff we usually buy really was significant. It was much lighter and softer. We also made homemade tomato sauce, which we'd never done before.

All in all, a delicious date night!

Every school year, the Nielson household chooses a family theme, like Be prepared or Listen and obey. I like this. So for 2010 I chose a personal theme. A mind-quieting mantra.

To me, "carry on" has two meanings - marching forward no matter what, and having a mischievous good time.

(Rob feels the need to point out that the stress I expressed over getting that print framed without a single piece of lint or cat hair under the glass was not at all in the spirit of the motto.)

So it's January and I'm finally emerging from my cocoon. At least for a little while. I've got some posts already written, and some to write - books I've read, recipes, thoughts on the new year. I just haven't felt much like sharing lately, and I've been busy enough that some things have needed to slide. Many evenings I don't even turn on the computer, which may sound crazy but has been kind of nice. Although I do miss my online friends, if not the time spent keeping up.

This month so far has been a bit of a mixed bag for me. Just like January a few years ago, I lost my ability to sleep for awhile there and am just starting to build it back. And just like last time, I'm learning some lessons in the process, lessons I'd much prefer to learn during the daytime but apparently some things are only taught at 3:00 am. For example, I learned that counting blessings works better than counting sheep. Also, I was reminded that having my husband's arms around me not only sets my heart aflutter but is often the only thing that can calm my pounding heart.

And smack dab in the midst of that low moment, a high point. It was announced that a grant proposal I wrote for work has been awarded. This was a huge deal - it's for nearly a million dollars, and I spent pretty much all fall working on this. The stress was overwhelming and success was not at all guaranteed, so I feel very grateful, and gratified. I think it's okay to say that I'm damn proud of myself.

I've also been remodeling our living room, tearing off the wallpaper, patching holes, and painting. There's symbolism there, just like in cleaning out the fridge. There's a moment when you stand in the center of the room and take it all in, and that's the only way to know what needs to be done. I'd gotten so used to the peeling patch of wallpaper by the door (thanks, Simon) that I almost didn't see it anymore. For me, entering a new year also calls for a moment of stillness, a taking stock of things. And then I can take action to improve the space around me. And at every level, I think life comes down to that. Improving the space around us, bettering whatever it is that we touch.

(Lists from 2005, 2006, 2007, and 2008.)

It's been a rough couple months, in some ways. But in most ways, I remain the luckiest girl alive, for reasons big and small. Here's my list of small things.

• morning workouts with Rob
• flat abs
• the childhood photos my mom so diligently snapped and organized
• my aunt's good health
• farmers
• the time before rescue squad duty each week that I spend at my parents' house
• the fabulousness of Michelle Obama
• my heart (and yours), which keeps up the hard work of constantly beating
• knitting
• biscuits and gravy
• the mixed drinks we make and the fun we have taste-testing new recipes
• Mad Men
• my brother's job
• the trees in our yard
• the guy who adopted Karma
• animal rescue organizations
• meeting John Stamos
• looking deep into the eyes of John Stamos
• talking to John Stamos
• caramel corn
• the nice man at the post office
• my massage therapist
• grandparents
• that my husband is totally handsome, and if I were meeting him for the first time I would definitely hit on him
• that there's always somewhere warmer to go in the winter

The feeding frenzy begins today. Five family meals in four days. And I don't even like turkey.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I went to work today without any makeup on. That's pretty much par for the course at the moment. I just simply forgot it. I was halfway there when I realized I didn't have any on, and I was like, "Fuck it. I'm already late, plus I'm moving so fast at work these days that all anyone sees is a blur anyway."

Work is insane right now, really hectic and stressful and all-consuming. In every part of my life, I am running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Actually, I'd like to think that I'm handling all of this rather elegantly at work, but once I get home I pretty much just flop around on the floor and spew blood out my neck.

That was weird. Stress makes me weird.

I'm also having heart palpitations, which can most likely be attributed to the stress. At least I think that's what most people would say. But I have a different theory altogether.

I mean, think about it. I'm very distracted and my heart is all fluttery. The reason seems obvious...JOHN STAMOS. Remember when I met him?! I still haven't recovered.

Today was one of those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days. The sort of day where you just want to go home, crawl under the covers, and cry. I don't have these sorts of days very often, for which I'm grateful. But today was one of them, for several reasons, some of which aren't going away anytime soon. The majority of this is work-related, with the typical regular life stuff thrown in as well. At the moment it's all just a bit too much for my sagging shoulders.

After work I spoke with my mom, and as I poured everything out to her, I felt that I was doing an admirable job maintaining perspective. But I think the universe had taken note of my sullen attitude and could tell I was in the planning stages of a pity party, because this evening at the rescue squad I certainly got a lesson in appreciating life.

First my rescue buddy, who's in college, told me that last week his girlfriend was diagnosed with lymphoma. Then we got a call for an interstate traffic crash with vehicle entrapment. And then, before the shift ended, we took to the hospital a woman who was having a heart attack, The Big One.

All of this in the span of four hours. Suddenly my bad day seems like the best day ever. Nothing like an evening at the rescue squad to give a little perspective.