I signed up for the new domain shortly after this slightly whiny post and then for 3 months did nothing with it, exhausted from all the energy spent coming up with such a CLEVER name. That actually Duck invented. Not bad, huh?
It was quite the brainstorming session: domesticat.com was already taken, but I really wanted to continue using that moniker and build the brand, if it's not already established already (heh heh), in preparation for my ascension as a huge multimedia conglomerate. Anyway. domesticatknits.com was the next obvious choice, but then I didn't like the idea of limiting myself to just knitting, even though currently it is the craft of choice.
So here we are with DOMESTICRAFTS. The door is wide open for anything and everything under the crafting sun. And if you squint not too hard you'll notice that domesticat is still alive and kicking in there. Yay!
And I kept the subdirectory name clog - which aside from cat log, can now also stand for craftlog. Or cooking log. Or cocktail log. Or crazydrunk log. See? So versatile. Couldn't get rid of it!
As for Move #2, that is coming along. Two more weeks! The last couple of days have been the hottest of the year, and that was when I 1) chose to make risotto for dinner and 2) haul armful after armful of books for packing and donation.
I can't believe all the college books we'd been toting around from apartment to apartment to house. Bye bye forever you guys!
But that yarn stash has really come in handy.
How to pack a glass vase.
Look at the tower of Stephen King novels. Some of these are Duck's, but most of them are mine! From when I was in 6th to 8th grades.
Duck said he read Stephen King around the same age as well. What is it with pre-teens and gore? (Where were my parents?) Because though I'm keeping a few, like The Shining and It, I don't ever ever EVER want to see Pet Sematary again. Nor Cujo. Ever.
I guess the older I get, the more I like my pets cute and friendly and not undead. Sorry.
The house is in complete disarray, and it saddens me to think that when it gets put back together is when it is totally empty. So it is officially no longer lived in, at least not by us anyways, and I'm all sentimental and mushy sad about it.
But then maybe not so much will change. Did I tell you that the buyers of our house is the same, um, demographic as we are? Don't make me spell it out. OK I'll spell it out: the husband is lily-white Caucasian and the wife is dragon-red Asian. About the same age too.
I picture our neighbors going up to them saying, "I thought you guys moved."
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