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Nov. 23rd, 2013

I have a belly

I have a belly,
It is soft and wobbles,
It is warm and pliant,
It has a knot that links me to the past and those who came before
It has lines that links me to the future and who will come after
Sometimes my belly sings to me

My belly is my own, and my belly has stories
With its warm softness it folds
Over and down
Reminding me of warm summer days
Reminding me of long winter nights
Sometimes my belly holds my fire.

My belly knows many hands
My parents rubbed and patted it.
My lovers have caressed and smoothed it.
My children have seen it from the inside.
I hold it often
Sometimes my belly grounds me.

I love my belly.
It is wholly my own,
Lumps and bumps,
Lines and creases,
Heat and fire.
Sometimes I forget.

Today I remember to love my belly.
It is soft and it wobbles.
It is warm and pliant,
It links me to the past and the future
It is wholly my own.

Oct. 4th, 2013


I am so exhausted and frustrated at not being able to complete daily tasks.
Being so lost and so weak I can’t dust a floor.
Never mind running to the store to get milk and bread.
I’ve been this way more than once in my life, more than once I have been lost and stuck in bed.
Scarlet Fever, Measles, Rubella, Strep Throat, Difficult Pregnancies, Depression, Broken Ribs, Ear Infections, Sun Stroke, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and now this.
This feeling of loss, the self loathing and guilt caused by getting others to care for me, my home, my kids, is almost enough to trigger more illness.
But what can I do?

I knit.
One loop at a time I accomplish something.
One stitch at a time I heal.
One row at a time I process.
One skien at a time I grow.

I may not move mountains in my illness, but one stitch at a time I achieve.

Some days the little victories are what matters. Like drips of water on a stone.
I knit.

Plea to Gauge


Gauge thou art a fickle mistress
For no rhyme, nor reason whilst thou bond with me.
Tricks of the trade, tools and gadgets all fail.
I am a slave to thy whim.

My stitches are neat and even,
They span for miles.
Knit and Purl, Twist and Loop
Forward or Backward
I am a slave to thy whim.

My fibre is fresh and lofty,
From Cloven Beast to Long Grass
Taken and shorn, spun and plyed
Aran to Fingering
I am a slave to thy whim.

My needles are pointed,
and some are even square.
Wood and Metal, Casein and Resin
Straight or circular
I am a slave to thy whim.

I have washed and blocked
I have pinned and tucked
And I count
Oh how I count
I am a slave to thy whim.

Mistress Gauge,
please let me walk by thy side.
My sleeves have been far too long for far too long.
My socks too loose to bear.
I am not the height of a giant,
Nor have I the girth of the world.
Mistress Gauge I pray to thee
Let me walk by thy side.

~Mizz Adamz Sept 2013

Oct. 1st, 2013

Nothing to see here

Hello, if anyone is still watching this account;
The Adamz is back.
I'm pretty sick at the moment, and this means lots of bed rest. So instead of bitching and moaning about it I am going to use the time creatively and start writing again.

It is going to be utter crap for the first little while, I've not put pen to paper in about 5 years, but I'll get back into it I am sure. That is why I re-instated this little corner of the forgotten web.
Mizz Adamz started on geocities, college club, PPInk, and the Senshi Exchange, then Live Journal. Out of all those LJ is still active and I am getting back to my roots.

So here we go, back on this wild adventure of blogging/ writing.

November 2013



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