Sorry for the infrequent posting lately. Believe me, a week without Candy Friday hurts me more than it hurts you. Lately I've just found myself gripped in the kind of procrastinating terror only an imminent move across the ocean and complete life change can bring. I've observed a pattern in my procrastination, when comparing this move to my original move to Japan two years ago, a pattern involving crafting while watching an entire TV series on DVD, instead of organizing, packing or doing other more useful activities. I'm calling it Forthcoming Upheaval Procraftination, or F-UP for short.

So yeah, there's been a lot of Alias and Orangina knitting and general F-UP behavior around here lately.

Two summers ago, it was actually much worse. Not only was I terrified about packing up and moving my entire life to an unknown place, I was also dealing with leaving Rob, a.k.a. Captain Tenderheart, a.k.a. the Person Whose Absence Drains Joy From My Life. So in the final month before my departure, I suddenly decided one day to pick up embroidery, a hobby abandoned for the previous two years, and make him a pillow with Darth Vader's head on it. For hours and hours every day, I worked on the pillow while re-watching every existent episode of The Office (UK version) with my sister, who had never seen it before.

I felt calm, chain-stitching and grimacing along with my sister at David Brent's awkward antics. I didn't have to worry about what I needed to bring, what I would forget, what would be useless, and what I would be missing. Who I would be missing. I forgot to dwell on the possibility of Rob not being there when I returned, of him finding someone else, wondering if I was gambling away the greatest person I had ever known.

He loved the pillow, of course. What self-respecting Stars Wars fan with a mild interest in stylish interior design wouldn't? He also hugged it fiercely and pretty much constantly during the first several months I was away -- sorry, honey, the secret of your softheartedness is out! -- which led to me musing it must have soaked up so much love it was like a sodden sponge of super-love. I'm halfway convinced that's how it survived a fire.

And here we are. T-minus six and a half weeks until the Pacific no longer separates us and somehow we are still as strong as ever. Maybe even stronger. It's hard to feel regret for those hours spent making something for the one I love the best rather than, say, sorting old bank records. Maybe it's okay to F-UP once in awhile, when you really need to.