A Knitting Nurse

Smitten with mittens? I think knot!

2012-01-22T20:20:00.005-05:00

Thursday, as I was rifling through my yarn stash looking for just what I had in mind to knit an oceanic version of Stephanie's Desert Shadows Scarf, I came across this sparkling skein of fingering weight yarn. Oh, I probably bought it because it was different, but more importantly, because the glitter in that yarn is sterling silver and the combination of merino, silk and silver was too powerful to pass up. Don't tell anyone, but I think I'm a bit of a magpie when it comes to yarn. Since it felt a bit scratchy, I knew I didn't want to knit something that would touch my neck, but what would I make with this one hank of yarn? For two years, the yarn has been waiting for attention and it looked like its day had finally come. I immediately abandoned the hunt for the scarf yarn faster than Leo can change his mind about anything the instant he sees a squirrel.

That fast.

I sat down with my laptop and traveled to Ravelry where I looked up Kraemer's Sterling Yarn projects page and saw a pattern for fingerless mitts. Truly, I wasn't looking for yet another pattern for mitts--I was looking for what others had done with this yarn. I fell hard for the cabling on the front of the mitts and felt the Celtic flavor of the cables matched the beautiful green of the yarn. I clicked to the pattern page, willing to pay any price, and was surprised to find the pattern was free.

But wait, was this the same pattern? It couldn't be... this pattern was for gloves. Knotty Gloves. Uh-oh.

Being somewhat intimidated by all that fiddly, really small diameter knitting, I've avoided glove patterns. I think the knitter of the fingerless version may have felt like me and when she got to the end of the hand, she bound off. Not me. I decided I'd stick my toes in the water, so to speak, and it would be gloves or bust. All ten digits would be warm or I would go back upstairs and look for the scarf yarn. It helped that when I cast on for this adventure, the outside temperature was in the single digits. Freezing cold weather with a subzero wind chill factor is a powerful motivator!

That only looks insane to knit! There may be five needles there, but only three of those are in play. The other two are holding stitches waiting to be knit.

I cast on late Thursday night and got too busy working to knit. All day Friday, I knit the cuff and the hand and by Saturday, I was ready for the fingers on the first glove. I spent the day--off and on-- knitting all of them. I don't think it took 30 minutes to knit each finger. By last night, the right glove was done and I cast on for the left. Yes, the water was just fine and I'm glad I took the plunge.

The pattern is really well written, though I think there are some parts a novice may not understand right away or without more in depth direction. I found the best thing was to simply follow the instructions and not over-think the pattern making it more difficult than it is. This--so far--is a quick knit and another notch in my knitting belt of things I've conquered with sticks and string.

Next up? Stephanie's scarf...just as soon as I finish the left glove.

Better late

2012-01-16T13:02:00.003-05:00

Bella's Mittens in Rowan's Cocoon in the color, Shale.

Half way through the month, and I finally have the first finished object of 2012. For something that takes only a few hours to knit, besides sloth, there is really no excuse for how long it took to knit these. Even the repair took only five minutes when I put my crochet hook to the problem. It was so cold this weekend that I think these would have come in handy if I hadn't been so slow.

Oh well, it'll get cold again soon enough (tomorrow night) and this time I'm ready.

Yes... that's garlic in the photo. Everyone else uses an apple so the composition sort of looks like this. I prefer to be better armed with garlic when it comes to vampires.

Divine mysteries

2012-01-13T01:16:00.005-05:00

For about a month now, I've been on a collision course with caregiver compassion fatigue. I don't make things up--there is such a thing. It's the usual post holiday rush in my line of work that wears down my soul. I get annoyed with minor calls and my colleague's own frazzled demeanor. I swear, she asks for a lot of help from me, and I never say no, but when I ask for help in return, it seems no is all I hear. Truly, I feel like one more thing out of the ordinary, or one more person who tells me no, and I am going to snap. This scenario won't be pretty. It didn't help that my long weekends off over the holidays were spent nursing myself back to health. I was sick as I could be, and still I worked, cooked and delivered a holiday as well as I could manage. It wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worst, either.

Feeling better after New Year's day, I returned to work to find the the post holiday rush to sign onto hospice in full swing. Nearly everyone waits--while suffering--to sign onto our service because they all, understandably, want one more Christmas. As a consequence of waiting, pain and other symptoms worsen and suffering seems to take superhuman nursing skills to repair. I can't blame them for waiting, but one would think the powers that be would plan on this annual occurrence and be better prepared with staffing. Not so, my friends. We all do that much more work because sooner or later, a calm will descend upon us and work will get back to normal. Like every year, this rush will end, but that doesn't help me much as I drown in the trenches. I feel my job is making me stressed out and sick.

About two days ago, I developed heartburn so intense, for a minute or two, I considered it might be a heart attack in the making. It went away with pepcid only to return the next day with a vengeance. Am I getting an ulcer? Might be. I can tell you one thing, I dread the march of my day toward 4PM. I'm overwhelmed, but we all are. Today as I ate dinner, because I did get time for that today, I realized I didn't have time for dinner last night. I worked 9 hours straight without a break. Maybe my heartburn is a sign I'm neglecting myself.

Tonight, still feeling the burn, I popped another pepcid and went to my start of shift assignment, searching hard for my compassion before I got there. I prayed to God that He would fill me up just one more time to get me through the night. Throughout my two and a half hour visit, I felt sort of numb and not my usual self, but I got through it without showing my feelings. I wasn't home ten minutes when the phone rang with a plea for help for someone who has had a change in condition. The family didn't want to talk through it, but wanted a visit. Now. Resigned to my fate for the night, I put one foot in front of the other.

I piled myself and all of my gear into the car and drove 35 miles, stopping along the way to deliver supplies to yet another client who couldn't wait until morning for something they could indeed wait until morning to receive. One annoyance piled atop another. When I got to my primary destination, I was angry because I couldn't find the apartment building. The weather was bad and unable to see well, I drove off the road and onto grass thinking I was in a parking lot. If I hadn't been in my SUV, I'd have been stuck. I finally found the building tucked in an out of the way spot and walked about 500 yards from the only available parking space--in the sleet (carrying supplies)--and as I did, I stewed. The acid in my stomach burned, but couldn't match the heat of my temper. I felt I was losing it, and friends, this just isn't me. I am usually the calm in a hospice stormy sea.

I'd reached the point of no return and prayed again for help in letting all of it go before I reached that door, but it didn't improve my outlook. There was no immediate calm or answer to my prayer. Disappointed and in despair, I entered this apartment where I found my patient surrounded by a dozen gospel singers belting out my favorite gospel song, How Great Thou Art.

Great? Yes, indeed.

Tonight as I write this--with the dog and my laptop vying for space on my lap--I'm pondering the message I received. I cannot shake the vision I encountered tonight, nor the voices of that beautiful angelic choir rocking the house. I've never seen nor heard the likes of this in my three years of hospice nursing, and while the twelve men and women were there to sing for her, my patient, I think they were also meant to be there for me and my heart is filled with love. Once again, there are no accidents in my line of work. I was sent to that patient by a power greater than me.

I am humbled, thankful and ready for another day.

Who needs magic? Apparently, me.

2012-01-11T11:43:00.004-05:00

All over but the thumb knitting? I think not.

I don't know when I cast on my own pair of Bella's Mittens...sometime last week, or the week before. It's all a blur as I've battled fatigue from sinusitis--a leftover from my cold last month--and a work week that was off the hook. Over the weekend, I was determined I'd at least finish the left mitt or die trying.

I kept the mitten out and nearby at all times. At one point I tucked it in a project bag and when I pulled it out, I grabbed the free double pointed needle to start knitting and noticed that I'd inadvertently pulled out the wrong needle and liberated a full 1/3 of the stitches. No worries. I calmly grabbed a smaller double point and picked them all up in no time at all, but it's something that wouldn't happen if I'd been knitting the magic loop method, or even with two circulars. Still, I like working with double points. I think it makes me look like a knitter possessing mad skillz. Never mind that the whole thing is smoke and mirrors. While 4 or 5 needles are there in one project, circular knitting--like all hand knitting--still only occurs on 2 needles at a time. It only looks crazy and complicated.

Once I finished the gusset and had the thumb stitches on waste yarn, I began to have hope the project would fly...and it did. I tried the left mitten on for size and became annoyed with myself at the laddering in my mitten right before the cable. This occurs when knitting from one double point needle to the next and the knitter fails to tighten the first stitch or two of the new needle. It doesn't happen with magic loop like this...oh, I guess it could, but there is only opportunity for laddering in two spots, instead of three or four with double points. As the mittens are for me, I ignored this laddering, much to my detriment as you'll see in the photo, but could not ignore the fact that I'd forgotten to cable 10 rows back.

I ripped out the knitting to the spot where I'd forgotten this essential part of the pattern, picked up all of those stitches and knit them back up with an effort to be mindful of laddering from that point on. With the exception of the thumb, I finished the left mitt last night and feeling smug, I cast on mitten two. With double points.

This morning, I tried the completed mitten on again and with bright daylight shining behind me, noticed it wasn't laddering at all...it was two live stitches...one on the public side (a knit) and one of the private side (a purl).

Ladder in disguise

Two.

Somewhere along the way with all of that ripping, I'd missed this and instead of picking up what was clearly a decrease, I set free two stitches that wasted no time in traveling down the length of the mitt all the while disguising themselves as ladders.

Doh! Again, I don't think any of this would have happened with magic loop. I can knit magic loop--I do it all of the time for circular swatches, but I prefer double points for some insane reason. I think it's time to re-examine my preferences, especially when cold fronts are approaching and the need for something warm to wear is urgent.

Pre-op photo

I now have pins holding onto the loose stitches so they don't unravel further as I consider the surgical options for the left mitten. There will be no ripping. I think I'll weave them up to the waste yarn and sew them in with the ends of yarn I'll use to knit the thumb. Sounds like a plan.

It also sounds like there won't be a completed pair of mittens ready in time for the cold front.

C'est la vie.

Prior proper planning prevents psychosis...

2012-01-09T12:11:00.005-05:00

Right after New Year's Day, I put away most of the holiday decor, cleared off the book shelf and started filling it up with my armament to get through this political year. This is the year I'm going to ignore the political machine and read instead of watching talking heads. I think it's a good plan. I started a Shelfari account, but ran out of energy trying to add all of my books. Perhaps I'll do it a little bit at a time. It's not that it's hard, but it is a little time consuming.

My e-readers are full of books waiting to be read, and a hard copy of The Hobbit is on my shelf waiting to be re-read for about the tenth time. Hey! Peter Jackson's version of the story is being released on the big screen in December and I want the tale--which I do have memorized-- to be fresh in my mind. I think I'll savor it again in November. Another vintage book I plan on reading again is Charlotte's Web. I found a copy prior to the estate sale and rather selfishly rescued it from the .25 cent pile. The edges had been chewed by Stinkerbell, but the book is still readable and worthy of owning.

The bottom of the book shelf is filling up with knitting books and patterns I also plan to use as weaponry instead of watching or listening to political rhetoric. Also present is the Planet Earth DVD set that I'll watch while knitting. I hope Sigourney's voice doesn't lull me to sleep while I knit. Then there are television shows I never used to be into but now I am. The Good Wife is an example. I missed the first two seasons so I can rent those over the summer when the verbal barrage should be approaching the boiling point and try to catch up before season 4 begins.

I think I have the beginnings of a good plan and have kicked off the year reading, Midwife for Souls, which was recommended to me by a cloistered nun when I attended a death at her convent. She told me she was very moved by this book and thought I would be, too. Up until recently, it wasn't available on Kindle, but now it is, so I bought it this morning.

As an aside, the holiday baking is truly complete now. Last night, Sara started baking the one cookie that lets us know Christmas was here: Cherry Winks. As like last year, these got baked well after the holiday, and just like then, I think we're enjoying them even more when we have them late.

Leo the Unhelpful Baker

As usual when baking, Leo helped. This is him pouting because he got kicked out of the kitchen when he wouldn't stop licking the flour that had fallen on the floor and on his head. It wasn't a problem that he was in the way...it was just that by licking the spill, he wasn't cleaning, he was making paste.

Gift horse

2012-01-07T11:32:00.002-05:00

I am not going to ponder the meaning of the lack of snow in these parts, but I have to say, it's rather enjoyable. Last night, while winding up an insane work work (the full moon IS approaching), I noticed my son had tan lines from golfing. In Michigan. In early January. He also had a little sunburn on his face.

Remarkable.

It was nearly 60 degrees here yesterday and that is so very rare, it deserves a comment. I'm sure it's inviting a natural disaster of the doozie sort to even mention this, but not once have we had to take the shovel out of the garage and only twice have I felt such bone chilling cold that I despaired winter would never leave. Oh, I know it's early days but feel Mother Nature deserves a thanks for being kind so far this winter.

iRemember

2012-01-05T13:41:00.003-05:00

Have you ever been carried away on a wave of memory triggered by an aroma? Yesterday I received a late Christmas gift from Sara. As we opened it together, she remarked, "that's it! I do remember!" She was right...that was it! A smell that took her back to about the age of 10, transported me back even further to a time I was a young single mother sharing a home with my daughter, my best friend and her daughter. Together we did the impossible to make ends meet and raise happy, healthy girls.

I did not waste a lot of money in those days, because frankly, there was no money to waste. I was dirt poor, living paycheck to paycheck. Earning little more than what is now about minimum wage and raising my daughter almost completely on my own financially--even then, $25 a week in child support was a paltry sum-- I did have a particular indulgence in a product seemingly exotic and expensive at the time: Vita Bath Plus Shower Gelee. Every few months, I would buy an enormous bottle of this shower gel and every single day, we would all use it when we took our showers. We all smelled so good and so did the bathroom, towels and everything else the gel came in contact with.

I don't recall where I used to buy it 28 years ago, but in later days Fannie bought me a big bottle at Penneys as a gift, and then, sadly, the Plus Gelee went away. You could still get Vita Bath in other scents, but it seemed they'd stopped making the Plus in the purple bottle. Over the years, I got used to stocking up on the inferior, but much easier to find shower gels from places like The Body Shop, Aveda and Bath and Body works.

When I opened Sara's gift yesterday, I was perturbed with myself that I'd nagged my husband into re-caulking the shower that morning. Now it was all my fault that I'd have to wait until morning to bathe myself in memories, but maybe it was worth the wait. After all, I'd waited years to have this precious product in my hands...what was one more day?

Today the smells took me back as I thought about our girls and our time together in that condo. The persistent refusal of my friend's daughter to eat anything more than an apple for dinner (she could be stubborn), or the nights my friend and I took up residence on opposing sofas and read Danielle Steel romance novels until the wee hours. I thought about our collective grief when many years later, my friend's daughter was tragically killed just crossing a street. Memories, like feelings, often come unbidden, but I think despite our challenges of the day, we had some really beautiful times being poor single moms and made some wonderful rocking chair memories.

As I showered today, I thought about my tiny little house by the shore of the Saint Clair River where foghorns from freighters would awaken me, or the nearby train whistle would lull me to sleep. It was then that I'd first started buying this shower gel. I thought about my special young man who would periodically spend the night because the drive home was simply too far and the memories seemed distant, but at the same time like this time was only yesterday:

Each morning, the couple was awakened by her clock radio at the obscene time of 4:45 AM so the young nurse could make it to work--40 miles away--on time. Resistant to getting up, she'd press the snooze button on the radio until the station played Gloria Estefan & The Miami Sound Machine's song at 5AM and only then would she drag herself to her shower and use the special gel to awaken her spirit for the day. He would bitch and express disbelief that any soul would torture themselves with a snooze alarm, but now after 27 years together and nearly 25 years of marriage, both fondly recall the song.

Mmmm. The memories smell so good. I could swear that miracle gel makes me feel thirty years younger!

iLove

2012-01-03T11:20:00.004-05:00

I was really blessed this holiday and got a couple of the best toys for Christmas. One I used for the first time last night to make a giant steaming pot of split pea soup. I have to wonder, cost aside, what has kept me from buying myself an enameled cast iron Dutch oven? Ordinarily, one wouldn't think a pan would make a great gift, but in my case, it does. Even though I have my own earnings, I would never spend that kind of money on myself, or something only I would use, and I think my family knows this about me. I will say, the only drawback to this gift is its very hefty weight. Holy smokes, it's heavy, but what an absolute joy it was to cook with.

The other toy I received is an iPad2. I already have a MacBook Pro and an iPhone, so I didn't think I had much need for such a device. Besides, there was no way I'd pay such a great price to duplicate some things I already own (see first paragraph). Having played with it for a bit better than a week now, I think I've rethought my position. Not only does it make Angry Birds easier to play, as a knitter, it's made me wonder how have I lived without this. I think it's already as indispensable as my phone and my laptop. While I'd still rather use my laptop to surf the web, the small size of the iPad makes it so much more portable than my MacBook and therefore the perfect knitting aid.

Today I bought the app, Goodreader, and with no experience at all, went straight to Ravelry and downloaded two PDF pattern files from my library. I made a copy of the Bella's Mittens pattern and fooled around with marking it up with my own notes. OK, so that will take a bit more experience, but I think from a pattern perspective, this app is going to pay for itself--a modest $4.99--over and over again, including a savings of paper, printer ink and sanity (it sucks to lose an annotated pattern). Got an iPad my knitting friends? Don't miss this app.

I scored on the book front, too. My daughter, who apparently listens throughout the year, gave me three books I had mentioned I wanted: The Cook's Illustrated Cookbook, Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day and Weekend Hats. I've used two of the books so far and used Cook's to make the pea soup. I don't think the pan can take all the credit for the outcome. That was a seriously delicious pot of soup that I usually cook for hours in a crock pot, however, I give the recipe most of the credit.

I also finished a hat last night, though to be honest, it took more than a weekend. While I don't remember when I cast on, it took closer to a week to finish the Topiary Beanie from that book. It was an ideal way to use up a little of my Madelinetosh DK stash. It's 16 degrees out there today with a windchill in the single digits, so I'm looking forward to wearing that hat to work tonight. I only wish I could finish Bella's Mittens by 4PM, too, but seeing as I haven't cast on yet, that's not likely. I do plan to learn to make sticky notes and highlights on Goodreader by then!

So to my family...I know I can be difficult to buy a gift for. Despite the lack of ideas and clues about what I think I might want as a gift, you all outdid yourselves. I thank you for your thoughtfulness and very generous gifts. I see hand knits in all of your futures!

iSee

2012-01-01T14:27:00.002-05:00

Farewell 2011

2011-12-31T10:02:00.002-05:00

Since I'm not good at keeping them, I'm not usually one to put forth resolutions for the coming year. This year however is different and I am trying hard to better myself by working on the act of forgiveness.

I am neither quick to request forgiveness when I've been wrong, nor am I generous when it comes to forgiving if it's requested of me. Hardest of all is forgiving someone a particularly egregious act that they (may) have no clue they've committed against me or someone I care for and that is something I've been considering for several months now. This work has been a challenge, especially since this problem is only indirectly mine--it really belongs to someone I love. I've felt anger so profound and been so outraged at the injustice of it that it's made me feel sick to my stomach and even visits me in my sleep. Truly, this type of problem eats at the soul like a cancer. With the dawning of understanding that how I feel is not particularly healthy for me, I've embarked on a journey of awareness with the goal of learning to forgive.

I am a work in progress.

During this nasty little family drama (two years in the making), it has come to pass that the person who is at the core of this and has created all of this hurt and pain is now physically suffering in the most horrific of ways. It's the ultimate cosmic comeuppance, and I'm (kind of) ashamed to say that I have actually felt true glee at her misfortune. I'm (sort of) appalled at my feelings, but with wise guidance I have started to forgive my own self for feeling that way. In the words of my friend, Jeanne, "feelings come unbidden. We don't ask to have feelings like this, they just sort of wash over us." I didn't ask to feel that way, I just did. Self awareness is a good start. Ultimately, throughout this two year ordeal, I held my tongue. I was really angry that I didn't have the nerve to say what I really felt toward this woman before misfortune befell her and now, well, I'm in a position where I never will have that opportunity and have to learn to let it go. It's so hard.

This week, Jeanne and I met for lunch to explore this topic of forgiveness a little more closely. She gave me some material about the topic that was (oddly) given to her the first day we spoke of this. It included a quote by the theologian Frederick Buechner, “Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back--in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.”

Mmmm. Words to ponder.

And so my friends, for many reasons, it's finally good to say goodbye to 2011. May 2012 be better to our collective world than this year has been and may your own journeys take you to a kinder, gentler and healthier place.

Happy New Year.

Boys just wanna have fun

2011-12-26T14:52:00.003-05:00

Who knew the Doberman would like the remote control helicopter as much as the recipient?

Busy little elf

2011-12-24T10:58:00.005-05:00

We were promised no snow for Christmas, but awakened this morning to a dusting that covered the sidewalks, streets and lawn. It wasn't enough to build a snowman, so I made my own using other ingredients.

This is the Snowman Hat from, itty-bitty hats. It was a total joy to knit. The hat took the duration of watching Mama Mia while knitting, or not long at all.

His adornments took forever! I hope it fits the recipient.

And so my friends, with a knitted gift to give, it must truly be Christmas. May you all have a wondrous and joyous holiday.

Come together

2011-12-23T00:01:00.001-05:00

A part of Mimi will join us at the holiday table this year. I rescued this beautiful and unique vase from the estate sale. Sara took it to her florist who loved working with such a pretty piece of glass. It shows.

The list I did not make--but was nevertheless weighing heavily on my sudafed poisoned mind--is finally getting done. One by one, the little things we do that make our holiday traditions complete are coming together. I like these traditions, from the deep cleaning to the baking, shopping, decorating and cooking. Which reminds me...I still forgot to order the meat. I'd better get on that right away.

OK. Technically,it's not a Christmas cookie cutter, but handily for me, my state comes in the shape of a mitten. You can ignore the Upper Peninsula, or not. I think they look just right together!

Today I cleaned the house and baked my little heart out. It was just me and my baking partner, Leo, in the kitchen. For the record, he's a slacker. While I baked three different cookies, and three loaves of honey bread, he mostly napped. He did get up every single time the mixer was running, but only once did it pay off when powdered sugar flew out of the bowl. For the most part, he cleaned the floor for me. He watched intently and whined while I frosted 3 dozen cookies.

Would it be holiday baking if Leo didn't get a little flour or sugar on his face? I could have substituted last year's photo here.

Friday is for grocery shopping and trying to remember to get the meat. If I'm still up to it, I'll bake one more type of cookie. If I'm not, it'll be a quick knit on the menu for my day. Hey--the cleaning is done, so why not?

Are you ready?

A Wintry PSA

2011-12-22T10:14:00.004-05:00

If you're weary of cold, or snow, or wintry rain, or short days and long nights, take heart. It's only 42 days until Groundhog's Day!

So light some candles, revel in the knowledge that this can't last forever and enjoy your lovely Winter Solstice. You're welcome.

Cause and Effect? The all about me edition.

2011-12-21T11:05:00.003-05:00

I've thrown in the towel this holiday season. What will be, will be. The house is more or less clean with my bedroom--gathering site of all things I don't have time to store properly--being the last room to tackle. No baking has been done, but the tree is up, the gifts wrapped and a menu has been more or less decided. Except...as I write this, I realize I've forgotten to order the meat. Duh.

This, the last day of Autumn, has arrived and I've had yet another December visit by Mr. Rhinovirus. Bastard. I wish he'd leave me alone in December. He showed up last Friday with one sneeze and a wretched sore throat as the only clues he'd moved right in. Again. I thought I was making progress on the self care front and felt pretty good last night, but today I feel worse. And whiny.

I called in sick to work on Monday, but worked last night. Of course things didn't go smoothly and my night was rather complicated. It's hard to think when your nose is plugged. Why is that? I won't call in sick today because I'm off until Tuesday after tonight. If I call in sick, I'll lose holiday pay and no amount of stuffiness is worth a day's pay.

Question:

Which of these items do you suppose gave me nightmares last night? And why was Adam Sandler in my nightmare singing the Hanukkah Song?

What is black and white and red all over?

2011-12-17T10:30:00.005-05:00

Why, Leo in his winter coat, of course!

Perspective

2011-12-10T19:01:00.004-05:00

After knitting a bit this morning, and watching The Help with Sara, I got busy with the tree. Sara had an artificial tree in storage outside that, and I kid you not, went up in about 3 minutes. I felt a bit like the Grinch opening and closing trees like they're umbrellas! Still, it's pre-lit and while it's not a fresh fraser fir like I'd been thinking of getting, it was easy. Easy is good this time of year. I'm so glad the spirit came to visit.

Here's a group of men and women who had no trouble finding their spirit. According to their youtube description, this is some of what they missed while on deployment:

Births, birthdays, graduations and holidays. On hearing they'd be going home for Christmas, they made this video.

Charming. Welcome home HMS Ocean!

Slacker

2011-12-09T11:44:00.002-05:00

Yep! That's my middle name of late, at least when it comes to blogging. I took a look back at the posts from last year and compared them to this year, and frankly, I'm surprised I've had so little to say since, oh, April. The year has frankly sucked that much and I must have thought that to write or speak of the awful things we've endured as a family would only given them more prominence. I've also found I've lost a lot of my blogger fodder. With MLTL gone, and me not willing to speak ill of the dead (yet), I simply must come up with something else. I think I've lost my muchness.

Oh...OK, I will dabble. For what it's worth, THERE WILL BE NO HAM AT THE HOLIDAY TABLE. And hey! There will be no fight about it either. It's a little muchness, but we're talking baby steps here. In his honor, I will say grace and thank the Father, Son and Holy Spurs.

To bring you all up to speed, the estate sale was last weekend. I'm so grateful we hired a professional company to do this, even if we did forfeit 35% of the proceeds. The work involved would have been overwhelming to go it alone at such a busy time of year, not to mention how much it hurt having strangers traipse through the house with their hands all over my mother in law's things. Those feelings were a surprise, so it was better to be able to stay away during all of that mayhem. When all was said and done, most things sold, a few of the bigger pieces did not, and all that's left of the smaller porcelain pieces are the ones that are chipped, cracked or broken.

While doing the big after sale clean up so we could put the house on the market, I came up with the idea to turn my mother in law's broken collectibles into functional art. Over the winter, and well after the holidays, I'm going to make tile mosaic table tops to display these pieces that were dear or somehow appealed to her. I'll make one for us, and one for Sara and Brian, too. There is that much left over. Even though I've never done anything like this, I'm looking forward to this project. Hmmm...Pieces of Mimi. She was adored so this is fitting and I believe she would have loved this idea.

This morning, after working until 1 AM, I had a mandatory staff meeting at the buttcrack of dawn. Oh, OK, so it was really 8 AM, but when you work evenings, what's the difference? I came home after a pit stop at the farmers market to find one last contractor in the house. I'd forgotten all about the back door dude. He's here to give us a new energy efficient entry to the yard. The only draw back to the door dude's appearance today is that it's 1) freezing cold out there and now in here, and 2) it's snowing. Leo and I are snuggled on the sofa under 3 blankets and have the big space heater blasting. Supposedly, he'll be gone by 2 PM. I'll believe it when I see it! I want him gone so I can get in the kitchen and make some potato leek soup.

Here is a version of Rudolph much beloved by my family. A big thanks to FTM for reminding me!

This, not that. That, not this.

2011-12-08T14:24:00.004-05:00

In our multiple moves and general upheaval of the past few years, some things have gone missing, likely never to be seen again. Some of these items include my collection of Christmas CDs. Over Thanksgiving weekend, I uploaded a great deal of my general music collection into my itunes account and spent hours and hours doing this. However, after having perused hundreds of discs, I can't seem to find the holiday stuff.

Instead of going to Michael's, the Ford dealer, Kohl's and the pet store today as planned--Leo can wait for cookies--I spent a lot of time on itunes. I think I've pretty much downloaded all of the seasonal songs I think I missed most. To double check, I googled a list of the top 100 Christmas songs. Number one--no surprise here--was White Christmas. The Bing Crosby one, which, incidentally, is not my favorite version. Barbra Streisand sings my favorite version of White Christmas. You can listen hear. The number two artist on that list was Alvin and the Chipmunks. Really? I don't think so. I'd rather listen to Bing.

I may have broke the bank over on itunes, but I'm a happy woman with my favorite songs to listen to again. Back in my Christmas music repertoire, to name a few, is Ottmar Liebert, Luciano Pavarotti, Mitch Miller, A Very Special Christmas with various artists, Elvis, Frank (Sinatra, of course), George Winston, Transiberian Orchestra and the Bolshoi Theatre version of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. Some albums I bought outright today, like Pavarotti's, Winston's (December), The Nutcracker (the Bolshoi version has always been my favorite) and A Very Special Christmas...the first one. With others, I only bought my favorite songs instead of replacing entire works. I hope someday all those CDs will show up in an unexpected place.

Apparently, I'm finally getting in to the holiday spirit. Can a tree, other decor and Christmas cookies be far behind?

Tell me, because I really want to know if I missed anything, what is your favorite Christmas music or song that my itunes shouldn't be without?

I love Ottmar Liebert. Poets and Angels was one of my favorite holiday CDs.

I have news for you

2011-12-05T16:53:00.008-05:00

If for some reason you're expecting something hand knit from me for Christmas, perhaps you should think again. I'm breaking it to you now so you can all get used to disappointment.

I'm way behind on knitting gifts this season. I finished the Bella's Mittens pattern for my friend, but my needles have been more or less idle since then. I don't know why, but I just don't feel like knitting. To combat this unusual turn of events, I cast on the Brioche Cabled Cowl. While this stitch boggles the mind of some, I have no problem doing brioche stitch, and I rather like the ribbed pattern it produces, but the cable with such bulky yarn makes this project insane! It took me an hour alone to do the cable row which is only 56 stitches across but required an extraordinary amount of finagling. All 56 stitches were twisted on the cable of my needles in a way that made them look like they were tied in knots. They weren't, but because of their appearance, I ripped out the cable row twice. Once I figured out that the crossed 56 cabled stitches were only making all of them look like they were twisted, I stopped trying to fix the row and knit on. The return two rows took another 45 minutes of what felt like battle. My hands were aching when I was done with those three rows so I put the knitting down, which we all know is code for, now the project is in critical care on life support.

This is not my definition of relaxing with needles and yarn and the fate of this cowl is already written: Prognosis poor. Recommend Palliative Care to have end of life discussion with this cowl's knitter. I don't know where I went wrong, but it may be that I'm using bulky wool that isn't as pliable as other bulky wools. I only know that Wrong is exactly the destination this yarn, this pattern and I have gone. It's too bad because good execution of brioche stitch is really pretty. Cabled brioche is even prettier. The cowl's life line will be removed sometime later tonight.

For your entertainment today: I know you all can't wait to get your hands on the movie, The Help. Anticipation must be something else for those of you who have yet to see this movie and have to wait until tomorrow to get the DVD. To ease the excitement, I've got a home made video for you to watch. It's not Oscar worthy, but may be worth an honorable mention. The thing is, the actor just does not take direction well.

Leo's Happy Dance. Was it the squirrel or the snow that got him so worked up? I don't know. I was unable to decipher his attempts at speaking.

What's that sound?

2011-12-03T14:35:00.002-05:00

Silence!

It's stunningly lovely to the ears! Yes my friends, after two months of racket, the contractors are finally out of here. They came by this morning at a very respectable 10:30 AM to put the finishing touches on the walls and now they're gone. We still have carpet to install down there, but the dirty and noisy work is done.

Relief...at last!

They did give a bid on a kitchen renovation, but we won't even consider starting a project like this until the weather breaks. It's also something we may do instead of a big 25th wedding anniversary trip. I think that's fair. Italy will have to wait. Our kitchen is so tiny and I think I'd love a bit of space, not to mention a little room to cook.

I have time to dream, so here it goes...

A Viking professional stove with six burners and a grill.
A big-ass exhaust hood that stands alone like a piece of jewelry hovering above the alter-like stove.
A separate convection oven.
An appliance garage for my Kitchen Aid Mixer. It's so heavy to lift and I think a house of its own would be nice.
A food pantry
A spice pantry
Radiant heat in the floor
That floor? Cork, I think, or maybe Brazilian cherry hardwood.
A lighter colored granite on the counters
A boat load of cabinet space
Task lighting under the cabinets
Built in recycling cabinets
French doors leading to the now miniature yard (can't expand without losing outdoor space) and an herb garden on the new deck. Ooh...that yard is disappearing fast in my dream!
A new Le Creuset cookware set
A state of the art espresso machine
A professional chef who can both work the espresso machine AND make fabulous bon-bons in the wink of an eye. Hey! What? It's my dream!

I'm only getting warmed up here, but for some reason, I think my imagination may be a bit bigger than my budget.

If I do something like this, what do I need besides winning the lottery? What am I missing?

It's all over when you care not one whit about appearance.

2011-12-02T11:24:00.005-05:00

Just when I think I've seen the last of the contractors for a bit, a whole slew of them seem to have moved in with us. Oh, sure, they're only here from 8 am until 4 pm, but they're still here waking us up early, taking up space, playing their music, creating an awful smelling home, pounding any thoughts of restorative sleep away and creating dust storms on the day the house was just cleaned. It's like living with 10 Pigpens. Today though, I can finally see light at the end of the tunnel. This morning with all of us deep in slumber, Leo aroused the house with his horrific alert that barbarians were at the gate. Looking completely insane with hair raised and makeup smeared under my eyes like a raccoon because I was too tired to remove it before I ~~collapsed from exhaustion~~ went to bed, I greeted the painters.

Yes! Finish work on the basement family room has begun, but more importantly, I'm starting to believe, really believe, that it's the beginning of the end of this parade of contractors that began with a little water in the basement. We evening shift workers can all go back to sleeping in until the ungodly hour of 9 AM and generally feeling more rested. Yes! Yes and Yes!

And then, over just my first cup of coffee, my husband utters the following: "they're going to give us a bid on expanding the kitchen."

Maybe I still have mascara caked in my eyes obscuring my view, but suddenly the kitchen doesn't look so small after all.

More notes to self because apparently, I'm a slow learner

2011-11-29T10:07:00.003-05:00

"It always rains on tents. Rainstorms will travel thousands of miles, against prevailing winds for the opportunity to rain on a tent. " ~ Dave Barry

Or in my case, if you leave the sunroof ajar, rain will seek out every crevice, cup well and seat in which to accumulate in your car. Doh!

Home Alone

2011-11-25T19:52:00.006-05:00

I'm feeling rather hungover today. Since no alcohol was consumed yesterday, I think it was the combination of cooking all day in the kitchen and then starting a 12 hour on call work schedule. Working a midnight shift does that to me, but I'm required to work one holiday a year and Thanksgiving seems to work out best. Last year I got no calls, and this year I got only one call for all 12 hours. I did have to go out, but I was back home in no time at all. I waited another couple of hours to see if my hospice phone would ring again and finally threw in the towel and went to bed. I tossed and turned all night because I think, worried I'd miss a page, I slept with one eye and one ear open.

I'd briefly considered going to either Target or Kohls at 1AM, but simply could not muster the desire to feed the Black Friday Machine. I felt even less compelled when my alarm awakened me at 7:30AM to send report. Rather, I spent the day as I imagine a sloth would. I'm so glad I did.

The reports of violence at 9 different Walmart stores is really disturbing and I can't help but think the frenzied ads leading up to BF feed this insanity. There were reports of fist fights, and fights over towels that cost $1.88. There was one armed robbery with a shooting, and no surprise here, the stereotypical trampling of another human being in the rush to feed the greed machine. Oddly, there was only one account of a woman who pepper sprayed people to get to the items she wanted first. You'd think more people would have thought of that one!

Instead of surrounding myself in lunacy, I stayed home in my jammies all day long. Oh, I mustered enough energy to watch a little college football, eat some leftovers (more than 1 trip to the fridge), read a bit of the Yarn Harlot's book, and of course, knit. I also gave ~~Pepe le Pew~~ Leo a bath.

It's almost time to call it a day and go back to bed. I'm betting the retail workers of America are as relieved as me.

Things that keep me awake at night

2011-11-23T11:21:00.005-05:00

Somehow when I got my new iphone, my digits were likely sold and now I get calls from all over the country. Utah, Washington, New York, Maine...You name it, the calls are coming in and I don't answer them. The callers, likely machines, don't leave a message, either. As irritating as these calls are, they can't compare to what I encountered yesterday. Last night, I sat in an ICU taking care of a patient for four very long hours. Every two minutes, the unit's phone rang and the caller on the other end was a fax machine. Talk about disruptive! It's not like a busy neuro ICU staff has anything better to do, right? Since I was the only one sitting at the desk for a bit, I took to answering the phone line and hanging up on the computerized fax machine. I have to apologize to the cat scan department though because after the 90th call from the phantom fax machine, I hung up on them once, too.

Why don't Stub Hub and Art Fire get the message that I've unsubscribed to their daily emails more than once? They're still emailing me every day. I abhor junk email. I used to have a wowway email, but got so annoyed by junk--and by junk I mean viagra ads--that I started using gmail to escape, but that's become an issue, too. Yesterday I went into that long ignored wowway account and deleted 891 junk mails. My mac.com email doesn't ever get junk, but then I don't give that email address out to anyone but family and friends. I used to have to pay for the mobile me (mac) account, but realized that they weren't billing me anymore and sometime over the last year, mobile me became a free service. Even though it's free, I still don't get junk. Thanks, Steve!

Can holiday advertising be any more frantic? Talk about annoying! The Target and Kohls commercials are beyond obnoxious. And another thing, I think it's shameful that these stores are opening at midnight, and some even 10PM on Thursday night. I feel sorry for their employees who can't even enjoy the holiday before they descend into retail hell on Friday. I recall the days when you got what you needed before a big holiday because everyone was at home celebrating and spending time with their families. If you forgot an ingredient, you were out of luck. You couldn't even get gasoline on a holiday (or even a Sunday). Now it seems every single store or big chain is open. Nothing is sacred. Even the local CVS is open 7AM to 10 PM Thursday. I think that's sad. What's even sadder is the amount of people who've been camping outside some stores since Saturday. Really? Maybe we can see a picture of them in the dictionary under the definition of insanity. I hope they enjoyed the nearly 2 inches of rain we got yesterday.

Why so bitchy, Nurse Rudee? After all, it's warm(er) today and the sun is shining in the glorious blue sky. I think I must be missing Mr. Larger Than Life and his drama this holiday and it all feels weird. It'll be our first peaceful holiday without ~~the stick in the mud spoiling the day~~ him. To commemorate the occasion, I bought two lovely bottles of pinot noir and even got the wine glasses out so the wine doesn't have to be served in disguise. There will be no fight over the television and Rachel can watch Winnie the Pooh to her heart's delight. What's to miss? To make me feel more myself at this holiday, my son is insisting on buying a ham. And day old vegetable trays. I hope he doesn't expect me to fawn over his offerings.

That is all. Perhaps I should open the wine early.

It's all good

2011-11-21T11:21:00.006-05:00

Or it will be. Just as soon as these contractors get out of my house.

Wurm, modeled by my friend Judi.

Wurm in closeup. It took awhile to knit (and purl), but I think mainly because my paws needed frequent breaks. I'm all healed now and it's knitting like a maniac as usual. Hey, Christmas is only a few weeks away!

Today there are electricians here to hang our new fixtures. When they opened the box for the chandelier, the special order fixture was in a dozen different pieces. Of course it was. It's Monday. The Monday before a big holiday. It would be bizarre if it all went smoothly--what was I thinking? I called the store and they gave us their fixture off the ceiling. Back at the ranch with the new fixture, and the electrician discovered a screw is missing. The screw that holds the support brackets for the heavy chandelier. Oy.

Can you believe this scarf practically crocheted itself in 20 minutes? The yarn, the star of this attraction, does all the work. It's Rowan's Kidsilk Creation, and while kind of costly, being able to create a last minute gift during the holidays is something I consider priceless.

The hideous living room fixture is gone, but the new one needed to be rigged so the fixture lined up straight. The electrician kept telling me it wouldn't work, but when I handed him the bracket for the old fixture and asked if that would work, I could see the light slowly dawning for him. Ugh.

The kitchen fixture is fine, but while trying to put the bulbs in, the electrician dropped one. There were shards of glass everywhere and when they're gone, I'll have to vacuum to be sure there aren't any bits that could snag Leo's paws.

Speaking of paws, I'm knitting Bella's Mittens for a colleague who is hooked on those Twilight books and movies. She's also a hockey mom who spends hours and hours in cold arenas. She should like these. While these don't exactly knit themselves, they are a really fast knit.

It's only 11 AM. The sparkys aren't done yet and come noon, we're expecting the carpenters to come and start repairing the parts of the basement that were destroyed when the drain tiles were placed. The electricians, two of them, are perplexed over how to put my chandelier together. It doesn't look that hard to me, and would probably be a snap if one of these two would look at the instructions that came with the fixture. Oh wait, how foolish to think of that. Real men don't need directions.

I am so tired of contractors.

Oh...and now it's after noon, I start work at 4 and of course the carpenters aren't here yet.

Post op day 1

2011-11-17T20:50:00.003-05:00

The patient is doing quite well today, but after several calls to the house and being told by her caregivers that she's still sleeping, I had to go and see for myself. I blew into the house like a know it all nurse, dragged her out of bed, got her to eat a bowl of pasta and mashed bananas and drink a giant glass of soda. Then I washed her mouth for her and left the patient sitting up watching a little television. So much for a slow night for the staff. I think the codeine was a little more than she could manage and so all she did was sleep. Tonight she'll get the codeine before bed, but tomorrow it needs to stop. I wish all my patients were so sensitive to opiates.

Her smile is beautiful!

Mumma is relieved.

Fingers crossed

2011-11-15T23:12:00.003-05:00

Wednesday is a big day for Stinkerbell McBookeater. She is having some fairly major oral surgery to correct damage to her teeth that incurred from a fall at school a few years ago. She fractured her maxilla at that time and the fall pushed her two front teeth up into her jaw.

It was an awful, awful event, followed by a horrific oral surgery done in the hospital and attended by the worst anesthesiologist I've ever met in my life. When I told this doctor that benzodiazepenes made her nuts, he pooh-poohed me and went ahead and used Versed anyways. I know in my heart she was awake during nasal intubation and the wiring of her jaw. She came out of recovery screaming bloody murder and my heart broke for her that day. When that doctor made rounds past her bed after surgery, I accused him of being neglectful and told him he was to have nothing else to do with her care. I could see the guilt all over his face. Asshole. I told him that, too.

Six weeks later, when we went back for the removal of the wires, I told the staff that particular anesthesiologist was to have nothing to do with her care and if the staff did not promise to use propofol for sedation, I would leave and find another hospital that would. Those promises were made and kept, though the pin head anesthesiologist did try to interact once. I shamed him and shooed him away. Rachel came out of the O.R. that morning singing and happy. What an incredible difference!

So tomorrow morning, bright and early, she'll be getting some root canals, an extraction or two and a bridge. Her palate isn't right to do implants, so a bridge will have to do. By tomorrow afternoon, she should have a brand new smile.

Wish us well, but mostly her. It's bound to be a long, long day. Poor Stinkerbell.

Love. True love

2011-11-13T11:16:00.004-05:00

Watching CBS Sunday Morning with Charles Osgood has become a favorite way to watch snippets of news without immersing ourselves in the 24 hour news feeds that can only lead to anxiety and subsequently, depression. It's an upbeat show that often captures the better parts of our collective nature.

If you watched the show this morning, you could not have missed the story of Tarra and Bella, an unlikely tale of the love and devotion between an elephant and a dog. I recall watching the first story about these two when Bella was injured awhile ago and Tarra stood vigil.

I'm pretty certain I'm going to have this unlikely devoted duo on my mind for quite awhile. I think we could all take a lesson from their story.

Nurse Crankybritches

2011-11-12T10:14:00.004-05:00

Blame it on the full moon, or even the alignment of all of those ones in the date yesterday, but I am one ill tempered woman this week and I think I know the cause: Inability to knit. Whenever I'm annoyed or overwhelmed, I sit down for a spell and knit my troubles away. This small act helps me cope with whatever the cosmos has sent my way. I've had this addiction with this particular anti-anxiety coping mechanism for about 8 years now. Knitting is what I do to get by. With bilateral hand injuries, I've been thwarted in the coping department and minor annoyances have become thorns in my side.

Today I was abruptly awakened at the butt crack of dawn by two babies crying. They sounded like they were being beaten and there was no way I was going to let that happen. Dressed only in my pajamas (thank God I don't sleep in the buff), I ran out the front door--barefoot in freezing weather--to track down the culprits beating their helpless offspring. I was in the mood to garrote someone with a sturdy cabled circular knitting needle or more likely, throw some well aimed verbal barbs at those vicious parents. Never mind that this scenario made no sense at all to my sleep deprived brain since none of my neighbors have babies. I was convinced that this was indeed what I was hearing. Now outside and frozen solid, reality was setting in. I wasn't hearing babies, I was hearing caterwauling. Really...my neighbor's cats were under another neighbor's truck (right next to my bedroom window) and they were crying...like babies being beaten. What caring parent can ignore a baby's cries for help? Now wide awake early on a Saturday, it would have been perfect for me to grab my wheel and go to spinning circle, except I can't pick up and carry two cups of coffee in my hands, let alone a wheel and project bag. Ugh.

After the feline incident, I turned on my phone to see how little the midnight shift nurse worked. Talk about a thorn in the side--this woman never gets a call and because she works nights, she earns more than the rest of us and primarily sleeps through her shift. Around midnight last night, I sent report on my busy, busy shift, including information on an emergency hospice admission I did late last night. This morning, she reports she got a call regarding the same patient and thought he needed an emergency hospice admission. If she'd bothered to read my report, she'd have known it was already done and the facility was likely calling for some other problem. I texted her as much and she texted this back: "I'm never sure what's going on." WHAT??? Now I know for certain that not only does she rarely get patient calls, she doesn't read reports she does get about patients the rest of us handle. If I could, I'd reach through that phone and stab her in her apathetic eye with one of my idle knitting needles.

See? I can't cope. I.Must.Knit.

Even though my hands hurt, I've been searching for a way to knit without pain. I've discovered purling continental style hurts my left thumb the least and my right hand not at all, so I cast on Wurm. So far I'm still knitting the brim of the hat and though it's taken me 2 days to knit a mere 26 rows, I'm nearly done with that and soon I'll be purling several rows between the knitted rows and that, I'm hoping, should bring some solace, or at least raise my bullshit tolerance up to a more manageable level.

It's either that or I'll have to open a Paypal account so together we can start raising my bond money. Y'all would have my back, wouldn't you?

No arrests in Saturday night attack on knitter

2011-11-08T11:15:00.004-05:00

The LG refrigerator denies its roll in the Saturday night suburban Detroit attack on Knitting Nurse Rudee. In a sworn statement, the refrigerator stated it was minding its own business keeping its contents cold or frozen, when the dishwasher (a Maytag hack), stuck out its door and tripped the hapless nurse. The refrigerator stated, "well, she threw herself at me and there is no truth to the rumor that I kicked her back into play and bruised her rib cage."

Likewise, the stove denied its roll in the vicious attack though it was plainly guilty of causing that hematoma on the left wrist of the victim.

The dishwasher, true to its advertising, has been running silent on the issue.

The victim has been checked out by her doctor who had himself a good laugh over the retelling of the attack of the appliances. Nothing was found to be broken. The doctor advised Nurse Rudee that in the future, she should watch where she is going.

The victim's husband has been staging daily reenactments of the attack for any who wish to see and listen.

Nurse Rudee would like to extend her thanks to all who left comments, and especially commiserates with the spouse of ztoamom. OUCH!

If it weren't for bad luck

2011-11-05T22:48:00.002-04:00

I'd have none at all. Even though I know this, I still bought a Powerball lottery ticket this week. It should come as no surprise that I didn't win.

Today we did a little power shopping for light fixtures. I needed 2 ceiling fixtures and a chandelier for the dining room. While at the lighting store, I picked up some battery operated task lights that I thought could augment the kitchen lighting as I have nothing except the center fixture and we all know that we can pretty much kiss daylight goodbye tonight. I can't live in the dark any longer.

From there we headed off to the mall to try and get into the Apple store. It was so crowded they were taking reservations just to get in the door. No mind, we headed off the The North Face instead. If I'm going to continue this late night hospice career, I'm not going to freeze my ass off doing so. I scored a beautiful coat that can convert to handle anything winter has to dish out to me this year. It's three coats in one depending on whether you wear the quilted down lining by itself, or just the outer shell or when it's really cold, combine the two. It's perfect.

Back home, and I promise, here is where my bad luck story gets good (or bad, depending how you look at this), I started knitting my brother's Christmas present. He asked for something to keep his tea warm this winter in his home on the Lake Erie shore and I'm obliging him. I found this pattern on Ravelry, it's free and it's lovely. The yarn is free, too, since I'm knitting it in Galway that I had in the stash. That's free, right?

Anyways, the pattern is fiddly and full of errors, but I was making headway. I promised myself if I got through the first pattern repeat, I could get up and make a cup of tea. I set my knitting aside and got immediately distracted by my still packaged task lights. Off I went to the kitchen to set the first one up. Getting it out of the package was hard, so I looked for a knife to help me. All the sharp ones were in the dishwasher so I fished in there for the right one, opened the package without self injury and attached the light to the underside of the cabinet.

Ta-da! Perfection. And so easy!

I backed up to admire my handiwork and fell ass over tea kettle when I bumped into the still open door of the dishwasher. It was a surreal fall. I knew what was happening, but in the tight squeeze that doubles as my kitchen, there weren't many options on how I was going down. How I managed to hurt BOTH of my wrists, I don't know. I had a goose egg, which is now a bruise on my left radius, and this is the wound that had me howling. The right didn't hurt until my husband tried to pull me up by that hand. It's not that it wasn't immediately injured, it's because the brain can only process so many pain messages at once and it was busy with my squeaky wheel of a left wrist. It crossed my mind for a fleeting moment that if both hands were casted, I couldn't knit. I couldn't wipe my own behind, either, but that wasn't my first thought.

I have a sneaking suspicion the right wrist is fractured. It's not swollen or deformed, but I cannot flex or extend it without feeling exquisitely sharp pain that starts the wrist, moves deep into my thumb then shoots up my forearm . There are, approximately, 800,000 bones in the wrist. I just know in my heart that one of them, probably that pain in the butt and hard to heal scaphoid bone is likely cracked.

For my pragmatic friends, don't worry...the dishwasher is fine.

Out of the blue

2011-11-03T14:19:00.007-04:00

Out with the old

Apparently, I'm still indulging the color blue. Not as an emotion, mind you, but more as my palette in life. I chose blue for my yarn room last year. Bathroom, too. Last week, I got a manicure and painted my fingernails in OPI's, Yoga Ta Ya Get This Blue. I've also been on a blue yarn binge since the first of the year and seem unusually drawn to any shade of this color. About a year ago, I saw the color my friend had painted her son's room and had to have the details. About two weeks later, she thoughtfully mailed me the color card that I promptly taped to the dining room wall and there it stayed for the better part of a year as I wondered if it was a color that spoke to me.

Last week, my husband asked for a to-do list while he was on a two week vacation and I told him he could paint the dining room. I didn't think he would get to it quite so quickly, but he did and I'm so thankful. I went out to lunch with a friend last week and came home to the freshly painted room all dolled up in Sherwin-Williams, Aqua Sphere. I loved it, but of course this led to me confiding that I thought the green in the living room was a mistake, and now a sore spot against the better color in the dining room.

In with the new

Today the living room harmonizes with the dining room and is all decked out in Breezy. Of course, we couldn't have that gilt mirror sticking out like a sore thumb against the cool blue colors, so while I was listening to Bob Seger last night (who, at 66 years old, was very awesome), the substantial mirror frame got a fresh coat of Martha Stewart's metallic decorative paint in the color, Thundercloud. In a word...awesome!

The foyer and hall got painted in, On the Rocks. While this was a lighter color shown with the cool blue families, it's really a lavender-gray and looks so pretty. When the light hits it a certain way, the lavender seems more prominent. I checked the can, and yep, there it is in the formula...maroon tint. I wasn't imagining things, and it really has some lavender there. I'm pleased with the way it looks and decided to indulge my hunch that what this living room needs now is a punch of color in a vibrant purple. I'm thinking pillows or an afghan. That should keep me away from blue yarn for awhile.

I'm not going to think too much about why these colors appeal to me or read too much into my mood. They make me happy and that should be enough of a reason to paint the whole place blue if that's what I want.

I'm still the same

2011-11-02T10:55:00.003-04:00

Don't send the dogs out to find me. I'm not lost. I've just been lazy. It crossed my mind that maybe I just didn't have much to say anymore, but being the big mouth in my family, they all know, and you should, too, that's just not true.

Last week was so busy. I accumulated a lot of miles in my hospice-mobile starting each night on one end of town and ending on the exact opposite end way after midnight. I was a Traveling Wo Man. Weeks like that really suck the soul right out of me and on several of those days I found that in addition to fuel, I was fresh out of empathy. When that happens, it's usually time for a vacation. One day will have to do, and today is it.

I have a date tonight with my daughter and my best friend. There will be no late night calls out to ply my trade, though it may be a late night.

Any thieves who now know I won't be home tonight can rest assured I've left someone in charge of protecting our domain. He'll be armed. OK, he only has teeth to attack with, but he can be fierce. Just sayin'.

A note on that cowl: The yarn is 82 yards of hand spun by Emilee and is super bulky. The free pattern on Ravelry is Marian. It took about two hours to knit, maybe three. My model is so patient with me. Handsome, too.

The not so light fingered camel

2011-10-23T22:51:00.007-04:00

Saturday, despite the sunshine and beautiful warm weather, I barely made it off the couch. I hurt my back again this week lifting patients too weak to help themselves. Today I was better and feeling antsy. I had to leave the house and go do something.

Nobody wanted to play today, so I packed up my things and headed off to the Ann Arbor Fiber Expo. Alone. With an empty canvas tote. Though really, is a knitter/spinner every really alone at a fiber festival? I think not as I had dozens of conversations about all sorts of things. Within 20 minutes of arrival, I had my bag full of spinning fiber and a few other treasures, but decided to continue shopping anyways.

As I meandered into building E, I saw alpacas and an amazingly huge camel named Humphrey. As I stood and talked to Humphrey's handler and fondled the camel fiber he was selling, I became aware that someone was trying to steal my bag off my shoulder and people all around were laughing at me.

It was Humphrey. The 1, 400 pound thief had a death grip on my canvas bag using only his very interesting but incredibly unattractive teeth.

We played tug of war for a minute, and though I won, it wasn't for lack of trying on Humphrey's part. He wanted what was in my bag, but I guess not as much as I did.

Hey...let him go buy his own fire engine red merino roving. This braid is all mine.

Send paddles!

2011-10-20T11:59:00.003-04:00

Rumor has it the sun may shine again sometime on Friday. I'll believe it when I see it. In the meantime, I'm considering the need for creating a knitting pattern that fits webbed feet. I may be on to something.

Knitting interuptus

2011-10-18T13:28:00.004-04:00

Ah, yes, I've had another one of those moments where I put something down for whatever reason, and then months later, I pick it up and expect to knit as though we never shared a lull in our relationship. This time it was with Elka, which I set aside in late spring because it became too hot to sit and knit with Lopi. After searching for hours for the book with the pattern (it was on the bookshelf in full view the entire time), and straightening yarn that had become a twisted mess while sitting alone in a bag (does the yarn party when I'm not looking?) and counting stitches (inexplicably, I didn't make notes on the size I was knitting), I was able to start knitting the chart for the second sleeve. However, in reflection today, I know I made a mistake by knitting the first stitch of the chart as the first stitch of the row. It's really the last stitch of the prior row and even though I was off by one stitch on the pattern, I never stopped to consider why. Nosirree! I just kept knitting. It was the stitch marker that threw me, but if you knit in the round and intend to leave it for a bit, you have to stop either one stitch before or one after the marker. Otherwise, you'll come back to the project and have absolutely no idea where left off because your marker would have gone missing. Sigh...another knit as I say and not as I do moment for this knitter.

Needless to say, I'll be ripping today. It's only a handful of rows, but still. It annoys me.

You can't really appreciate the center color, but it's a very deep burgundy and not black.

Just like knitting the chevron blankie drove me half nuts. I'm glad I'm finally finished with this. I was lulled into complacency by the simplicity of the pattern, but found myself making mistake after mistake. Garter stitch will do that to you. Garter stitch with shaping on both sides of the piece is a recipe for disaster for the rather bored knitter. Row one has evenly spaced decreases and row two puts them back. Meh. Easy-peasy, right? It's not hard to know what row you're on, but it's more mindful knitting than you'd think, and that was the root of my problem. I tried knitting while watching football and baseball games. What better time to knit? Needless to say, there was lots more tinking and reknitting than I'd ordinarily want to see and do. But no mind...it's done and beautiful.

No football for you! When he's standing there to block my view, there will be no knitting, either. That's his, hey, I'm King of the Universe pose. Look at me! Look! Look. At. Me! And hey missie? Got any of those liver biscotti treats left? I will do flips for liver biscotti!

That's enough lollygagging for the day. I'm off to rip a few rows of that sleeve. May you have a day filled with no dropped stitches and time for afternoon tea.

Do you believe in magic?

2011-10-16T17:03:00.006-04:00

Last night, instead of taking in a full moon movie, we went downtown to see a very special event where the musical genius that was Michael Jackson met the spectacle that is Cirque du Soleil. The two combined to make the evening nothing short of magical.

I'm still enchanted by the two and a half hour show that Fanny and I saw. It was hard to know where to look first. At the band playing Michael's music (some of whom performed with Michael on tour)? The acrobats? The dancers? The pyrotechnic displays? The holographic images of MJ? The many and varied sets or costumes? The show was a feast for the eyes, heart, ears and soul and we had seats a mere seven rows from the stage. There aren't enough adjectives to describe the way this show made me feel. I was happy and sad all in the same moment.

This is one show I think we may need to see twice. I'm thinking Florida in late winter sounds good. Don't miss it if it's coming to an arena near you.

Full Moon Hospice Smack Down

2011-10-13T02:02:00.002-04:00

I know I haven't been around for a bit. I wish I could share what's been going on, but some things are better left unsaid. Suffice it to say, it's been a rough week, and it's not over yet. I topped off my busy shift tonight with a visit to someone who is convinced her house is haunted by a malevolent ghost. I was even shown photographic evidence. Alrighty then. It was a bizarre looking image of a man with unnatural facial features on a cell phone photograph.

Do you recall last Halloween season when I was driving down Cemetery Road, sort of lost and way out of my territory in a wicked wind and rain storm? Or the night I was sent to a campground to see a patient right after watching Zombieland that very afternoon? This one beat them both and made the hairs on my arms stand up. I was completely spooked, and so was my driver.

To center myself, I went home, shut off the phone and computer and settled in to watch Martin Scorcese's documentary on my favorite Beatle. The film is titled, George Harrison: Living in a Material World. If you have HBO, don't miss this beautiful film. It truly is a lovely tribute to a different kind of spirit.

It was just the thing I needed to counteract my experience tonight, and, hey, he was and still is my favorite Beatle. Who was your favorite?

The money pit of despair

2011-10-03T22:03:00.007-04:00

The Brute Squad.

Well, let me just say, after a day of listening to jackhammers tear up my basement yesterday, it's no wonder my head is pounding. Keeping the dog occupied took up the better part of my day and there was one point where, following me into the kitchen, Leo busted through the not so technical blockade of dining room chairs and came face to face with one of the men tearing up my basement. They scared the hell out of each other and it was the only priceless moment of the day. Believe me, everything else had a price tag attached.

Leo finally gets to investigate the source of all of that racket.

Today is a duplicate day. While I thought the loudest part of the work was completed yesterday, I can plainly hear that I was wrong. Really wrong. It's drill work that's making me lose it today and brings to mind an insane visit to the dentist, although I'm quite certain the contractors left the jackhammer behind for a reason last night. They must not be finished. Pass the ibuprofen, please.

What the contractors discovered lurking behind a wall of built in cabinets goes a long way in explaining the array of symptoms like sniffles, scratchy throats, sinusitis, coughs and headaches the inhabitants of this dwelling suffer from. This corner of the basement was the worst part of the mold problem which has now been sprayed with bleach and will later get a boric acid treatment. The cabinets had provided fuel for the mold and were a total loss. The joys of old home ownership are endless, no? I'm trying to think positively about this new blank slate in my basement, but it's hard with all that racket down there rattling my brain.

The office floor

~~Dirk, Matt, John~~ --whatever his name is--was a no show all weekend. Oh, he surfaced Monday, barely, and told us he had pneumonia. Excuses, excuses. He better show me where they administered Rocephin and azithromycin. I want proof. Just kidding. I was truly hoping to keep a contractor or two out of the house for a bit, but now he has to come back and finish the attic work (there is a hole in the attic where the fan will go, so this is necessary, and so is the insulation he still has to do). There is no escape from the noise, clutter, dust or disorder. I'd go to Mr. Larger Than Life's house to get a reprieve, but the painting contractor is there.

The Dog Torturers

2011-10-02T13:45:00.004-04:00

I've been asked a few times lately to allow for a guest post. I don't ordinarily do this, but just this once, I agreed. Enjoy.

Hello,

My name is Leo and I live with two of the most controlling women you'd ever want to meet. Oh sure, they give me treats and take me to training every Thursday, but still, sometimes they can be difficult when it comes to cohabitation. The young one is OK to live with since when she bakes, she always bakes for me, too, but that old one can be a real hard head. There has been a lot of talk recently about my grooming skills and in particular, my aroma. I have no clue what they're talking about and to me, I think I smell fine. Just right.

They've been chattering all weekend about waiting for a warmer day to get me to smell like roses again, but in the end settled for just plain sunshine. Hello? It's only around 50 degrees out there--the sun is deceiving. Evil wenches. Before I knew what hit me, the old one enticed me into the bathroom and forcibly placed me in the bathtub.

What do you mean, "see how dirty you were?" I was fine with that and consider that a patina--not dirt. Surely she exaggerates because the water looks clean to me. Lavender and mint dog shampoo? Really?

Just you wait. The minute this towel is off, I'm going to shake and you're going to be covered in hair and water. Wait, wait, wait! OMG! She cleaned out my ears with cotton balls and alcohol. Dammit! It made me moan.

Oh, OK, since you were nice enough to turn on the space heater for me, I'll be smart enough to sit there until I'm warm again. However, the minute you let me out that back door, I'm going to roll in something smelly.

People, as you can see, I'm really suffering here. Please send help and if you can't do that, some of those nice bison cookies would make me feel better.

Sincerely,

Leo

Mish Mash Mush

2011-10-01T10:39:00.007-04:00

I imagine if we scanned my head right now, my brain would look like a bowl of oatmeal. It was a long, long week and while I wasn't all that busy with my own assignments, my east side colleague was. This means in addition to my territory, I covered a lot of hers and really piled on the miles.

The daily view from the hospice mobile.

Every single day I worked, the weather reporter let me know it was going to rain, rain, and rain again. Every.Single.Day.

I got so sick of listening to her gloomy reports that I almost stopped. So glad I didn't. One day--can't remember which since they all looked gloomy and rainy and pretty much the same-- I took notice of what she was wearing. Did she even look in the mirror that day? She had on this ill fitting dress with swirls right on her boobs and not in a flattering way. Since I'm in the middle of watching this season's Project Runway, I could hear Michael Kors and Tim Gunn verbalizing their dismay in my head and lambasting the designer for this travesty of a dress. Is it just me, or do her breasts look like they're ready to take flight right off the sides of the dress?

Not only is it damp and rainy, it's also cold here in Detroit. It was 41 degrees when I started to write this post and while I appreciate the bonus of keeping warm that my work in progress provides, I'm perplexed by the fact it isn't finished yet. It took me three days to knit the first three stripes, and four to knit the 4th. The fifth isn't coming along all that fast, and it's all due to the various burns and cuts my fingers accumulated. Since everything has healed, I'm hoping to finish this blanket soon.

To update you on the refrigerator, well, shamefully, I finally snapped and pulled a Mr. Larger Than Life on both LG and the appliance repair people. We called on Monday to report the recurrent problem to LG and they set us up with the only appliance repair company LG uses for Wednesday. Late on Wednesday, the repairman showed up, wrote down the error code (which we'd already told them on Monday), took a check for $100 from us and said the part would be available in "a couple of days." I took that to mean two. By late yesterday afternoon, I called the appliance place and was put on hold for 10 minutes while they looked up our order which they couldn't find. Since I was now running behind for work and had been 5 long days without a reliable refrigerator, I had a meltdown worthy of MLTL. I hung up on the less than interested appliance repair scheduler after giving him a piece of my mind and called LG to give the poor service rep the remaining pieces. Periodically during my tirade, I interjected that while I knew she didn't personally make the crappy appliances, and I wasn't personally blaming her, I was disgusted with their product, but worse, their lack of service. Some swear words were involved... Oh, something along the lines of, "don't bother sending anyone. I am going to go buy a new refrigerator and put this one on the street with a giant sign saying, free piece of LG shit for the taking. Good luck getting service."

Miraculously, my refrigerator was repaired 2 hours later. LG is paying the $200 repair bill. Though I'm not proud of snapping like that, I just could not take being without a refrigerator for one more day. The squeaky wheel got the grease.

There is a lot of work on tap for the weekend. We have to clear out the basement to make room for the contractors who are coming on Monday to dig up the floor and place drain tiles. In addition to what will hopefully be a dry basement from here on out, I should be super organized once the dust settles. In the meantime, I get to look forward to another week of upheaval and men with dirty work boots.

Knit 10, K2Tog, SSK and repeat. It's good to have a soothing mantra. Here's hoping I'll be a little less ill tempered next week.

Judge Nurse Rudee

2011-09-28T00:01:00.002-04:00

Too lazy to change the channel, I watched the defense of Michael Jackson's physician, Dr. Murray, place the blame of Michael Jackson's death solidly on the deceased's shoulders.

Hmmm.

Yes, I agree, Michael Jackson seems to have had a monster addiction and was a tortured soul, but as a medical professional myself, and one who has opened countless bottles of ~~Mother's Milk~~ propofol, I still don't know of any reasonable reason why propofol or versed would be used outside of an ICU, emergency room or surgical suite, and then only with the utmost scrutiny that machines, monitors and trained staff can provide. What his physician did is not what most medical professionals would reasonably do in a similar circumstance. In addition, I know many doctors often change specialties, but what in God's name made this man think he could be all things to one man: a cardiologist, psychiatrist, addiction specialist and anesthesiologist? Me thinks the color green played a big role.

Plain and simple? The doctor should be glad I'm not seated on his jury, for no matter how much blame his defense places on Michael Jackson himself, in my mind, the doctor is guilty of medical malpractice at the least, and I believe, manslaughter. There is no gray area here, as--and here's that pesky little point again--he did not behave in the manner most medical professionals (his peers) would and failed, failed, failed to meet the standard of care. That my friends is how you measure the actions of a medical professional.

If you listen to any of this trial, keep in mind that, yes, Michael Jackson was the master of his own destiny, but then so was his physician. Personally, I wish he'd just plead guilty and save us the circus his trial is sure to be.

Life's Good? It's better with blinders

2011-09-27T12:53:00.004-04:00

This crazy dog loved wearing Sara's blinders. He walked all around the room, tail nubbin' wagging, while gamely trying to find us without sight.

I think not. Let me explain.

About a year ago, or back when we moved into this house, we went out and bought all new appliances. I wanted the Maytag fridge with french doors and the freezer on the bottom. Well, Home Depot took my order and my money, then called me right before expected delivery to tell me I couldn't have that model right then and there because Maytag was unable to complete the order. I would have to wait 3 weeks for the item I wanted. To compensate for the inconvenience, they offered me an LG model that was more expensive at less than what I was paying for the Maytag.

Fool that I was, I took the deal and for awhile all was OK. Not great, but OK. The unit made ice and kept things cool, but the doors were a little wonky. They don't shut automatically, but the unit does alarm if a door is not closed. The freezer door does not alarm.

Over Labor Day weekend with my house full of visitors, the fridge saw a lot of action and someone left the freezer door ajar overnight. I woke up the next morning and closed it--the contents were still frozen, because in addition to the ice maker, there were bags of ice in there so that acted like a 20 cubic square foot cooler. By the next morning, the unit wasn't working again because, according to the LG service rep, condensation had built up on the motor. LG's solution was to unplug the unit for several hours then just like that, plug it back in. The magic worked for a day, but there was still significant food loss despite my efforts at saving the contents. Two days later, I awakened to the same problem. Error message 67 and a fridge full of contents that were not cold anymore.

Once again, I lost food. I unplugged the fridge, vacuumed every nook and cranny, opened the freezer to let it air out and cleaned and dried every crevice there, too. I shut the ice maker off so moisture was not an issue. When I was certain enough time had elapsed and you could eat a meal off the fridge itself without fear of food poisoning, I plugged it back into the outlet. Magic again, the solution worked until two days ago when the damned thing went on the fritz again.

He's so funny, but I bet he wasn't happy I had to toss his raw treats because we lost refrigeration. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Rinse and repeat the above steps. Plug it back in and it works. One day later, this morning, it's not working and I want to take this just out of warranty refrigerator out back and shoot the damned thing. This month alone, I've lost about $200 worth of food products and a lot of time moving, cleaning, plugging and unplugging this appliance. I have a service person coming, but he's all booked up until tomorrow, because, of course, nobody services LG around here because they're too expensive to fix.

Life's Good? I think not. What I wouldn't give for never having to call the lonely Maytag repairman.

Phooey on you LG.

Pity paws

2011-09-25T17:26:00.004-04:00

Whenever the dogs I've had would get heartworm tests, they'd come home with a bandage wrapped around their paws. We'd always tell them they had a pity paw, because boy could they milk that bandage for all it was worth.

Lately though, it's me with pity paws. Last Monday, I sliced my index and middle fingers of my left hand during my attempts to cut through the first butternut squash my garden produced. The cut on my middle finger could have benefitted from a couple of stitches, but I was technically working and couldn't spare a trip to the urgent care center. I applied a steristrip and bandage and called it a day. Knitting all week has been tricksy.

Today...well today I pulled the beouf bourguignon from the oven to stir and add some vegetables. I replaced the foil and went to grab the pan lid, completely forgetting I had only moments before taken it out of the 325 degree oven. Of course, my fingers were slightly wet and my skin sort of sizzled on contact. I burned my right thumb, index and middle fingers.

I think I should officially change my name to Grace, or better yet, Calamity Jane. Everything I touch or do seems to be loaded with danger. I am not going to tell you how I fell off my Dansko shoe (just the left shoe) last week and nearly wrenched my shoulder while falling soundly on my ass. That would be a shameful retelling of my less than elegant comportment. With two pity paws and five injured digits, it looks like knitting will be impossible for a few days.

I may need to make an investment in industrial strength bubble wrap for a bit, or at least until the moon is aligned with Mars or some such nonsense. I hope this phase passes soon.

Ch-ch-ch-changes.

2011-09-23T14:47:00.005-04:00

One cookie missing. Another missing a bite from the edge. Two guesses, and the first two don't count as to who the cookie thief may be.

For months I've been putting up with those lazy contractors next door. It's been one delay after another for them. I heard that the work there is coming to an end soon, so I've not been complaining about their late night sawing, hammering, drilling and occasional swearing. Last night, they were still at it at midnight which annoyed the hell out of Leo. There's light at the end of that tunnel, but fear not, we have our own slew of contractors getting ready to descend upon our own home.

In fact, one is here today.

He--his name is Sean, but for some reason, I keep calling him Matt--is installing a whole house fan on the upper level of our humble abode. Even when it's cool outside, it's always warm indoors. We're hoping the fan will help cool the house down and lower our energy consumption. In the process of this install, Sean is evicting the ~~squirrels~~ rats with bushy tails that have had the gall to set up house in our attic. Prior to this, we couldn't evict them ourselves because there was no attic access. He's also beefing up the insulation while he's up there. As I write this, there are two gigantic holes in the upstairs ceiling and dust is everywhere.

When this project is done, the basement waterproofing event will start and then the real fun will begin. We've had so much rain this month that the ground is saturated. There is nowhere for the water to go, so much like the squirrels, it makes itself at home in my basement. I'm always down there killing spiders, mopping up water and emptying the two dehumidifiers that run full time. In the process of putting in new drain tiles, this group of contractors will destroy drywall, built in cabinets, the shower in the bathroom, the tile floor in the living space, my bank account, and likely, my sanity. Matt, I mean Sean, will put it all back together.

I hope they all work faster than the guys next door.

In the meantime, I'm trying to keep busy with projects of my own. Working with yarn that has no dust on it, yet, I'm knitting a chevron baby blanket. This is Rose's fault. She posts a link and like sheep following the shepherd, I click on it. Before you know it, my needles are busy knitting wonderful things.

This project is just right for warding off the chill of autumn.

If you guessed this is the cookie monster, well then you'd be correct. However, he denies everything and only says, prove it...there were no crumbs leading up to him.

Taking time

2011-09-18T19:53:00.004-04:00

I've been neglecting this blog for weeks, and worse, I confess I've been neglecting myself. We have our hands full over here working full time and managing five homes, and while Mr. Larger Than Life is gone, the remnants of his and his wife's time here on earth need sorting. Urgently.

Stuff. It's everywhere.

So that's what I've been doing. I go over there in the mornings before work and on my days off, too. Rachel and I were there for 5 hours today and now that it's 8 PM, I've only now put dinner on and opened a brew to try to relax. I've been doing this for weeks and weeks and weeks and feel like I've not made a dent at all. Truly, the above photo represents less than half of what I've uncovered. The remainder was already in full view.

It's feels like it's pouring on us right now, but truth be told, this was our rain storm last Sunday.

Next weekend, I'm calling in sick to my personal life and taking some well earned time off. Hell, I may even drag my spinning wheel up to the yarn store for spinning circle. I haven't done that in ages and ages.

Or, I'll take a hint from the neighborhood kids who take great joy when it rains bucket fulls on them.

If nothing else, I'm going to look for a rainbow when I feel it's raining on me. Or if I'm lucky like I was last Monday night, I'll find two.

Try as I may to keep caught up with your blogs, or write a bit on my own, I find I'm not able to remain that way for long. Please pardon me while I'm rearranging tchotchkes and dust. I'm sure sometime soon, likely after the estate sale, life will resemble something akin to normal around these parts.

Next weekend, definitely, I'm going to be outrageous and spend a little time unwinding.

Give them an inch and they'll take a mile.

2011-09-15T11:36:00.002-04:00

Who, me? I'm not naughty.

We had an incident with Leo a couple of weeks ago. A friend came to the door one night--someone not known to Leo--and when I opened the door to let him in, my friend grabbed me in a bear hug. Leo's fierce protective instinct surfaced, and he bit my friend. He thought I was being attacked. It was terrifying because the only indication he was biting were my friend's yelps of fear and pain. The dog was silent with no snarling or growls indicating he was not happy with this type of greeting. It all took place in seconds and seemed surreal. For two days in a row preceding this kerfuffle, two Direct Energy people walking door to door had come to my home. When I told them I wasn't interested and to please not come again, they became loud, obnoxious and verbally aggressive toward me and this upset my dog, but that's a story for another day. I don't know if this had anything to do with why he was suddenly so anxious at the door or not, but I have to think that with as smart as he is, he had linked the presence of people at the door with a threat. This was new and never seen before behavior. If I had any qualms about my dog falling on a sword for me, I think he answered them. It's just that I'd have preferred he demonstrate his ability to protect if the threat had been real and not perceived.

I swear, it was that other dog in the mirror. He's the naughty one.

Of course I was horrified that he bit my friend, and can intellectualize this all I want, but the truth is, my 80 pound dog is not as well trained as he should be. I'm thankful the person he bit is a friend and not a pizza delivery guy or the mail carrier, because if it came down to carrying home owners insurance or having a dog, I'd be compelled to keep carrying the insurance. Or at least that's the position of my bank.

The morning after this event, we got on the phone to find a trainer. Enter Heather, who has now been to our home once to work with us and the dog. In one session, she gave us more insight into the beast who shares our home and into our own behaviors that have allowed him to lapse into being such a naughty boy. We've taken the path of least resistance with Leo, which I believe is human nature and we've lapsed into allowing him to be the alpha dog.

What makes you think I have a domineering mindset?

Well, no more. He gets worked with each and every day now, and in one week, I can see a difference in him already. Lucky for us, he's incredibly food oriented. He's doing much better on his sit-stays, and coming when he's called, instead of completely ignoring me. I've taken to carrying treats on me at all times to get this beastie boy to listen.

Someone needs to supervise my brother, the grillmeister.

Per Heather, we need to identify the treats that really entice him and differentiate the ones he'd consider beneath him. So far, I've been able to tell that he loves real meat, with cheese as a close second, but truthfully, he would be just as happy with a tiny piece of kibble. She calls them 1 star through 4 star treats. The dog is happy with any level, but was over the moon when I roasted meat and bones in the oven for beef stock. He adored the scraps, but really had to work hard to get them.

What? It was cold in Detroit this morning...about 46 degrees to be exact, and we're not talking celsius.

Leo, and more importantly, his humans, will be working with Heather once a week. She thinks he has fabulous potential and coming from someone who lives with Dobermans and understands their quirky nature, that's good news. She gave us hope that Leo is trainable and can fit into our community and home safely.

Oh, and the crate has resurfaced. Just in case.

There's more room in a broken heart

2011-09-11T19:14:00.003-04:00

Or so Miss Carly says. I tried so hard to stay away from the media blitz surrounding the 9/11 anniversary. I did OK last night, choosing to watch the University of Michigan pull a rabbit out of hat instead of talking heads and reruns of videos that I still find so disturbing.

After the game, I watched the History Channel program on the building of the new World Trade Center and the memorials. I felt a documentary better suited my mood. I shed a few tears when the architect spoke of his vision with the water falls built in the footprints of the twin towers.

Today I skipped around a few channels, landing always on a news station where the memorial was being broadcast in the background, but news anchors were front and center putting their own and personal spin on the memorial. I switched around for a more solemn station and found one where nobody was speaking, except the family members reading names. I began to cry at the sheer enormity of souls lost, the palpable grief of their survivors and the circumstances of that fateful day. As names were read, they were also displayed with their ages next to them and sometimes a photograph. As it did this day ten years ago, the utter meaninglessness of their deaths and the youthfulness of those lost shocked me. As I listened to their names, the sentiments of those reading them and watched water fall down the walls of the monuments into the deep abyss of the fountains, I felt grief anew.

I don't personally know a soul who was murdered on that day, but I know a part of my heart was broken for them none the less. I hope and I pray that their loved ones have found peace and clarity in the years that have passed us by.

It seems I need to plan a trip to New York sometime soon. I simply have to see this sacred site with my own eyes.

I wish you all peace on this very solemn day.

Let me sum up

2011-09-08T13:28:00.003-04:00

Apparently it's been awhile since my last post. I didn't mean to ignore this site, but I was too busy on my vacation to do anything more than sleep (when it came), clean, shop, cook, eat, visit with family, rinse and repeat. I packed a month into a mere 6 days off.

Mareseatoats came to town last Friday and we had an impromptu 4 day family reunion that culminated in a cookout on Monday with about 20 or so guests. It was great fun, even if the weather was not cooperative (cold and windy). Saturday night was kind of quiet, and sort of stormy so we elected to go see The Help. What a moving motion picture. I never read the book, but it's now in my Kindle's line up. To me, the sign of a great actor is whether or not they can evoke emotion in me. Bryce Dallas Howard made me angry. What a bitch she was in that movie. In my opinion, she kind of got what she deserved for being so evil and bigoted. When I got home and googled the actress, imagine my surprise when I realized she was Ron Howard's daughter! Really? She was such a bitch and I was appalled she could really be the daughter of a great American icon. She was that good as Hilly. She must of got the bitch chops from her mom, because I know they didn't come from her dad. Acting chops? All him. I liked the movie so much, I think I could go see it again.

Sometime on Sunday, I downloaded the Catkin shawl pattern and Mareseatoats and I went shopping in my yarn studio for the right yarn. I settled on Bearfoot in Moose Creek and Dream in Color's Smooshy in Chinatown Apple. They're pretty together, but now--about 45 rows into this pattern--I'm not so sure I'm happy with the mohair content of Bearfoot. Sara thinks she likes the colors together, so I'll persevere. Maybe.

Mareseatoats went home on Tuesday and I went back to work yesterday. It was a fast 6 days off, but nice to have my siblings together for the weekend. We haven't had a Michigan reunion like this since my mom passed away...five years ago today. Maybe that's the real reason I haven't posted in so long, but she's been on my mind all week. We all miss her, and welcomed the opportunity to talk about her and reminisce a bit.

Well that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I'm off to catch up on your sites now.

To dream perchance of sleep

2011-08-31T11:19:00.006-04:00

Dear Friends,

If someone had warned me of the insomnia issues that accompany menopause, I would have slept more than 8 hours a day in my youth and never would have pulled all-nighters. Like a squirrel waiting for a blizzard, I'd have put all of my sleep savings in the bank and never would have considered burning the candle at both ends. In short, I'd have appreciated slumber before it left me high and dry.

My sleep problems are sucking my brain dry.

Forget 8 hours, I would give anything if I could fall asleep and stay that way for just 5 to 6 hours straight. Lately, I stumble into bed, exhausted, read a page on my kindle and fall fast asleep only to awaken abruptly 8.2 seconds later, wide awake and praying for sleep. If I do manage to fall asleep, I awaken sweaty and hot in no time at all, sometimes several times a night, and lay there waiting for sleep to come again. I play a game called musical blankets all through the night. Blankets on, blankets off, blankets on, off, on, off, on. You should see the twisted mess of pillows, blankets and sheets when I get up in the morning. Believe me, it's a mess. This has become maddening and is totally affecting my waking hours.

For instance, I have forgotten underarm deodorant twice in the past week. It only becomes apparent to me when sometime later in the night, I wonder what that smell is only to discover it's me, or more specifically, my armpits. This doesn't happen when I'm at home--of course--I only notice when I'm away from my deodorant stick.

Last week while multitasking, I left home with my briefcase and saw the trash and recycling cans needed to be returned to the back yard. I set my briefcase down and moved the cans where they belonged and left for work. Lalalalalala. I got most of the way to my office when my son called to tell me I'd run over my briefcase with my employer owned laptop inside. In a panic, I raced home to find everything intact even though my rolling briefcase had tire prints and tattered fabric to show for my absent mindedness. What.An.Idiot!

These are just two of the forgetful issues I'm ascribing to my lack of sleep. There are more, like the night I left my work phone at home while working, and the mandatory work inservice I forgot to attend that has irritated the powers that be. If this is early onset dementia, I don't want to know. May it rob me of what I'm missing before I know what hit me. I prefer these symptoms to be signs of an irritating problem, but not a disease.

I've tried different methods and medications to help me sleep, but I only awaken feeling hungover and not at all rested. The worst of these drugs is benadryl. Blech. While it makes me sleep, I go through the entire next day in a fog. I don't want to feel like that, either. Knitting, while relaxing, is not something I can do when I'm tired at night. I end up making mistakes that have to be corrected in the light of day. I've eliminated caffeine after noon, so that's not the problem. I've watched boring television with a timer, but there is only so much of House Hunters International that a girl can take without going completely mad. For reading material, I stick to the dull at night. I don't need disturbing dreams added to whatever sleep I manage to squeeze into my life. My bed is not the problem. At least I don't think it is. It is a Tempurpedic, and they are known for being hot, but the kind of hot I get is the boiling from the inside out type: Hot flash hot.

I can deal with the stray whiskers I've sprouted, the sagging body parts and gray hair. How can I deal with the sleep disorder that appears to have accompanied the aging process? Tell me I've not squandered away all the restorative sleep of my youth with nary a thought to how precious it truly was.

Suggestions welcome. Please. I'll try anything.

Sincerely,

Desperate and Sleepless in Detroit

p.s. If you are still young or don't suffer sleep issues, consider yourself blessed and warned. Don't skimp on the sleep to get inconsequential chores done. You may never get it back.

The real news today

2011-08-27T12:39:00.005-04:00

I know the shawl is crooked on my model, but once outside, I saw a large group of Witnesses walking straight toward me. I rushed to get the picture so I could take it indoors to safety. This neighborhood has a lot of people going door to door and it's so hard to get them to take, "I'm not interested" as a hint.

May I interrupt your nonstop viewing of the ~~Catastrophe~~ Weather Channel to show you what's new off my needles?

The pre-blocked blob.

The Holden Shawlette project is done. Start to finish, this one took 12 days, though alone, the picot edging took several hours spread over two days. That is one trying and tedious cast off for so many stitches (309), but I'm really pleased with the outcome, and so is the recipient, Ms. Sara. I'd initially named it Sara's Dark and Stormy Shawl because, well, that's what the yarn color looked like in the hank. I've since renamed it Sara's Camo Shawl. The way the yarn played out once knit up was a total, but lovely surprise.

Lace as it's supposed to look when stretched to within and nth of its life.

It's hard to believe, but this is my 4th completed lace shawl for this year. Finishing the Pretty as a Peacock shawl really lit a fire under me to knit more lace. My addi turbo clicks are smoking hot right now.

The shawl in dappled sunlight. I was actually now in the backyard because that was the only safe outdoor area to hide from the folks walking door to door.

I have bookmarked so many shawls in the past two weeks, it's become ridiculous, so today, I'm casting on something completely different: Ruckle. I'm still deciding on the yarn, but I may use one I purchased at the fiber festival.

Alrighty then, that's all I have for news. I return you now to your regular broadcasting so you can see Mike Seidel of the Catastrophe Channel get his sandblasting facial. Right about now, I'd like to see a big wave deposit a giant shark right at his feet.

Now that would be something worth reporting.

I hope all of my east coast friends and relatives demonstrate more sense than reporters. Stay safe and dry my friends. Now would be a good time to stay put and cast on something lovely.

Eye of the beholder

2011-08-25T00:24:00.004-04:00

This is either a wicked storm front moving in, or it's a stunning work of art.

You decide.

Photo: RudeeK's Blackberry

Brown Nosing

2011-08-23T11:26:00.003-04:00

My happy butt sniffing camper. He's in there somewhere.

In an attempt to take advantage of the cooler weather, I tried to tackle the jungle I call my garden. Leo, however, took most of my attention back there. It was a nice day and for once, Isaac the pitbull was not back there to terrorize us. Likely, he was locked away in his cage. Of late, my crazy neighbor, the one who took offense to the barrier going up, let's her insane dog out the moment she sees us back in the garden. We know he's coming because she always shouts out at the top of her irritating voice, "oh, look Isaac! Leo is out!" Then he charges the fence scaring the hell out me and interrupting my peace and Leo's patrols. Next thing you know, there are two snarling 90 pound dogs losing their minds through the chain links. How my neighbor thinks this is "cute" or "just visiting friends" boggles my mind. They're fighting. She isn't too bright.

Anyways, Isaac free, Leo took the opportunity to walk in, around and over my plants. Then he parked himself next to the wooden fence and began to dig. Something is burrowing under there to get to my plants and Leo was having none of that, so he added to the size of the tunnel. When I hollered at him to get out of there, he looked up at me with a face completely covered in spider webs.

Oy. This dog is a busy, busy boy. Not only did he dig up part of the soil, he ruined some poor spider's food locker. I'm sorry I didn't have my camera handy.

Today he's at Camp Bow Wow where he is sniffing the behinds of dozens of strangers. Maybe now I can weed through my garden without his assistance and patch up the holes I have temporarily blocked with brick.

My only hope for getting thing's done is if Isaac's owner doesn't see me back there.

We did make it to the Allegan Fiber Festival Saturday where it was raining and crowds were light. I bought spinning fiber (Jacob) of many shades, several different yarns from Blue Moon Fiber Arts, 800 yards of fingering weight pygora/icelandic blend and an enamel shawl pin that's a camel. I forgot the camera. Afterwords, we drove to the Lake Michigan shore and had dinner in Saugatuck. By the time we returned home, all the cruisers were gone. Next year, I think we should make a few days of this and get out of town sooner.

Defining moments

2011-08-19T19:56:00.004-04:00

cur·mudg·eon

noun

a bad-tempered, difficult, cantankerous person.

Origin: 1570–80; unexplained; perhaps cur- representing cur

Related forms

cur·mudg·eon·ly, adjective

Synonyms grouch, crank, bear, sourpuss, crosspatch.

In the wild, a curmudgeon can be seen in southeastern Michigan residing on a street near Woodward Avenue. In the stories told about the crusty old curmudgeon, it is said it was the Woodward Dream Cruise that drove her to the brink and has caused perpetual surliness. There is no easy access to her street which has dozens of ancient cars blocking all egress. She cannot leave her home to ply her trade in an easy manner. A 10 minute commute under ordinary circumstances has turned into one hour dramatic affair mostly held, not at breakneck speeds, but at a standstill.

Phooey.

The curmudgeon would like the rest of the world to know that she will not tolerate this bullshit for long and at the butt crack of dawn, she plans on piling into her car and driving three hours west of this horrid annual event. Once at her destination, she will spend an obscene amount of money on yarn and fiber.

Yes, it's that time of year again, and this cranky old woman would much rather spend her time with goats, sheep and people who love fiber than stay in town inhaling the fumes only 110 octane fuel can deliver.

See ya later with pics.

Pondering the universe too much? Maybe I'll stick to my knitting basket.

2011-08-18T11:51:00.006-04:00

A new mug full of freshly brewed coffee seems to go well with my new project. I bought the mug(s) from Debra. I love their pottery, but the sheep really spoke to me. I had.to.have.that.mug! Now I have two.

With political rhetoric heating up, I've been busy stocking up on yarn, placing patterns in my Ravelry queue and deciding on which movies to watch or books to read for the next fifteen months. It seems too soon to be listening to sound bites, bullshit and talking heads. I simply can't take the divisiveness yet again. Instead, my main defense will be to focus on diversion.

Admittedly, I've been all over the place with my knitting. When the peacock shawl was done, I cast on a pair of socks in Bearfoot. I'd been sitting at the hospital with MLTL, wearing flip-flops, and my feet were cold. It made sense at the time, but I've lost interest. I worked on the leg of the first sock while at the barbecue last weekend, but plain socks really aren't engaging enough. Once the first frost comes, I'll be sorry, but until then, I'm on to other things. I dragged out the log cabin blanket, but after a bazillion garter stitch rows, I recalled why I'd tucked it away: B.O.R.I.N.G. I felt compelled to either set it aside again, or poke myself in the eye with an Addi turbo needle. A time out was the safest choice.

I had big plans to finish the Icelandic sweater, but the weather, and I'm not complaining at all, is still too warm to sit with pounds of bulky wool in my lap. On Saturday night, wrapped in my peacock shawl, and Fanny wrapped up in her Midsummer Night's Dream shawl at the movies, the one who had no shawl, Sara, piped up that she was indeed shawl-less and feeling left out in the cold.

She--more than anyone else in this knitter's life--knows how to get what she wants.

So I went shopping for more Madelinetosh yarn, and Sara went shopping for a pattern. Together we came up with the Holden Shawlette, and I cast on. It's taking a bit of time though because the yarn is fingering weight and for several days now, I've been lost in a sea of stockinette. The yarn as a hank, looked nothing like it does knitted up, but the intended recipient seems to like the way it's turning out. It's way more variegated than I thought it would be and while I usually don't like the way that looks in lace, I'm enjoying this camouflage appearance and so is Sara. It won't be long now before I start the lace portion, which should be much more entertaining than this knit has shown me so far.

Still it's way better than watching politics unfold, unless of course you get your news from Jon Stewart:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Indecision 2012 - Corn Polled Edition - Rick Perry Announces His Candidacy

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show Full Episodes

Political Humor & Satire Blog

The Daily Show on Facebook

Project Details

Project Name: Sara's Dark and Stormy Shawl
Pattern Name: Holden Shawlette (free here on Ravelry)
Yarn: Madelinetosh Tosh Merino Light, Colorway Lichen

How much is that doggie in the window?

2011-08-15T14:34:00.005-04:00

We brought home what we thought was a decorative piece for the wall--not knowing that one of the family members would think we had brought him a friend.

Leo is very smitten with the boy in the mirror. This morning he stood for 3 minutes staring at his friend who was holding a rope just like his. I think he's amazed by how much his new friend is just like him.

Saturday with friends and neighbors

2011-08-14T12:02:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was the annual neighborhood potlock barbecue. Using the basil and tomatoes from my garden, I made Insalata Caprese served on a store bought bruschetta and drizzled with my own balsamic syrup. It was fabulous. With peaches in abundance, I made peach cobbler. Now that's something I've never made before, so there were several internet searches done prior to getting down to the business of baking. I'm glad I shopped around for recipes, because I used bits from two different authors to make the dish.

I settled primarily on this recipe from food network, but cut back on the sugar called for in the batter to 3/4 of a cup--an idea I found from combing the comments section. It was still sweet. I made the simple syrup as written, but added a fresh vanilla bean for flavor, which is Nigella Lawson's recipe for poaching peaches for peach melba. I also used Nigella's idea for placing the halved peaches in the poaching syrup for a few seconds in order to slip off the skins and pits more readily. It works like a charm.

The cobbler was delicious, and still warm when we finished dinner and got around to the desserts. Roy, our neighborhood baker and elder statesman (he is either 95, 96 or 97), made his famous chocolate eclair cake. Roy then regaled me with tales of the rehab pit that's sandwiched between our homes.

Roy, annoyed that he's had to listen to hammering and sawing all summer long, got fed up and decided to knock on the door during construction efforts one day. The contractor let him in and showed him around the house that, after nearly 6 months of renovations, still has no finished carpentry to show off. According to him, all work was stopped when it was discovered that whoever had ripped out the upstairs during demolition, had inadvertently ripped down load bearing walls. Things, including the roof, went downhill from there.

I've always maintained that just because one watches HGTV, one should not get the impression that this immediately turns the viewer into a home rehab expert. We have a better chance of becoming good cooks by watching food shows and searching the internet, than becoming good at building things like homes. While there is a science and art to both, we've only a few dollars to lose when we make a dish that doesn't turn out well. Rebuild a house that doesn't turn out well? That's a completely different hornet's nest, isn't it? Me thinks the neighborhood will be listening to the sounds of power tools for a long time to come before that house is anywhere near inhabitable.

I wound up the night by seeing The Princess Bride at the theater at midnight. While I thought there would mostly be women like us present in the audience. There were kids as young as 8 and lots of men attending, too. The funniest lines of the movie were recited by the audience as they were said on the screen. It was a fun thing to do on a cool and rainy night.

And now the weekend is winding down. As you all head out to your jobs tomorrow, I offer you this farewell:

Have fun storming the castle!

Of full moons and madness

2011-08-13T21:32:00.002-04:00

Thursday was a little nuts as I witnessed a young nurse have a pretty awful meltdown. She was emotionally labile and a little extreme in her behavior. At one point during her outburst, she made the statement that she was leaving, as in, "I quit." Every single person around her told her this was not wise and that she was abandoning her duties; an act that could lead to the loss of her license. I tried at one point to calm this total stranger, but she was overwhelmed and inconsolable.

I felt this was a precursor to what the full moon had in store for the remainder of my shift and Friday. In truth, from that point on, it wasn't too bad. On Friday, I didn't get a single call. Not one. It was lovely and a welcome respite from the preceding weeks. While I don't know what happened to the nurse mentioned above, I have been contacted by the hospital nursing leadership to make a statement as I'm most likely of all witnesses to be objective.

Oh, dear...I think I may be fresh out of objectivity.

Every part of my being felt complete empathy for this overworked and tired nurse. I heard her say that after working 12 hours straight without a break, she just couldn't take any more crap. Literally. I know exactly how she feels. While she may have been dramatic and lacking in conflict management skills, how would any of us feel after doing what she'd been doing for 12 hours straight? Sometimes this profession of mine can wear down the most dependable of people. I've never snapped emotionally in the manner this nurse did while doing my job, but I assure you, there have been many days and nights where I felt as though I was a hair's width away from doing just that.

I'm pondering my response to leadership. We'll see.

I missed the light show the heavens had in store last night. The full moon was just too bright, and tonight, it's covered in clouds. Even if it weren't, I'm busy at midnight. I have a date with my daughter and my best friend to see The Princess Bride on the big screen.

I hope I can stay awake.

Speed Demon

2011-08-12T11:34:00.006-04:00

Sometimes, the quickie is satisfying. I'm sure my spam folder will be filled in nanoseconds, but I'm not talking about intimate relations, so to speak, no, I'm speaking of the satisfaction of knitting a piece of substance in barely more than a week.

Case in point, the Summer Flies shawl, my version of which I named a Midsummer Night's Dream because of the color. While I was knitting this Madelinetosh DK weight yarn in the color, Fathom, I kept thinking, it's light blue, bright blue, dark blue, no, it's black. The point is, it's not completely saturated in a single color which lends it a lot of visual interest without detracting from the beauty of the lace. I'm not a big fan of lace knit with obvious variegated yarn. Sometimes it works, but it's often so busy, one can't see the lace stitches, and let's face it, lace is the star of this shawl.

I think we should name my model. He's so handsome and tolerant.

Whatever color it is and whatever they do over at Madelinetosh to achieve their marvelous colors and an almost glazed and shiny appearance, I can tell you, it's wonderful to work with and it's much prettier in person. The recipient, my best friend, Fannette, has seen it on the needles and loves the color. Incidentally, this color is big in the stores for fall and winter. While at Macy's last week, I saw this color everywhere on shirts, jewelry, blouses and scarves.

I have to call her and let her know it's ready to fly the nest. Perhaps I'll hold it hostage for another movie this weekend. The Help looks good. So does a midnight showing of The Princess Bride at the Main Art Theater Saturday night. I have never seen PB on the big screen.

Now for the details:

Pattern: Summer Flies (free here on Ravelry)

Modifications: I used atbixby's modifications (found here on ravelry), but when it came to the ruffle, I used the original Summer Flies pattern and knit F&B on every stitch going into the ruffle. This left me with 456 stitches to work for the picot bind off. What's really important for that particular bind off is for your ending stitch count to be divisible by 3. There are 152 picot nibs on the hem and it's really not too ruffled.

Needles: Knit Pick Options Size 8.

Yarn: Madelinetosh DK, 2 skeins (450 yards, 200 grams). There was no more than 4 yards leftover. Cost was about $40 for 2 skeins.

Blocking: I wet blocked the finished shawl, and wow did the color run. I quickly threw it in a tepid rinse with a splash of white vinegar and put an end to that. The final rinse was clear. I stretched it out on my blocking table, which is really my dining room table in disguise, and stretched it sideways first, and length wise second. I stopped pinning where the ruffled hem began and let that dry naturally for a more flouncy appearance. I could have pulled each of the 152 picot nibs out and pinned those, too, but I think letting it look ruffly makes it appear more feminine. Ideal for the recipient.

I can't believe I almost sold my dining room table. How would I ever block such pieces without this?

The magic of blocking lace never fails to charm me. Looking closely, you can see the butterflies opening up near the top and middle of the shawl. I think if I make this again, which I know I will, I'll use a different double decrease on the butterflies for a smoother and tighter appearance.

Your truly, complete with bed head and still in my jammies taking the stereotypical picture in the mirror. I love those butterflies in the middle of the shawl.

There you have it--the glory of a fast knit and I think a Christmas gift staple for some of the women in my life.

The luxury life of Leo

2011-08-10T00:01:00.001-04:00

Sometime last night, I wandered upstairs to open bedroom windows to help air out the house. Once up there, I got sidetracked when I wandered into my yarn room. The first thing I found was another long abandoned project and I swear, it called to me. So while I still mean to get back to the Icelandic sweater, and I will, I think the Moderne Log Cabin Blanket needs a little attention first.

Leo may not agree. Apparently he likes to lay his head on silky wool. He fell asleep with his head on several cakes of yarn and stayed that way for hours tonight. I'd give anything to be able to sleep like that...not on pillows of yarn, but for several hours straight.

You know, adopting this dog may be the single best decision I've made in the past couple of years. He's brought us nonstop entertainment since he joined our little pack. Given his history with my fiber, I'm not so sure my decision to let him rest his head on my yarn is very wise, but it is charming.

The beginning of the end?

2011-08-09T11:36:00.006-04:00

Today I turned off the central air and threw open the windows to invite the remarkably fresh air indoors. Leo, of course, went immediately bonkers. And why not? He could finally hear all of his neighborhood friends and enemies disrupting his naps. The air has finally cooled, and though this respite from the oppressive heat and humidity may be temporary, I'm not letting it slip past me without a comment. Praise be. I think I even heard the air conditioner's motor heave a sigh of relief. I definitely heard the contractor's hammer and drill as he continues the rehab next door. I wish he'd finish already--it's been going on since March. I think I can put up listening to the noise if it means this weather change marks the coming of more moderate days.

Some time today or tomorrow, the end will come for a Midsummer Night's Dream. It's the shawl I cast on August 1st, modified to add length, and now is done, or will be as soon as I finish that picot bind off of 456 stitches. Of course, being a picot border, one needs to make 2 new stitches to bind off five, but I'm close. By this time tomorrow, it will have had a bath and been stretched to within an nth of it's ever loving life. Can't wait.

That begs the question, what's next? It can really only be one thing, and that's to finish the Icelandic sweater I started when I thought that spring's icy grip would never let summer surface.

Remember this? Progress on this sweater stopped when the weather got too hot to have piles of Lopi on my lap.

If memory serves, I have knit the body of the sweater to the point it'll join the sleeves, and I have knit the cuffs of both sleeves. I like to knit those side by side so they're done simultaneously and shaping has a better opportunity to be even. If the cooler weather holds, those should knit up in no time at all and will be joined to the body. The rest will fly because, well, that's the nature of color work and the drive to knit just one more row to watch the patterns emerge.

With luck, and a little cooperation from Mother Nature, this piece will be done before a real chill settles upon metro Detroit. The recipient is certain to appreciate a sweater like this to ward off the cold.

All out of clever?

2011-08-07T16:35:00.004-04:00

Today is our wedding anniversary. Because he's working, I'll be celebrating full moon movie night instead with my best friend. Since she was there walking down the aisle with us, complete with 80s hair and the green lamé gown I made her wear, it's apropos. The full moon isn't until next weekend, but we can't wait another week to go see Cowboys and Aliens, so tonight it is.

I spent yesterday pondering what I should get my husband as a gift to mark our 24th anniversary. There is no traditional gift designated for this year and a more modern one is a musical instrument. I couldn't see him learning to play a guitar or any other instrument at this point, so I got the next best thing...Concert tickets to George Thorogood and the Destroyers.

Now that should be fun and the noise will be temporary.

Happy anniversary, honey.

Idle hands

2011-08-04T12:47:00.005-04:00

Now those, per my Granny, are the devil's workshop. My hands just can't be still. While I did have a sock I started last week, a plain jane deal in spectacular Mountain Colors Bearfoot yarn, knitting that didn't feel complicated enough. While my hands weren't idle knitting socks, my mind was racing at a million miles an hour. To calm myself, I surfed around ~~the knitter's secret society site~~ Ravelry, and came upon the charming (and free) pattern, Summer Flies. Which it does--the angle of the sun is changing in these dog days of August--but I digress. As soon as I saw DK weight for yarn recommendation, I began the hunt for my Tosh. I knew I'd purchased it and it had to be around this house somewhere just waiting for something to come along and strike my fancy.

Ultimately, I found the three skeins upstairs in the bottom of a shopping bag. I really do need to straighten up that yarn studio. Again. A short search for size 8 needles and the next thing I knew, I'd whipped through 4 of the sections in one sitting, and with my mind occupied by counting stitches, I reached a calm state. While this pattern is not charted, there is really no need to do so. Each row is easily memorized and I've whipped right through this pattern.

Three days later, I've come close to the end and I have reached a point where I'm not certain the shawlette will be long enough, so, still on the needles, I blasted it with some steam to get a better idea of what it will look like blocked. I think I'm going to make it a little longer, and using the best part of Ravelry, I'm going to borrow this Raveler's published pattern notes on pattern expansion. No need to reinvent the wheel.

This shawl will be a gift for a friend who has long, curly, raven colored hair. I think the rich blue color will be a glorious match for her skin tone and hair color. Best thing of all about gifting to this particular recipient is that she adores the work my needles produce.

I'm pretty certain she's going to love this, too.

Project name: Midsummer Night's Dream
Pattern name: Summer Flies
Yarn: Madelinetosh DK in Fathom-purchase at Have you any wool?
Needles: Knitpicks Options US size 8

How are you keeping your hands and mind occupied?

Nonconformists

2011-07-31T12:13:00.005-04:00

I've finally caught up with the lengthy list of unread posts hanging out in my reader this morning. My but you're all such prolific writers!

The dust has finally settled here in metro Detroit and things should start getting back to normal. We have a huge job ahead of us going through my husband's childhood home, but we have time, and there is no sense of real urgency about getting those tasks done. One day at a time is how we'll tackle that particular task.

For the third time in six years, we hosted a no funeral-funeral. No funeral home. Direct cremation. A relaxing wake. No stress. The first time we elected to eschew tradition, tongues wagged. "What do you mean she won't be laid out?" Those were my mother in law's wishes. She couldn't bear the thought of people looking into her casket and remarking on how good she looked when she knew she would only look dead and waxy, or worse, commenting on what cancer had done to her body. We honored her wishes by having a mass, followed by a wake at her home. We passed out carnations, her favorite flower, to everyone who came to the mass. While it felt odd to host a send off in such a manner, we were acutely aware of how relaxed everyone seemed to be. At her wake, friends and family stayed for hours and hours sharing their thoughts, love and the stories of her life. If this had been a traditional funeral, perhaps they'd have stayed 30 minutes or so, or maybe for the rosary, but I can almost guarantee, they would not have stayed for hours on end.

The second time we had a no funeral-funeral was when my own mother died, and since that was the other side of the family, tongues were still wagging about the lack of a viewing at the funeral home, but my entire immediate family had enjoyed the stress free wake for my mother in law and wanted the same for my mom. We had a mass, then a luncheon and enjoyed the stress free community of friends and family back at my mom's house.

Funerals are not for the dead, but for the living, and for survivors, our family believes there should be no stress. By itself, loss is hard enough. Having a body laid out for two days, followed by a day of funeral services is emotionally exhausting and we choose not to go there anymore. Though tongues may still wag, many are coming around to our way of thinking. At the wakes we've hosted, there are still some tears and sadness, but if you stand back and survey, you see people sharing stories and memories with much more laughter and lightheartedness than you'd expect.

We held MLTL's wake on Friday afternoon and had the event catered at his home. We didn't expect a huge turnout since many of his peers have already left this earth, but about 100 people showed and most stayed for hours. The old folks gathered on the back porch or under shade trees sharing funny stories and the youngsters gathered in the family room playing games on my son's Xbox. No children were traumatized by viewing the deceased in a casket and to my knowledge, no tongues were wagging. The extended family must be getting used to the way we choose to send off our loved ones because from the looks of it, though it was a solemn occasion, they seemed to all be relaxed and enjoying one another's company. My sister in law's friend, fresh from the three day funeral of her own mother, mentioned she wished they'd done her mother's funeral our way.

Just because we choose to do things a little differently, doesn't make us wrong, though I'm quite certain that the traditional funeral home operators would likely disagree. I can't be swayed though...I'd really rather spare no expense on a wake that celebrates the life of the honoree, than spend the same money on a sad event.

It's really OK to literally think outside the box.

Farewell MLTL

2011-07-27T21:12:00.002-04:00

"Let me square the yards, while we may, old man, and make a fair wind of it homeward."

~Herman Melville

July 15, 1927 - July 27, 2011

Absentee Blogger

2011-07-26T23:00:00.002-04:00

I'll be missing from your feeds for a bit.

My father in law entered hospice Tuesday night. Finally, he's comfortable, despite his perforated bowel. There is no satisfaction in having been correct that indeed, he is a dying man. I wish they'd done the CT scan sooner, but the powers that be had to come to that solution on their own schedule. For now, he's inpatient at the hospital, but wants to go home and I think that's the least we can do for him. As soon as the equipment is delivered, he'll be sent to his home to pass what little time is left with as much dignity as we can provide.

Thank you all for your words of encouragement. Y'all are pretty fierce people. I'll be seeing you all soon.

Speak to me of dyeing

2011-07-26T12:09:00.003-04:00

Not as in leaving this earth, but dyeing. As in color and mordant and heat. I've never dyed fiber, unless it's by accident, like throwing the red towel in with the whites in a river of hot water. I've done that before.

I'd originally planned to have a true color artist dye my shawl, but I really want to do it myself. I've been discussing color with my daughter and she thinks trying to achieve OPI's nailpolish, Yodel Me on My Cell, is a perfect color.

I could have used a slightly wider table for blocking, but this was good enough

Some reading I've done indicates I may have some issue with the dye reaching the twisted parts of my stitches--of which there appear to be many thousands of such stitches--which will result in a more marbled instead of solid effect, but can this be ameliorated in some way? What if the color were applied with a sponge brush? Can I paint it this way and allow the sun to be the heat source? It's not like it's not hot enough around here.

My neighbor said, "wow, that's beautiful. It looks just like peacock feathers." It does, it does!

This is the one area of fiber arts I've never dabbled in and I'm completely lost and not a little nervous. The fiber is 100% superwash merino and my shawl weighs 700 grams, or 1.8 pounds. Incidentally, I'm willing to practice and have enough wool left over for several lace swatches to practice on first.

So please, if you know how to dye, won't you share your skill with me?

Sara and I are planning a trip to the Detroit Zoo for a photo shoot. Our goal is to hunt down some peacocks so we can try to get them into the pictures. They're usually pretty easy to find. We just need for the heat to die down a little.

Better left unsaid?

2011-07-25T19:41:00.005-04:00

Over the past week, I've written 4 posts that I just can't bear to publish. Suffice it to say, with as hard a time as my father in law has given us over the past 25 years, I still wouldn't wish what he's going through on my worst enemy.

He's lost his dignity and apparently sometime today, he's entered into a delirious state, and now he's lost his mind, too. I've mentioned it to anyone who will listen, but apparently nobody cares. He's so clearly demonstrating what I know as a hypoactive delirium--just lying quietly in bed going silently mad--and because he's not ripping out lines, not a soul cares. He thinks he's at the "Clover Complex" and that my son has been taking him out in his wheelchair to see "the beautiful grounds on this estate." Neither is true. What is true is he's tucked away in a corner, pissing on himself and suffering pain. Today they took away the one vicodin a day the less than generous staff was allowing him to have for pain that's still present. They say his sodium is low--129--and while they're replacing this, they haven't removed the several glasses of water they stick under his nose to drink everyday. For my nursing friend's who'll get the significance of this, I can only say, WTH? No pain pills because it might make him more somnolent, but here, let us help you drown your sodium levels in water because there's no way in hell that will make him somnolent or confused, right?

Head, meet wall.

Progress is not being made and his physicians refuse to throw in the towel. In 16 days, he's been either without food, or on some variation of a liquid diet. Preoperatively, he was malnourished from the tumor. When he gets solids, he has abdominal problems. Friday they mentioned a feeding tube. The moment I said, "absolutely not," I became the enemy. But friends, these aren't my wishes, they're his. Shockingly, he has an advance directive and it states clearly, no artificial feeding. I'm stalwartly trying to abide by his wishes.

In the middle of all of this, I fear I've lost my objectivity. I'm not cut out to be a designated advocate. I'm really not. To me, I see a dying man and want desperately for him to have comfort and solace at the end of his life...just like it says in his directive.

Also in the middle of all of this, I've finished the shawl. I'm hoping it brings me pleasure some day, because right now, even this brings no satisfaction whatsoever.

Send vodka...I'm running low.

A note on the photo and the shawl: it's in an unfinished state in as much as it's not yet blocked. The photo is from my laptop's photobooth. I used the Nikon, but couldn't find transfer cords. Better photos are coming. I promise.

Winding things up

2011-07-23T12:58:00.005-04:00

Nothing about this week has been particularly satisfying until today. In fact, it's been nothing but ups and downs all week long with MLTL, with yesterday being particularly down. We considered bringing him home and starting hospice, but then he got a good night's sleep, IV potassium & sodium and things were better today. I think, for him at least, only time will tell, buy today things appear wee bit better. Hopefully he'll get a little better with time.

Since he was improving today, I sent his son up to check on him and I stayed to watch what turned out to be the most amazing day of Le Tour de France. My favorite to win since the start, Aussie, Cadel Evans, who was losing by about a minute going into this stage, won the day by pulling ahead of the leader and takes the entire race. It was an incredible time trial and I'm more than satisfied with the outcome. Something tells me he'll be quite the hero back home,because to my knowledge, it's the first time an Australian has won the tour. For Cadel, this day has been many years in the making and he truly deserved this win.

There is no race for the yellow jersey on Sunday--that's for show only, and was decided today--but there will be the crazy sprinters going all out at the end of stage 21. While I kind of let the competition wool spinning peter out, I do have 99.99999% of that peacock shawl done. I'm hoping, like a sprinter, to finish it up by the end of tomorrow.

On a more somber note, I'm truly saddened by the news out of Norway. What a horrible event for the people of that nation and the parents who lost their children. This world can be heartbreaking at times.

Hang on to your hopes, my friend

2011-07-21T14:59:00.006-04:00

At this very moment, the outdoor thermometer is reading 101 degrees (F) with humidity of 53%. The most strenuous thing I've done today is meet a friend for breakfast and visit MLTL, who is now trying to do inpatient rehab. I'm trying hard to keep his spirits up and encourage him to move, but he's not really capable. He prefers to do nothing but sleep. This has me worried about not only his rehab potential, but also about the near future. If he doesn't do the work, he can't stay there.

There are certain places I just can't go in my head, and that last sentence? Definitely can't go there. With the above map, and my feelings, I can say with authority that I feel (overwhelmingly) like we're descending into hell.

So, to divert my squirrely little brain, I'll go here instead, and I'm taking all of you with me:

Break: A (transitive) verb for doing nothing

2011-07-17T20:43:00.004-04:00

This seems to have been the longest week of the year. I blame the new MLTL cancer kerfuffle, a particularly dastardly full moon effect and my horrendous work schedule.

Something's gotta give, and it's been my blog. I just need a few days to gather my wits, well what's left of them, and I'll be back.

MLTL, who weathered a colectomy, should have things coming out of the usual places in the usual manner and will likely be coming home soon.

Lord, help us all.

I've taken to jotting down MLTLisms to keep us all amused. As soon as I can form a coherent sentence, I'll be sure to share them. Today he was speaking to his long deceased brother, which any hospice nurse can tell you, is sort of a freaky situation, or, it's the morphine talking. Time will tell.

See you soon, my friends, and hopefully with a new shawl to show off.

It's still raining

2011-07-14T02:29:00.003-04:00

Though the sky is blue and it's fairly warm, it's still pouring in our neck of the woods. I'm convinced the upcoming full moon is likely to blame. Thank you all for your words of encouragement. Your comments, prayers and well wishes are greatly appreciated.

MLTL is doing as well as can be expected with the weight of the world on his shoulders. His coping skills, such as they are, are better than I had imagined they'd be. The belligerent drunk in the bed next to him was discharged today so it should be quiet for those of us who visit for awhile. Praise be. It didn't bother MLTL at all since he couldn't hear a bit of what that man put everyone else through. They were the roommate match made in heaven for the nurses. I really hope they don't put another drunk next to him tonight.

On Friday, if cleared by cardiology, he'll have surgery, then spend a few days in ICU. No roomies there. I looked into taking a family leave to help take care of him when he comes home. I was saved from my temporary insanity by policy. I guess in-laws don't count as parents and I'm not entitled to a leave to care for him. Who knew? We'll cross that bridge when we get to it and figure out how to juggle yet another ball in our already overwhelming schedules.

I leave you today with two things to contemplate: The first is a quote I read in a medical chart yesterday, written by a professional type person who actually graduated from a university, and a song that says pretty much what I'm feeling.

"The family has three cats and they're all heavy smokers."

Alrighty then...at least I can still find humor when it smacks me up side my head.

I've seen the future

2011-07-11T19:48:00.002-04:00

...and I think it's time to pack and run.

First, the news on Patient # 2, Leo, isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Ten days of antibiotics should take care of his infection. The vet doesn't think it's the worst case scenario & I won't question her expertise. Frankly, I don't have the energy, so we'll just wait and see what happens with his neck.

The news for Patient # 1, MLTL, is not as rosy. He has a malignant mass in his transverse colon and a polyp the size of two small eggs near the lower part of his colon that may be malignant. Coupled with blood work that indicates a lurking threat, overwhelming fatigue and significant weight loss, and truly significant comorbidities, I'm not so positive about his outcome. Well, I take that back...I am pretty sure what his outcome will be. How we get there is the big question and we'll meet with the surgeon Tuesday afternoon to start that journey.

Hell, it seems it never rains but pours around here.

Goddamned cancer.

Blue Monday

2011-07-11T09:18:00.006-04:00

It's back to work for me today and I've only myself to blame as I forgot to buy lottery tickets last week.

Not for lack of trying, I simply could not finish the shawl on my vacation as I'd planned. There are only 29 rows remaining, not including the cast off row, and as far as I can tell, I have about 15,000 stitches left to knit, but don't hold me to it as I didn't double check my math. It's likely to be more. I'm trying hard not to look at my dwindling (final) cone of yarn and hoping what's left will take me through to the end (there is more where that came from so I'm not too worried). The border is a crochet cast off so I find myself spending as much time searching on ravelry, google and youtube for how to do this as I spend knitting. No lie.

The GI doctor called me yesterday regarding Mr. Larger Than Life. They have a plan to scope him top to bottom sometime this afternoon, but if they find anything, they won't be able to biopsy or remove anything because he's on coumadin and they can't risk a big bleed. I guess they didn't think much of my idea to stop the coumadin on Saturday and use lovenox to prevent clotting until they figured out the source of the bleeding. I often find that when ideas I offer are ignored, even when they're good ones, it's because the doctor didn't think of it first. He's still bleeding and his hemoglobin is still dropping despite the unit of packed cells they gave him Saturday. So if they find a polyp or ulcer, we'll know a little more than we knew Saturday, but he may still be bleeding until they can stop the coumadin and go back in 3 days from now.

I'm working on not beating my head against the wall.

Mr. Leo gets to see the vet this afternoon for his one big sore and the 4 little ones I found along his collar line. After one long day spent googling, I'm trying to avoid more until we see the vet. I have an idea what I think it may be, and I'm hoping what I've read does not match his diagnosis from the vet. It isn't good. Dobes are prone to this particular disease and it can be a lifelong problem for them. If it's what I think it may be, antibiotic therapy would have to continue for at least three weeks, but maybe as many as eight. Weeks. If he has this disease, he likely has something else going on making him prone to these infections. So much for chin acne, which is what we all thought he initially had happening on his chin, and the occasional sores between his toes are also expressions of this disease.

Poor Leotus.

The cyclists are enjoying a hard earned day off from the tour. It's been a horrific one for accidents, none more terrifying than the one involving Chris Horner on Team Radio Shack. How team officials and his coach allowed him to get back up on his bike and ride an additional 25 km with an obvious head injury is beyond me. In the video, he keeps saying, "I don't understand, I don't understand, what happened, where am I?" He had no recollection of the crash, and no recall of riding and finishing the last 25k of stage 7. In the end, he'd suffered a concussion and fractured nose and had to withdraw from the race. He's lucky to have withdrawn with a pulse. Although crashes and pileups are common on the tour, this year seems to be worse. Yesterday, a media car crashed into a group of cyclists who were leading the race, knocking one cyclist into a barbed wire fence. Yes, I think they all deserve a day of rest and the media car driver who caused that last crash ought to be sent back to Paris ASAP.

Three Guesses and the first 2 don't count

2011-07-09T20:52:00.004-04:00

Guess who I spent the second to the last day of vacation with in the emergency room?

I swear, if it's not one thing with that man, it's another, and how in the world did I think I'd make it through a summer with him without a visit to the ER? He's been showing signs of decline recently, but because I don't see him as often as my husband and son, they didn't really notice the exaggerated weight loss and pallor. I noticed on Father's Day and again on the Fourth. This morning, the doctor called me with results of his labs drawn yesterday, and for some reason, he's losing blood. This afternoon, he had every orifice checked and one was positive for blood. Tomorrow he sees the GI doc, and Monday they'll do the colonoscopy. Now if he doesn't like the clear liquid diet, which he assured me loudly that he did not, how do you think he'll do with the prep? Oy! I refuse to be the one to explain it to him.

Still, though I joke about him a lot, and I wouldn't wish him on anyone else in the world, I still feel a duty to the father of my husband and could never bear the thought that he should face bad news or a health crisis alone. While I knit and kept him company, there was another man his age alone in the ER and most assuredly suffering a mental health breakdown. I felt so sorry for him and wondered why he was so alone in this world. I hope for my sake that I've paid it forward enough that when it's my turn, and even if it's my mind that's failed me, my family won't desert me.

And now, on to my second patient of the day...

After close to seven hours waiting for a bed (much shawl knitting accomplished) in the overcrowded hospital, I finally made it home to give the other beast in my life a bath. It was then I noticed that poor Leotus had a giant abscess under his collar. When I grabbed the scruff on the under side of his neck, the damned thing popped. Well, in the world of infectious disease, that's a good thing: better out, than in. This thing kept pouring pus and at the end, several hairs. I think they were all ingrown hairs hiding under the skin and irritated by his collar to the point he developed an infection.

So tonight, he's pus free, clean as a whistle, loaded with neosporin ointment and out for a blow dry (walk in the neighborhood). We'll call the vet Monday for antibiotics. Poor guy, I never even knew it was there. Do you think it's because I see him all of the time? That sore was enormous--at least the size of a walnut. It must have been a relief to him that I cleaned it out because he never squirmed, budged, yipped or cried. I imagine a sore that big had to hurt.

So once again, though I'm not working, technically I'm working. Do career nurses ever really get to look away when the sh*t, or pus, hits the fan? I don't think so.

News on the shawl? Only 32 rows to go and already I'm imagining the next project to knit. Lifelines first!

Yodel me on my cell...

2011-07-07T00:01:00.002-04:00

While at the movies last weekend, I had the unfortunate experience of sitting next to an obnoxious blockhead who kept texting on his cell phone throughout the movie. True, he wasn't talking, and yes, his cell was on a silent setting, but the brightness of his smartphone was so annoying in the dark theater and the thickheaded man apparently didn't didn't get the message when I kept putting up my hand to block the light from his phone. I should have sent smoke signals, or better yet, a text.

He was definitely a twit, but not as much of one as the ignorant woman sitting next to me at the nail salon Wednesday, chattering non-stop on her cell about everything, anything and nothing at all. I was treated to her opinion on Casey Anthony (along with a long synopsis of the never-ending trial), new threats on how terrorists will now be smuggling medically implanted bombs and a general who's doing who in her life. She regaled everyone in the salon with her escapades for a solid hour and a half.

Like who cares?

For the life of me, I don't know why people just cannot shut off their cells, along with their mouths, for one or two hours of their lives. Will they miss that much? Really? Clearly, as in the case of the woman at the salon, she likely never shuts up long enough to listen to anything or anyone. She might go into withdrawal if she can't hear herself talk. What a boor.

Oy. Rant over. I promise.

The color on my toes? OPI's, Yodel Me on My Cell. The irony does not escape me.

The shawl continues to grow and is beginning to remind me of the M*A*S*H episode where Margaret started to knit a sweater for her husband one summer, but as her life changed during a long Korean winter, so did her knitting plans. In the end, she knit a huge afghan.

I believe I'll start calling this my Hot Lips Project.

The Bargain

2011-07-06T15:49:00.005-04:00

I've been trying to read an older David Baldacci book from years ago (Simple Genius) and while I ordinarily like reading this author, getting through this book has been painfully slow. Painfully. So I made myself a promise, conquer row 164 and then go visit Amazon to buy Tess Gerritsen's new book, The Silent Girl.

Even though I finished row 164 without incident, and I did buy the book, I thought better than to start reading it right away. I'd already dithered away a lot of time worrying unnecessarily about stupid row 164 and after I finished it (did I mention kerfuffle free?), I stepped back a moment to take stock. At about the same time I finished that row, I added the third and final cone of yarn, Louet Gem's, containing 512 yards per cone, and thought I should look at the beginning of the pattern to assess how much was truly remaining.

While I had the feeling that I only had two reasonably easy charts left to knit, and was therefore approaching THE END, as soon as I added that yarn, I realized that while it may feel I'm at the end of things, I'm not. Since the pattern calls for 1,500 yards of fiber, clearly the shawl is only 60% complete.

So I'm bargaining with myself today: if I can finish all of chart G and half of chart H, I can start the new book. If not, I'm stuck with Baldacci until I do. I keep hoping the book will get good, but as long as it isn't, I'm doing more knitting than reading.

On the hunt for 15 more markers that I know I own because I just bought a package of them, I found $40 laying at the bottom of a purse I haven't used since my last vacation in February. Whatever shall I do with such a windfall? I'm thinking another pedicure may be nice.

Recreation

2011-07-03T22:23:00.007-04:00

No fig vodka? No worries...a little rum, club soda and muddled mint can more than make up for that little shortcoming.

There is an art to relaxation, and I'm trying hard to develop some skills for this. I figure I should have it all down pat by the time I have to go back to work. While I did not work at all in the house today, I did fiddle around in the garden. Flowers needed deadheading, poop had to be patrolled and there was a lot of watering to do.

While people south and east of us got torrential rain last night, we did not. We did get a bizarre looking sunset which the weatherman explained was more like a rainbow, one spectrum of light at a time. The sky went from yellow to a sickly green and right before darkness came upon us, the entire sky looked like a fireball. Red. Seriously spooky!

Most of you know I love watching ~~men in spandex~~ Le Tour de France and just in case you forgot, I'm here to remind you it started yesterday. Already, only day two, and my favorite cyclist, The God of Thunder, has pedaled himself into the Maillot Jaune. He looks good in yellow.

Breaking sports news video. MLB, NFL, NBA, NHL highlights and more.

To provide entertainment while I watch cycling for the next three weeks, I've started my own unofficial Le Tour de Fleece team. Since yesterday, I've spun about three ounces of wool. We'll see how long I keep this up, but since it's too hot to exercise outdoors, I can kid myself into thinking that spinning is exercise, too. And hey, if I spin for as many hours as I'd like, I'll be flush with new yarn for the next little bit.

Just so you don't think I'm a complete knitting sloth, there are only 66 more rows of the shawl to knit, though I am approaching the dastardly row 164. Lifelines are flying all over the place. Three are in right now and I think I'm ready!

Kick off time

2011-07-02T22:18:00.006-04:00

At 12:31 AM, about a minute after I clocked out last night, I opened the newest bottle of fig vodka, poured some into a shaker with some ice and orange juice and shook up a fig martini. About an hour later, I was sound asleep.

I am so lame.

This morning, having overslept, I made some coffee and got to work. Just about every square inch of this house saw a vacuum, a dust cloth or a mop and now it sparkles. My back hurts like hell, but the house is gleaming and awaiting a week of neglect right along with its resident slacker.

By 4 PM, I was starving, hot and had no more energy. My son picked me up to go out for a Tex-Mex dinner and a movie. We wanted to see the new Transformers movie on an IMAX screen, but the closest one was in Ann Arbor, so we settled for 3D viewing at the new Emagine theater complex in Royal Oak. The movie, while long, satisfied my need to watch things blow up. The special effects are incredible--well the whole movie is rather incredible-- but isn't that the point of seeing a summer blockbuster like this? To escape reality? I swear, I think it helped me blow off whatever remaining steam all that housecleaning couldn't. Not so for my son. As we were leaving the theater, he noticed that the original Die Hard movie was showing on a big screen at midnight at the Main Art Theater. He bought tickets for himself and a friend and will take in yet another movie tonight.

I plan on being sound asleep by then.

Shawl knitting tomorrow. We swears, Precious. We swears.

ETA: My son and I share a fondness for this series of movies and have watched all three together. He recalls all of the Transformers I bought for him as an indulgence when he was a youngster and Transformers were only toys. He repays my indulgence by being a good movie going buddy.

Dear Universe

2011-06-30T09:14:00.003-04:00

Due to my recent cheekiness, I'm aware that you felt the need to give me a comeuppance. I fully deserved this because after 27 years in my profession, I should know better than to mention QUIET nights and how good I've had it for days on end.

I particularly enjoyed the 10 minute verbal harangue by Dr. Rottenbastard last night. Now he was a special treat, and I have to say, I've not been screamed at by a doctor in years. Most of those old school docs, the ones who like to verbally abuse nurses, are long gone--replaced by a breed of docs, who, for the most part, are cordial and treat us in a collaborative manner. Not Dr. R. According to him, and I shityounot, he's going to have my license for peddling drugs. I prefer to think of what I was doing as my job: Patient advocate.

The night went downhill from there and this morning is no better. Every single time I drive to the outskirts of the metropolitan Detroit area--way out--I question why I felt I needed to buy a home in such a busy area. I could be living in the country where the only sounds one hears in the morning are made by the wildlife.

The wildlife here is drowned out by annoying car alarms, trucks, saws, jackhammers, those irritating backup signals on big trucks and the cacophony of workers who are digging up the driveway across the street, or hammering on the house rehab next door.

Not only am I a nurse on the edge now, I'm a sleep deprived and cranky one.

Universe? This picture is for you.

Take that!

Sincerely,

Nurse Rudee

Mercy me, it's Miércoles

2011-06-29T00:01:00.004-04:00

The remains of the tree Mimi loved and MLTL cut down out of spite. These days, he refuses to remove the stump and plants flowers around the base because it reminds him of her. WTH?

Long before my scheduler let's me know by email, I'll shout out, it's HUMP day! Three more shifts to go, though I can't really complain as the hospice phones have been eerily cooperative. It's as though the Universe knows, I'm a nurse on the edge: Any more challenges and I'll be going all Cuckoo's Nest on everyone. ~~Haldol~~ Vitamin H for everyone!

Whatever. I'll take the silent phones at face value. As my Dad used to say, "don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

Here's my Wednesday offering to you: A little spice in the form of Red Hot Chili Peppers. Anthony Kiedis has some serious dental bling in this video.

FYI, if you're keeping score, I knit not a single stitch after I put my lifeline in my shawl on Tuesday. Oh, I thought about it, but that's all I did. One day in and already I'm behind. I swear, I'm making that shawl my vacation mission. And just so you don't think I've completely and prematurely embraced the life of a sloth, I did put up some fig vodka in time for the holiday weekend. There is no truth to the rumor there was a liberal amount of sampling going on. I'm saving it for a holiday meal with Mr. Larger Than Life. I need all the Vitamin F I can get for that!

Here's hoping your Wednesday finds you dancing in the street, or at least thinking about it. In fact, I hope you can't get this tune out of your head all day long. You're welcome.

Notes to self

2011-06-28T12:51:00.004-04:00

Gratuitous goldfinch photo. He visit's the neighbor's birdbath and then hangs out on the fence to dry.

One of the features of my MacBook that I really love is Stickie Notes. I pop them up, write my pattern notes on them, sometimes patient names or their problems while I'm working the phones and laptops, holiday menus, grocery lists, whatever. The problem with my shorthand, is I often don't label the notes, figuring I'll get back to them soon enough, and after months in timeout, I could kick myself for not keeping more meticulous notes.

Don't ask what pattern this stickie note may be for. While I can't be certain without more research, I think it may be the Burburry inspired cowl adapted by me for a different gauge. Apparently, I only made a note and forgot to add a title so I could decipher what I was doing later on.

Not that this happened on the lace piece I'm working on now. No, indeed. While my high tech notes failed me due to my likely deleting the stickie note holding the Peacock pattern's more salient points and progress, my low tech stickie notes worked. After searching my computer files to no avail, there was this shawl's salvation, stuck to the pattern itself.

Here is my low tech sticky. Thankfully, I've even jotted down which row below the cable holds the lifeline (row 127). Makes me look like a genius so many months later. I cross out right side rows when I finish them, as long as I remember to do so. Proof I'm forgetful? I am actually beginning row 146 as soon as the lifeline is in and apparently, I've forgotten to cross out rows 142 and 144. Also take note of the gratuitous fancy pedicure in the picture.

I've reached the end of chart F, and I'm placing another life line after completing the purl row. While inserting this line, I've found it beneficial to use highly contrasting yarn that's bigger than my working yarn. In this case, I'm using worsted weight yarn as a lifeline and my working yarn is sport weight. I've tried using interchangeable needle cables but find working the row after this to be terribly tight, therefore, I use yarn.

Though I shouldn't brag on this section of the shawl, I will. Sometime last night, I lifted my eyes from my work for just a moment while working row 144. I dropped 3 stitches 4 rows down. Two knit stitches complicated by decreases and a yarn over. After 1 hour of major surgery and a couple of do-overs, I finally fixed the problem area and fixed it so well, I can't find the scar. Whew. There was no ripping to row 127 and knitting it all over again (at least 8 hours of reknitting). Lace surgery is no easy task, but my success is proof it can be done. Well.

If you don't know how to use a lifeline, or have yet to learn the value of this trick, I'll share with you how I do mine. With a blunt tipped needle, work the lifeline through each stitch and more importantly, around the stitch markers. In my case, the markers don't matter because I'm using coil free pins as markers that I can open and move, but if you put the line through a round solid marker, you'll have to cut your marker out when you come to it when working the next round. When knitting the first row after insertion of the line, do not work the thread of the line itself, which is why it's imperative to use a highly contrasting yarn for the lifeline. Be sure to mark the pattern where you placed the line. This way, hours, days, weeks, months, or as in this project, even years later, you can rip to that line and it will hold all of your stitches securely at that point. Pick them up and start knitting. In the above photo, I placed the lifeline through row 127 (seen near the bottom of the photo). If I ripped to that point (which I did), I would pick up the stitches, and begin knitting row 128.

Truly a knitter's life saving technique.

So is this blog. Writing about these lifelines has jogged my memory about a prior post I wrote. As I near the last of the peacock feathers, I am also approaching row 164, evil row 116's more evil twin. Yikes. I shall be laying lifelines very frequently in anticipation. Let us hope I can kick row 164's butt when I get there, or in the case of this shawl, if I get there.

Meander with me Monday

2011-06-27T18:27:00.004-04:00

Like any good slacker in training, I'm enjoying a rare and relatively silent (so far) Monday. I'm on the countdown to a good week off work and frankly, even if today is cooperating, I'll appreciate not having to punch in at all. With that said, the phone is sure to drive me nuts tonight.

The lace blob as it usually appears when it isn't stuffed inside a bag in timeout.

It dawned on me that the photo I offered up for my Pretty as a Peacock shawl was from last year sometime. Maybe even 2009. Yes, it's been on the needles that long, and if it took you an hour to knit and purl two rows, I dare say you'd dawdle, too. The problem with lace is that the return row, which usually has no fancy stitches can be complicated when yarn overs stick to the knit stitches from the preceding row. What should be mindless knitting or purling, is anything but. If you don't pay attention, like me, you'll be ripping back to the lifeline. I can't tell you how many times I've had to rip on this shawl, but I will tell you it's more than five, easily.

The lace blob stretched out.

Since you all seem to appreciate lace and how complicated it appears, I thought I'd show you how far I've really come. Out of 218 rows, I only have 72 to finish this and I've put myself on a knitting plan. If I knit 10 measly rows a day, I'll be working on the border in 7.2 days. Not too shabby, right? Except I mean it when I say it takes me one hour to knit two rows (718 stitches), and in about another ten rows, stitch count will increase to 910 stitches in two rows. Somewhere later in the pattern, there will be over 1,000 stitches, so I'm not sure if my original plan to finish this in a week will work. We'll see, but if it kills me, I'm going to finish this stunning beauty.

The lace blob, sloppily pinned, from a distance. The top of the photo is the neckline of the shawl, and the bottom will soon sprout more peacock feathers and then wings.

And then I'm gonna dye it.

I've never done that before, so it should be interesting, and at the least will make good blogging fodder.

And because I promised meandering today, why the hell does the FedEx man park his truck in front of this neighbor's house several times a week? I assure you, his deliveries are rather long and while his employer may think he's a slacker, I'm not so sure he is. He's working hard at something. Must be Blue Footed Booby Business...

Told ya we'd meander, didn't I?

Sweeping the cobwebs

2011-06-25T18:23:00.004-04:00

I have moved so little today, it's crossed my mind that spiders may set up shop and use me to anchor their webs, or as my son used to call them, woobs. Spidey woobs. I have remembered that I used the last of the coffee beans and must, at the least, go to the store to buy more. Either that, or Sunday morning will be a slow and cranky one.

I did go get a pedicure today, which involved very little energy and a lot more sitting. However, my feet feel good and my toes look wonderful. Silver polish lends that certain sparkle to a girl's life, doesn't it? And a little self care goes a long way toward restoring equilibrium. Once again, at least til Monday, all is well with the Universe. After that, it's five long days of work, followed by 9 long days off.

Truly, there's not too much going on here, but my long punished Pretty as a Peacock shawl is in my hands (again) and no longer in the time out bag. For now. Three rows in and it has me entirely in fits again. A fair amount of swearing has been heard, but only by Leo, and he doesn't mind as long as I don't yell. Really...can't seem to find my rhythm with this shawl, but I truly want to finish this. It's so pretty. Let's hope it can stay out of trouble long enough to show progress (it's never knitting needle operator error, is it?).

How low can you go?

2011-06-24T12:43:00.006-04:00

My fibery Friday offering: one completed and blocking Baby Surprise Jacket for my colleague's newborn

I've been all over the emotional hospice map this week and have encountered some very challenging moments. This, unfortunately, has left me feeling inadequate, and not a little low. At times I find myself wondering if I really make a difference, because on both Monday and Wednesday, I'm pretty certain I did not, but not through lack of trying. Some people just cannot be comforted when the will to live is at direct odds with the body's ability to survive. Suffice it to say, spiritual pain cannot be managed by any amount of opiates or anxiolytic drugs.

Who knew paprika was such a pretty plant?

Sigh...I tried. Even pastoral care was unable to make a difference. My heart is still so heavy which only demonstrates to me that it's once again time for a break. One more week.

Time slips away

2011-06-22T12:35:00.003-04:00

No, it's not an impending plane crash with hundreds of potential victims waiting to get smacked by a Northwest Airlines plane. It's part of the aeronautical exhibit at The Henry Ford. I love the right corner of the photo where my son captured a dad holding his baby while mom kissed the baby's feet. There were people of all demographics waiting and lots of youngsters. I wish I'd taken a picture of of the three children sacked out on the hot dog sofa near the Weinermobile. They were adorable. Aren't all sleeping kids?

I meant to post this photo yesterday of one of the lines of people taken early Tuesday morning around 1 AM, all waiting patiently to see the Emancipation Proclamation. When we arrived, we made a snap decision not to wait the five hours ourselves, and instead strolled the museum and looked at the Civil War exhibit that housed many other important documents from that time in history. It was impressive--including the census book that showed a household servant belonging to Ulysses S. Grant. Interesting. On our way out of the exhibit, we found ourselves about 10 feet from the document we'd originally come to see. So many people, who'd waited so very long on line, were being rushed past the document and I think we saw as much of it from a distance as they got to see up close. I was more than satisfied with what we did get to see without the wait.

I will go back when crowds die down to see this exhibit (on display through Labor Day), sans the famous document which has gone back to the National Archives. I'll wait for a day off when I'm not so tired. While I love looking at all of the artifacts THF has acquired in the museum, my favorite part of a visit there is to tour the village.

Photo courtesy of Bribabe's really good smart phone.

What am I? Chopped liver?

2011-06-20T09:47:00.005-04:00

We celebrated Father's Day at Mr. Larger Than Life's house last night. Dinner was good and I consumed no grains in an effort to avoid anything the mice that live there may have nibbled upon first. I know some of you may think I have a flair for hyperbole, but I assure you, I sh*t you not when it comes to MLTL.

When gift giving time rolled around, we were certain MLTL would love the giant gift pack of Armor All car cleaning products and the power hose with extension rod. After some superficial oohing and aahing, MLTL looked at my sister in law and said, "that Mcguires car care package you sent me last year was THE best stuff." I thought to myself, "what an ass... I'm glad I only spent $20 on the Armor All."

Then it was time for dessert. My famous rice pudding. I will interrupt my story telling here to share that cooking this in the crock put does not negate the need for stirring every fifteen minutes. The milk will still still scorch. I've come to think of this dish as more of a risotto that needs constant attention than a dish you can pop a lid on and forget about. It remains easy, but a bit time consuming.

Anyways, I served the pudding as I always do, with a drizzle of Tupelo honey. It was delicious. MLTL then regaled us with a story about a local Greek restaurant that serves THE best rice pudding. He is so delusional. Everyone knows that besides my own rice pudding, the best can only be had at either Shatilla in Dearborn, or the Phoenicia in Birmingham and only if they want to pay $7 a serving instead of $7 for an entire pot of pudding.

What the hell? What is wrong with this man? He is a pompous ass and I'll be damned if I ever make him anything from scratch again. From now on, it's two day old store bought pastries for him. The rest of us can enjoy my creations from the kitchen.

Well now, that's over for a bit. MLTL's birthday is next month. I think I'm going to be afflicted with some exotic condition that day.

Tonight I have a date with my husband. As soon as I clock out of work at midnight, we're heading to The Henry Ford to see the original Emancipation Proclamation, on loan from the National Archives, which goes on display this evening and continues around the clock until 6 AM on Wednesday. Both of us have read many books about the Civil War and have visited several Civil War battlegrounds so this is a natural for us. It helps that we're night owls and we're hopeful the lines won't be too bad so late at night.

More on that tomorrow. Have a great Monday. Incidentally, 10 more working days until I'm on staycation. Woo-hoo!

Slightly reinventing the wheel today

2011-06-19T10:24:00.003-04:00

Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting on the porch discussing today's menu with my sister in law by telephone. After about 15 minutes, I jumped up, swore and ran into the kitchen. I told her I'd forgotten to set the timer to stir the rice pudding I was taking to my brothers for dinner last night. And just like that, she told me what I could bring to MLTL's home for dessert tonight.

The pudding, which is often requested by family, is a labor of love. It's not a hard recipe to make, but while cooking at barely a simmer for nearly two hours, one must get up and stir it at least every 10 minutes to avoid a scorched disaster. Therefore, on a beautiful summer day, if you make this, you'll be tethered to the stove. For the 90th time, my brother (the chef), asked for the recipe and told me he was going to make it in the crock pot.

Why didn't I think of that? Duh. So today, armed with all of the ingredients except a vanilla bean, I'm going to give it another go in a slightly different manner. I'll use my Penzey's vanilla extract to finish it off.

It was nice to see my brothers last night and especially the new baby. He is so sweet. I got to hold him, change his diaper and clothes, burp, walk, sing off key to him, and get him stoned on formula. This is one well loved baby boy and my brother is a wonderful grandfather.

I hope you all enjoy today, no matter where your dad may be. Mine died the summer of 2002, though it seems like only yesterday and I miss him terribly. Whenever I get annoyed by the sound of firecrackers this time of year, I recall the last time I saw my dad feeling well. My 13 year old son had bought fireworks that we took to my parent's home to use. My dad pulled up a folding chair outside and laughed in delight at each display my son set off. Two weeks later, he was gone.

Here's a little something else my dad would have enjoyed... Happy Farsa's Day to all you dad's out there, including the one who has been a spectacular father to my kids (you didn't really think I'd rather spend the day at the cemetery, did you?).

Just me and the skeeters

2011-06-18T08:22:00.003-04:00

Finally, the long awaited and hard earned weekend is here and I can't sleep in for the life of me. First I awakened around 2:53 AM with the sun shining in my face. Oh wait, that wasn't the sun, that was my lamp. Must have fallen asleep reading my Kindle again.

Because one of the kids is sacked out on my sofa in the living room, I'm on the back porch with my coffee and my laptop. Every once in awhile, a mosquito buzzes my ear, but for the most part, it's just me, the birds and a few brave squirrels. When I see more than two squirrels, I open the door and let Leo have at them. He clears the yard pretty quickly. I'd let him stay out here with me, but it's early, neighbors are still sleeping, and for whatever reason, the dog won't use his indoor voice. Yesterday, one of the squirrels was doing a tightrope act from my house to the garage, fell, and nearly became Leo's first capture. It was a harrowing few moments. Part of me really wanted Leo to win, but the animal lover in me was goading the squirrel into moving its ass out of the way. Leo might be a good hunter, but I don't have the stomach for seeing the remains.

Speaking of that, I'll leave you with this story before I go to the farmer's market this morning.

Late last night, making my last run of the shift, I saw a patient who had not peed all day. She had a home health aide living with her who agreed to assist me in putting a urinary catheter in the patient. One moment, I'm mumbling to myself because I can't see where X marks the spot--it was dark in that room--and the next I'm abruptly aware that the aide has abandoned her duties. I looked up and there she was, all 6 feet and likely 220 pounds of her, wedged between the bed and the wall with a goofy look on her face. She had fainted when she got a good look at what I was doing. And just like that, one patient had magically turned into two.

My job isn't boring, that's for sure.

All over the place, and a little Fibery Friday

2011-06-17T11:54:00.009-04:00

To borrow a phrase, I've been considering words that begin with the letter, D, like duck, dart, and dodge. Which led me to thinking about words that begin with the letter, E, such as evade, or the best A word, to some, avoid. There are so many people in the working world, at least in my working world, who are good at doing all of the above and today, while I'm really annoyed by them, deep down, I'm really jealous. I wish I could take a page from their play books.

I need to work on a C word, compulsion, which is a fault for a type A personality like mine. I'm going to try hard not to feel compelled to work until the wee hours, then awaken only to start working again. One person I called this morning in an effort to alleviate my burden, placed the responsibility (hers) for ordering equipment right back in my lap, even though I told her I was off, had plans and really needed her to do her job. Oy. Forget it. It's easier to do the work myself than ask others to just do their jobs.

EZ's Baby Surprise Jacket in Fave fingering weight yarn, hand dyed by Fiberstory, in the color Meadow, using US size 2 needles. I put my work Blackberry, which I've conveniently turned off, on the sweater so you can see how tiny this little sweater really is. It's so sweet.

As you can see by the above picture, I really do have more important things to do with my precious time away from work.

Speaking of learning to duck, dodge, dart and evade...the theatrics are ramping up ahead of Father's Day. I thought instead of spending Sunday with MLTL, I might go see my own father whom I haven't seen in nearly 10 years. It might be nice to sit on a bench, knit, commune with nature and my Dad and skip the all the drama. I can guarantee the day would be better spent in this manner.

Gardening without the dog

2011-06-13T12:33:00.002-04:00

...doesn't provide nearly as many laughs.

Yarn assaulted in suburban Detroit home. Police say the perp has four legs and a big nose.

2011-06-10T12:03:00.005-04:00

Be on the lookout for this four legged beast with the long reach. Please notify the Knitting Police if you see him anywhere near yarn. Do not try to apprehend him yourself, unless you happen to have a cup of Frosty Paws handy. His attention can be diverted for a long time with one of those.

I'm behind on the heavy Icelandic sweater. When temps topped 100 degrees this week, knitting with bulky wool became a challenge. In desperation to knit anything, I set the heavy sweater aside and cast on a light weight project using hand dyed sock yarn, then proceeded to knit away in garter stitch. A couple of hours into knitting this wee little project, a certain big nosed beast slapped his paw down on my neatly wound cake of yarn. I was using a center pull, but somehow, the beast managed to snag his claw into several loops of yarn on the side, causing an avalanche of yarn that promptly got all tangled into a mess. This tragedy occurred in a split second. While trying to rewrap the yarn, which I ultimately had to cut and pitch, several stitches fell off my needle. I rescued all of them, except one, which, freed of its confining loops, found its way down the row.

Now to me, while simple to knit, and gorgeous in the right garment, garter stitch is a pain in the behind to repair if you drop a stitch. Thanks to youtube though, I have acquired the perfect way to repair dropped garter stitches and added this skill to my repertoire. Whatever did I do before youtube and google? I'll admit that prior to this, I may have ripped things back to the beginning, but likely not until I'd wasted an hour trying to fix it and cursing like a sailor. Learning to repair a dropped stitch or mistakes makes knitting so much more enjoyable. If I had ripped this out, I don't think I would have cast back on.

Prior to seeing this one video, in particular, I used to fix dropped garter stitches like this by turning the work back and forth and carrying the dropped stitch up like stockinette. It worked, but was complicated and fussy. As busy as I've been lately, I'm all over doing things the easy way. What made using my method difficult for this dropped stitch, which was now eighteen rows down and near the cast on edge, was the fact that it's multicolored fingering weight yarn. Yikes. My poor eyeballs were straining to see straight with such tiny stitches on US size 2 needles.

Can you spot the repair? Me neither.

I have to say, I love the brain trust out there in Knitting Land and thank all of those knitters who produce and publish such wonderful teaching videos. Where would I be with out you? Likely the Knitting Loony Bin, or at the least, reknitting nearly 3,000 stitches...Same difference. In particular, I'm sending out a great big thanks to MarleneD1216 (her youtube ID). Today you are my hero and the beast's salvation.

Lovin' It

2011-06-08T11:46:00.002-04:00

It's warmed up nicely here in the city, if you can call temps of 100 degrees warm. I'm not complaining...I'm blessed to have central air pretty much whenever I need it, and not wanting to curse myself here, I've not had to work in any homes where the only cool source of air is coming from an ancient fan on its last leg. I did spend one evening in the moth infested home of a hoarder, but I was wearing cotton and stripped at the door when I got home. Don't think those moths didn't worry me. Never seen anything like it in my life. They were everywhere, and with the patient's permission, I spent about 15 minutes sprinkling Oil of Lavender all over the home. I'm not sure it did any good, but it made me feel better that at least I made an effort. Have you ever seen a moth infestation like that? There were hundreds of them.

This morning, I spent as much time in my garden as I could tolerate in this heat and humidity, plucking the silver maple seeds (whirlybirds) that had germinated and sprouted everywhere. While I appreciate the desire of that tree to turn my yard and garden into a forest, I couldn't let it happen next to my tomatoes. There were dozens and dozens of these baby trees all over the place and that was only in the vegetable patch. The temperature looks like it will moderate over the next few days so I'll be tackling the rest of the garden, soon.

Tomorrow there is rain in the forecast. After the deluge last month, we've been bone dry. I've had to get out there and water all of my new plants diligently. Still...not complaining. Really, I'm not.

Feathering the nest

2011-06-06T16:52:00.004-04:00

These past couple of years have been expensive ones for us. Converting our old home into an assisted living for our daughter meant we had to vacate the premises, leaving much of what makes a house a home behind for her to use. The entire next year was spent renting a home as we were loath to buy if Rachel's new living situation didn't turn out well. Last year saw us buying a new home but we were kind of pressed to make any improvements, not that this house needed much, and with two moves in little more than a year, we exhaled and took the rest of the summer off.

Now that's all changing.

Welcome to our fledgling outdoor oasis.

We turned our attention first to the back of the garage. Over the winter, we thought the plot of land alongside the garage would make the perfect spot for a vegetable garden. Due to the cold, rainy spring, we got to that rather late. The fence was placed to keep Leo out, sod was stripped and the bed planted. Finally. Noticing my neighbor's home--complete with a birdbath--drew lots of hungry visitors, I bought my own birdbath and placed it strategically next to the fence.

I'm hoping it draws enough birds to help with my grub problem. The flamingo I wedged into the top of the fence draws birds, too. The robins seem particularly enamored of the metal bird. Maybe they like the pink plumage. Myself, well I like its gaudiness. In fact, there are plans in the works for sheep in this yard, too, however, because we're inside city limits, the sheep will only be on the fence in the form of a mural.

I've surrounded the sundial with plumage of its own. Petunias. The air conditioner, while a necessary nuisance, is just plain hideous and you can't enjoy the sundial without looking at that big metal eyesore. I've been considering surrounding it with the ferns that have taken over my front yard and a serious transplant operation will be undertaken, soon. The greenery seen behind the sundial is a beautiful butterfly bush I planted last week.

While shopping for an inexpensive birdbath at the local Meijer store, I found this head and had to have it. Had to. He was a singleton with a broken nose, so the sales clerk gave me a good discount. He reminds me of the tiki enemies on a certain Wii game I play. I think the statue's nose lends him a subtle rugged, handsome look.

I also bought a flying pig for its likeness to Rambi the Rhino. Donkey Kong aficionados are sure to appreciate my efforts here.

Saturday, I got tired of looking across the street and envying my neighbor's outdoor hideaway. A quick trip to Pier 1 helped me change all of that. I bought 2 new comfortable chairs and cushions and re-purposed everything else. I think I need a little plant life for the porch, but I'm well on my way to creating a wonderful little nest. Sunday, I spent the day out here sipping iced tea with my best friend and spinning yarn(s).

It was a perfect time in a much more perfect spot.

Daily dose of irony

2011-06-03T19:55:00.002-04:00

Is it just me?

Or do you find it ironic that Jack Kevorkian died today of NATURAL causes?

A charming puzzle

2011-05-31T11:39:00.003-04:00

Last night, with my feet up and the television providing soothing babble in the background, I finished the body of the Icelandic sweater. Placing the fronts and back on hold and completing the cast offs for armhole stitches, I turned my attention to the sleeves. While I plan to knit them side by side, I only have one set of US size 6 double points, so I have to knit them one at a time until I reach the end of the first pattern repeat and I'm able to switch to bigger needles. Knitting them side by side assures they'll be as close to identical twins as I can manage. Once those are done, I'll knit them into the waiting body of the sweater.

And then the real fun begins...

There is a certain amount of charm associated with this type of knitting. The boring parts, which are the necessary puzzle pieces, will be done and by week's end, I'll start the yoke. The excitement of working with all of the colors and watching the patterns emerge as I take what's on paper and apply it to yarn, will be enough to see my needles flying through this portion of the sweater. Working with color always leaves me saying, "just one more row." Soon, another gorgeous and cozy cardigan will be done.

Just in time for the 90 plus degree weather.

Damp Dungeon

2011-05-30T19:11:00.003-04:00

On the Forest level of Donkey Kong Country Returns, there is a world called Damp Dungeon where there is moisture, plenty of unusual creatures and spiders galore. Of course, being my favorite level, I've conquered that world, but cannot for the life of me conquer the real life dampness in my real life basement. This is where I've spent the majority of my three day weekend off--scrubbing, disinfecting, killing spiders (and centipedes), repacking damp boxes and routinely emptying the two dehumidifiers that are working as hard as me to rid the basement of moisture. Today I had a reprieve, but only because Rachel is here and someone has to keep an eye on her. It helped that for the first time in about two weeks, we had a day with no rain.

While I fully recognize that compared to thousands of others, I got off easy, I'm still feeling whiny and exhausted, and not a little sad at the layout of cash earmarked for other things. There will be no summer vacation this year, because instead, we will be providing one for the professionals who will waterproof the basement.

The weather was hot today, and while humid, it didn't rain. Tomorrow's forecast is the same, with I think a chance of evening showers. We've jumped straight from the crappiest spring on recent records right into the depths of summer. Seeing that it was now or never, I planted wildflower seeds, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, herbs and squash. Ironically, I watered the new plants, but hope they won't need more for awhile. The soil was balking at the sprinkle of water I did provide--there truly is nowhere for it to go.

I'm ready to go back to work tomorrow. I need a break. I hope you all had a wonderful Memorial Day. As soon as I get back from taking Stinkerbell home, I think I'm going to put my feet up, knit a little, and watch Band of Brothers.

Wanted: Ark in good condition

2011-05-26T11:47:00.004-04:00

The only good thing about the three inches of rain that fell yesterday is that we aren't faced with shoveling its equivalent in snow. That would be nearly three feet, give or take. So far this spring, we've accumulated around 13 inches of rainfall (usual is around 7 inches--the record 16) and the weather pattern seems to be holding to much what the winter pattern produced. While my home is standing, and I don't have much to bitch about compared to many, I'm still a little frustrated with this weather.

Two days ago, we stripped sod in our new garden area, but are unable to plant due to all of the precipitation. I just need a day or two of dryness to get out into the ~~mud pit~~ garden. So do more serious farmers. I heard yesterday that many of them have foot high corn growing in their nurseries that they're waiting to transplant. This promises to be a summer of low yield and high prices for fresh vegetables.

Hopefully I can get out there soon to offset those prices. Even a little would be nice.

In the event this weather pattern won't end, I've been reading ark building instructions. If you don't have a spare ark, do you have any gopherwood handy?

Someone's going to sleep well tonight

2011-05-24T10:57:00.002-04:00

That's Leo on the left as seen on the camp's doggie cam.

This beastie boy of mine can be completely overwhelming at times. For a much needed break for his routine ~~slaves~~ handlers, the brat will be spending the day at camp. This is his sentence for chasing the chipmunk in the yard last night and knocking over my lavender seedlings during pursuit...the chipmunk was on the other side of the fence.

Doesn't seem like punishment, does it? Maybe it will when the staff hoses him down and douses him with doggie shampoo.