Woolly Mutts

2011..the year I lost my knitting mojo.

Yup.  The knitting mojo - it is caput.  Gone.  Left the building.  Moved on to greener pastures.  Poof!  You may recall back here, a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, I was all fired up over Hawthorne. 

All 314 cast on stitches of her.  Perfect yarn, perfect pattern...what could go wrong?  That question is still without answer, but somewhere around row 15 I realized that it was a big old mess.  Big. Old. Mess.....and I ripped.  I casted on again, this time with special stitch markers and still a fail.  WTF?  I am better than this.  I have faced off lace with multiple charts and departed victorious.  I ripped again.  This time I decided I just needed a little chart break and casted on Lady Eleanor.  I've knitted the Lady before and enjoyed it SO much and guess what?  I screwed it up.  The bell tolleth for me.  I have lost the mojo. Knitting Sisters, you know this is bad. 

So, I decided I needed to clean the cache and go back to knitting 101.  I got out a pair of straights (I can't remember the last time I knitted with straight needles.), some yukky cotton and proceeded to knit myself some dish cloths, and I'm not talking about the really cute patterned ones.  No, oh no, it was garter stitch all the way and by the grace of the knitting goddess I did not screw them up.  So, I moved on to these little washie things...

....the swirly thing shown in the pic, which was fun and also executed without tears. 

I have now moved up to Popblock from the new Knitty.

A few months ago I thought this much garter stitch would send me to the funny farm, but you know what?  It's rather peaceful.  Sure, there isn't much skill or thought involved, but this is not a competition.  It is a hobby, a love, a lifestyle.  I am a knitter.  What I knit does not constitute a knitter, the act of knitting does. Right? 

Has my mojo returned?  I'm not sure.  I'm guessing that my problem has much to do with the fact that my mind was/is constantly going in a hundred different directions.  (Managing a retail store during the holidays is not for the faint of heart.) My lack of concentration kicked the mojo in the behind.  Such is life.  And, the knitting mojo was not the only one to take a hit.  Yoga, meditation, eating right, reading....all of it has fallen to the back burner and it is way past time to change that.

So 2012, all shiny and new, I am not generally one to make resolutions on your first day, or for that matter, any day, but this year I'm gonna get the mojo back. 

So say we all!  (Any Battlestar Galactica fans out there?)

Please don't let me, in my elderly years, be like those folks who sit around discussing their health problem.

A good friend, and a person in a position to know the truth of it, often told the that pain changes people. Being young and pain free at the time I considered her words and knew them to be true, but come on, every one lives with pain.  Can it really be a personality altering thing?

Oh yes, my lovelies, it most certainly can and in different ways for different people.  I wonder if perhaps pain opens some sort of door to a darker side.  A sort of get-out-free card from good behavior.  For me personally, I am more impatient (and let me tell you folks, I am one very patient person) and less able to deal with other people's stuff.  I get more quiet and require much more alone time.  It takes twice the energy to prepare for any activity and since I am also an introvert my pain reaction is - can't we just stay home? Alone?  Forever?

This smiling and clearly pain free woman above is indicating some of the many places I have pain.  Include down my arm, across my top rib and along my jaw.  One little herniated disc and POOF, I now understand pain.  Yay.  The good news is that it is not constant, nor it is all of the above mentioned places at the same time.  Bad news, anything or nothing can trigger it.  Good news, knitting seems to be a safe activity.  See....always a positive side. 

I had a conversation with my doctor last week regarding  pain and my ability/responsibility to say I'm in pain. He recently had surgery for the exact same herniated disc that is giving me fits, so he has a certain insight into the situation.  His theory is that people, meaning family and co-workers, can better understand me if they understand my pain level.  What I heard from that was, "complain about your pain and people will feel sorry for you and leave you alone."  Not acceptable.  I am not a complainer.  Ok, he counters, what about if when people ask how you are you give them a number?  Hmmmm.  10 being worst pain, 0 pain free.  Hmmmmm.  Maybe I can do that.  Maybe.  The whole things just feel so self indulgent.  My pain should not be a burden to those around me, though maybe if they are aware that I am experiencing pain, they can better understand any odd (bitchy) behavior I might exhibit. 

The other thing that I find is that if I talk about the pain I must defend it.  What am I doing to alleviate it?  Oh..I broke up with it, stop taking its calls, got a restraining order...  Like my suffering is due to my inability to kick it to the curb.  I have been to a pain management doctor and we discussed a plan of action that will keep me off the  OR table for as long as possible. I have drugs, that if taken any time other than bed time, will cause me to fall asleep, face first into my soup.  I am in traction twice a day.  Is any or all of that relevant?  I don't know.  It is what it is.

If I act strangely, I apologize.  I'm likely in pain.  If some one snaps at you or behaves poorly, they might be in pain.  Maybe you're in pain and, if so, I'm sorry and let me know if I can help.  Misery loves company.

I've been a bad, bad girl.

Not really.  I just can't get this fantastic Fiona Apple song (Criminal) out of my head since this poor girl butchered (BUTCHERED) it on American Idol last week.  She has since been ejected from the competition, which I suppose is punishment enough.  It did get me to put the song back on my favorite list, so there was a flicker of light in that particular dark cloud.

I am, however, having an off day.  I feel like I only have one foot in the right track and the other is constantly trying to keep up.  Off kilter. First thing out of bed my no chip manicure chipped.  I know, right?!  I could only stay on the treadmill for 20 minutes this morning even with Mad Men (That Don Draper needs to learn to keep his lips to himself.) on the tv.  Just could not do it.  I lost my homework for the class I'm taking; lame, I know, I swear the dog did not eat it, and in finding it made a royal mess of my girl cave.  Then, when I found it I decided I didn't want to take the class after all.  See.....off.  I could blame it on the sinus headache (I know, do I want some cheese with this whine?) but I think.....I know what it's all about.  It's March.

I have recently found a fantastic yoga dvd by Abby Lenz.  It's yoga for larger people and while is it by no means easy, it is adaptive and I like it very much.  At the end as we rest in meditation she says that the body remembers what the mind forgets.  So wise.  While my brain is busy with the day-to-day stuff, my body is gathering for March and April.  My brain wants to keep the door firmly locked on M and A, but the body says, "no can do".  Face the music.  March and April Suck.

March 2009 my mother began her walk towards death, and as you may remember, it was bad.  It broke my heart into so many pieces that two years later I'm still patching holes.  At least the walk was blessedly short, although at the time it felt like the worst possible kind of marathon.  In April 2009 she died.   And there you have it, poor March and April got painted with a wide brush of sad.

Last year at this time I spent many months with a lovely therapist who helped me see myself in a clearer light.  She also showed me that while March and April may always be a couple of sad months, it's alright.  It's alright to be sad (that one was so hard for me) and alright to say so.  It is also alright, and important to live.  To recognize the off days for what they are and to keep walking forward toward the better ones.  I can do that now. 

March and April are such hopeful months.  The breath of Spring is already beginning to whisper of better, warmer days ahead.  Perhaps today will be a good day to listen.

Universal Hilarity

This picture has nothing at all to do with today's post.  I mean, it's beautiful and all, but it's really just there to convince myself to be calm and not fuss over small, insignificant things.  Ummm......right.

I have had the same person color my hair (aren't you just shocked?) for, I don't know, maybe 6 years.  She creates a little color concoction that I love.  She's reasonable and lovable and fun to be around.  I schedule my appointments at least 4 weeks in advance to get in on a day I don't work.  It took some creative appointment maneuvering on both our parts to get me an appointment tomorrow so that it would be perfect for our Vegas (baby) trip Monday.  Here comes the hilarious part; I just got a phone call from her staff telling me that she had to cancel my appointment.  WHAT?!  I get on a plane in 2 days and I have a landing strip of gray an inch wide on the top of my head!  Add flashing lights and teeny tiny airplanes could find safe home up there.  What sort of joke is this?  I'm looking at you Universe!  Here is the not so hilarious part; the poor thing has a kidney stone.  Makes my strip of gray seem like a small gift, right?  Except for the wedding of my one and only son that takes place in 6 days.

I talk to my BFF who is all sympathy and much "oh dear".  I take deep breaths and go stare into the mirror to see if maybe I'm just imagining the gap between my scalp and the lovely, highlighted auburn.  Nope, definitely there.  I hem and haw and finally call the pricey salon that I go to for my manis and pedis.  I explain the whole thing to the girl who answers the phone.....kidney stone, Vegas (baby) trip, wedding,  landing strip and she says (bless her heart), "Oh my god.....oh my god....don't worry, we'll help you!"  Nothing like a person who truly understand the meaning of "hair emergency".  I have no idea who I'm scheduled with, beggars can't be choosers, or how much experience with color she has, but I've got an appointment at 1:30 tomorrow and I'm going in with a positive attitude.  I'll make a new friend and get some great hair (please).  Emergency diverted.  

Take that, Life. 

The drama of the dresses or further evidence that I am loco en la cabeza.

*I apologize right off the bat.  This one is gonna be a little long and perhaps not a little tedious. Crazy takes awhile to tell.

I have two weddings to attend this summer.  Two very important weddings.  The first is the wedding of the completely lovely daughter of my BFF in late June, and the second the marriage of my son and his beloved (yay!) in late July in Vegas (baby).  The first wedding is a fancy schmancy affair in the Chicago suburbs.  This may come as a shock to all reading, but I am not exactly a fancy sort of woman.  Not that an excuse to get dolled up isn't a grand thing, it's only choosing the ensemble that takes some consideration.  The second wedding is less in the fancy, but more in the life milestone/picture taking variety and the mother of the groom needs to not embarrass said groom.  Clearly some shopping must take place.  And so begins the drama of the dresses.

Dress number one I found a couple of months ago.  Of course, I can't find an online reference anywhere, but trust me, it's fabulous.  Perfect for Karl's Vegas wedding.  It's well fitted, just a little flowy and all sorts of fantastic color. It has only one fatal flaw....no sleeves.  Why I have issues with my arms, I have no idea, but I would prefer them covered. But wait!  I knit! I can knit a short shrug/sweater sort of thing, right?  I spend hours on Ravelry and decided on this pattern. Nifty little sweater with a nice lacy texture for hot Vegas days.  I can make the sleeves a little longer.  During a trip to Ruhamas in Milwakee I find the perfect purple Cascade 220 Ultra Pima, which, btw, is fantastic cotton yarn to work with.  I cast on and away we go.

There is a better than average chance I will finish on time because I'm in the groove now.  Dress one crossed off the list.

On to dress two. In case you're wondering, yes I probably do have something in my closet that would have worked.  The dress I wore for Kysa's wedding, for instance.  It's a little tight across the shoulders (I saw a funny mug the other day that said "chocolate makes my clothes shrink") which might impede dancing, and I intend to do a great deal of dancing with my honey.  And, let's face it, I want a new dress.  I start to scan the internets and come upon a dress I love at Nordstrom.  (love me some Nordstrom)  I show it to Kysa and Santa and get a double thumbs down.  I am discouraged, but determined.  I try Kiyonna and find this:

I have a previous relationship with this dress, but in brown.  Black is much more slimming, right?  I order it.  Well, not horrible, but unlike the beautiful model, I have no discernible waist and even black can't make me look all houchy mamma sexy in this dress.  Bye, bye dress.

Next up I give Overstock a try.  I've never had the Overstock experience before, but their customer service is impressive.  I find three dresses at extremely reasonable prices and they arrive at my door two days later, free shipping.  I think the big O and I may have the beginnings of a good thing going here.  Dress one, which I admit romanced me with the purple, made me look like a fluttery purple sausage, or perhaps some sort of sea creature.  Dress two, was all kinds of chiffoniness and very comfortable, but the top was, um, let's just say the girls were not adequate to the task of filling it out.  The top looked like something that had once been inflated and met with a sad end.  Dress three, now we're talking. I love this dress.  Even the lack of sleeves cannot deter my affection. I have a shawl that will work. It's not fancy enough for Meghan's wedding, but it matters not.  Dress one and two head back to Overstock and now I think maybe I might like dress three enough to wear it to Karl's wedding instead of the first pick.  I even have hot shoes that will work.  WHY does life have to be so complicated?  (Answer - because I make it so. ergh.)

Between the Overstsock return and the final product (yes, this will all end well) there was a bit more drama.  A lavender and black number that was a contender for about 5 seconds and a glorious teal, sleeveless again, that was so wrong I try not to even think about it.  The people at the post office now laugh when they see me coming.  I have become a dress joke and one of my own making.  Santa picked her wedding dress in like 4 minutes and I'm spending weeks agonizing.  Of course she is young and thin and gorgeous.  Whatever. :-)

As promised, this tale has a happy ending and can you guess which dress I finally decided on?  The very first dress from Nordstrom.

   

Don't I always say "go with your first instinct"?  Once the real thing arrived and the girls saw it they agreed that it was fab.  I love it like crazy.  I love that it has a little ethnic feel to it, that is flows away from my body so there is no need for the tortuous under garments, and it has sleeves.  It makes me feel pretty. I'm still working on the shoes.  Silver, don't you think?  Some great earrings and I'm set.  Finally.  Hallelujah. 

In case you're wondering, I'm still knitting on the sweater because I haven't decided on the multicolor dress or the black/white dress for Karl's wedding.  What's life without a little drama? :-)

Life is Adventure

It is 6:30 am here at Swedish American Heart Hospital.  Had a little heart scare yesterday so they have kindly offered the hospitality of their lovely, if somewhat blood thirsty, facility. (Just offered up 5 more vials.) They will come soon to take me down for a stress test.  Not sure if I hope they find something so it can be fixed and my chest will go back to being happy, or that they find nothing and Zanax will continue to be my friend.  Stress will make a person crazy.

Everyone here has been incredibly kind.  I wish I had a picture of my sort-of-swanky hospital room, but the camera is home, where I want to be.  Soon.  Amazing Husband stayed with me all night.  I have rarely been so comforted by the sound of snoring.  If only the bed had been a little bigger.  You sure don't go to the hospital to get any sleep.  Or food.  This may be the perfect weight loss combination - mind numbing fear and no food.  Life is good. :-)

AH has gone home to care for the mutts, who were either afraid we had abandoned them (both of my lovely children checked on them last evening) or were thrilled to sleep on our bed all night.  He'll be back as soon as possible, bless him.  I'll keep you posted as answers become available.  In the end, it will all be fine.  It's the stuff in the middle that worries me.

xo

Old and the restless

I was walking down the aisle of our local grocery store yesterday and took a minute to better observe the store remodel we have endured the last few months.  The walls and floors look quite nice , but now I have no idea where anything is....which ticks me off.  I'm getting there.  Each week we go I get a better lay of the land, but most shoppers still push their carts around like lost souls.  I got to wondering if I were a visitor to the area if I would find this a nice store to shop in?  Then I had a really profound and overwhelming thought; I want to move.

Now, if I were a normal person I would chock this craziness up to end of Winter restlessness, but I'm not even remotely normal and I think all seasons should last as long as they are intended to last (even Summer, which I dislike).  I love Winter, and yet, maybe I'd like to experience Winter somewhere else.  Midlife crisis, maybe?  I'd say I'm a little old for that.  Boredom?  I rarely get bored.  Maybe just good old wanderlust. Could I really belong somewhere other than Northern Illinois?

When I returned home I enlisted the aid of Find Your Spot.  Find Your Spot takes you through a lengthy, and free, questionnaire and then offers up a number of places they think would suit you well.  The majority of mine were in Vermont, Maine, and Oregon.  Progressive, four seasons, not too many people, a library, and a yarn store. Not more than an hours drive from theaters and museums, and a large body of water.

 

Not listed, was where I think I really need to be, Grand Marais, MN.  In fact, if I could wiggle my nose and work magic, I'd be there right now.  To be fair, I've never visited any of the places Find Your Spot selected just for me, and maybe there are a few I might love.  

Despite my itchy feet, I won't be going anywhere.  The ties that bind are strong here and, let's face it, unless we win the lottery, the cost of living here is what we can afford.  Still, it's fun to dream.

If you are "under the weather", what exactly is "the weather"?

I have been "under the weather".  Sick, ill, not up to snuff and annoyed. Man, am I annoyed.  There are those that would say that I get sick frequently.  I beg to differ.  I don't get sick often, but when I do get sick it hangs around for ever.  For some reason, and I've heard a number of explanations, when a bug comes around my lungs put out the welcome mat and then proceed to lock the darn door.  (Would a sonic screwdriver be of assistance here?  Perhaps I need the Doctor.) Then, when the bug departs, my lungs are "compromised" and I'm back to daily inhaler use.  My lungs and I are in constant disagreement. 

I am annoyed for multiple reasons.  I was supposed to work full time this week.  Yeah....that isn't happening and thank goodness a little army of volunteers have stepped up to fill in.  Bless them, every one.  I am annoyed because I had managed to achieve a level of fitness that was making me pretty happy.  I'm not talking run a marathon fitness, but I could run up and down steps without getting winded and I had lost a bit of weight.  Now I can hardly pull on my socks without getting winded.  (I did get dressed today, so that is a positive!) All my holiday indulgences are now sitting squarely on my midsection where they will stay until I can get off my arse and move again.  Annoyed...I...am.

On the bright side, I have read and read and read on my lovely Kindle.  Knitting has happened and sleeping.  A good deal of sleeping.  The weather has been fantastic with a nice new snow fall yesterday.

The dogs love the snow, especially Samten.  He comes in covered with white and the proceeds to melt all over the floor. :-)  Slippers are a must in this house.

I see the doctor (not THE Doctor) on Monday and we'll see if the right lung has cleared enough for him to be happy.  Then I see the allergist for a new regime of breathing aids.  I hope to be back to work next week, but I'm not counting those chickens quite yet.  In the meantime, thanks for listening to me complain and I hope this new year is starting with only good things in your lives.  xo

An open letter to our neighborhood late night party people.

Dearest Teenage Cool Crowd,

   Just a quick note to bring to your attention that our field is not a garbage dump.  I realize that in your illegal intoxication it may be somewhat difficult to distinguish between a trash can and whatever is outside your car window when you open it, but I just know if you tried a little harder, you could master this one.  The trash containers are generally located around fast food establishments or gas stations.  Our field is where we run and play and mow and I have to say that it gets on my last nerve to have to get off the mower and throw away your trash.  I have no interest in what you ordered at McDonalds (a perfect example of where a trash can could have been found) or how large the Slurpy was you almost finished.  I especially dislike the large glass bottle of booze that you jettisoned so no evidence would be left on your person.  Not cool, Dudes, not cool at all. So lets try and find some courtesy in that young, reckless soul of yours cause I gotta tell you, karma is real and what goes around comes around (even Justin Timberlake says so).  Start racking up those karma points now for a much happier future.

Peace, Love, and Happiness,

The crazy hippie chic who lives on the corner

And while I'm on the subject of pet peeves and trash,

Dearest Smokers,

     Perhaps it has not been explained clearly to you, but the world is not your ash tray.  I swear if I see one more person open his/her car window and throw out a cigarette butt I'm going to lose all good sense, ram their car and make them eat that disgusting thing. Same thing goes for those that drop it, step on it, and then walk away. I understand that it's a hard habit to kick, but not unlike the teenage party crowd, a little courtesy please.  I'm quite sure that ash trays have not been banned from the planet.  If you have to light up, keep your butts to yourself.

Not so much, peace, love, and happiness,

The asthmatic hippie chic who has no patience for rude behavior.

Have a nice day!

The oddness of grief.

This week I can not get my self moving. It is only Tuesday morning so I should not be lumping an entire week into a day and a few hours of feeling meh.  But man, I feel meh in a sort of big way.  The heat has broken so that is no excuse.  It is an overcast day which usually rev me up, but no revving so far. Mostly a lot of meh.  (You know "meh".  It's the adult version of "whatever", or the hip version of general sluggish behavior.  Plus, it's just sort of fun to say "meh". Meh, meh, meh. Meh.) I know I should go for a walk, or something to get my arse moving, but I can't.  Not now anyway.

So yesterday I mention that this bout of *meh* has me a little frustrated and a wise person asked me how long it had been since my mother passed away.  Two months last week.  Well, this person says, what do you expect?  Grief is just going to disappear in two months?  Hmmmmm.  Some people are so darn smart. 

Apparently, grief hangs about for awhile, hiding in the background and then quietly, occasionally messes with the mojo so you get some days of *meh* and forget that something HUGE happened to your heart not so long ago.  Not that I should use grief as a constant excuse not to move my arse or participate in life, but now and then a few days of *meh* are ok.  I'm ok.

Speaking of, the angel-on-this-earth Hospice worker told me once that the words "it's going to be ok" are some of the most powerful words possible.  It might be hard, or painful getting through the rough patches of life, but in the end you will be *ok*.  It will be OK.  I will be ok.  Good even. 

I find this little journey that I walk with grief to be rather odd.  I expected the tears and the times of missing, but the depression (which is what I expect is really behind the *meh*) surprised me.  Live and learn and maybe pass the chocolate.

The tall, what my mother used to call Tiger lilies, are blooming right now,  I was standing on flat ground holding the camera at chest level when I took this picture.  They are SO tall and planted en masse like this they make quite an impact.  In other good news, the lightning bugs have returned to brighten the night hours.  Also, the Japanese beetles.  Always the good with the bad.