Life's a Stitch

Don’t ask me where this came from, but when I was a little girl I thought that a leak in the hallway closet meant that there was a witch living in the closet. And it scared me to death. I was about three years old and my father and uncle worked hard to fix that leak while I lost sleep thinking a witch was going to get me during the night. It probably coincided with the airing of the Wizard of Oz.

My grandmother told us that it was dangerous to eat bananas at night. She supposedly knew of a little boy who ate a banana at bedtime and died of fright when he dreamed that his skin was peeling off. I think we believed her.

I have a new belief that I read on someone’s blog – sock yarn doesn’t count when it comes to stash enhancement. How about you? Any offbeat childhood beliefs in your past? Or present?

I’ll leave you with a photo of an FO that I can finally show you. It’s the scarf I wove on my Kromski, a retirement gift for my SIL, who is on a flight from MSP to YVR this morning. She doesn’t have access to my blog, so you get to see the surprise before she does. We’re so lucky, she is staying with us for a few months so she’ll be here to help with the wedding. To start out her stay she will keep an eye on Bryant while Chuck and I work on his recovery on a repositioning cruise from San Diego to Vancouver starting this weekend. We weren’t sure it was going to happen after recent events. You can’t see it but I’m doing the happy dance. I’ll be back in a week or so. And apologies to all those I haven’t been able to contact by e-mail. Our computer is still in its crashed state.

Hope you all had a nice Mother’s Day. I am a full time working outside the home mom. I’ve been one for years. It works so well for me, I think I’m a better mom for being a working mom. The problem is that I bought very early into the philosophy that says you can’t do it all, and have become very lax on the housework side of it. We ‘re not at the income level that I felt comfortable having house cleaners, besides, I couldn’t face picking up the house for the cleaners to do their job.

Here’s the problem – the kids, two of them, anyhow, have learned my terrible habits. Bryant’s room was so bad you couldn’t see the floor. Then he started sleeping in the family room because he couldn’t make it to his bed.  The other night he had the nerve to grump at me for disturbing him at 2:30 in the morning when I was combating sleeplessness with blogging. Whose family room is this anyway?

Time to attack the problem. After hauling out three garbage cans of junk, a bag for the Goodwill, and a box of garage sale stuff, we recovered four laundry baskets (none of which contained dirty clothes), three bottles of allergy nasal spray and two full containers of Folex spot remover (I wondered where they had gone and why were they in his room?) He now insists that all he wants in his room is a mattress on the floor – the minimalist look. Trouble is that he still has too darned much junk and no place to put it. He won’t even have underneath the bed space to stuff things. Any creative solutions? Anybody want to take him in and return him trained? Just asking.

Yikes, my computer monitor screen, the one attached to the CPU with all my photos and blog stuff, is black and has a message, something to the effect of: config.sys is not available or damaged… So I’ll dig through my laptop and find a photo to leave you with. How about an FO: a v-shaped shawl made from Heavenly yarn:

We get weekly visits from a cardiac rehab nurse. Nurse Jane, affectionately known in our house as the heart gestapo, comes equipped with a portable ECG, blood pressure cuff and a wealth of knowledge. We bombard her with questions, can he do this, can he eat that… Today he asked if he could dig in the garden. She said no, with a helpful explanation about how he has to build a healthy scar on his heart by resting for four weeks, the only exception being the cardiac rehab walking program.

I caught him in the garden with a mysterious amount of dirt missing from the left side of a large tree planter he had built. I say "I thought you weren’t supposed to be digging." He replies, I wasn’t digging. I was only moving dirt with a shovel." What am I missing here? Is that the same as "I’m not knitting, I’m just wrapping string on sticks?" What I really wanted to say was "If you’re not careful, maybe you’ll move enough dirt for a grave."

I’m the guilty party, though, as he was building the planter for my early Mother’s Day gift. It’s a weeping Katsura tree that was a royal hassle to get, but was a real bargain. Apologies to Dave, our dear friend, who had to drive twice to Langley to pick up the correct tree for us, and his son, Jeff, who accompanied me on a wild goose chase to try to find a large enough planter. Silly me wanted to put it in a planter in case we ever move. I’ve see the price tag on mature versions of this tree and it’s going with me no matter what. It’s a good thing my daughter has a forklift operator’s license.

You know how Sandy is about skies? I’m that way about trees. I’ve noticed pretty tree pictures recently at Knitting Iris (May 2nd post) and over at Lynne’s (whose garden always looks like a Thomas Kinkaid painting). So, if you have any trees to show me, I’d love to see them.

I invited Bry along for a Costco trip on Saturday. It’s difficult to get him to do stuff with me, but he knows my weak spots and a tendency to give in the purchase of things like beef jerky and books. There is something heart warming to this mother seeing her child eating any source of protein or reading a real adult book rather than reading rock star magazines while sucking a Slurpee.

On the way to the car he requests I take along a Beatles CD. I pick Sgt. Pepper’s and he quickly realizes the folly of his request. I have a tendency to sing while driving and I know every word to Sgt. Pepper’s, having spent many summer days in eighth grade, playing cards with my friends while listening to Beatles albums. We get into a volume match, he turns the volume louder and I turn up my voice. Realizing that his choices are the Beatles or CBC radio, he gives in.

I thank him and go into Mommy mode explaining what a miracle it is to be able to listen to your choice of music, while on the road, through four speakers. When I was a kid… to listen to music in the car meant hearing AM radio through one tinny speaker. And that was when my parents were in a really good mood. Otherwise it was talk radio, mostly about politics. Parenting does have its privileges. Heh, heh, heh (evil chuckle).

Here are the results of my recent sale shopping. One is Lorna’s Laces sock yarn in the Goldhill colourway. I’ve been inspired by others’ sock knitting and decided maybe to give it another chance. The other is LL’s Lion and Lamb in the Vera colourway. It’s been described as knitting with butter, and since we’re not eating any in my house anymore, I thought I’d trying knitting with it.

It’s been one of those knitting experiences, my daughter’s wedding cardigan, but as they say – the third time’s a charm. Thank goodness for good quality yarn which has mostly cooperated after three trips to the frog pond.

Trip #1 (left) – using the "s" stitch in the original design, this was the culprit that caused painful tendonitis in my wrist. No sweater is worth taking drugs over. One skein of the white and 25% of the mohair were unrecoverable.

Trip #2 (right) – substituted a diagonal net lace stitch – way off gauge with a distinct slant. Unless Elina walked down the aisle with a definitive lean to one side this was not going to work. This time all yarn was recovered from the pond in reusable shape.

#3’s a charm – substituted a simple openwork lace pattern. Easy on the wrists, gauge is better, and it looks like E can get married with her weight distributed evenly on both legs.

Live and learn, or maybe more appropriately, learn and live. I’ve benefited from many teachable moments throughout this ordeal. Some of them are life saving, some are insights into relationships and some have to do with knitting. Leave it to a knit blogger to tie a heart attack to knitting! Here is what I’ve learned:

1. Learn what triglycerides are. Unlike the dietary fat you learn about in regard to cholesterol level, triglycerides are a kind of fat that is made by your body. And cutting out fatty foods won’t control them. Whenever you eat more calories than your body can handle, even if it’s good food like lean meat or veggies, your body turns the excess into triglycerides, a fatty substance, in your blood. Although his cholesterol was under control, C’s triglyceride level was seven times the normal rate, presumably due to the entire bag of candy he consumed prior to his "event."

2. You can be having a heart attack with very few symptoms. He only had chest pain in the centre of his chest, none of this radiating to his arms or jaw. Any symptoms need checking out.

3. I physically shake after being given bad news.

4. He is sick of telling his story and listening to others; I need to tell it and hear others’ experiences.

5. There is such a thing as too much knitting. You, probably like me, knit to deal with stress. When your wrist swells, turns red, and is excruciatingly painful, it is time to take a break, get out the ice packs and put on a wrist brace.

How about a Marina picture, getting to the very top of the body.

I heard Chuck having a talk with the boy, who appears to have started dating, although would never admit to it. He and a girl were headed to a movie the other day. I asked if it was a date and he said no. I asked who was paying, he or she? He replied "you." OK then.  So, back to the eavesdropping. We’ve had flowers around due to Chuck’s hospital stay and they led to this conversation:

Dad: I’m going to teach you how to score points with a woman.

Son: silence

Dad: Here are the rules:

1. If you bring flowers home you score points.

2. If you bring them home for no good reason you score extra points.

3. If you picked the flowers from the parking lot at work you lose points. (This scene was fresh in his mind as our Easter flowers arrived wrapped in a plastic garbage bag and a rubber band rather than cellophane and raffia).

4. If you picked the flowers from the cemetery, and she finds out, don’t bother coming home. He didn’t really say that. I added it because I knew some guys in college who lived next to the cemetery and let me in on their modus operandi.

5. If there is a special occasion and you don’t bring home flowers, you lose big points.

Son wasn’t overly impressed, but I give Dad points for trying.

Knitting content: I have found the yarn I would like to have with me if stranded on a tropical island or in the waiting area of an cardiac cath lab. It is Art Yarns Regal Silk formerly known as Royal Silk. I bought two skeins from Christine’s stash. It is a high cholesterol yarn  – soft and rich as butter. It has a lovely sheen, good stitch definition and doesn’t separate into strands as do other silk yarns. It is expensive, not something I’d buy in a store, at full price anyway, so I’m particularly appreciative of Christine’s de-stashing opportunity. Here it is, soon to be a feather and fan scarf.

Chuck got in yesterday at St. Paul’s Hospital. They’ve decided not to put stents in, as placement was not possible in the areas of the two major blockages(80 and 70%). Fortunately these were not located in the main artery. The main artery only had 50% blockage and they are confident that it is treatable with "aggressive medication." So that’s about as good as it gets newswise. He’ll be home in a day or two.

Thanks for your positive thoughts and prayers. Chuck’s hospital records had not indicated a religious preference so I felt free to register him as a Catholic, figuring if it became necessary, a priest could do a fine job. Chuck has now dubbed himself my Catholic-in-law. Works for me.

Update: I met with the cardiologist who says that it isn’t quite as pretty as I made it out to be, but with treatment we can stay positive for now. I guess we don’t get a choice; positive sounds good to me. My wrist is killing me from furtive knitting!

No news except look what was delivered to the hospital room:

It’s the White Lies Designs wedding sweater yarn. And guess who delivered it? The bride herself, who also happens to be a pediatric cardiology nurse. She flew in to be with us for the next few days, hopefully for the angioplasty. It is so comforting to have someone living right in my own house who can interpret what’s going on. So what if her patients weight 150 lbs less than Chuck, she knows what a cardiogram is supposed to look like and what all the drugs are for.

When this happened I had a feeling we were either going to be pleasantly surprised with our medical system or disappointed. So far, so good. Despite the fact that no angioplasty is done in the regional heart hospital (in a city of 2 million), Friday through Sunday, things seems to be working well. Since he is in the hospital it will be done this week as opposed to being an outpatient, when the wait is a month and a half. The dr felt it was too risky to send him home. Thank you all again, for your ongoing support and prayers. It means so much to be part of this community.

I couldn’t make up the weirdness in my life this past year if I tried. One thing after another, too many occasions to have been offered the prayers of others. This is getting downright embarrassing. You see, just before the weekend, Chuck had a heart attack.

I guess heart attacks, unlike pregnancy, can come in degrees. You can’t be a little pregnant, but you can have a little heart attack, usually a precursor to a bigger one. Lots of details, but the short version is that we did all the right things and caught it early. He will stay in the hospital until early next week, when he’s transferred to our regional heart hospital, most likely for angioplasty.

Do I dare say it again? See March 30th post. Maybe I didn’t say it with enough conviction – ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

I’ll be back with updates when I have them. Meanwhile, lots of bedside and waiting room knitting happening.

Li