Life's a Stitch

Thank you for all the well wishes. The patient is impatient but mostly compliant. What a combination of decisions and feelings this past week, fear, disappointment, guilt. Fortunately there is very little physical pain.The recovery has started. We can even muster up some black humour. In the hospital I was asking about his condition and the nurse said "Oh yes, he's the one who came in with the eye." "Hopefully he's going home with it," said I. We laughed together.

Mr.Sideways is going crazy, no vision in that eye yet, except for the ability to distinguish light from dark. Blogless Marsha, Dave and Riley dog have come up for Canadian Thanksgiving weekend to keep him from total boredom. Turkey's in the oven, knitting is happening and the wine is poured.

I saw that on a bumper sticker today. File this under "Life's not necessarily fair." It's not that I'm a total heathen who can't put this into some sort of perspective, but give me permission to emote. Please?

All I can do is put this in point form:

• 18 months ago, in preparation of our 25th anniversary, C&I booked "the trip of a lifetime," a combination of an amazing deal, three weeks, and ten friends.
• We have cancellation insurance. Can you see what's coming?

Screw the points here's the Reader's Digest version. Chuck had been diagnosed with a detached retina (there were some unnecessary complications socialized medical system wise) requiring emergency surgery and the inability to travel for many weeks.  We'll know more tomorrow. Lots of scenarios circulating – how about two weeks of lying on one's side 23 hours a day?

And the three year old fridge died.

And we had an encounter with another bear in the yard today in broad daylight. Do these animals never sleep?

We've had lots of meaningful conversation and made some important decisions with the knowledge that decisions are never final.

I predict lots of knitting/crocheting ahead. It's growing fast and furiously:

I'm a knitter and this is a knitting blog. I remember when I first started following others in blogland, being turned off by those who displayed too much of the single hook stuff. So, self identified regulars and lurkers, I've been afraid to show too much of the alternative yarn art, for fear of losing you. This closet crocheter has two WIP's on the hook. That's the start of a Round Ripple Afghan, on the left, made with the yarn from the basket below. Fear not, there are still six (!) on the needles.

There, I've said it in public. Do you hate me? Are we still on speaking terms or have I lost you forever?

Not a long post  because I have a headache. This kind that starts in the neck and crawls up the side of my skull and grows into throbbing-through-the-eyeball migraines used to be quite common for me. I've posted about my failed treatment attempt, but I finally found one that works.

Botox, same as the cosmetic concoction, injected into the neck, temples and forehead and thankfully covered by insurance. Pretty painful at the time, but resulting in a 75% reduction in headaches. Until tonight. It's supposed to last about three months and October 9th is the date of my next round.

Update: Didn't get to posting that last night, but woke up feeling fine, despite the 3:30a.m. entertainment in our yard. Gracee was barking tiny little cautious barks. Looked out the window to see a hairy object moving erratically.  Had to rule out the 18 year old, hairy as he is, with a history of occasional unruly behaviour. Looking more closely I saw that it was a  black bear mom and cub playing – romping around the grass, batting at each other on their hind legs. I tried to get a picture, but no luck.

So, today's picture is stash enhancement. Keeping true to my oath to buy only sale yarn for a specific purpose, this is Heirloom Whisper, bought on clearance and stored in a newly acquired garage sale basket.

Indulge me in a linen rant. Back in the day, about 1977, good sheets were 180 thread count percale and lasted forever. They wore well and improved with age. The elastic in the fitted ones would wear out before the fabric. They cost a quarter the price and lasted ten times as long. 

Fast forward to now. These flimsy things are nearly clear. Don't believe me? Hold them up to the light. Their life expectancy is about a year or two, and they emerge from the dryer looking like elephant trunks, long wrinkled tubular objects in desperate need of a steam roller.

Does that count as a post? It was about fiber, wasn't it?

And (that`s another thing that`s changed over the years, though not necessarily a bad thing, it used to be unacceptable for sentences to begin with the word 'and') because all posts need a photo, I give you the miraculous mother and child cob of corn that appeared in our house last week:

You think I could have sold it on e-bay?

If you're a reader from British Columbia you'll be able to decipher those letters as belonging to the Pacific National Exhibition, our urban version of a state fair, summer's last hurrah. It occurs at the end of the season, usually in rainy BC weather, smells like mini donuts, sounds like excited Hell-a-vator induced shrieks, and feels crowded.

In my family we each have our favourite section, none located near the other. Chuck likes the work horses, Bryant the Super Dogs and I'm a sucker for the chamois, rubber mops and Pink Solution; assorted items hawked by people wearing mini microphone systems, loud promises to make my life easier. There's nothing like a Cutco knife and then the realization that I paid for parking and an entrance fee for shopping in disguise. I AM a sucker, but a happy one especially when chopping onions with my dishwasher safe Double D blades.

Knitting content: Blogless Marsha reminded me that I haven't posted a more recent picture of the Mitered Square Baby Blanket. It's been on Ravelry for a few days, but I neglected to update it on the blog:

Norma recently posted about those sugar coated jelly candies shaped like orange slices. You know the ones? Must be menopause or recent stress, I don't usually have much of a sweet tooth, but they sure looked tempting.

The candy of my childhood, I've written about it before. I remember my dad taking me to the barber, who would give me whole packages of Chuckles, and back then Chuckles were huge. Or was I just small? He would lay claim on the black one and I the red. Going to the movies, my mother would buy us a bag of spearmint leaves, green candies of the same consistency. I loved how they felt on my tongue. Or at the department store candy counter (remember those, the ones with the nuts kept warm under lights), that's where we would get those candy fruit slices, the ones that looked like watermelon slices. I chose the cherry ones, but it seems today the red ones are raspberry.

Forget the Hershey Bars, give me Mike and Ikes. Or Hot Tamales, the super hot ones. Or Fuzzy Peaches. Red Twizzlers. Better still, although chocolate is not my #1 favourite, red Twizzlers dipped in chocolate; to die for. Enough.

Here's some knitting candy, my Toronto acquisitions:

A skein of Seasilk and seven of Jojoland Melody. One skein into the JJ I decided to send the rest back. It looks and feels tempting, but the actual knitting is scratchy and splitty. It was worth the $9 in postage to maintain my knitting sanity.

Really, who needs to knit when there are skeins of yarn this beautiful? This is Valley Yarn's Kangaroo Dyer Franklin yarn in the Pine cone colourway. More beautiful booty from the second blog contest in a row that I won last month:

Lovely Erika, from Knitting at Pantheon Acres, sent the following prize for winning her lucky comment contest:

No kidding, I had the thought last month that I hadn't won a blog contest in a long time, entered three and won all three. Aren't knit bloggers wonderful? I feel like a spoiled brat. Or maybe I should be buying lottery tickets. Or maybe I should be hosting a contest. Stay tuned, cause I missed my fourth blogging anniversary last week, and will be hosting a contest in celebration.

We're in recovery mode out at a farm without computer access. All went well, Ms. Mar now has a reshaped tibia and her knee cap has been lowered an inch. I always used to ask my kids the best part and worst parts of their times away, so here goes:

The best:

1. Mari's nerve block which stayed in place and kept her relatively pain free for her entire hospital stay:

2. How to do Toronto on $115 a day: downtown Econolodge (clean, comfortable and free continental brekkie) and cheap but excellent Toronto food. Lots to choose from, but my best choices were Jamaican Jerk Chicken, three piece lunch special with sides for $3.99, NY style pizza and the u-fill large container of Chinese food for $5.99. M made fun of me for not walking more than two blocks before I had to have that pizza.

3. My eight mile walk which included Romni Wools and Lettuce Knits.

4. The kindness of friends who transported us from downtown to the burbs, and a very kind dad of her friend who is putting us up until she can fly on Weds. Mari greeted him in his driveway by throwing up.

5. The pre-op nurse who thought I was M's sister instead of her mom. I realize, since this is the first time ever that this has happened, that her empirical skills may have been lacking, however I am giving myself permission to bask in the glory. My eldest daughter, a nurse, tried to burst my bubble by telling me nurses try to err on the side of youth.

The worst:

1. Making a donation of a 3.25mm Bryspun knitting needle to the sealed hospital heating/air conditioning system and discovering that I left the yarn behind for my travelling projects. This is the extent of my progress on my mitred square baby blanket:

2. Discovering that the clerk at Romni failed to include my Rowan Classic Holiday book in my order. I had found it for $17.50. Darn.

3. Lack of internet access. Can you imagine me without knitting and internet? Even tried posting from my phone to no avail.  I'm posting from a very nice community centre on the outskirts of Markham. I'll post again after we get home.

I can't figure out why people stand in line for over an hour, sometimes closer to two, for a 15% discount on yarn. One of our LYS's hosts an annual anniversary sale with most items marked down 15-20%. Knitters line up by the 100's, snaking their way throughout the hot crowded store, until they get to the sole check out station for the privilege of a discount. There are occasional 50% off items, which might be worth the adventure, but I did it with the best of them – spent $6 in gas and an hour an a half of precious time in line, to save $15. All in the name of Babette, who transforms knitters into crocheters.

Babette, if you buy according to pattern instructions, takes over $300 of Koigu Painter's Palette Merino yarn. I am determined to do it a little at a time, using up my Koigu stash of six skeins and many colourful scraps, buying some on sale here and there, and substituting with other Koigu-esque yarns. If however, I'm still working on it same time next year, I vow not to spend a half a day to save 15%.

The kicker? I picked up a bag of yarn for a friend, one she had abandoned out of frustration earlier during the day. At home I realized we were charged double and shorted a skein. Apparently the staff were as overwhelmed as the customers. There has to be a better way.

I'm off to Toronto this week. My 23 yr old is having reconstruction surgery on a congenital knee defect. She saw three orthopedic surgeons here in BC, none with the expertise for her particular problem. So, we're flying across the country to have it done. If all goes well we'll be back in a week. Next time you hear from me it will be from the big T-dot, home of Lettuce Knit, Romni Wools and Sunnybrook Hospital.