I have made the difficult decision to leave the Squarespace neighborhood and move to Typepad. There are wonderful things about both places, but sometimes a girl just needs a change. 

I hope that you will continue to visit me at my new blog.

http://heartthreads.typepad.com

I have been thrifting lately. I enjoy it quite a lot. Yesterday I scored. Big time.

A little four harness table loom!

Isn't it cute?! It needs a little cleaning up and I guess I need to figure out how to replace the heddles, but I think it is quite useable. I would love to know who the manufacturer is. I suspect it is a later Structo/Artcraft model, but I am not sure. If YOU know, please do tell.  

I love estate sales the most because you really get a flavor for the person to whom the stuff belonged. At the same farm where I picked up this little loom there was just a ton of very cool crocheted and tatted lace. I had to exert mighty control, but I couldn't resist these fabulous crocheted pillow shams (zippered in the back) and drawstring purse (sacrilege at $3 total). The purse is lined with silk.

And I, positively, cannot resist Fire King:

Then, on the way home, I passed another barn sale and - would you believe?? - found three handwoven aprons. Aren't they the sweetest things you have ever seen?

I just love them!

The real treasure for me is when I find stuff that is clearly art made in the vein of homekeeping. These aprons are all about utility, yet they are made with creativity that is self evident. And signed by the artist. 

I am already tired of looking at that ranky gall bladder everytime my screen pops up. Yuck. So, for our collective viewing pleasure, here are some sheep I found in the gift shop.

Shh. My husband thinks that I needed all that money to feed myself during our time in the hospital.  

After spending the better part of three weeks in two hospitals, here it is, in reverse order.

The Ugly:

10. One sludgish gall bladder loaded with stones and the propensity to make many more. 

picture credit

9. One very narrow central bile duct, too slim for a stone.

picture credit

The Bad:

8. That hospital smell. It sticks to you like a pack of Camels.

7. Reams and reams of doctors, each requiring individual assessment and constant discernment during communication. Each ream has rotating shifts of 4 to 6, with one fellow, and several attendings. Pediatric floor docs. Pediatric GI doctors. Cardiologists. Nephrologists. Adult GIs. Adult GI ERCP specialists. General Surgeons. Radiologists who don't even make a physical showing. And, of course, anasthesioligists. There were just so many, even if this time (PTL) we were spared ENT and Infectious Disease docs. They are my least favorite, as lots go. No offense.

I have found that doctors (even ENTs and IDs) universally mean well and many are gifted practitioners or journeying towards being very, very good at what they do. I appreciate them, I really do. I am well aware that my babies could not live without them. But, especially when there are just so many of them, they require a mindfulness that is exhausting. And, unfortunately, it doesn't always seem like the mindfulness is reciprocated.

If there was one thing I could say to residents, and fellows, and even grown up experienced doctors it would be this: "Be mindful of your patients. Listen to them. Look well at them. Be ever mindful of them." So often doctoring, like lawyering,  takes place in the library stacks, or out in the corridors, or buried deep in the file. I understand how it happens but I know that it is not the ideal. Be mindful.

It is really true of all relationship, isn't it? God, let us attend to our relationships. Life breathes there.

6. I missed my opportunity to hang out with Sally Melville. What a drag!

Oh well. I am sure that there will be other opportunities to weep and wail in her presence and maybe, by then, I will get that sweater sleeve done and I won't have to feel bad about explaining how it is that she helped me turn the corner on my knitting yet it still took me the better part of six months to finish the last quarter of one silly sleeve.

Can you hear me say to Nylah, "Baby, do you have some kind of fear that you might actually be successful at something someday? Why oh why would you build then bolt a door to completion of a great idea??"

And my Daddy, snickering in the background, "Well, the apple don't fall too far from that tree, now does it, Sissy?"  

 I say "Be quiet, y'all. I am trying to complete my good bad and ugly here."  

The Good:

5. Completed knitting. One blue scarf for Nolan. One Mason Dixon baby sweater prototype. Some of the many strips of  garter stitch fabric (quintessential hospital knitting) to weave amongst some, as yet unpurchased, light lime (or baby blue) suede for a Suss Cousins pillow, hat tipping to Pamela. : ) And completely spindle spun lavender pygora - well over a year in the making - finally done.

And yes those are unwoven ends and less than completed seams. I forgot to pack my needle. Hopefully, the prototype sweater won't go the wayside like Raeah Faith's Sally sweater. I don't think so; in fact, I think we can call the prototype practice for future seaming and I am okay with that. Bitty Baby will love it. 

I tried some Debbie Bliss sample squares but it was too much, given that my brain was occupied with being mindful to all the doctors and my boy. So, I let it go and enjoyed my pillow strips. 

Completed suduko too. Suduko is okay but there is really not much to it. It is all the same process. I don't really get the thrill. Once you figure out the tricks, it is always the same. As far as I can tell (and, granted I am not the brightest light on the field) the only thing you can do is the same thing but faster. If the goal and promise is speed, then I definitely choose knitting.

4. One boy entering the hospital and one boy exiting the hospital. All extraneous details are only minimally relevant.

3. One perfect donated heart, keeping on. One good pair of recuperating kidneys. The sacrificial love of a liver, who  bravely took a hit on behalf of his friend the gall bladder. A pancreas who rightly stayed out of the fray. Blood which contains evidence of neither HIV nor hepatitis. No PTLD. And, apparently, no tumors unrelated to PTLD. These are the very miracles of my boy's life. And mine.

2.  A boy who thinks his life is normal. "Everybody gets sick, Mom." My eyes can only well with tears of wonderment and joyless acceptance and, honestly, I would like to be more joyful about the whole acceptance thing. Still, I am the optimist of the family but it is my boy who can, as he reaches for the dilaudid and a bag of anything Frito Lay, overlook the scars on his belly and chest and say, "It's okay, Momma. It's okay."

1. Fabulous, fabulous friends. A great church. And an unbelievably good God who takes pleasure in surprising His children, namely me, with immediate and lavishly answered prayer, complete with a black gospel choir singing from the heavenly rafters as encouragement rains down.      

I am lagging woefully in my blogging and my all around general ability to keep up with life, but here is a fast note before I head out the door for a vacation, road-trip, a double date with some cardiologists in Pittsburgh. What's a girl to do when she has the love of good friends and all her excitement is welled up in a decent hospital waiting room? 

Buy yarn, of course!  : ) 

I am having a serious issue with all things light lime. Don't ask; I have no idea. I just LOVE it. You might suspect pathology particularly when you realize that my books are coordinated with my yarn which matches my blog (which is a tad too tonal  for my taste). But, actually, that's Linda encouraging me to read  Expecting Adam so she is responsible for that minty contribution. And Pamela, sweet (sadly blogless) angel Brit, encouraging me to read a little Suss for contrast. Good friends are nothing if they don't contribute a little to your crazy color scheme.

It has been a long time and I haven't been able to maintain the pace of my life or, at least, not my blogging life. And there hasn't been much to say, anyway. Though I am almost done with Nolan's scarf, it is the only knitting that I have been able to do.

My Sally sweater remains with only 1/4 of one taunting sleeve left. It sits on my desk, unmoved until sweet Raeah shivers a lament and jiggles the sweater: "I am cold, Momma, I am cold. When .... when ???" I can only recoil in shame.

And there is so much shame in motherhood and a troubled marriage. Who can knit? Or even write about it?

But, listen. I have found new strategies for marginal coping. And, I am okay. Really.

First, I read a book. How amazing is that?

And second, I have been paying medical bills and submitting receipts. It is highly therapeutic. I have gathered their chaos and sorted. I have learned to throw away all of the payment envelopes (even the ones crying to me with tyvek), in effect lightening the load. I have labored through glorious multitudes of stacks and, finally, I have enjoyed the bliss of competent folder labelling. Is there anything better?

Emboldened - even on fire, I would say - I have been calling, paying, requesting the proper receipts, faxing reimbursements, and filing with such a vengeance that I am compelled to remember, with only a smidge of nostalgia, how it felt to slam an empty shot glass down on the high gloss butcherblock top at The Orange Monkey and gasp another impudent, "again."

Ah, the false bravado that only tequila and last week's paid medical bills can bring.

But, truly, I am encouraged.

Dale has met my Lord and I can only imagine her joy.

My Linda Ann maintains her steady hand on me, always. I am so thankful. Barbie forces me to craft communally, lest I forget how to be social. And Patt and Joe - well, just last Sunday, they fed me the best veggie loaf I have had in a coon's age. It felt good even if it was sprinkled with my own pocketed jar of broken promise.

And, I talked with Rebecca yesterday. Oh my, that was nice. She's growing up baby seedlings in Guatemala. What a blessing. She reminded me of my Jericho. It was helpful. It is hard to imagine how I could grow lazy to the assault even as the bullets pulse by, but there it is.

And, you. To all of you, my companion warriors. You know who you are. I thank you. I could not do this without you and I am so grateful. You surround me and I can feel you lift my arms while I sit, flat and tired, on stone. And, with your help, and God's amazing grace, my hands will be steady until the going of the sun.

Daddy had a birthday today. He made me promise not to tell how old he was.

So, I won't tell. But, I will say this. He is getting kind of up there. And, he is much, much older than I am.   : )

Hannah baked him a cake in her Easy Bake and then she and Nylah concocted quite a nice little nutty topping. Daddy is not really a frosting kind of guy.

It was a workday for him, but - despite that - I think he had kind of a nice time when he got home. 

Do you ever have grey periods? Times when life is stormy and stealth and you feel buried by the thundering, frightened by the downpours, and grieved by the bitter cold of it all? That is how it has been, lately, here in NY. The wind has been howling and the the snow has been persistent and effective. It is a time to don your woolens, stay inside, and pray that you have bought an adequate supply of hot chocolate.

On a good stormy day, you are aware of every blessing, warming you from above and protecting you. On a not so good stormy day, you feel housebound and hopeless; no matter how many blankets you stuff around the windows, the cold leaks in.    

And, then, finally, by the grace of God, after what seems like an eternity, the sky comes alive in blue. And, you marvel. 

I saw the first hint of blue on Saturday. Guild day. Usually, it is an anticipated time, but this time, I didn't really want to go. I sensed that Nylah would be left behind and, though I was extremely stir crazy from what seemed like weeks of blizzard, there is an unhealthy comfort that comes from staying in bed with your head under the covers. Sometimes even running away can't get you far enough away so that even running seems not quite worth the while.

But, Lynnie was going to Guild. So I had to go and I wanted to go. We chatted and had a lovely day. She bought me breakfast and Christmas gifted me with some lovely silk and a personal tea cup from her collection. I confessed that I ate the bulk of her Christmas present  (I told you, it has been stormy) and she forgave me.  :  )

What I love about Lynn is her honesty. She is very forthright even to the extent that she will risk it all and expose her own shortcomings. She is real. And, I think, because she is willing to look honestly at her own shortcomings, other people's shortcomings don't bother her so much. And, just for the record, if other people's shortcomings bother you and you feel an ardent need to engage Lynn in a conversation about the shortcomings of someone who is, say, Lynn's friend --- well, honey, I just wouldn't encourage you to go there. Because Lynn is loyal and you really don't want to mess with her friends. I like that about her.

So, despite myself, I was having a nice time at Guild.

I made the mistake, though, of mentioninig that I liked that swift. One of the girls from Guild had brought in an antique swift that she was selling. I oohed and aahed a little bit and made a casual reference to Lynn that someday I would like to get a swift of my own.

Well, the next thing I know, she is whispering and giggling and sneaking out to an ATM. That Lynn. And, after a while, I knew she had a secret naughty idea up her sleeve. And, so I told her in no uncertain terms that she was NOT buying that swift for me. That it was not acceptable, that neither my oohing and aahing (nor my whining) was intended to be a request for gifts, and I would not tolerate such an extravagance.

And she completely ignored me.

The pictures do not do justice to my new, gifted, swift. It is so beautiful. And so amazingly functional. I just love it and you, Lynnie. Thank you so much.

 

I haven't had much time for blogging, nor have I had much time for working on projects, but I have completed a few things. First, there is the all important fourth scoop of Gelato. A painful finish, but a finish nonetheless. I have purchased some lovely bojangles for the clasps but the glue (which shall remain brandnameless) that I bought did not properly adhere the pinback to the jewel so it could not be pinned to the little purse. I will continue to work on that, but in the meantime, I am pleased with the colors of the purses and how they look. And my girls like them, so that is a bonus.

                                                                              (Princess Princess >>>>>>)
     

I have also, finally, crocheted and felted my first (dyed) daisy motif for the possible daisy rug for my craft room. It crocheted up easily once I made the time to do it and I was pleased with how the felting came out. The motif, after felting, was a substantial 17 inches across, so a few stitched together will make a decent sized rug. I am a little concerned that the dye will leach onto my wall to wall carpet and I am a little concerned at the hairiness of the lopi and whether that is suitable for a rug, but these issues seem resolvable so I press on.

I think, though, that I will not continue to dye with Kool-Aid, but rather I will buy some nice Jacquard dyes from KnitPicks. The Kool Aid colors that I wanted to use are pretty hard to find whereas KnitPicks makes everything very easy. 

I would have placed my order with KnitPicks yesterday but I needed to add some yarn to bring my package up to the free shipping standard. And the (princess) yarn I wanted (chocolate Decadence to make the Einstein coat) would have cost me over $80 and with the additional cost of the dye, my package suddenly became the value of free shipping times three and that seemed extravagant. Even for me.

Of course, extravagance only slows a (princess) girl down so far. : ) What decidedly did, however, put my KnitPicking brakes on was the arrival of the Rochester Knitting Guild newsletter, complete with registration forms for the upcoming classes with Sally Melville.

Oh yeah, baby. I am going to meet Sally Melville  in person and take three of her classes! My first knitting classes ever! Woo hoo! Hopefully, I will not sob too fretfully on meeting her, one of my knitting heroes. I can knit Einstein anytime, but how often does a girl get to meet Sally in person and learn directly under her tutelage? The dye for the daisy rug, and the daisy rug itself, can wait a little while longer.

I would have been happy with just two classes and if "Good Grafting" had been on the same day as "Basic Maneuvers," I would have simply stopped there (who is a princess?). But, intarsia (despite the typo) was just sitting there, flirting with me, right after lunch on the same day as Good Grafting. It will be a challenge for me but as I filled the form, I just couldn't help but putting a little check in that little box as well. Oh, happy day.
 

I was going to entitle this post, "Just Shoot Me Now" but, I suppose, that is a little over dramatic. But, it feels like my sweater will never be done. It felt that way pretty much when I finished the front, even before I had started the back, and it still feels that way one quarter of the way through sleeve one.

I am not good at sticking at a big job and seeing it through to the end. And, it wasn't my plan to even work on improving this character trait. I tell my husband that I am visionary. I see big things, I don't actually do them. ; )

Thanks to Carolyn, who always spurs me on to character and completed knitting; and Melissa, who sets the standard of steady and consistent work; and my friend from church, Mary, who recently pulled out an old sweater to work on with me .... I guess I have to keep going. Or, with all that encouragement, I think I can, at least, make it to the end of my first sleeve. But let me ask you this:

Do all sweaters require two sleeves?? I am just asking.

Good thing some presents came my way yesterday when I was about to throw in the sweater knitting towel. One was Margaret's lovely garnet red zephyr merino silk blend, encouraging me to try lace again (shudder) and knitting red again:

Isn't it gorgeous??

And, sitting right next to Margaret's package on my doorstep, equally covered in snow and ice, was a little unexpected Christmas present from my friend, Trish. What a treat!!

I love everything, Trish! The washcloth, the cedar (my favorite smell), the ornament and the yummy soap! I think the children may try and steal my candy cane, but I have tried to hide it carefully.   : )

I actually have a little Christmas present for Trish, too. And, Eve and Lynnie and Amanda. The New Yorkers. I had hoped to give it to them when we got together at Christmas, but my body kind of pooped out and I missed my most needed vacation. Trish has encouraged me to get myself up and to the post office. Everybody needs a little treat on their doorstep once in a while.