You Can't Rush The Knitting...

 I know this. I know this like I know the back of my hand. I know this like I know my dog's bark from a thousand others, like I know when bread is risen, like I know my own heartbeat.

And still... I rushed the knitting. The sock, luckily vanilla, is too short and the heel is wrong. I tried it on again, hoping that, after ignoring it for a little bit a long time, somehow the Knitting Fairies would've fixed it. Or my foot magically got shorter. Neither of which happened, so once again, I'll be frogging yet another finished sock - though not all the way. Just to the leg, which is bad enough. It's a bit worse this time around because the LAST one I had to do (the green sock) was only to add about 1.5" to the foot. The rest of the sock was fine. I don't want this to become a habit. This is one skill I would want to not develop. 

You know you've screwed it up when you have an awful lot of yarn for Sock #2...and you look, again, at the first one, and you have that little "knitting nudge" that says, "you really screwed this one up, buddy..." But you don't listen to either. You happily cast on Sock #2, thinking you're really making progress, and "getting knit done," and then... 

WHOMP! Reality smacks you upside the knitting bag, and you realize that it's time to re-think what you were doing, and maybe -- just maybe -- use a measuring tape properly. "That looks like 2 inches" is NEVER going to work. I don't care how long you've been knitting. 

Knitting is dependent on multiple factors, and I'm not even getting into "getting gauge." That, for a sock, in my opinion, is irrelevant. A sock is a sock. If you have the basic recipe, it'll work. I know that, for me, anywhere between 68-72 stitches is a good cast-on, depending on needle size. I know that I usually like a 7" leg, and somewhere around 8.5" for the foot before I begin the toe. I know that I have to do a 6-row "knit" to give a slight roll to the cuff so that I can get it over my "biker calves." 

So, Bob's yer uncle, I can knit a sock. Except when I can't. You can clearly see in this picture that (a) the foot is too short...and (b) the heel flap is NOWHERE near 3" -- more like half that size. So it's frog, frog, frog till I get back to the leg. 

Thank goodness this is Opal yarn, which takes lots of ripping without any harm to the yarn. Unfortunately, it's got an absolutely spot-on, beautiful star toe. Well...so much for that. I guess I'm doing round toes on these when I re-knit Sock #1. 

Also, there was FINISHING to end the old year and start the new. 

A Few Fewer UFOs...

I got on a kick. Just needing to finish stuff before 2022 dawns, and I'm still whining about "too many UFOs." 

Here we have a scarf; a one-skein wonder from Lion Brand, which will go into the gift pile.

Since I'm multi-craftual, this one is in crochet. I can crochet like the wind, but I'm The World's Slowest Knitter. I have to like the process, because I'm so stinkin' slow that I would otherwise be driven crazy by the process...

I like this scarf because I like the gradient. It's acrylic, can't even remember which Lion yarn it is, but I know it's still available because I was recently in JoAnn Fabric, and it was there. 

It's a half-double crochet, which I like for a scarf. It's weighty enough to keep you warm, but not as stiff as some stitches where you feel like you're wearing a horse blanket. And it's not too lacy; there's "just enough" interest. And to crochet it, you get in this really cool groove where your hands just...move. 

Here we have a cup-guard. Boss Lady has, over the past couple of years, given me re-usable Starbucks Xmas cups. Well, those stinkers get HOT when you have a beverage in them. I made one cup-guard out of 100% wool, and I had more wool leftover (Lion again, or maybe Paton's? I can't remember). 

So I figured I could use another one. The first one was knitted; this one is, again, crochet. Single crochet this time. In about 15 minutes, I'm going to blast this with my blow-dryer. I soaked it in hot water, did the hand-felting technique called "scrubbing out the stain," and then squeezed, twisted, and generally beat up the yarn. Then I put it over the cup. Heating it, like I'd do in a dryer, will help the felting process, and since it's on the cup, it should -- SHOULD -- mold right to it. Maybe. Not sure. But it's a cup-guard, so it's not a huge deal if it won't fit 100% correctly. It'll still keep my fingers from scalding. And I have extra yarn; so if all else fails, I can do a drawstring along the bottom and tie a bow on it. It'll be odd, but it'll be mine. 

Next to me, in my various project bags, I have a few other UFOs, so I may dive in there and see what's what. Though I'm going to finish Sock #2, so that I can rip out Sock #1. 

It's a process. 

New Year's Eve...

I'll be watching a Dr. Who marathon, knitting, reading...Because if the snow storm we're supposed to get is just a piddly little thing, then the pyromaniacs in the neighborhood will be out in force. Thankfully, nobody's shooting off guns (though maybe they are and I just get that sound muddled with the M-80s and large boomers?). Mostly I worry because my knitting chair is right next to our picture window. 

Anyway. The point is, Quinn will once again be traumatized by the noise. We'll start dosing her early afternoon, beginning with hemp chews to take the edge off. Then, she'll get a lavender butt rub, and I'll time it (hopefully) so that I can give her at least 1 dose of Sileo when the real chaos starts. 

I've also got a headache because the barometric pressure is changing. That makes it even more fun. 

We don't go out on NYE. Just not party people, and with the Omicron variant of Covid running through our town like crap through a goose? Nope. 

Also, New Year's Day is my one-year "Covid-iversary." And I have to have another test tomorrow... One of my students was exposed at Christmas. I think I'm fine, but I'm not going to wing this. For a very good reason...

Family Health Issues...

After I got home, my sister said to me, "Call me." I was curious, because usually we chat while I'm driving. The last time she said that, she was calling to tell me that my neurologist had died (she used to work for her). 

I thought maybe she'd tell me that her youngest son + wife were having a baby and she didn't want me to crash my car. I was thinking, "They'd better give me knitting time!!" even though I've sort of already got a Feather & Fan afghan started (which I'm going to have to frog back a bit, because I should've used stitch markers, but I digress). 

"I have cancer." 

Oh dear Lord... I wasn't expecting that at all. At. All. 

There are 3 tumors, encapsulated (that's the good part). Her care team has "seen this before" (another good thing). But she's frail because she just came off a bout with pneumonia, and she's had IBS for about 30 years (the not good part). She knows she has to bulk up, but there's that dance between her belly and her brain. 

Part of me wants to be the snotty big sister who says, "Oh, so I have a heart condition and you've got to one-up me?" Believe me, she can take that kind of ribbing, but right now isn't the time. 

We've set up a system where my brother is the point of contact; no sense in all of us bombarding them for information. So far, it's working and she calls me when she feels ready to talk. Due to a complication with putting her port in, her voice still isn't 100% and she's still coughing, so we limit our conversations. 

I'm pretty gutted. 

The good news is that, when I tried to tease her about taking her bag of Xmas cookies home, she did threaten my life. That's a positive sign. 

The Big Blow...

We're anxiously awaiting a big winter storm. Some of us with happy anticipation, and others with dread. But it's December/January in Illinois. It's time. Past time, actually. We should have had snow sooner (thanks climate denying polluters), which has caused us problems with not only the water table, but also with some plants and crops. They need that blanket of snow, and they didn't get it. For reference, this picture is my Rosemary planter. 

Personally, I'm excited because I'm one of those odd folk who really like cold weather, and winter in particular. And I'm also happy because I want the idiots to stay home. I'm so over Covid. 

Tomorrow is my "Covid-iversary." Today, Dec. 31, 2020, I was at home, feeling like I'd been hit by a bus. I thought, "this is my usual cold/sinus thing," but I figured I'd get tested if I didn't feel better by morning. So Jan. 1, 2021, I got tested...and there you go. The beginning of my year-long journey with Covid. 

I recovered at home, but had long-haul symptoms through most of 2021. Honestly, I finally got my sense of taste/smell back after my heart procedure. Otherwise, who knows how long that would've lasted. Frankly, I was resigned to not ever having it back again. 

Which is why the following "big blow" of mine is something I've been mulling for a year. 

If you haven't gotten the vaccination and it's because "you don't know what's in it" or "what the side effects are" then you are being wilfully negligent, uncaring, selfish and mean. 

Do you know what was in your measles vaccination? Any idea what's in your annual flu shot? I didn't think so. Social media has spawned a whole community of amateur virology experts. 

How about we leave that to the people who've actually studied this stuff and not Fox News (which, by the way, required that their employees be vaccinated) and their stupid pundits? How about we care for our fellow humans? You want to profess Christianity as your religion, then maybe start acting like it. "Do unto others" and all that stuff. 

I was going to be sent home after a pretty intense pair of heart procedures because the hospital was being overrun by people with Covid, most of which are unvaccinated. Sorry, but if you're complaining that "the government is trying to tell me what to do" then can you even try to explain why you stop at red lights? Why you don't shoplift? Why you don't haul off and punch someone who's bugging you? (and if you do that last one, why you haven't been arrested is another good question...)

You know why? Because as a mostly civilized society, we obey certain rules. We stop at traffic lights, we wear seatbelts, we don't smoke in restaurants, we don't steal, we respect certain societal norms. 

OK, let's for the sake of argument say that civility has gone down the crapper, which it has by the way... Still. When I'm driving through the neighborhood, I can mostly reliably figure that the driver on my left is going to obey the stop sign. I can mostly reliably figure that the person in the grocery store aisle isn't going to boost a 6-pack of soda. I can mostly reliably figure that someone's not going to vandalize my yard and steal my holiday decorations. 

So why is the vocal minority squealing like caged squirrels about the vaccine? "My freedom." 

My keister. 

YOUR freedom ends when it infringes on another person's freedom. Your freedom to ignore a pandemic is actually not supported by law. When the danger to the public is so great, your own personal beliefs are irrelevant. 

Or, in the words of the great Mr. Spock, "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." 

So. Get the shot. Get the booster. Wear a mask. 

And on the subject of masks? As my friend A. says, "I pushed a freakin' BABY out while wearing a mask!" 

And my friend T., a NICU nurse, says, "Wear the PPE that I have to wear for 12 hours and then complain about your little mask." 

Kudos, ladies. Well said. 

Random Picture...

This was when they all got along. When Raisa was in her first heat. She drove Tippi and Quinn nuts. She whined. She pawed at them. She tried to hump them (didn't go over well with either of them). She cried, she whimpered. 

It was pretty awful. But I'm glad she went through that one heat. I believe we should have let Quinn do that, instead of spaying her when we did; I'm almost convinced that doing it so quickly created some of her long-term health issues. 

I really believe in spaying and neutering your animals. What I don't believe in is doing it really early. A neighbor did it to their dog at 8 weeks -- which is incredibly early and caused issues with the dog's health for the rest of its life. 

Anyway, I remember this period in our house like it was yesterday. And it makes me miss Tippi all the more. 

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A Very Covid Christmas

Strangely enough, this is my 1- year anniversary. The anniversary of me saying, "I think I'm coming down with a sinus infection..." which turned out, over New Year's Day, to be diagnosed as COVID-19. A year later, I've finally got my sense of taste & smell back about 85%. 

And our family finally got together to celebrate. Sort of. Both my sister and I are considered "compromised," and my mom is in her mid-80s, so that puts her in a position where she's also got to be careful. 

The day before our Xmas Eve celebration, my brother calls and says, "We're out." I wondered, frankly, if there was some family drama. Well, not the way I thought. One of the kids tested positive, and they had all been in close proximity. Everyone was getting tested, and not coming to my mom's house. That was 6 people. 

Then I got a text that one of my sister's kids was also exposed. There went 2 more. 

My mom, thankfully, said, "NOPE, you are NOT coming into my house if you are waiting for test results." And one of my kids was out of town, so we were down 1 person. 

Our usual complement of 20 was down to 11 - but we had the dinner catered for 20...so there was a LOT of food left over. 

This was also the first Christmas that Hubby and I did nothing except bake cookies and potica. Normally, we put on about 90% of the dinner. My niece did do baked beans - and let me tell you, her name is now "Queen of Beans." She not only did baked beans, but FROM SCRATCH. Including soaking them overnight, rinsing, picking through, and preparing them on the stovetop in a Dutch Oven. And they were DELICIOUS. 

Me? Well, yeah, I've made them from scratch, but I honestly would've opened a couple cans of Bush's Vegetarian Beans, added some crushed pineapple, a little spicy mustard, some leeks or shallots, and then bacon (yeah, irony in the fact that I'm adding bacon to vegetarian beans). 

Anyway, it was a surprising Christmas due to the following text exchange:

Kid One: "What's your favorite Bing Crosby Christmas song?

Me: His duet with David Bowie, "Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy."

Kid: "Wrong."

Me: What?

Kid: "I'll be home for Christmas." 

Me: Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

And then I didn't tell anyone. I wanted to give everyone a nice surprise. My mom's face was pretty priceless and so was my sister's. Kid & my brother visited (VERY socially distant) when my brother did a drive-by to pick up his packet of cookies. 

That gave Kid an idea for the return trip home. I was packing a lunch and sending home a large platter of cookies, but it was requested that I provide the same packet of cookies that I gave my brother. I guess that's now another "new tradition."

The Baking...

Well, I didn't get a good picture of a cookie tray. But it definitely felt weird to only bake 6 kinds of cookies. No, that's not a humble-brag. It's a recognition that this has been a freaky 2 years. As a family, we give cookies for Christmas. That's our thing. 

But since Covid, we haven't because people are, understandably, a little sketchy about home-baked or home-made anything. 

I do, however, have a picture of the platter of potica. Because they were so freakishly big, we didn't use our usual Santa plate. It ended up that we used a regular cookie tray, and ended up cutting slightly thicker slices. 

My mom said it was good, said the balance of dough and filling was good, and that "sometimes, dough is freaky." Yeah... 

I also sold one to a friend, and was told it was "delicious." I always get a tad nervous selling these, and especially when they're so outsized and not "normal" to my eyes. 

We have one extra, which is for Easter. Then, next year, I'm going to have to suck it up and make a double batch. We'll see what happens then. Last time I had a double-batch bake, I ended up with 7 (yes, SEVEN) regular-sized loaves. "Regular" is about 1.5 - 2 pounds. These babies this year? Each was almost 3.5 pounds. 

Everyone seemed to like the cookies, even though I deviated from the list. I didn't do the chocolate shortbread; I just wasn't up to standing there cutting out cookies, so I did Snow on the Mountain (chocolate crinkle cookies). 

The Knitting...

The cowls... I need to get you pictures of the cowls! So, again, both knit of the same yarn, just 2 different colors. I wasn't sure which one I was going to keep for myself, but it turns out that the cream one is mine. (picture at right is the grey one)

Mainly because I made some mistakes that I don't want to give to someone as a gift. I'm kind of a casual knitter, actually. So if there's one stitch out of place, I'm going with "personalized design element." But this cowl has a bit of a problem in the front at the point, and there's another little nasty spot at the back, which isn't as big of a deal, since it's hidden by a jacket collar or the like. 

I can always use another cowl, so I'm not heartbroken. I am, however, a bit miffed at myself for being overly confident in knitting the point of the cream one, because to me, the error is obvious. I know, though, that 90% of people who are going to look at it won't see a single thing wrong with it. I'll tell you: there are a few misplaced stitches, and it's crooked. 

But for me? I can live with it for myself. Much like I can live with my socks with 2 different heels (what happens when you lose the directions...).

And the advantage of doing two of these back-to-back is that I'm really confident now in my short-rows. 

My 8x8 rib socks are coming along nicely. I can't for the life of me find the colorway of the yarn, though. I'm 99% sure it's Lorna's Laces, but I can't find the colorway, even on Lorna's site itself. I'm about positive that I'm going to do a plain foot. I actually prefer a plain foot, because to me it fits more comfortably in my shoes. 

Do I love a fancy sock? Heck yeah. But I have a few, particularly the ribbed ones, where I've taken the pattern down the foot, and I just don't like the way they feel in clogs or shoes. 

As I knit with this yarn, I've noticed pretty big chunks of "busy" and then big chunks of "orange." So it'll be interesting to see how this comes out. I'm going to do the regular heel flap I do (though this might change to a Strong Heel -- I'm still meditating on that one) and then a rounded toe. 

I know I did a couple pairs with a star toe, which really fits my feet better, but for the life of me, I can't find those notes either. Lately, everything seems to be disorganized, and I'm pretty sure that it's kind of a reflection of the past couple of years, where everything seems to be topsy-turvy. 

Random Picture...

I don't know what Hubby's secret is, but we have Christmas orchids! He's very proud of them, as he should be. All but one of his plants are showing new growth or are popping out flower stems. 

When Kid was visiting, we were treated to some pictures of rather unique orchids. I could actually see the wheels moving in Hubby's head.... "Where can I put a couple of those???" So we'll see. We may end up with at least one unique plant. 

They discussed the various ways to grow these plants; Kid lives in a dry climate, so cactus are easier than orchids, unless one has a specific room. Here in the Midwest, we can beef up the humidity in the house, and we have grow lights. 

They're kind of like potato chips; you can't have just one. 

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Heartstrings...

So it was a bit of a wild ride... I was expecting things to go smoothly. I've really gotta be better at managing my expectations. 

I went in for the transesophageal echo on Monday. I've had those before, so no big deal, right? Well. The doc comes in afterwards and says, "How have you been managing with the heart inefficiency?"

Huh? "Your heart is functioning at 30% capacity." Well, before y'all get all flusterpated, the average person with a healthy heart has a functional capacity of 50-60%, so there's that. I'm apparently not functioning at full capacity (which some people I know would agree with...) and I had no idea. 

"I have no idea - I didn't realize." Well, the doc says, we have to find out if there's a blockage. And then, if we need to toss in a stent or two, we can do that. Or, the worst case scenario: open heart surgery and bypass. Okey-dokey. 

To figure all that out, I needed an angiogram, which they wanted to do right then and there. But they couldn't. I'm allergic to the contrast dye. Like, "I stop breathing" allergic. So they had to send me home, with a protocol to prevent anaphylaxis, and I was to come back at 6 a.m., have the angiogram then -- and if everything was peachy, or if they had to do a stent or two, then they'd proceed to the PVI. Otherwise, we'd go to Plan B... Which I was hoping would never happen. 

The protocol was a bit of a farce; the pharmacy screwed up (luckily, I've done it a couple times before so I knew what to expect: 3 Bendaryl and 9 prednisone). I take 1 Benadryl and 3 prednisone 13 hours before, again at 7 hours before, and bring the last dose to take an hour before the angiogram. Except the pharmacy gave me ONE Benadryl, which was marked, "Take 1 at 6 a.m. for insomnia." What? And 12 prednisone. Yeesh...

So I told the doctor when I got there; he was none too pleased, and they dosed me up with IV meds to make it work. I had the angiogram and they said, "You won't be aware of a thing." 

Ok, well. I'm there on this table, wrapped like a burrito because it's freakin cold in there, surrounded by machinery and very nice techs. I glance over at a big screen to my left, and I think, "Oh, wow. It's a heart. Isn't that cool?" I look at it a little more till this gigantic lightbulb goes off in my head, "Oh. My. God. THAT'S MY HEART!" 

Whammo. I know nothing till I'm back in the recovery room. Apparently, I wasn't supposed to be THAT awake. So, no clogs, no blockages, everything ok, and the PVI went well. 

I was in the recovery area when a nurse came in and said, "Well, we're going to let you go home." What? That wasn't the plan. I was to spend the night for observation. I had two puncture wounds right in the creases of my hips, 2 IV lines, and a puncture in my right wrist. And I've been given blood thinners. I have pressure bandages on the parts that didn't have an IV in them. 

I said, "No, that's not what I'm told; I need to be here overnight for observation. It's not medically safe for me to go home and expect my spouse to get up every 2 hours to make sure I'm not bleeding to death." 

The nurse walks out and says basically that, and I get the OK to stay overnight. Apparently, they're overrun with Covid patients (a/k/a "Covidiots") and they're getting pressure to cycle people out. Well, not me, thanks. I've been on this ride before. I guess it's true that you have to be your own advocate. So speak up... Don't let them railroad you into something that's not safe for you. 

As far as I'm concerned, if the only reason you haven't gotten a vaccine yet is because Fox News told you not to? Then you can stay home when you contract Covid. I'm done. My empathy bucket is empty. There really is no reason to deny science, and no - I'm not posting a bunch of links. Here's the information on how and why "the vaccine was developed so fast" -- because IT WAS ALREADY IN THE WORKS... Either you're going to believe it or you'll believe nothing that I post. And that's normally your right till your rights infringe on everyone else's. 

Anyway, the guy next to me heard that whole conversation, and he said, "I'm a widower; I can't go home now, because I have nobody else at home." He had had a PVI as well.  What was funny was that some woman bustles in to my hospital room and tries to explain that "your insurance won't pay for this observation stay, you know," and then hands me a Medicare form. I try, in vain, to tell her I'm not on Medicare (anyone over 60 -- assume much???) but she's not having it. I must sign this form. Okey-dokey... I sign the form. Good luck finding me on Medicare because I'm not there yet. 

I got home the next day, rested, and all the puncture wounds are healing. I have another week till I can practice yoga, so I'm just giving it till after Christmas. Back to the office this week, and things will be back to normal. So far, thankfully, my heart has remained in sinus rhythm. They believe they've fixed the problem and I should have no further issues, God willing. 

The Knitting...

So as I was sitting here resting, I whacked out 2 cowls, and I figured I'd start to finish some
socks. I had them on the needles and while I couldn't exactly find the pattern, I figured out what I was doing, and I'll just do my normal "Doris Heel," and take the pattern down the leg. Maybe it'll go over the instep; not sure yet. It's a large ribbing pattern, and it's kind of fiddly, but it looks good with the yarn. The yarn is Lorna's Laces, and I don't remember the colorway. I think it might be St. Charles, but can't swear to it. I'll have to find the original project bag - good luck with that right now. 

It's an 8x8 rib, with a regular 1x1 ribbed cuff, and my *patented 6-row knitted roll at the top.* Helps with my "biker calves." 

Because I had some technical difficulties with my pictures and Blogger, I will have to get you pics of the cowls later. And hopefully, next time, I'll have more sock progress to show you. 

My goal this year was to finish all the mates to the singletons. Well, I think that since this one had at least the cuff started, it counts as a "thing to finish." I've also been re-reading the Yarn Harlot books. She's been my inspiration to finish this stuff up. That, and the fact that I need to make some room in my office to make it more conducive to yoga for right now. And I'd like to get nearer to my sewing machine than I am currently able to. 

Not that the room is a mess. But it's ... shall we say, charmingly chaotic. And I need less chaos and more charm right at the moment. 

The Christmas...

(figured a holiday color change was in order) We decided that Christmas would be a bit more subdued this year. Kid #2 is traveling, so that's one kid missing. Kid #1 surprised me and WILL be home for the holiday, but I didn't know that till just 2 days ago. I was pleasantly surprised (read: THRILLED) and while that didn't change our decorating plans, it will make this holiday a bit nicer. 

Hubby went down into The Pit of Despair basement and found some decorations we haven't seen in lo these many years. A bunch of snowfolk. About 90% of them are salt & pepper shakers that I honestly can't tell you when they came to live with us. There are 13 salt/pepper shakers (not sure how they're odd-numbered), 1 doorstop (the guy in the back there, holding the wreath), one glass one from a glassblower friend (out front, as the "soloist"), one candle (the one with the shovel) and the "choir director" on the right, the tall one with the cut-out tummy. It honestly wouldn't surprise me if #14 was in another box somewhere. Instead of the Advent Wreath that normally goes on the shelf under the TV, he and I put together a Snow Choir... We have a small Holy Family on the table by the picture window, my Granny's ceramic tree on the dining room table, and a bunch of Christmas trees on the old sewing machine, with a basket where all our Xmas cards are (for which hubby is grateful, since I usually tape them to the inside of the front door and that drives him nuts). 

The plan is to spend 2021 going through stuff, more of the "Swedish Death Cleaning" thing; getting rid of things we don't use, calling the kids to take what's theirs. Reshuffling the holiday stuff so that we use what we have, rather than finding the "newest thing" in the store, only to put it in a box and forget about it for succeeding years. 

Most of the packages are wrapped. The kids basically said, "Please cut down on Xmas gifts, thanks." So we did. 

The Cookie List got a bit  a lot smaller. I'm not quite sure why, but we really decided to trim this year. We're going to my mom's and since the heart procedure(s), I have been ordered to "sit your butt down and knit." Oh, I can do that! My brother is ordering from the local chicken place, we did do potica the weekend before my hospitalization, so we're all good there. My one niece is bringing the baked beans; just really simple stuff. Chicken, biscuits, potato salad, cole slaw, baked beans and cookies. My mom wanted super simple and this is about as simple as it could get. 

The list included:

• Crescent Cookies (a/k/a The World's Fiddliest Cookie)
• M & M Cookies
• Snow on the Mountain (chocolate crinkles?)
• Lemon/Cherry Cookies
• Coconut Macaroon Kisses (like peanut butter only not)
• Jewish Honey Cookies

I made single batches of everything, except I did double the crescents. It was kind of weird not to have at least 6 more cookies on that list. 

I read about how many folks are "Extra-ing" this Christmas, but I'm really not there yet. It's still too Covid-y out there. There are still issues where we don't feel comfortable in larger gatherings. 

Maybe next year. 

Random Picture... 

I did a thing... This is my latest collaborative project. I'm co-author of "The Ultimate Guide to Self-Healing, Volume 5." I've been a busy author and editor. I helped edit a couple of the Brave Healer books, but also, this is my latest book project. 

I've also co-authored "The Ultimate Guide to Self-Healing, Volume 3" and "Wholehearted Wonder Women 50+" -- and I have signed copies available for those in the US. If you want one, drop a comment here, and let's arrange it. The books are $22.00 and I'll either sign it or inscribe it to someone in particular and ship it to you. Postage (US only) is on me. I can take PayPal. My other contact information is below. 

These books are written by real people who are experts in their fields. The stories are varied - some make you laugh. Some make you cry. Some are so vulnerable you'll need tissues. And each author gives you some sort of tool,whether it's an exercise, a breathing practice, or visualization -- and there are a lot of tools. The Ultimate Guide books are generally 25 chapters. "Wonder Women" is 22 chapters. 

What I love about the books is that you CAN read them cover-to-cover. Or you can do what I do: scan the table of contents and see what leaps out at you. Read that chapter or those chapters first. Then make your way through the rest of the book. 

You'll find some things that absolutely resonate. And you'll find stuff you can't use. But there are nuggets in each book. I always learn something new, whether I'm editing other authors, or writing in an edition myself. 

All of these books are Amazon best-sellers; so go there and purchase if you prefer. Check out all the Brave Healer books; there's bound to be something you'll want to read. 

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So Nice, I'm Doing It Twice...

That actually covers a couple of things... 

First off, after my little fling in the ER, I was told that eventually, I'd have to re-do my PVI procedure (Pulmonary Vein Isolation) (a/k/a cardiac ablation). So I asked, just as a general question, if I could get it done within this calendar year -- insurance and all that. 

They said, "Well, we can try, but we can't guarantee" and a tentative time-frame of February-ish was decided. (FYI, Raisa is only there because she's cute...)

Well. I got a phone call last Friday. "We have an opening." Tuesday. Pearl Harbor Day, as it happens. Easy to remember, for sure. 

So Monday, I'm having a TEE (Trans-Esophageal Echo) to see if there are any clots in my heart; if there are, I'm not having the PVI. And then Tuesday morning, the PVI will happen. 

My biggest worry? That I'll be 2 days without morning tea and that could be a migraine on top of everything else. I'm off my cardiac meds for a few days, and I'm a tad nervous that my heart will go back into A-fib - which in this case would be a good thing. But they kind of know the wonky area. And they think that some of the cells grew back. 

Talk about regeneration! If I wanted to be Dr. Who, I'd have asked to be taller. And maybe a ginger (that's a Dr. Who joke, folks). 

And the Thursday before The Phone Call? Well, my right knee swelled for some odd reason. Probably because of my left hip injury (I'm falling apart, I'm tellin ya!). I've been compensating a lot, not putting weight evenly on both legs. 

It's getting better, thanks to a brace that makes Scarlett O'Hara's corset look comfy. But anyway, the ortho guy took a couple syringes of fluid off the knee and shot in some cortisone. Not my fave, but it does feel better. I'll be talking to them about gel injection to help with the knee arthritis. 

I'm happy to be above-ground. But getting old? Not for sissies!

The Knitting...

I'm rediscovering the joy of bulky-ish yarn! I got the Purl Soho Bandana Cowl pattern (free here) and didn't have access to the yarn they suggested. I went to my LYS and found this Riflessi Adriafil aran-weight yarn. Not too bulky, a bit of wool, a bit of nylon, some silver. So I wasn't confident in my ability to do the switching from metric to US, even with my phone app -- I bought two of each in a beautiful cream (L) and a stunning steel-grey (R). Unfortunately, the colorways are discontinued.

Of course, the cowl only takes 1 ball. In my defense, the pattern said that for some yarns, it would be 2 skeins. (Go ahead. Laugh.)

I learned short rows - or at least a different variation of them. I played the video about a jillion times. I mean, I know short rows from knitting so many socks. But somehow, the idea of "wrap and turn" became foreign in my mind. Which it's not. We do that with socks. 

Maybe I was just having a mental-pause. 

So, the upshot is, I really love the cowl. And I had the yarn. So I'm doing THAT twice as well. Now I've definitely got those short rows in my head. And wowza, the cowl takes literally a week for me. Which means for knitters who go at normal speed, maybe 2 days? A weekend? A great quickie gift or stash buster. 

I will likely keep the cream one, because I did something wonky on the short rows, and there's a hole where it shouldn't be. 

I bet that pattern would be great done holding thinner yarns together. What a lovely tweed effect that would be. Maybe there's a third cowl in my future? 

Seriously, when you look at it, it seems like it'll never fit, but it actually is quite nice. Just enough. 

Prayer Shawls...

I belong to a women's group at church, and our main mission is to pray. I also occasionally do "prayer squares" for the shawl-knitting group; I don't have a ton of time to do a whole lap blanket or afghan, but these little squares are kind of cute, and can be used as a meditation device, or a marker for your suitcase, for all we care! Anyway, as you can imagine, the "underground communication network" at church knows about the PVI (and I'm fine with that... see below), and all of my prayer group picked a shawl for me. It's lovely. And warm. A gorgeous shell stitch. I'm totally unsure what the yarn is, but it's unique, that's for sure. It's a combo of a bunch of different colors; I don't think it's "scrappy," but the colors are an odd blend. Odd but they work, you know? I love the splashes of purple showing up and the green. Unexpectedly colorful and wonderfully warm. 

A-Fib...

So here's why I don't care if people know. It took me a full FOUR YEARS to get diagnosed. I spent several of those years arguing with the doctors about the fact that I'd have these episodes. And the standard answer? "You're AT THAT AGE." 

Excuse me? You wouldn't tell a MAN that if he complained of heart troubles. You'd whisk him into testing, get him diagnosed and treated before he even realized he was at the doctor's office. 

But women? "Of a certain age"? We're "imagining it" or it's "in our head" or "it's part of growing older." 

Pardon me, but screw that. Yes, A-fib (atrial fibrillation) is more common in men till about abe 75. But according to studies, it IS enough of a concern for women, with a higher stroke risk. In my family, we have a history of heart disease. We also have a history of the women living forever, considering...but still. 

The fact that I was dismissed continually, doctor after doctor, and given the "menopause" excuse? Forget that. Doctors still tend to be dismissive of health concerns of women. We're still tagged with that "hysterical" thing from the Victorian Age. 

Check out the Stroke Risks for women. And talk to your doctor. If your doctor doesn't listen? Then find another one. I actually dumped a doctor for one whose practice is solely focused on women, which makes me feel like I've been able to discuss things on a deeper level. I feel heard and I feel like my concerns are documented properly and taken seriously. 

That's gold, friends. 

Christmas Baking...

It's that time of the year. And yes, even with a medical problem, I'm going to try to get some baking done. Not as much as usual, though. This year, it was Potica Year...so we generally don't have a huge cookie list when we do those. 

Here's the list...Like I said, a bit shorter than usual, but we are having a smaller holiday this year (some families are traveling) and it just seems like one batch of everything here will be fine. Some - the M & M and Crescents - I have to do. I mean HAVE TO DO or else I may as well not show up... Siblings, you know.

The Potica went nuts. I mean, I do not know what happened to the dough. It's always been finicky. It's a tradition: we get spooked when it's rolling out exceptionally well. We get angry when it's a pain in the butt. There are days the rises are great, and there are days when you're praying over it and reciting positive affirmations: "You can DO IT, dough! You CAN DO IT!" 

Yesterday? I have no freakin idea. I'm usually the configurator - I put the pieces together. Hubby does the grinding and rolling. So whatever went wrong, I think it's on me. We were doubling the recipe, which is where it may have gotten off track. The dough was ok, but I think maybe I did something weird with the warm milk. Maybe. 

The yeast grew phenomenally. The dough was totally "puffy." Which is really not right. There are 4 loaves, plus a pan of ends. And everything kind of exploded. The ends pan burst like a volcano. The loaves are nearly THREE POUNDS EACH and the tops split really badly. That's. Not. Right. At that point, they become unstable and collapse on themselves. They don't look pretty. Lord knows what they're going to slice like. And it's hard to be sure they're cooked through. Last thing you want is to have raw insides. We did our best, and I believe they're all cooked, but I'm not happy with this year's batch. 

We figure we can do the cookies the week before Xmas. First off, lots less temptation to "snick" a few here and there. Don't believe me? Yeah. We're "snick" people and then all of a sudden, (a) you've put on 5 pounds; and (b) there are no cookies left! 

So unless there's something that turns up unexpectedly, that'll be it for Xmas Baking 2021. 

Random Picture...

Ever since I got the One Plus phone, my pictures have gone...somewhere. Not sure where. Not always in a consistent manner. Not always where I thought I put them. It frustrated me and drove Hubby nuts. 

Turns out I then had a bunch of pics automatically duplicate, which ate up my OneDrive storage space, which locked down my OneDrive. And then, (thanks Blogger), Blogger changed their format which made it slightly less user-friendly to actually PUT pictures here. 

(sigh)

But anyway. I did another thing. I wrote another chapter in a collaborative book. Here she is, and she'll be released in December. Interested in this one, and my other 2 books? Drop me a comment here. Email me at the studio (info below). I'll sign and send you a copy, in the US only, and postage is on me... They make great holiday gifts, raffle or gift basket items. Girlfriend gifts. Full of great information by some wonderful authors. There's The Ultimate Guide to Self-Healing, Vol. 2, Wonder Women 50+, and The Ultimate Guide to Self-Healing, Vol. 5. They're also available on Amazon (of course...). 

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When You Contemplate on Wednesday Just How Bad Tuesday Could've Gone...

Monday night, my heart went into A-fib.... I was convinced that it "would pass" and I did my breathing techniques, sat up in my chair, used a particular mudra to relax myself -- I had "stuff to do" (a conference to attend on Wednesday, to be exact) and I didn't "have time" for this. 

However, by 2:30 a.m. we were in the local ER. I wasn't able to get a bed till nearly 6:30 a.m. My heart was beating erratically, and my heart rate was over 150 - in danger of having a stroke. And I still thought, "All I need is a reboot, and I can get to work and prep for the conference..." I was pretty sure that they'd do what they always did, my heart would kick itself back into rhythm, and I'd be home and back to my usual routine. 

I've had Atrial Fibrillation for years, so I know the standard treatments that the doctor recommended, and it looked like things were going to go as I had planned them in my head. (cue your laughter here, as I assume that I can PLAN this whole thing...)

The nurse administered the medication and we were chatting; they always stay in the room and monitor to see how things are going (this was about 7:45 a.m. or so).

All of a sudden, I told her that something felt "off"... Next thing I know, I'm flat on my back, gasping for air, and the room is filled with people. They whipped the mask off my face to allow me to breathe (Covid protocols, etc...) Doctor barking orders to the nurses. Nurses, quietly competent, buzzing back and forth. Oxygen administered, something put into the IV in my arm, numbers being rattled off...I remember grabbing the hand of the nurse next to me - as an anchor, I think. I was alternately burning up and sweating, and then freezing. I never lost consciousness and was aware of what was going on around me.

I hear, "get the paddles ready" but it doesn't really sink in. Someone asked for a verification of my birthdate, which I then rattled off. "She's talking," they said. I said, "Paddles weren't on my list today..." They fixed the quite extreme reaction I had to a medication I've taken before.

Afterward, I was told that my heart rate dropped quickly - and too low. In a span of about 5 minutes, I went from 150 bpm to 21...Twenty-one...

I don't know why, but I didn't realize till later that the "paddles" were in this big red "crash cart."

And today, home and exhausted (I finally came out of A-fib and they let me go home late last night - my heart was wonky for 18 hours...) -- it finally just sunk in just how close I came and just how bad it could've gone.

I know that there are complaints about Western medicine, dependence on Big Pharma, and how screwed up we in the US make it to be taken care of. And 99.9% of those complaints are completely valid. It's not a "political" statement to say that US health care is pretty uneven and often, the Emergency Room is where the uninsured, poor, homeless, and marginalized reach out for medical care because they know they won't be turned away. 

We know, here in the US, that if you have money (and/or really good insurance, but mostly, let's face it -- it's money that talks), you get really good care, and access to treatments that not everyone can have. After all, let's chat about Steve Jobs and the liver transplant he got almost immediately, when the list for transplants is long, and donors are scarce. The late Chadwick Boseman was fortunate enough to have a team of holistic practitioners, acupuncture, massage, medical treatment...the list could go on and on. Let's also talk about our elected officials....and the platinum-level care they have access to. Someone could get elected to the House or Senate, serve one term and get booted out (usually because they weren't obeying the commands of the corporate overlords who've purchased their souls...) -- and they have premium healthcare for life. You realize that #MoscowMitch and his ilk have amazing care that you and I are not privy to, right? 

But yesterday, when it could've gone horribly bad, the medical team around me worked with quiet, swift skill in a pretty dire emergency, and got me through it. The doctor said that in his years of practice, he's never seen such an intense and severe reaction to this medication and that it was the "standard" to treat A-Fib. I've got a bottle of this same medication in pill form in my cabinet!

Afterwards, the nurse whose hand I grasped said, "I have NEVER seen that kind of reaction to this medication -- I'm so glad you hung in there with us." I told her that I was so glad THEY hung in there with me.

Today, taking a day to rest, recover and contemplate, I find my mind replaying that morning and I find myself still in awe, but also there's a feeling I can't quite articulate about how close I came to an entirely different outcome.

...and now there are two...

I didn't want to write this. Ever. But it was inevitable; as with everything in life, change is the only constant. My heart is broken. You'd think you'd get used to it. 

Thankfully, you never get used to it. Your heart simultaneously combusts and expands.  September 11, 2021 will have an entirely different meaning for me for the rest of my life. 

TIPPI UNN SIGRID, CGC, TDI-A

2007 - 2021

It was a cold December. We had just lost our beloved Gracie, my first experience with Norwegian Elkhounds (Hubby had one as a kid). Hubby was traveling; we’d contacted Gracie’s breeder and asked about rescue organizations. We had a “list” of what we wanted…female, not a puppy. Under 5 years old. “This is going to take forever,” we remember thinking… I emailed Kari Olson, the name provided by Carol Loitfelter, and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long! Kari sent pictures…. The kids gathered around the computer, and said, “Oh yeah. We need to bring this girl home.” And then we talked about Tippi’s history. Well. That was that. When Hubby came back from his trip, we informed him that we had found our girl… Arrangements were made, and we drove up to get “Tiffany,” who was promptly re-named “Tippi” after my favorite Hitchcock actress, Tippi Hedren, who is an animal activist.

We got to the place where Tippi lived, and put her in the car. At that point, Tippi heaved a sigh, as if to say, “Here we go again,” because she didn’t realize she’d found “forever” that day. On the trip home, I kept twisting around and petting her, and we kept talking to her, hoping that she’d realize she was heading home. She met “her boys,” which caused great bouts of wiggle-butt and zoomies, and was hugged and cuddled and welcomed to her new home.

We discovered she loved fresh fruit. Her favorite was frozen blueberries. We also discovered that she loved pizza bones, and buttered toast. She tried out ALL the dog beds. She ate good food. Had clean water. Got used to being inside a house. Learned that it was ok when the garbage truck came by every week – they weren’t stealing our stuff! The first few car trips were a bit rough; there was still that lingering fear in our girl: “was I being sent somewhere else?”

The first few months, she settled in, met River, her Siberian Sister, and just relaxed into the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere. Good food, water, dog beds everywhere…she was happy. Car rides no longer caused the “am I leaving?” anxiety. We took her to training, figuring that she and I could “bond” a bit and help her settle in better, and Tippi sailed through beginning and intermediate Obedience. Her trainer, Bobbie Schultz, discovered her few tricks, especially Tippi’s talent of “talking.” She noticed that Tippi was very good around reactive dogs, and said, “You know…she might make a good therapy dog…” And there you go. She passed Advanced Obedience, achieved her Canine Good Citizen status, and then passed her TDI evaluation. After working with Tippi, Bobbie decided to go forward with her own training, and completed her certification as a TDI evaluator – Tippi had a way of convincing people that they could be their best!

During this whole time, she, River and Quinn (her daughter, who joined us as a foster [failure] 3 months after Tippi came home) enjoyed time at the dog park with Hubby, and long rambles in the various park trails. After River lost the sight in one eye, Tippi often gravitated to that side, so that she could help steer River away from obstacles at the park, and keep other dogs from surprising her. Already, she was showing her “nurturing” side. She and Quinn loved the heavy snow, where they could plow through the empty dog park with abandon, while the other dogs and owners stayed home…elkhounds + snow = a magical combination.

Her personality came out in bits at first, and then all in a rush. She was a true elk-clown, but with her own special twist. She wasn’t a big kisser and that was fine. She was, however, a champion at getting really, really close to you and wanting you to give her chin skritches, belly rubs, and butt rubs. Her ability to sling her paw over your hand to just keep you there was legendary. She participated for several years in the John Nelsen Moosedog Rescue fund (JNMRF) Howl-O-Ween contest, winning in 2010 with a “costume” called “They’ll never notice I’m on the couch…” – herself wrapped in a grey blanket with just her tail out. Yes – she challenged, and won – the battle of “no dogs on the furniture.” Then, she won again in 2017, with “I can’t believe I’m wearing bunny ears.” She just was so happy and you could see it in the photos.

She was a champion at NOT stealing food; seriously, you could leave your pizza slice on a plate next to your chair and it would be there when you got back from the kitchen…however, after chemo? All bets were off. She’d steal half my sandwich, and would look at me as if to say, “I’ve had chemo – I’m starving…and I left you half of it!”

All through training, she showed her patience with other dogs; she loved everyone, especially her trainer Bobbie, who christened her “Robo-Dog” for the willingness Tippi showed in learning everything. She loved everyone – the more she felt comfortable at home, the more friendly she got. She would often be asked to be the “non-reactive” dog in situations where Bobbie was working with private clients. She had a best friend in training: Shallot, the Chinese Crested. We thought for sure she’d try to eat her…but they became bosom buddies, kind of like Laurel and Hardy.

Tippi started her therapy dog career at Our Lady of Angels Retirement Home, where her big brown eyes and cheeky smiles made every nun in the place absolutely certain that she was STARVING. Which she wasn’t, of course! I had to admonish several sisters that they should only feed her the treats she was allowed, not cookies!

She worked at Will County Children’s Advocacy Center, sitting with children before they saw the social workers and police officers (her ears were privy to many a secret conversation with the kids and she really had a crush on a couple of the cops, too), also worked at several grade schools, attended meetings of Compassionate Friends, spent time with the Joliet School District 86 as Principal for a Day, visiting a school for children with different abilities, and attended Take Back the Night. She counted the Will County State’s Attorney as one of her closest friends, but it was probably that he smelled like Great Dane... Her longest tenure, though, was at Lewis University as their first (and so far, only) therapy dog.

Stories from Our Lady of Angels: One day, Tippi and I arrived and checked in. Tippi stopped for a moment, and then actually dragged me down one hallway, which was a different route than we usually took. The hallway was lined with nuns. Tippi got to the end of the line, sat down next to the nearest sister…and stayed there. Sister Marie had just died; the nuns were praying and singing as she was being prepared to go to the funeral home. Tippi would not move. She stayed there, and as the undertakers took Sister Marie out, the nuns formed a procession, which Tippi joined. They walked Sister Marie to the hearse. Tippi stood at the door and each nun touched her head as they walked back toward the chapel.

Tippi had been visiting Sister Julie, who didn’t speak. After several months of visiting, as they entered the common area where she was sitting, Sr. Julie leaned forward and said, “Dog!” Tippi always seemed to know which nuns she could be boisterous around and which nuns needed her to sit and be quiet. She learned to “back in” next to the wheelchairs so that the nuns didn’t have to lean forward to pet her. It only took her a few visits to memorize which rooms she was able to go in, and which rooms didn’t want a visit.

Starting her time at Lewis University, we initially visited outside, but the lure of many chipmunks caused a slight change in venue…to the Science Building. She was particularly fond of Dr. Rago, who used big stuffed toys in the shapes of viruses. Tippi always hoped he’d toss one her way! Not only did the students adore her, but there were several professors who were happy to get down on the ground with her and see if they could be the “First Belly Rub of the Day” – a considerable honor, as she didn’t bestow that favor lightly. She was invited to many department meetings, and also participated in Super Study Week and Opening Day Welcome Fairs. Eventually, we moved into the Library. Tippi drew lots of students into the library, and was particularly fond of several of them. Brother Chris (the university is run by the DeLaSalle Christian Brothers), who ran the Writing Center located in the library, was a special visitor. Not only was Tippi happy to see him in general, but he took to slipping little bites of chicken to her – strictly against the rules! She even got Brother Lawrence to admit that she was “quite a good girl.”

She had a story written for the student newspaper about her and the young man assigned to write it was, he said, terrified of dogs. She somehow knew this, and sat away from him…at first. As the young man and I talked, Tippi gradually moved closer and closer, till she was leaning against his leg. He looked down and said, “I guess this is what a therapy dog does.” A foreign exchange student from Israel thought she was a German Shepherd mix, and visited often. After learning about the breed, he asked, “I wonder if Elkhounds can live in Israel?” as he was preparing to go back home after finishing his degree. She was particularly well-received by many of the foreign exchange students, and was able to teach them about dogs where there were cultures who didn’t have the American experience of having a companion animal.

She would wear a hat (headband) appropriate to each season, and right before Christmas, we used to bring the whole bag of hats and let the students take selfies with Tippi in the hat of their choice. We had lots of students connecting on her Facebook page, and they were so proud to be the occasional “cover students” when we took group shots. My mom went through her fabric stash and made up a number of bandanas for Tippi to wear to “work.” She was a most stylish dog.

As Elkhounds can, she was able to sense when a student needed her. The students would gather in a circle and she would make her way from person to person. They all knew that she’d stop at each person eventually, but would often spend more time with someone if she felt that they needed it. All of them waited patiently for their turn. She did her version of “Tricky Dog” for the students – if you asked her a question, she’d clack her teeth and woof the answer. She would sit up, shake, do high-5 and do “doggie push-ups” (going from standing on hind legs to down) but she would never roll over…no matter how enticing the treat. She delighted the track teams when they were training – they’d break their run to stop and pose and ask for a picture. I've probably got at least a gigabyte of pictures of her time at Lewis. There were more than a few times when the University President’s office would call and ask, “Is Tippi available for this activity?” I was just her driver…

Her cancer diagnosis coincided with the summer break at school. The initial diagnosis was Lymphoma, both Type A and Type B (Tippi never did anything by halves). Half-way through her chemo, which Hubby organized and handled, we felt a lump in her neck. That turned out to be thyroid cancer. We were able to time the removal of part of her thyroid in between chemo treatments. The treatment was rough, but Tippi conquered it.

Before COVID-19 shut everything down, Tippi was able to make a few more visits to Lewis University once her oncologist said she was cleared; it was obvious that while Tippi’s attitude was still enthusiastic, the cancer and chemo had sapped her energy. She retired from active therapy dog duties, particularly in light of TDI’s requirement that she continue vaccinations. Her oncologist strongly recommended that we not update her vaccinations, due to the particular kind of lymphoma she had, so it was time for the “Tuesdays with Tippi” era to end. At the time of her retirement, she was TDI-A -- a dog who'd volunteered at over 200 hours of visits; she was nearing 300 when she finally had to stop visiting.

She became Queen of the House on an official basis. She enjoyed her retirement. She had 2 “bonus years” of good health after finishing chemo, and in typical Elkhound fashion, was strong right up to 48 hours before her final journey. While there’s an Elkhound-sized hole in our hearts and in our home, we know that she’s free from pain and enjoying renewing her friendship with River, Gracie, Topaz, and so many of our other Elkhound friends.

We wish there were words to convey the true depth and breadth of Tippi’s personality. She started out life a little rough. But she overcame it. She contributed to good things on this planet. She made people smile, she brought joy. She demanded her fair share of attention, as is right and proper. She was well and truly loved. My mom said she was “her favorite of the furry grand-kids.” She was beautiful, inside and out. We are so lucky that Kari Olson dropped by that gas station and saw the sign. Talk about the stars aligning. It’s as if our Gracie was directing the action from over the Bridge – she saw another Elkhound in need and pointed the humans right in Tippi’s direction. When we name our dogs, we think about it a bit. You know why we named her Tippi. “Unn” is Norwegian for “she is loved.” And Sigrid is a Norwegian name that means “beautiful.”

She was 14.9 years old. She was, and I know how lucky I am, the third "dog of my heart." And she'll be the last one. For as much as I'm attached to Quinn & Raisa, there's a Tippi-sized hole in my heart and it will always be there. We had her cremated. I plan to have a dogwood tree planted at Lewis University in her honor, and her ashes are here at home. When I go, she's going with me.