Blowing a Gale...

Holy moley... It's Halloween, and it's literally snowing sideways here. Lord knows how many (if any) kids we'll get. I saw a couple headed toward the grade school. The local Lions Club does a Halloween bash, so a lot of the kids start there. And our porch light is out -- the sensor is wonky and the thing won't stay on. So I have The Great Pumpkin lit up out there, our only Halloween decoration, and I'm hoping that's enough for the kids. But it's still too light outside to see that it's lit up. 

Catching Up...

Where do I start?

Well, let's see. Quinn may be coming out of her very natural funk. She's stopped looking for Raisa, but she still looks to see when one of us is coming home. Doesn't matter WHICH of us. If I'm gone, she waits. If Hubby is gone, she waits. I think this may have triggered a bit of separation anxiety. 

A funny thing. My friend D (not the knitting one) came by - I was driving us to an event recently, because she wasn't sure where it was. And it was a good thing, because they'd closed off a few more roads since I'd last been downtown. Yeesh. 

Anyway, THIS particular D is very involved in Lab rescue. She has 3 dogs now, and is staying at her sister's - and Sis has a dog. So she came in the house and Quinn barked, as she does. She approached D, and D being a dog person, knew how to act for an introduction.  After the appropriate sniffs, Quinn sat down, put her nose in the sky and started "talking" to her. I mean, like, singing/howling. Having some sort of words with her. That's a first! 

We gave D a couple bags of cow ears (chews we use for the dogs). We did an inventory of the treats we have, and there will be leftovers -- Quinn can't - and shouldn't - consume that many treats. She's 14. Healthy, but still, 14. We're going to have her checked out by the vet, just for our own sake. Peace of mind is at a premium here lately.

I got Raisa's memorial stone. I couldn't locate the green granite ones I usually get, so I tried a company from Etsy. I'm sorely disappointed in the laser-etched image. It's pretty much invisible unless you tilt the piece. I'm waiting to calm down a bit before I leave a review. 

The Knitting...

I have finished the washcloths for Christmas, and I've started a set of 3 more for a gift. I will wrap those 3 in special ribbon as a set. The others will be given individually with some special soap. 

And I did an insane thing. First, the story of the latte... The Friday after Raisa died, I sat down with a matcha latte. I got hit by a fit of tears, as one does, and I reached for a tissue. And dumped 16 oz. of latte. All. Down. The. Knitting. It hit books, 3 project bags, the power strip, went under the standing lamp, under the area rug, hit the side of the chair, splashed up the wall. 

I mean, physics. Liquids dropped from a height will splatter. I hollered, "CRAP!" and Quinn took off to the back of the house. 

Prior to this, I had been kind of skittish about getting up and down off the floor - we hadn't really tried it in PT, and I thought I didn't want to do something wrong. But the latte...

I grabbed a roll of paper towels and started sopping everything up. I was not happy. I got 90% of it, dumped out all the bags, mopped up and propped up everything so that it could dry. Wiped off several soaking wet tool bags. One ball of acrylic got pretty soaked. But it's acrylic; I wiped it as best I could. I'm going to make a couple baby hats, and then wash them. It'll be fine. 

Under that, I found (thank you Knitting Goddesses) three hanks of Expression Fiber Arts mulberry silk + camel. THANKFULLY in their sealed bag. The bag had matcha latte on it. I would have wept if it had gotten to the yarn. 

It's for Etude  #1 from Expression Fiber Arts. I reprinted the pattern and put it with the yarn. That's what I want to start in January. 

Except... 

I found a DROPS pattern I want to knit It's the Abstract Rose Sweater, and I chose to knit it in the yarn they suggested, but I'm hoping it's comfortable. It's DROPS Nepal, a wool/alpaca blend. Like 75/25 so it's mostly wool. Not superwash either. This will be interesting. I've heard conflicting things: "DROPS patterns are lovely and easy." "DROPS patterns are awful, good luck!" and I'm lengthening the thing to a tunic length - well maybe not that long, but at least to my hip bones, like below my tummy. I like my sweaters a bit longer. 

So as I went to grab the link, I see I could have used A + A -- which means instead of doing the Nepal yarn (which is still ridiculously cheap), I could've used yarn from the "A" category, held double. Oh well. If I love it, I can knit it again. 

I ordered the yarn from the UK, as it's not available here. It was something like $48 for the entire thing, including 3 extra balls, just in case. First off, for lengthening it, but also because I've seen reviews that the "marled" version of the yarn, which is what I bought, is prone to random knots. We'll see. Yes, forty-eight dollars (US) for a sweater's worth of yarn. Insane, right? 

I don't know when I'm going to start that. I also have the Copland shawl to finish, which I'm keeping for myself. It was going to be a gift, but now I'm keeping it. It's about 2/3 done, so maybe after I finish these last 3 washcloths, I can pull it out and finish it up over the holidays. 

And I also have the Long Sands Tee to re-start. I think I'm done with baby knitting for a while, so that is kind of a relief. 

Socks will, as always, be my fill-in work. 

The Dancing...

Yep. Dancing. So recently, we had our women's club's 50th anniversary. We had Brandye Phillips, and the Tina Turner Experience as our entertainment. Now, not only is Brandye a local gal, having gone to the larger public high school, but her father was a renowned musician. She also has done extensive research on Tina Turner. Our organization works with domestic violence issues, among other things, and Brandye was able to educate us more in detail about what Tina Turner went through, from her humble beginnings as a sharecropper's daughter to international superstar twice over. 

We listened, we clapped, we interacted with her, and we danced. Yes, even me. Now you have to understand that I look like a baby with a full diaper when I dance. I can count the rhythm, because I'm a singer. But I'm not graceful. But I had fun. And today? I paid for it. My legs were sore. Not "killing me," but "yikes, I haven't felt this sore since I last mucked out a horse stall."

It was good. And my PT took a little (very little) pity on me. I was lucky enough to meet up with good friends, we had a great time, and it was a late night. 

And then, I had to go staff an info table at a 5K walk/run. And it's chilly here in the mornings. So I'll need to balance out my "need tea" with "need to pee." I don't do porta-potties if I can at all help it. And baking an apple cake for church on Sunday. 

It was a full weekend. 

The Reading...

I finished "The Loved One," and I wonder if I'm "today's years old" to realize that one of the characters has a last name which references, in Greek, death. Evelyn Waugh certainly had a way with words. So that was a hand-held book. 

I've finished several on my Kindle, mostly mysteries. Margery Allingham, the Campion mysteries, and I'm also done with another Lord Peter Whimsy compilation. 

I'm working on another Lisa See book, "Dreams of Joy," which is a two-parter. The first was about the generation before. It's interesting to follow along, seeing as this one delves pretty deeply into the formation of Communist China. 

Whacking away at my TBR (to be read) stash, I can read while I knit, as long as it's not a difficult pattern. I don't like audio books, though. They're usually disappointing. 

When I'm not reading, just knitting, I'll often have Star Trek on as "background noise." It's too quiet in the house with just one dog...

Life Goes On...

This past Sunday, I had to cancel my Yin class. I pulled up the notice of cancellation and I sat back as if I was pushed. You see, the last time I cancelled that class was the day my sister died. This time? It was the day her granddaughter (whom she will never meet this side of the veil, as they say) was getting christened. My mom did the part of the ceremony which my sister would have done. I did have a small part, as they put a small cross necklace around the little one's neck and the priest had "fat fingers," I was the closest, so he asked if I could help. Thankfully, I managed it!

But it really was a shock to see the notice. It brought back again that loss is part of life. Not that I needed a reminder, but still... 

Not to bury the lede here, and not to minimize it, but Hubby just came back from the vet with Quinn. Seems that our luck lately is rotten. 

She's got lymphoma. She's 14. All her lymph nodes are involved, and really at this age? Steroids, but sooooooooo many side effects. Including internal bleeding. Chemo is too rough at this age, and realistically won't buy any time; Elkhounds can live between 14-15(ish) years, so why put her through whatever time she has left in misery. Palliative care it is. No clue how much time she has. Could be a month, could be weeks. 

I'm not processing this very well. I think that my entire train of thought for this blog has gone right off the rails and down into the ravine. 

Random Picture...

Quinn "checks the mail" for us. She waits (and barks) for when the mail comes and we let her "snurffle" it. She checks it all, from any and all angles and pronounces it safe for us. 

We've been doing that for her for a while now, and she's come to enjoy the game of it. 

If it's too quiet with one dog, what is it going to be like with NO dog??

She's Back Home...

 We just got her home today. I felt like I could write about her.

RAISA THE FURRY FLYER (2013-2023)

Raisa (formerly known as Dolly) burst into our lives at 12 weeks old, just as her proverbial namesake would’ve done – full of sass and glitter, bigger-than-her-size personality, and an energy level that just about added a second floor to our house.

We decided to re-name her Raisa – which means “Princess” in Russian. We joked later that we only named her Raisa because we couldn’t find a good Russian equivalent to “Goofball.”

It wasn’t always sunshine and doggie treats. Having 3 females in the house got…interesting. Eventually, for everyone’s sanity, we gated and everyone got a chance to breathe. The elkhounds got their space and Raisa had hers. They all traded off “couch time,” and things eventually settled down.

In typical Husky fashion, she could enter a room regally, surveying all and deciding where she would bestow her attention. And then, turn it into “Husk-Clown” mode: nosediving onto the couch where her intended victim was, somersaulting over, tucking her head, with her butt in the air and getting as close to that person as possible. We never figured out whether it was because she adored butt-rubs, or because, being in “perpetual shed mode” she wanted to deposit as much Husky-glitter as possible on her intended target.

Raisa completed 4 levels of obedience training (who says they can’t be trained?) and passed her Canine Good Citizenship test, to the astonishment of all. Our trainer Bobbie was continually amused as, with pockets full of treats, Raisa would ignore her, preferring the snack bag of buttered toast bits we used. That dog would climb a wall for a nibble of buttered toast. However, for some reason, she hated the basement stairs. No amount of toast would persuade her to go down those steps. Fireworks and thunderstorms never bothered her. She wondered what the fuss was about.

It was intended that, at the right time, she would take over our Elkhound Tippi’s position at Lewis University. Tippi was TDI-trained, and we never got around to that with Raisa. However, upon Tippi’s retirement, Raisa assumed her duties as a “comfort dog.” While there was a bit of dialogue with the students about how “this certainly was not Tippi, and all things change” (Tippi held the position of the University’s only therapy dog for 10+ years), all Raisa had to do was figure out what her job was. She did that job with relish. The first “butt in the sky nosedive” won her the hearts of all the students and library staff. When she sang the song of her people in the normally quiet atmosphere of the 2-story library, the smiles and surprise of those on the 2nd floor were well worth it. She earned her name of Furry Flyer for the University, known for its aviation program, and for the fact that, as a red-and-white, she matched the school’s colors.

Unfortunately, her time at the library was shockingly brief. In true Husky fashion, she did things her way. We found a lump on her thyroid gland and on September 2nd it was removed. About 4 days later, she had seizures, resulting in 3 days in doggy-ER, and she came home a bit wobbly, but with good expectations of being back to herself. The doctors were quite positive in their treatment plan and said that, at her age (9), she would come through chemo pretty easily, believing we’d caught everything early.

On the morning of Sept. 28, she didn’t eat, which was ok considering it was her 2nd chemo treatment. By 7 a.m. she was not doing well. The vet & staff worked hard to get her high fever down, but she chose her time and place, slipped into a coma and died peacefully. Everyone – even the vet – was stunned. But if by now you’re humming Frank Sinatra’s “My Way,” you have perfectly intuited how Raisa lived her life. It wasn’t always perfect. It was always unexpected.

She loved her job of comfort dog. She loved walkies, loved stare-down contests with the neighbor’s chickens (she didn’t move, didn’t even attempt to catch one – the neighbor was amazed), loved staring up at the poles and wires for those nasty squirrels. Loved her family and car rides. Loved “pizza bones” and salmon skin. She sang along with the electric carving knife, the stick blender, the guitar and the harmonica. She has left a husky-sized hole in our hearts.