Six Weeks...

My sister, Liz, is dead. She died on Friday at 2 a.m. 

I bought a birthday card today and thought, "I can send this to her..." but I can't. Because her birthday will be Monday; she'd have been 63.

She died of a rare and aggressive cancer. 

We're heartbroken. She didn't have time to say goodbye to anyone. We didn't have time to have one more visit. I feel like I didn't have to tell her what she meant to me - first off, we're not that kind of family. Second, she knew. And I knew. And that's all that matters. 

It was 6 weeks from diagnosis. She had several rounds of chemo and radiation and then, apparently, all heck broke loose, and what was at first deemed "rare but treatable," turned to "rare, and aggressive."

There's not much more to say right now. 

The Club Nobody Wants to Belong To...

Do you know what I'd want for my birthday? What would be the absolute best gift? It would be for the doctors to say to my sister, "This is treatable, and you'll be fine."

I'm not sure that's going to happen. We were supposed to get together last weekend, and we were told, "Nope." She hasn't answered a single text of mine. 

Don't they look pretty? Pretty evil...cancer cells under an electron microscope. Makes them look almost like works of art. I'm not sure if these are what's in my sister's body. 

All we know right now is that her cancer is "rare" and "aggressive." BIL wants to take her for a second opinion. A relative has offered to fly them to Mayo Clinic (about a 45-minute flight as opposed to a 10-hour drive). My sister is said to be considering it, and I would agree, if she was asking me. Even if the news is the same, a second opinion in this kind of situation is something that I think is valid. 

The plan is to visit at some point, but I'm not sure when. She's scuttled a few visits already, and what's troubling is that I'm not sure we have a lot of time. 

It's not a situation I've ever wanted to manage, but in several instances in my adulthood, I've had to be the "Angel of Death" and tell people the absolute worst news. I don't like being in that situation, and I'm hoping that I don't have to. I just don't know. 

The Kitchen...

So, one of the best tools to have in your kitchen? A ruler. A standard, plastic ruler. I've used it when I've made Japanese Milk Bread. I've used it time and again to re-measure a pan. I've used it for tons of things. It's so helpful, and we don't often think of it. 

I've seen fancy measuring devices like silicone sheets you roll dough on, the board scrapers (only about 6" of length there, and I don't often feel like adding!), those strips you put on either side of our rolling pin... Nothing beats a 50-cent plastic ruler. 

Easy to clean, easy to use. Comes in lots of colors! So technically, you could have a green one for pastries, and a red one for meats? Why not? 

Made chicken soup the other night; and I added some dried seaweed to it. Aside from the mineral benefits and a bit of salt, it added a nice crunch to the top of the soup. It also adds a nice green bit to a soup that can be kind of "beige." 

I used a standard recipe: dice up a chicken breast and saute till lightly browned, and remove it from the pan. Then saute some chopped carrot, stir around on med-hi heat for about 5 minutes, add chopped celery, stir another 5 minutes. Cover your pan and lower your heat. Stir occasionally for another 6-7 minutes. Then, remove lid, add chopped leeks and a couple cloves of garlic (diced) and stir that around for a few minutes, just so the garlic gets golden. (NOTE: Nothing worse than burned garlic!).

In the meantime, have a soup pot ready, with about 6 cups of water in it. Add a Knorr Veggie cube for every 2 cups of water, and start it boiling. Add your meat & veg. Add some fresh ground pepper, add a bit of thyme, maybe some marjoram if you have it. Parsley, for sure, either fresh or dried. Let it come to a gentle boil, then add half a package of No-Yolks egg noodles, bring back to a boil and let it cook for however long the noodle bag says - about 6-9 minutes. 

There you go. Easy soup. 

The Knitting...

Still working on the blue striped sock. Told my yoga class that I had to rip the other one, and there was one student who said, "Wow, that would fit MY foot!" We all laughed. I think she might've been serious. 

I guess if I was ambitious enough, I'd have them all trace their feet and measure their shins. But I'm not that ambitious. Washcloths, maybe. Not socks. 

As you can see from the picture here, I'm using a silicone blister bandage. It lasts for about 3-4 days, and keeps me from puncturing my index finger, which is my "pusher" finger. It works better than just about anything I've found. And it's not obnoxious-looking! So I can wear it for a few days, and it doesn't get grimy. 

And as I pulled out my knitting to settle in with episodes of "A Place to Call Home," I did...just about what I do every couple times I knit socks. I pulled out the WRONG needle. 

No picture of the ACTUAL incident -- I was busy stuffing the live stitches back on the needle. Thankfully, the wool was "grippy" enough to not drop down a bunch of rows! It happens regularly enough that I don't freak out (as much) but I still react kind of quickly so as to not lose the stitches. 

As you can see, the top needle was the one I planned to pull out to start knitting. But...I pulled out the bottom one. 

I can tell you the first time it happened. I was working on a sock in a gorgeous fall-like colorway, from Lorna's Laces. That yarn? Stunningly smooth. Not grippy. And thus the downfall. As the NEEDLE slipped out of the stitches (this time, I didn't pull the needle out - it FELL out!), the little buggers droped as I was watching them. PLINK, PLINK, PLINK...(at least that's the sound that they make in my head, rather a gleeful sound, as as my heart makes a sound like THUNK, THUNK, THUNK...while it drops faster than those stitches do) By the way, I frogged that entire sock, stuffed the yarn into a bag and put it in time-out for a while. 

Funny thing happened at the oral surgeon's office. I had to go get some paperwork to drop off to my dentist, and it was a bit of a wait. Apparently, they couldn't find something...so I sat there knitting. After a while, one of the techs said, "Oh, look, knitting!" and I commented that I was also wearing hand-knitted socks. This tech literally lifted my pant leg (I was in the chair already), and petted my sock... I was a tad taken aback. Nobody has ever asked to pet my socks. 

All the girls at the front desk then wanted to see the socks I was wearing, as well as the ones I was knitting. That was probably the most fun trip to the oral surgeon ever!  The picture to the right is the pair I was wearing and the ones I'm knitting. 

Incidentally, the pair I'm wearing in this picture to the right? They're about 5 - 7 years old. Opal yarn. Wears like iron. Now, I just wish they'd come out with some variegated, like they used to. I love the self-patterning, but I'd like to get back to the variegated like these pink + green ones. Sometimes, you don't want a lot going on. You just want a plain sock that's sort of mindless. I mean, obviously, the blue stripe is mindless - I'm just knitting and letting the yarn do the work. But with a variegated yarn that changes colors every so often, it just seems simpler. 

I bought myself a birthday gift... Yarn. Of course. I bought Expression Fiber Arts North DK and I'm making the Gofleidio shrug/sweater/cardigan pattern. I'm not sure what you'd call it, but I know that I can knit it, and that I'll enjoy wearing it. It's been years since I've knit a sweater. 

So I changed up the colorway a bit. I kept the grey tones: Penguin, Midnight Snowfall, Peaceful Hush... But I changed out the pinks. Instead, I did Enchanted North (dark blue), Wintering North (medium blue) and Solstice North (yellow). Yeah, I don't normally wear yellow, but that as a "pop" with the greys and blues? I thought it would spark it a bit. I've always liked grey with yellow, and blue with yellow. So hopefully, that will work out in this garment. 

Random Picture...

Well, it's January. And strangely enough, we've had an insane amount of ice. Including sub-zero temperatures, so that the icy-melt stuff doesn't work. 

We live where there are alleys. You drive up the alley to get to your respective parking area and then you drive down the alley to get out to the street. Very few houses have front-loaded driveways in our neighborhood. It's older, the streets are narrower, and there's just not a lot of front-yard space. The houses are long, rather than wide. 

So it was pretty nasty getting into and out of the alleys for a few days. Mind you, the sparkly layer of ice on the snow, the glassy finish on the sidewalks -- beautiful. And so incredibly dangerous. Even trying to use Yak-Trax, people were sliding all funny. Folks walking their dogs cut straight through yards, because it was safer than trying to walk on either the sidewalk or the road. Nobody minded; it's easier to pick someone up off your lawn than off a sidewalk so slick that you'd never gain footing. 

Finally, after almost a week, it began to melt. Thankfully. I'm a big fan of winter, but ice? I don't bounce like I used to. 

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The Unbreakable Bond

We're "Irish Twins." Born a year and a week apart. Raised almost like twins, dressing alike, sharing a room.

Often mistaken one for another, though you are blonde and I am brunette. Often called twins, even though our mother repeatedly said, "I was there -- they're not twins!"

The usual squabbles...you are tidy. I am not. Tape down the center of our shared room -- the door was on YOUR side. That made life interesting.

You got grounded and pitched a fit. I got grounded and thought, "Great! Reading time!"

High school...you were dating and I was a bookworm. People wanted to hang around you because you were vivacious and cute. They wanted my class notes. The nuns didn't mistake us, because I was "the smart one," and you...were always the prankster. You've always had a dark sense of humor and could be way more sarcastic than people expected. 

Our lives went in different directions, and I moved away. There were squabbles, but I moved back and we repaired what went wrong.

We're tight now. Tight as two sisters could be. Reading each other’s mind; sharing jokes. Sharing trials and tribulations. Always there for each other. Sounding boards who share the same stories, worry about our kids, crab about careers and crazy bosses. Each the best cheerleader of the other, and also able to tell it straight when needed, without fear of anger or misunderstanding. Standing up when someone else strikes out, steps out of line - the two of us understanding each one's Achille's heel and protecting the other from the world as we did back in the neighborhood.

As we stand together when we're at a wedding, funeral, party...everyone says, "Oh wow, you can tell you two are sisters!" We look nothing alike, but our mannerisms and what comes out of our mouths -- those are tells for sure.

But now there's an enemy at the door. You called me before I went in for my heart thing to tell me you had cancer, "But it's good - it's treatable." You were upbeat, cheerful even. Positive that this was just a bump in the road. We discussed treatment plans, options, what you were researching.

Something, somewhere went wrong. The port -- a routine procedure landed you in the ICU with complications. You were scared at the thought of "going under" again, rightly so. You were mad that you "flunked" chemo (in truth, it just about killed you on your first treatment). Radiation. Loss of appetite, chemo brain, and that deeper-than-bone-deep fatigue. Depression. Despair.

And we've just jumped headlong into territory unknown. Now, we don't know what will happen. We don't know the prognosis, we don't know...anything.

I'm scared. I'm sure you are, too. I don't want this chapter to end. But I also don't want you to be in pain and undertake treatments that won't do anything substantial. Both of us have seen how that goes.

Whatever happens, I'm still in your corner. Wishing I could take away the anxiety, pain, worry. Wishing, actually, that it was me instead. Because in spite of your "tough nurse" stance, in spite of your "I don't want to worry you" stance, I know you're actually quite a marshmallow. Softer than most people realize. Fragile in the way that marshmallows are; only an illusory picture of stability and firmness. Only an illusion of health and vigor.

See, aside from hair color, we're also just about opposites physically. I'm stocky, robust. Thick bones like Dad; and I've always had trouble with my weight, veering higher rather than lower, and a lot more muscular. You're slight. Trim, thin, trouble keeping weight on.

Like a little bird. Able to fly. Able to do great acrobatic feats in the air, but small. Slight. Physically delicate, mentally sharp - smarter than all those nuns gave you credit for. You sailed through nursing school, showing a natural gift for diagnosis. You had a long career, till your "birdie bones" started to betray you and you could no longer work on a hospital floor, which was always a lifelong dream. Our aunt always thought I would be the one who'd become a nurse (well, there's that thing I have about blood and bodily fluids...), but at least she got to see one of us do the job. And it was definitely your calling. 

There's no neat pattern right now. Nothing predictable. Nothing but uncertainty, fear, doubt, prayer. Tears. Lying awake nights with thoughts that you don't want to think. Talking to our brother, and knowing, observing how this is affecting him as well, since we're a trio.

Seeing you so frail and subdued at Christmas broke my heart into pieces. I hope you never know that it did, because that would bother you; you're so concerned that my heart is weak, but it's not. I'd love to see a flash of the former you -- the "Snap out of it, you moron!" you...

This isn't a eulogy. This is a recognition of a cord stronger than an umbilical cord. Stronger than the roots of the oldest oak, the oldest sequoia. The vital, life-long, immutable cord of sisterhood which transcends just about everything. It's something we've relied on our whole lives. And I'm not ready to let it be severed.
 
The Knitting...

Poking along on the Opal Blue Sock. I've taken to stuffing it in my bag, and it's been just about the only resolution I've made: knit more.I had to take a Covid test and I brought it to the clinic. I was knitting along; got a weird look from a younger gal, probably wondering how it all worked. There was an older lady there, too. She knew. You could tell from the glances she kept stealing.

If we weren't all so freaked out about talking to each other for fear of spreading germs, I'm pretty sure we'd have struck up a conversation.

It's at the easy part: the leg. Once I get to the heel, it'll be grounded to the house for a bit, till that's done; then it can come back traveling with me for the foot. Then when the toe happens, it's home for a bit till finished.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), I have several that I can travel with for a while. I knit before my students show up at the studio. I knit waiting in the doctor's office. I'll knit while someone else is driving... I found out the hard way that while so many knitters "keep a sock in the car," it did me no good -- I was always driving!

I get a lot of knitting done after the house quiets down for the night. Perry Mason re-runs are my "background noise" of choice at this point. I've been through Ina Garten, The Great British Baking Show, all of the Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes... It's meditative even when I have to rip apart a sock to make it right.

After I get a few pairs done, I want to try a BSJ -- Baby Surprise Jacket from Elizabeth Zimmerman. It's a unique thing where you just follow the directions, and then after the knitting, you do a little origami and WHAM... a jacket. I have lots of worsted weight, and I have sock weight too. One of my friends has done several BSJs out of sock yarn.

It's a nice change from my Asymetric Sweater which is a part of my standard baby layette.
 
The Reading...

I'm re-reading the Yarn Harlot. I needed something that wasn't heavy. So I plucked her books off my shelf and pretty much ran through them over the holidays. After the news about my sister, I was at very loose ends. Yes, I was knitting, but it was just to keep my hands busy.

I needed to occupy my brain before bedtime, and the essays Stephanie Pearl-McPhee writes about knitting were just the thing.

I'm also re-reading Sarah McCoy's "Marilla of Green Gables." I'm on a kick of repeats, I guess. Kid #2 hasn't come down to visit since returning from the UP, so I still have Xmas gifts to exchange. I will be surprised if there's no book. There's usually a book for me.

Marilla is the "pre-story" of Anne of Green Gables. Not written by Lucy Maud Montgomery, but by a very talented writer who seems to have been able to replicate her voice to a certain extent. I actually like the cover art. I always thought that the farm house in the TV series was overdone. The cover art of this book shows a more modest house, which would fit with the time and the economic circumstances of the area. Yes, there are green gables, but it's not the extravagant abode that was on the television series. It actually looks kind of like the house in "A Quiet Man," the only John Wayne movie I can tolerate. (Go ahead...everyone always says I'm un-American because I really think Mr. Wayne made his fortune playing himself. He has, as was written in one of the Harry Potter books, "the emotional depth of a teaspoon.")

I need to go back into the office and rearrange the books. I got some back that I'd loaned my mom, and they have to find shelf space. I also need to purge the basement bookshelves. Go through the zillion binders, toss old textbooks, get the kids' books back to them. Eventually clear out a bunch of decorations; either giving them to local resale shops or donating them to our church if we ever have another rummage sale.

Random Picture...

There's always an outtake! When Quinn was modeling her hat, we had a few shots where it definitely slipped... She took it in her stride, as she always does.

She's such a good sport. She loves her hats. And she's also a fan of a pretty bandana.

I just wish she wasn't such a weirdo...she would, otherwise, be a phenomenal therapy dog. Except for the fact that she's pretty much scared of her own shadow.

There are literally four people who she can tolerate, aside from the vet - and she quakes like a Colorado aspen tree at the vet's office.

I read something somewhere and it really struck me. "You don't have to 'do anything' with your dog." There's a push to "do something" with your dog: show them in a ring, hunt with them (depending on the breed, of course), train as a therapy dog, barn hunt, tricky dog... Yes, dogs do need some stimulation, but not every dog has to do a "big" something.

Quinn loves her toys. She loves to have her belly rubbed. She snuggles. She'll occasionally go for a walk. We have a couple of dog puzzles that she really enjoys. And that all keeps her happy. Why force her to do something she's scared of? I wanted to take her to agility because she's wicked-fast, and nimble. But she's such a scaredy-cat. It would over-stimulate her and then she'd freak out. Not worth it.

Or worth it only if I fence in my backyard and make her a personalized agility track of her own. You never know.

NOTE: Sorry about the formatting. Blogger is being a bugger...

 

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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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The studio follows Illinois Covid-19 policies and mandates; all are masked in the studio and social distancing is required. No teacher does hands-on adjustments at this time. 

Zoom classes and hybrid (both Zoom and in-person) classes available. Check our website. Private sessions and small group classes available in-person and online. Special events like birthday yoga, bridal yoga, etc. are also available at reasonable rates. 

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. 

Need to find a yoga class that suits you? Nothing geographically close to you? Or just that the studio near you isn't a good fit? Contact us!

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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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