Today is February 3rd. It is my MomMom's 92nd birthday. I'd give just about anything to talk to her and wish her a happy birthday right now. I want to believe that she's in heaven/paradise/whatever you want to call it, and she's having one heck of a party. I'm talking confetti, chocolate cake, all the books she wants to read, her sisters and brother and husband smiling around her.
---
A coworker's wife died after a battle with cancer today. She was 51, two years older than I'll be in a couple of months. I can't imagine what her husband is going through tonight. Grief, certainly, maybe even relief that for her, the long suffering is over. Hearing about her made me think of my cousin Jane, who lost her battle with cancer at about the same age. Jane who had perfect posture and a ready smile and raised therapy dogs. Jane who laughed about her double mastectomy because she could wear tank tops without worrying about flashing anyone. Jane, who fought and fought and finally lay down her weapons.
---
I spent too much of this week angry about stupid things I can't change. Angry at the men in my office who get away with doing little to no work because their boss turns a blind eye and enables their fraud and waste. Angry at the spineless boss who won't do anything to fix the problem of deadwood draining our limited resources. What I really did was waste my energy on something that doesn't matter. Life is so short, and I spend too much time fighting against the crap I can't fix.
---
I watched my husband fall asleep a few minutes ago, and the love I feel for him actually hurts. How did I get so lucky? What did I do to deserve him?
---
This is what I think of, and the sky turns dark blue and the world keeps on turning and turning.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Another Month
Wow, February 1st. Good-bye, January. Glad you weren't as sucktastic as last January. (Too much cold weather + truly shitty job = hellllllll, y'all.)
So the twin asshats of insomnia and anxiety have been having their not-so-fun way with me. I've had that squeezy-chest-I-can't-swallow feeling too many times to count lately, and after sitting down and thinking about what's what, it hit me that I have one of those difficult anniversaries coming up, if you'll excuse the psychobabble. February 3rd is my MomMom's birthday. She would have been 92. While the simple fact of a calendar day had escaped me, I guess my psyche was keeping tabs and sending up a flare: Pay attention, you. I sat down with the leather-bound book I've been keeping since she passed on and wrote about her for the first time in over a year. I wrote about the passage of days, the way life goes on, the way my life has changed in ways big and little. I wrote about what my wise friend Pam called the process of rebuilding my life and myself around the empty space left by her absence. I wrote about the fact that in a deep-down way I can barely explained, I'm a different person now. Grief: it's not for sissies. And it can't be ignored, or it will sneak up on you and give you a psychic wedgie.
I'd like to say that the squeezy/no-swallowing sensations magically went away once I faced up to what's going on inside my head, but that's not the case. Maybe I'll see a change once her birthday comes and goes, quietly, unmarked by all except those of us who still grieve for her lost smile, her silenced laughter.
Death, you can just suck it, and suck it hard, you bastard.
---
One of the benefits of insomnia (find that silver lining, damn you!) is the chance to experience what you might normally miss. While sitting up this morning at 1:30, I heard two owls hooting softly to each other outside in the front yard. I think one was on our roof, the other in our neighbor's tree or porch roof too. They hooted at each other for a good 20 minutes, maybe discussing the upcoming presidential election and the fact that it's almost time for The Walking Dead to return to AMC. Their mellow altos made me sleepy, and I slept for a few more hours and woke up smiling.
Work killed all my happy owl feelings.
Day job, you can just suck it, and suck it hard, you bastard.
---
I haven't been happy with my weight and my lack of exercising for a long time. I suck at dieting. I hate keeping up with points and grams and calories. So in lieu of something formal and program-like, I'm just trying to make better choices. Since I'm not going to become a vegetarian marathon runner (as a sarcastic endocrinologist once suggested I become, or consider gastric bypass), I'm trying to coax my cranky self into exercising a little each day. I already take the stairs at work, park far away from stores to walk, all that happy horse-pucky. Tonight, I did something called crunchless abs, which made my hibernating stomach muscles yelp in shock. Then I got on the floor and worked those outside stomach muscles (more shocked yelping; I distinctly heard my obliques shout, "THE HELL IS THIS?"). I finished off with downward dog and mountain pose and some bellydance snake arms.
It pisses me off that from a physical standpoint, I feel so much better after a mere 10 minutes of really mild exercise.
*grumble grumble* Now I have to keep this crap up. Because it works, damn it. Crap.
--
Knitting class started up Monday, and there was much yarn fondling and chatter. Our instructor brought a skein of yarn made from New Zealand possum fur. The Kiwi possums are domesticated and spoiled rotten, much like our cat. I'm sure they have staff on hand to peel their persimmons and wave palm frond fans over their fuzzy little heads. A classmate brought in a skein of roving in the most enchanting shade of seafoam blue-green. She was working a thick cable down the enter of the scarf she's making from this fiber. She had to keep slapping my hand away from her work because I couldn't stop touching the roving. It was so soft and lovely. I started on my first pair of socks, intended for my sweetie. I'm using double needles, and I managed to get the stitches cast on, divided, and joined without any bloodshed or weeping. I sort of overlooked the line that said to work in 2x2 ribbing, so the cuff is short a ribbed row. Oops. Things were going swimmingly until I pulled the work out of my bag to get in a little knitting yesterday and saw that several stitches had dropped off a needle. Grrr. I tried to get everything back in place, but I really think I need to FROGGIT and just start over. 's okay.
Peace out, cub scouts. oxxoxoxoxo
So the twin asshats of insomnia and anxiety have been having their not-so-fun way with me. I've had that squeezy-chest-I-can't-swallow feeling too many times to count lately, and after sitting down and thinking about what's what, it hit me that I have one of those difficult anniversaries coming up, if you'll excuse the psychobabble. February 3rd is my MomMom's birthday. She would have been 92. While the simple fact of a calendar day had escaped me, I guess my psyche was keeping tabs and sending up a flare: Pay attention, you. I sat down with the leather-bound book I've been keeping since she passed on and wrote about her for the first time in over a year. I wrote about the passage of days, the way life goes on, the way my life has changed in ways big and little. I wrote about what my wise friend Pam called the process of rebuilding my life and myself around the empty space left by her absence. I wrote about the fact that in a deep-down way I can barely explained, I'm a different person now. Grief: it's not for sissies. And it can't be ignored, or it will sneak up on you and give you a psychic wedgie.
I'd like to say that the squeezy/no-swallowing sensations magically went away once I faced up to what's going on inside my head, but that's not the case. Maybe I'll see a change once her birthday comes and goes, quietly, unmarked by all except those of us who still grieve for her lost smile, her silenced laughter.
Death, you can just suck it, and suck it hard, you bastard.
---
One of the benefits of insomnia (find that silver lining, damn you!) is the chance to experience what you might normally miss. While sitting up this morning at 1:30, I heard two owls hooting softly to each other outside in the front yard. I think one was on our roof, the other in our neighbor's tree or porch roof too. They hooted at each other for a good 20 minutes, maybe discussing the upcoming presidential election and the fact that it's almost time for The Walking Dead to return to AMC. Their mellow altos made me sleepy, and I slept for a few more hours and woke up smiling.
Work killed all my happy owl feelings.
Day job, you can just suck it, and suck it hard, you bastard.
---
I haven't been happy with my weight and my lack of exercising for a long time. I suck at dieting. I hate keeping up with points and grams and calories. So in lieu of something formal and program-like, I'm just trying to make better choices. Since I'm not going to become a vegetarian marathon runner (as a sarcastic endocrinologist once suggested I become, or consider gastric bypass), I'm trying to coax my cranky self into exercising a little each day. I already take the stairs at work, park far away from stores to walk, all that happy horse-pucky. Tonight, I did something called crunchless abs, which made my hibernating stomach muscles yelp in shock. Then I got on the floor and worked those outside stomach muscles (more shocked yelping; I distinctly heard my obliques shout, "THE HELL IS THIS?"). I finished off with downward dog and mountain pose and some bellydance snake arms.
It pisses me off that from a physical standpoint, I feel so much better after a mere 10 minutes of really mild exercise.
*grumble grumble* Now I have to keep this crap up. Because it works, damn it. Crap.
--
Knitting class started up Monday, and there was much yarn fondling and chatter. Our instructor brought a skein of yarn made from New Zealand possum fur. The Kiwi possums are domesticated and spoiled rotten, much like our cat. I'm sure they have staff on hand to peel their persimmons and wave palm frond fans over their fuzzy little heads. A classmate brought in a skein of roving in the most enchanting shade of seafoam blue-green. She was working a thick cable down the enter of the scarf she's making from this fiber. She had to keep slapping my hand away from her work because I couldn't stop touching the roving. It was so soft and lovely. I started on my first pair of socks, intended for my sweetie. I'm using double needles, and I managed to get the stitches cast on, divided, and joined without any bloodshed or weeping. I sort of overlooked the line that said to work in 2x2 ribbing, so the cuff is short a ribbed row. Oops. Things were going swimmingly until I pulled the work out of my bag to get in a little knitting yesterday and saw that several stitches had dropped off a needle. Grrr. I tried to get everything back in place, but I really think I need to FROGGIT and just start over. 's okay.
Peace out, cub scouts. oxxoxoxoxo
Monday, January 23, 2012
Back to Earth
Woke up this morning to a chirping cat whose chirping took on a slightly more sinister note when I saw her...how can I describe this...scooting on her bottom along my bathroom floor.
Yeah.
My suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when I turned on the lights. Sight was joined by smell. I would have been horrified had I not been worried about her well being. After a few minutes of discomfort, she obviously dislodged whatever was...stuck...and is now grooming in one of her favorite chairs.
I hope this isn't indicative of how the rest of my Monday will unfold. When you start out cleaning up smeared cat poo, surely your day can only improve.
Right? o.O
Yeah.
My suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when I turned on the lights. Sight was joined by smell. I would have been horrified had I not been worried about her well being. After a few minutes of discomfort, she obviously dislodged whatever was...stuck...and is now grooming in one of her favorite chairs.
I hope this isn't indicative of how the rest of my Monday will unfold. When you start out cleaning up smeared cat poo, surely your day can only improve.
Right? o.O
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Victory, Sweet Victory
I did it. I finally figured out how to work those blasted DPNs.
Photo evidence below. All I can say is BOOYAH!
Photo evidence below. All I can say is BOOYAH!
Double Pointed Needles = Tools of Satan
Since my last post, I've created another set of wrist warmers, these in a bright turquoise, and have braved the beast known as double pointed needles (DPNs) again. One particular project I've been dying to try requires knitting with five double pointed needles. Five. Needles. At. One Time. To give you an idea of how uncoordinated I am, I will admit that I've been attempting to master this trick on and off for the past six months.
I KNOW.
At some point, a normal person would decide that life is too short to bash her brains against a wall and would try something else. Not me. My father told me decades ago that I always did things the hard way, and he wasn't just whistlin' Dixie.
I've watched several videos on YouTube wherein normal people with ten fingers whip through knitting with five needles at one time like it's no big deal. I've learned that part of my problem is that the project calls for very few stitches starting out, so the needles aren't secured by the stitches themselves. Another problem may be the weight of my DPNs; my preference for needles is wood, but these are ultra-light and tend to slip, slide, and spin. So I've bought some heavier metal needles, and I've bought some heavier cotton yarn in a similar color to the thin silk I bought for the project.
Into the breach. Again.
Oi.
I KNOW.
At some point, a normal person would decide that life is too short to bash her brains against a wall and would try something else. Not me. My father told me decades ago that I always did things the hard way, and he wasn't just whistlin' Dixie.
I've watched several videos on YouTube wherein normal people with ten fingers whip through knitting with five needles at one time like it's no big deal. I've learned that part of my problem is that the project calls for very few stitches starting out, so the needles aren't secured by the stitches themselves. Another problem may be the weight of my DPNs; my preference for needles is wood, but these are ultra-light and tend to slip, slide, and spin. So I've bought some heavier metal needles, and I've bought some heavier cotton yarn in a similar color to the thin silk I bought for the project.
Into the breach. Again.
Oi.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
The Diva
SIL Kat asked for a picture of the Diva performing her yarn selection supervisory duties.
You may admire her now.
;)
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
A New Year
Oh holy cats, it was cold here today! Highs got up to the oh-so-NOT-balmy mid 30s, but the whipping wind made it feel like the 20s. I'm not a fan of cold weather anymore, but at least I got to wear my newly-made fingerless mitts and my knit cap from the Knit Happens group.
Work was okay, mostly a day of catching up and re-prioritizing. Unfortunately, the cold from hell got the best of me, and by the end of the day, I was queasy from coughing so much. The inhaler & tessalon pearls did very little to slow things down, so I stopped and bought a box of Allegra. It's not doing much either. I really don't want to go see the doc because she's of the belief that if I try hard enough, I can suppress the cough through sheer willpower alone, and I don't want to be lectured about my lack thereof. Bah.
Did some more crocheting tonight, this time with a felting wool in shades of rose and cocoa. I'm going to felt the swatch tomorrow and see how the colorway comes out. If it's as pretty as I hope it will be, I'm either going to make another set of wrist warmers or go whole hog and make a purse/bag.
I pulled out a selection of yarn to take to work tomorrow so a pal can pick out yarn for her own wristwarmers. The Diva promptly jumped up into the chair where I was stacking the yarn and arranged her fabulous self across the cushion. Of course, I had to snap pix and take a short video. She suffered through it all with her usual grace and patience, blinking calmly at me as if to say, "Well, if you MUST make a fuss, go ahead. Do focus on my left side; it IS my best side, after all."
Bedtime, hopefully soon.
Work was okay, mostly a day of catching up and re-prioritizing. Unfortunately, the cold from hell got the best of me, and by the end of the day, I was queasy from coughing so much. The inhaler & tessalon pearls did very little to slow things down, so I stopped and bought a box of Allegra. It's not doing much either. I really don't want to go see the doc because she's of the belief that if I try hard enough, I can suppress the cough through sheer willpower alone, and I don't want to be lectured about my lack thereof. Bah.
Did some more crocheting tonight, this time with a felting wool in shades of rose and cocoa. I'm going to felt the swatch tomorrow and see how the colorway comes out. If it's as pretty as I hope it will be, I'm either going to make another set of wrist warmers or go whole hog and make a purse/bag.
I pulled out a selection of yarn to take to work tomorrow so a pal can pick out yarn for her own wristwarmers. The Diva promptly jumped up into the chair where I was stacking the yarn and arranged her fabulous self across the cushion. Of course, I had to snap pix and take a short video. She suffered through it all with her usual grace and patience, blinking calmly at me as if to say, "Well, if you MUST make a fuss, go ahead. Do focus on my left side; it IS my best side, after all."
Bedtime, hopefully soon.
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