cold hands, warm heart

This post was all nice and ready to go yesterday, but Blogger swallowed it whole while I was uploading the photos. And yes, I was a dumb-dumb-doodyhead, and wasn't typing/editing somewhere outside of the BlackHoleThatIsBlogger...so I lost the whole damn post. I've already beat myself up, so no need to do that.
So here's the post, in it's new form, and it's written in the style of my pretending that today is still Wednesday, not Thursday.
Just in case you are keeping track of what I do every day or some shit.
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It is cold here. Very cold. Not Kathy or Lene's sort of cold. But definitely colder than we are used to here in the San Francisco Bay Area. Last night several communities had temps below freezing, and it is expected to be colder tonight.

Unrelated to the cold, this morning I woke up 2 hours before the alarm went off. I spent the first hour or so trying to get back to sleep, but my mind was prattling on and reflecting back on this past November-full of daily blog posts, reminiscing in particular about the things that I had wanted to blog about, but sadly never did. I wondered if maybe I could cover any of those topics in the two days remaining...then came to the conclusion that I would probably drag my ass out of bed and still not blog about any of those unwritten things, but instead write about how cold it was.
Day 29 of 30.
Take the easy route, I say.

After an hour mulling all of that over, I finally gave up trying to fall back asleep, turned on the morning news and listened to the reports about the cold weather and cold people, while I propped myself up to knit a few rows of lace. I was so friggin' cold with my top half outside of the blanket, that I started layering on the handknits. At some point I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Over my purple plaid pajamas and red t-shirt, I had put on my striped Noro poncho-esque thing, my beloved sheepy armwarmers, a blue hat with kitty ears, and even though my foot was under the blanket still, I knew that it donned a pink and orange sock. I was a prime example of a "fasion don't". I looked like a bag lady. A very warm bag lady, thankful for all of her handknit woolies, true.

And that's exactly when it hit me that one of the unwritten posts was completely linked to the cold weather, and then I got a wild hair up my arse to do something about it.
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The UnWritten Entry, Now Written

A few weeks back, I was reading Lene's blog, and near the end of this post about her knitting, she wrote:

"...I wonder, that when I get old, will I look back into my days and wonder why did I spend all my life with these tiny loops."

I spent days contemplating this thought, and I'm not even going to bother getting into my brain-farts here, because I'm already sick of hearing myself think, and I'm sure all of you knitters (or any others of you out there with your own similar interests) have probably at some time or another asked yourself this very same question.

But somewhere during those few days of contemplating, a timely thing happened that deepened my thought process.
I made a trip to the thrift store, and I ran across these:



























A whole bunch of hand-knit and crocheted blankets.


Abandoned.
I whole bunch of time, money, creativity, love, and little loops.
Sitting there.
Marked from $2.99 to $4.99 or so.
(btw, the hand quilting was marked $39.99-$69.99...interesting).
I was so struck by them hanging there, that I even photographed them all that day so I could write a post about how seeing them made me feel. Which of course, I never did.

I spent another few days thinking about those blankets. And I'm not going to go into any of those brain-farts, either. Again, anyone who has a hobby can probably do their own thinking and my hands are too cold to type it all out for you now anyhow, so your are on your own to ponder, ok? Sorry. LOL

Anyhow.
That's when it hit me.

I need to rescue the blankets and deliver them to the rescue shelter. I need to give the lonely abandoned blankets full of love to the lonely abandoned people who need love.

So after I got MyFK off to school, I went to the ATM machine, pulled out twenty bucks, and went to the thrift store. I'd like to have spent more, but me thinks ye might be needin' to be savin' up for thee gas bill, eyee?

I think it had been about 4 weeks or so since I'd first seen them, and almost all of the same blankets were still there. Upon closer inspection, some of them were just lap blankets and too small to wrap around a person, but most of them were just the right size to cover a single bed or a cot, or to wrap around a person without it dragging eveyrwhere (I was a bit irked that someone was buying the bright yellow one just as I rounded the corner, because that was my favorite...I almost tried to talk her out of it...I hope she takes it home and loves it to death).

I decided that I would do the delivery of the blankets to the rescue mission bit after picking up MyFK from school. I figured I may as well get some mileage out of this and get some parenting done at the same time...and it was going to be a double whammy because he was having a friend over after school for a playdate, so they were both going to get the living lecture.

On the drive down to the shelter, I gave them both the whole schpeel. The handknits, the stuff that goes into making something, the cold, the homeless, being grateful and giving, yadda yadda...and that's when MyFK asks:
"Where we are bringing the blankets for donation?"

And I say: "To the Bay Area Rescue Mission."

And his friend says: "When my mom and dad went through their divorcement, my mom had to stay there for awhile."


And the lesson of the day suddenly became a whole lot bigger.
For all of us.

things to think about from young and old

First, from the old. This came from Ellie, a lady at the convalescent hospital I have met in passing when going there to visit James.

AmpuT: Hi, Ellie! Remember me?

Ellie: Uh...hrmmm...

AmpuT: I came to here one day and we talked for awhile...

Ellie: Whaaa??? I can't hear that well. (leans in to bring her hearing aid to about 2 inches from my lips).

AmpuT: I visited you one time and you showed me all of those thing on the windowsill of your room (she has a very cool collection of things that would make even an uber-grump smile).

Ellie: OH YES! You are the bellydancer! You came to my room and looked at my things, like that blanket I made. You are the one who crow-shayyyys...

AmpuT: I knit.

Ellie: What??

AmpuT: I KNIT. I DO KNIT..TING.

Ellie: You made that hat for Robyn.

AmpuT: YES. (big visible nod to go with it).

Ellie: Well, of course I remember you! It's just that I'm 94 and I can't hear that well.

AmpuT: Ohhhh, that's okay!

Elllie: NO. IT. ISN'T. (pause) It's horrible! (longer pause) But I'm glad you come talk to me anyhow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And from My 9yr old Favorite Kid:

AmpuT: Ok, this is your human snooze alarm ringing. Your 10 minutes are up. It's time to get up and ready for schoooool....

MyFK: Ohhhh, maaaaan! NO WAY has it been 10 minutes.

AmpuT: Yes it has. Look at the clock.

MyFK: (whining) I wasn't even having fun. How can time be flying?


(think about that one for a bit)

this had better count as a post

I'm angry, depressed, pissy, pms-y, hurt, weepy (did I say pms-y?)....and I just don't care to write a blogpost today because I am sick at tired of hearing myself be sick and tired.

I'll try harder tomorrow.
Maybe even twice to make up for today.
And then again, maybe not.

Oh. And thank goodness for knitted lace.
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Your Stress Level is: 78%

You are prone to stress, and you're probably even pretty stressed right now. Life's problems seem to pile up on you, and this often makes you feel depressed and burned out. Learn to take time to relax and enjoy life, even if things are stressful. It's the only wa you'll get through the bad times.

How Stressed Are You?

death of squirtle

NO!!!

Mr.BunnyMan & Zip

(My pups don't even dare sniff them for fear of my wrath)

Hmmm, perphaps something here...

The wall o'stuffies at ThriftTown

(toys that have been loved so long they have worn spots shall never be used as snacks; instead we purge through for the cast-off junkie stuffies from state fairs and such)

Squirtle it is.

Fuzz Flying.
Happy Doggy.
Messy Yard.

more nonsense knitting, but also the *why* of it

Spring Flowers in the Winter




Yarn: Lamb's Pride Worsted, M-162 Mulberry, M-173 Wild Violet, M-120 Limeade, m-155 Lemon Drop
Needles: Clover Bamboo US#8's/5.0mm, dpns
Pattern: Spring Flowers, by SaartjeKnits
Modifications: larger versions of the original pattern
Finished Measurements: 13" and 11"
Started & Finished: Flower#1 11/24/06, #2 11/26/06
Notes:

Alrighty. It's officially a phase.
A period.
Whatever.
Here we are, 3 mini-pumpkins, 5 catnip mice, 2 felted cat-toys, 1 new stuffed toy friend, 1 gnome, 2 flowers, a few warshrags and hallowigs later... and I think I finally understand what's going on with me and my knitting over here.

Yes, knitting these little ditties has something to do with immediate gratification and creating things that are adorably non-functional; things just meant to bring smiles, at a time when I could use a few extra.

But I think this whole nonsense knitting trip is actually a big lesson in my creativity, primarily about my stash and how it either supports or hinders my creativity.

Sometimes I hear or read about the knitters who buy a "sweater's worth" of yarn they enjoy, with no pattern in mind. They are just waiting for the perfect idea to emerge to go with it. I am soooo totally not that kind of yarn-ho. See, I need to be able to justify my purchases (with most items, not just yarn). If I'm going to spend money on something, I need to be able to prove that it will be useful. In terms of buying yarn, that has translated into the edict:
Thou shalt only buy yarn if thou has a dedicated project in mind for it.

Now, I don't think this keeps me from buying less yarn than the person who buys a whole bag of yarn for a to-be-determined project. But what it does do, is this (by comparison):

The Bag-For-A-Sweater person goes home, puts their stash in a basket, admires it, occasionally fondles it , and sees inspiration waiting to happen. This person has a basket full of possibilities.
I come home, put my stash in a basket, admire it and fondle it, but instead of inspiration flowing, I see all the things I intend to do that I will never be able to get done. I see a basket of failure, covered with a cloud of fear for lack of time.

And I'm ready to start looking at my stash and my craft differently. What's kicked me into gear is knitting silly little useless things (which most certainly can no longer be deemed useless if they are making my brain explode this way).

It started with making little things made out of left-sock yarns: cat toys, watch bands. See, those were left-overs from other projects, and not dedicated to something, so I could just see a pattern, get a bug up my arse to whip it up quick, and blammo...done.

But it was the Lamb's Pride Worsted that really did it. I bought several colors to make some Jess Hutch toys. Being that I have no faith in my own color sensibilities, I copied her colors exactly. And was left with a ton of leftovers, and a big love for this yarn. I just adore knitting with it. So I went out and bought a few more colors with no specific project in mind (*gasp!*) to add to my collection. Just colors that I like. I thought I'd try making a few more of her toys, but get brave about my own colors.

(this whole discussion strikes me as interesting, because I have absolutely no problem whatsoever pulling a dance movement out of my "dance stash" and making my own finished item using that medium)

Anyhow, I've now been tripping through the internet running into patterns for little silly things, and I can just go to my stash o'LambsPride and make them. I know that technically, I'm just using up odd and ends of stash, but really, something big is happening here.

I'm beginning to see my stash as a wide open field of colorful creative possibilites.

I'm still not as far along as trusting my own color choices, nor am I making up my own patterns, but I didn't start choreographing dances for myself right of out the gate, either.
So watch out yarn world. I'm learning.

Ready or not, here I come ;-)

out with the felted pumpkins, in with the winter gnome

Well, I failed to take the knitting outside and shoot pics in the light of day, but this dude said it was too cold outside today anyhow....

Korknisse (aka CorkGnomeDude)
Yarn: Lambs Pride Worsted , M-160 "Dynamite Blue" and some metallic crochet thread for the snowflake...all from stash...except the cork...that was fresh ;-)
Needles: Lantern Moon US#3 dpns
Inspired by: KnittingIris
Pattern: SaartjeKnits
Modifications: I cast-on 16 stitches instead of 15 for both the sweater and the hat. For the sweater, I did the rib for 2 rows, but then knit 6 rounds before binding off. For the hat, I ribbed for 2 rows, knit 8 rounds, K2tog at the beginning of the 9th round to get back to the 15sts, then followed the instructions for decreasing.
Started & Finished: 11/24/06
Notes: Knitting with worsted weight yarn on US#3's on 16 sts in the round pretty much sucks. But this dude is too damn cute, and I think he'll probably have a girlfriend shortly.

A good excuse to crack another bottle of cabernet.
I'm thinking mulled wine is in order...

here's the story

I didn't feel like writing up the details about this over the holiday proper, nor the day I'd set aside to get my head screwed on straight(er).
But here's the poop about the NeighborGuy. Pour yourself a cup o'something yummy, because I'm about to get seriously long-winded.


The background story is such:

I live on a corner lot.
My house is on a hill.
I am a wheelchair user.
I live in a neighborhood with no curb cuts (this means that my personal driveway is my curb cut--it is the ramp that allows me to get my wheelchair from my car and up to my front door).
Oh.
And let's also add that my driveway borders the NeighborGuy's property.


Now, I don't use the curb cut of my driveway all that often. I typically leave my wheelchair in my car, use crutches to get into the house, and then waiting for me when I open the front door is another wheelchair. This is because the threshold between the landing and the doorway isn't wheelchair friendly...but nevermind that for now. Let's also nevermind for now the fact that I don't use my driveway for parking my car. There is a dead 1970 VW bus full of my camping gear parked there. So I never enter or exit my driveway with a vehicle. Only a wheelchair, and only when I am unloading my car. If I have to carry something in that is too big to be managed on crutches (ie: just about anything), then I use the wheelchair to help me get said item up to the front door's landing.

What makes accomplishing the task of unloading my car difficult at times, is when the NeighborGuy has parked blocking my driveway. This usually means he is out of room to park because he has also parked blocking his driveway, and possibly even the driveway of the neighbor on the other side of him, as well.

So. If you can picture this, this would mean that I load a heavy and/or large item onto my lap, I am not able to use both hands for pushing or breaking because they are holding the item onto my crooked lap (I only have half a lap), I roll downhill three or four houses until I can find a useable driveway, push myself back uphill (which is very hard to do with one hand and a lapfull of heavy shit, because you have to lean forward deeply make a wheelchair go uphill), before I can even get get to my own front yard.

NieghorGuy has intermittently blocked my driveway since, well....forever. And in the last two years, I have had several peaceable discussions with him about it. I have also occasionally left notes that say please and thank you on the vehicles (because it's not always his car, it might be one of the 14+ people living there, or their visitiors, right?). I have nicely explained the fact that it is illegal to park blocking a driveway in this state, and that well...it is my driveway. I have also explained that it really is an accessibility issue for me. Not that gimps deserve pity, but you think that one alone would be enough, wouldntcha???


Wellp. Obviously not.
And at about 10am Thanksgiving morning, when I needed to bring stuff in from my car and was not able to, I knocked on his door and asked politely if he could please move his car as I needed to be able to use my wheelchair to get some items inside my house.

Know what he said? That it was his uncle's car, so therefore it was not his problem (even though his uncle lives there??), that I've been a bitch ever since the white-thingy went up, that it was too early in the morning for this shit, that the canopy was never ever ever coming down...and then he slammed the door in my face. So I mumbled (yes, only a mumble) that I'd just call the sherrif and have it towed.

By the time the Sherriff showed up, about 6 of the people that live or visit the property had gotten into their cars and left rather abruptly (hmmmm *scratches head*...something to hide??).

Once the Sherrif arrived, I explained to her the situation. In fact, I even wheeled about unloading my car to show her the situation. Gathering sympathy? No. Because sometimes an ambulatory person can't really see the problem for themselves...even when they are kind, and mean well, and trying so hard to visualize a mobility situation. They just have no way of understanding things about surfaces and equipments unless they actually see it displayed for them, or try it for themselves.

I apoligized for bothering her with Hattfield/McCoy crap on Thanksgiving. I explained to the Sherrif that I am very tolerant. That I was not calling to complain about the illegal rental unit in the backyard, the illegally wired utilities, the illegal aliens living on the property, the garbage that's been placed on the side of my house that blocks the meter reader, the fact that my garbage can has been used to handle their overflow often hindering me from using my own service, the poor soggy cold doggy and the newly purchased bunny in the backyard that (imho) are treated negligently, the doughnut marks in the interstection (courtesy of my neighbor's "muscle car"--often created in the morning, and we live one block from and elementary school), the fact that NG continues to hop my fence to climb my avocado tree and strip it of fruit even though I've asked him not to, or even newly unobstructed view debate.

No, no. I was calling about none of those things (*chuckle*...I can be such a bitch. do. not. fuck. with. me...and maybe I am a tad bit passive-agressive after all...I'm only moments away from cutting little letters out of magazine print and glue-sticking a note that says, "Canopy or A Call to Immigration--You Decide").

But again, no. I wasn't calling about any of those things.
I was calling about the fact that I couldn't access my own home and had asked nicely and...
well, you get the picture.

So the Sherrif goes over there for awhile and comes back looking very confident, collected, and professional, but looking like she needed a place to sit down and maybe even a cup of tea. Something about her eyes, ya' know?? Well, as it turns out, both the NeighborGuy and his wife yelled and screamed at the Sherrif, were rude and obscene, and even tried to slam the door in her face (smart bunch, eh?). Sherrif Michelle (we are on a first name basis now) advised them that she would be patrolling the neighborhood on every shift from here 'til eternity and that if they even so much as inched over into my driveway, there would be no knock on the door, but instead an immediate tow and a mandatory 30 day impound (you go, girl).

Then she looked at me, scowled and said, "You have no idea how bad I wish that car was still parked there when I got here." (oh yes, I have some idea) She gave me a card with her phone number, what hours she is on duty, and who to call when she is off duty. We wished each other a Happy Thanksgiving and she gave me a handshake...and then leaned in for a hug. Awww :-)

About 30 minutes later or so, I went to my kitchen to do dishes, looked out the window to admire what little of my view is left, and there is NeighborGuy (can I start calling him Asshat or something??) staking me out. He is smack in the middle of his redwood deck sitting on a folding chair staring at my kitchen window donning the hate-mug with his arms folded all pissy-looking.

So I closed the blinds.

And I just could not stand the idea of TheAsshat squeezing out my sunshine, so I pulled them back up a few minutes later after I stopped feeling freaked.

Not much drama since then.

But I'm a bit scared to leave the house and have the place looking vacant.
And I'm checkin' my tires every day for carefully positioned nails.


The End.
Knitting photos later, if I can get my act together.

things that have brought big smiles in the past 2 days

* The sheriff that responded to my NeighborGuy complaint not only giving me a handshake as she left, but also a hug.

* TheMIG and I sending our first camera phone photos to each other: views from our seats at our respective Thanksgiving dinners. I'd loved to have put up both photos here, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet, and I don't think I'll figure it out by midnight when I need to get this damn thing posted.

* My kid bursting out into laughter while sleep-talking.

* Splitting a gut while reading TheMIG's first post on his new blog called, "Randumb".

* Penguins in sweaters.

* Using my new cell phone to sit in the sunshine and listen to MarvinSuicide, Cast-On, and Sticks And String.

* Going out for a Philly CheeseSteak (ranks right up there with Spaghettios as a comfort food).

* An online chat, a cup of hot tea, and armwarmers, all facilitated by TheBon.

* Knitting. Wait 'till you see what I've been knitting. Photos tomrrow morning when the light is better. More goofy silly little obsessive things. I'm having a blast. Oh, and I also cast-on the lace. Very smile inducing.

* Watching a borrowed copy of Elizabeth Zimmerman's Knitting Workshop. If you thought she was funny in print, oh my. It's really magical to hear her voice. It's quite entertaining to hear her say things like, "each stitch is like a little heart shaped thing." Or, discussing gauge, she says, "{with this wool} Four {stitches to the inch} is alright...but six is tight...and..and..three would be sleazy. So...maybe you like sleazy sweaters! They're very fashionable right now." And this additional gem about gauge: "...and it muddles me to this day. But you see, I don't have to make sweaters that fit. I just make sweaters. And then the people who they fit...wear them. I'm most fortunate. I make so many sweaters. I shouldn't tell you that, but that's the way I operate." Or, "I'm not fit to give knitting lessons! But you don't often have mathmeticians who are knitters, and viceversa {from off camera...some statement about her using a calculator} I can't even work a calculator." And why am I bothering to explain the charm of her voice with more print. You need her tone and the look on her face as she peers over her glasses at you. That was the whole point. Duh. Anyhow, good knitting company.
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I'm tired of NaBloPoopedMo, but I refuse to give in so close to the finish line.
I did not achieve my original goal of every post being creative process based post. Close. But no cigar. Just too big of an oBLOGation.

pass the cranberry sauce, hold the mojo

one pretty accurate representation of how i feel

It's been a crazy two days. Major roller coaster over here.

Since yesterday's post, there has been poopy lawsuit news, another new-ish negative thought/feeling about being a gimp (bubbling up as a result of the briefing on my not so brief case), uber-negative interactions with the NeighborGuy (uber, as in, call the Sheriff uber)........all mixed in with big sweetness from TheMostImportantGuy, one side-splitting hilarious Thanksgiving afternoon with my family, and lots of love from friends (realtime and cyber). At least on my kind of coaster the highs are quite high. Thank goodness for that.

I want to again say thank you all so very much for you thoughts, intentions, time, love, energy, prayers, comments, emails, phone calls, etc. I hope to have some time tomorrow to send some emails and thank all of you individually, but I have to be honest....I might need a minute to catch my breath. I'm pretty damned wiped out...so if you dont hear from me right away, please dont take it personally. Tomorrow I might just need to sit and sun and melt.

(oh, and also...your email addresses don't come through to me when you comment...and I can't always find ways to email you via your profiles or blogs...so if you'd like to hear back from me--and I would like to write back to you--please send me an email at amputeehee(at)hotmail(dot)com so I have your address...okay??)


Anyhow...I need to at least expand on the poopy lawsuit news to y'all because it is mojo related.
You can hit the pause button on the mojo.
Even though the mojo was deeply appreciated (and had the added bonus of actually being internally absorbed by me), there was one part of the collaborative mojo-ness that didn't stick:

The date.

About 10 minutes after yesterday's post, my AttorneyMan called to say that Tuesday's mediation has to be rescheduled. It seems the mediator had a death in the family and must attend a funeral that day. His office apologized greatly and offered Wednesday or Thursday as a possibility, but already several of the other key players have stated they aren't available either day. A date in mid-December is being tossed around as a possibility, but we don't have a full consensus yet. Hopefully I'll know about that by next week, but I have a sinking feeling we are looking at '07.

I got the news and then cried my head off hysterically for about ten minutes, because to me this means nothing short of another month (or more) of fretting.

Once I let that surge out, I've been feeling drained, but okay. As I said today to Diana on a long overdue phone call, I'm basically just sick to death of being on this boat. But I do understand that I am in this boat. And I do understand that there isn't much else I can do but go with the flow. No point struggling to be in control or anything. I just gotta go for the ride. Just gotta take care of myself the best I can while I wait.

So please pass the dramamine.
Which means knitting.

A sock has been finished and kitchenered, some seaming on the shumps has taken place, and a swatch has been knit for the lace shawl (thank you for that, ladies...I think that was some damn fine advice).


Anyhow, so hold the mojo for now. And I hope you don't mind, but whenever the new date approaches, I'll be asking for it again. Which is kinda hard for me. I don't ask for help that often...stubborn independent hag that I am. But I'm going to ask again, because I don't think this one is something I can do myself.

thankful...

...for all of you.
(big time)

Wishing you & yours a joyous and bountiful Thanksgiving.

emotional vomit. hand me a bucket.

This is going to be one big fat purge, and it's for me.
I'm using the blog today as one big fat broom.

added after writing all of the text below:
This is unedited, not even spellchecked. It is stream of conciousness style writing. If you are new to this blog, thanks for coming, and it's okay to slink away quietly...because if you read this, you are going to think I am completely fucking insane.
Even if you have been coming here for awhile and are not so new, you also might think that I'm completely fucking insane.
That's okay (it might just be an accurate assessment).
If you've been reading for a long time, or if you know me personally...you know that this is "process stuff" and this is how I tick and truly, honestly, in the long run, I'm okay.
(But if you feel compelled to call and say hi or stop by and give me a hug...do it.)
This is how I move through my shit.
Sorry I have to do this on the blog, but I also have to make a NaBloPoMo post today, and I dont have time to both process and write...so this is what it is. It is what is.

I'm a wee bit out of touch with reality at the moment.
Or maybe it's not that I'm out of touch with reality, but that I am totally in touch with reality, and it's more like I'm overwhelmed by reality.
Which is a good argment against reality for wanting to be out of touch with it, I guess.
Lordy, who has the keys to the padded-room??
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



It is NOT all fluffy handknit toys over here.
I know that.
I'm sure YOU all know that, too.
My knitting of small, repetitive, playful, feel good items, is indicative of stress and potential insanity.
I hope my mom won't hate me for mentioning this, but recently we remenisced over a time in her own life where she faced an equally stressful period, and I would find her at the diningroom table until the wee hours cutting out teenytiny things out of magazine print to make the most beautful and detailed (read as: obsessively intricate) collages you've ever seen. I have one very big one she made and will keep it forever, and I love it, but for her, it reminds her of crazy times.
Knitting tiny things and felting little balls of wool and trying to use a spindle even though I have no idea what I'm doing is exactly that same thing for me right now.
It is very comforting to have my mom understanding me.
We haven't always understood each other. That's for sure.

Hildred called and we talked about the post I wrote. She was moved enough by it to let her family know the post was there and have them read it. One of her sons was worried my use of the term "Crone" for her. I had to explain that my spiritual background is fairly pagan and based in Native American culture, and Crone is an honorable title. A Crone is a WiseWoman.
I'm here typing and crying becaus helloooooo...if we live long enough, we ALL get old. Why does our culture not place our elders on a pedestal worthy of respect?
I want to go live in a teepee.

Yesterday at the AttorneyMan's wasn't bad thing on the surface.
But it really spun me out on some deep levels that cropped up later in the afternoon.
AttorneyMan talked a whole lot about numbers and bottom lines and annuities and things like that, and all the while he's telling me that during the mediation he will be there, and so will be AttorneyMan2, who is also representing me....and so see?? I won't be alone....excpet I am told that in the end, the decision of whether or not, or when, to settle...in the end THAT IS UP TO ME....and then suddenly I feel alone again.
Alone.
I have to say something about Alone.
I'd gone through life like the rest of us, having periods of time alone. Wanting time alone. Not wanting time alone. Having times of being alone when you'd rather have someone near. Having times when you need to go out into the forest alone for four days (I've done that twice). I even spent a chunk of time in my 20's investigating the difference between lonely and alone...and finally understanding they are not the same thing. Understanding that one can be alone in a room full of people...understanding that in my spiritual picture, I am never alone, for we are all interconnected...that kind of stuff.

About a year after the accident, I started to develop all kinds of wierd problems. Having flashbacks of the moments after the accident was the big one. There is one big thing that happened to me as part of the car accident. It was the time I was trapped in the car alone for a couple of hours, totally awake, feeling myself daying, but nobody seeing me off the side of the road. The flashbacks brought along anxiety and depression and insomnia and stuff like that.
I saw a therapist and amongst other things, did some hypnotherapy.
We found that there was one prominent truth about the time trapped in the car.
Amidst the panic, and the determination to get out or to be seen, amidst the bargaining with God/Spirit, amidst the pain and the fatigue and the calm and the chaos....I experienced a sense of alone that I don't even have the words to begins to describe.
Although I should probably try.
Sheesh. I just realized I might have a better time trying to dance it. Hmmm.
Anyhow.
For me, it was a kind of alone that goes wayyyy beyond any wordly level of alone.
It's the kind of alone where you meet your maker (which in essence, is anything but alone), but for me it was somehow terrifying in some way, becomes it was an experience that reminds me that really everything else I've been experiencing in this life is compartively trivial (which is concurrently enlighting and terrifying to me).
It's an alooooone alone.
Honestly. I have no words for it.
Once someone told me that people who have experiences like mine, neardeath experiences, all recount the same panic and fear...and then the peace they found moving towards "the light". Expcept the paramedics showed up before I got to the light, so maybe I'm just stuck knowing the panic and fear. Interesting theory.

Back to yesterday in the AttorneyMan's office, I flipped through the 3" high stack which was supposedly a "breifing" of my case prepared for the mediator. I don't know WHY I skimmed through it, but I did. I saw a few things disturbing, but the one that apparently impacted the rest of my day was the a photo of me trapped in the car taken by the Highway Patrol or someone like that. The rescue crew guys were surrounding the car. All I could see of myself was my black chef pants with the white pinstripes. The ones that made me feel serious, unlike the ones with the cherries on them that I wore when I wanted to feel playful. My face was covered in a blanket to protect me from flying glass and metal (I remember that moment, a fireman was under the blanket with me whispering into my ear that it would all be okay...even though he didn't believe it, as a year later told me he had chalked me up as not surviving).
They were there.
I remember them being there, and the great sense of relief at not being alone.
And I remember letting go.
Yet.
I am alone.
And I can't handle all of this information.
So go home and I sew the arms on the knitted toy and I fix handknit sock problems.
I didn't get even one bit emotional while in the AttorneyMan's office, I don't think.
I just left and went about my business. Task oriented mommy-mom sprinkled in with obsessive crafting.

I also went for my weekly visit with James, my buddy at the convalescent hospital.
The visit with him was quite nice, but of course we were surrounded by used-up-crone people left there to die, who are experiencing that type of alone that I can't bear to describe, but everyone says they have alzheimers so they dont really know that they are alone, and I'm sorry but I just cant believe that to be true...because if the minde doesn't know it, I've got all that I'm worth sitting here telling you that their bodies know it.

Later in the afternoon, I had an argument with my ex...he was trying to cancel out on one of his days to be with MyFK this weekend...a day that I had planned to use to decompress a bit and turn my home into a spa-weekend, and be compulsive over making more little knitted thingies.
I argued with him well beyond making my point, totally justified in my reason for the argument, but misdirecting a whole lot of tension and anger because, well....I'm an ass.
I finished the phone call(s) with him, then I started to panic over all that needed to be done at home in my emotional, exhausted, single-mom state.
I panicked about feeling alone in that way, too.
TheMIG called and offered to come over and hang out for comfort's sake, and I tried to turn that into an argument, too....because what I really needed was not comfort but help, I was overwhelmed...and so he generously offered to come and do some things to help, and I somehow turned that into a "You dont understand me" thing, which is ridiciulous, because at that moment even I didn't understand me.

He came anyhow. We cuddled and watched another episode of Six Feet Under.
Then we just kind of looked into each other's eyes for moment and then I said, "I think that seeing that picture of me in the car was too hard."
"I was wearing my chef pants. I don't wear those anymore."

This morning I looked at the pile of cat toys that I knit up last week, and thought about why they are still sitting there instead of being mailed off to their respective patiently waiting kitties...and it's because I can't just put them in an envelope and send them. Nooooo, I have to be all compulsive MarthaStewart-y about it and wrap them up all nice with ribbons and bows and make a handmade card and say something witty....not to mention finding the time to get over myself long enough so that I can go to the post office.

And all I really want to do is swatch for the lace shawl I've been dying to knit.
But I feel like I need to finish the "shumps" first, but I can't seem to make myself work on them and now I am thinking it's because they are a garment to cover my amputated limb and I'm right in the middle of legal crap about why I have an amputated limb.
But my leg is cold.

And so I grab my chai this morning, go to the computer, and see that Jodi has a new post...and I see that she has lost another cat....and I know that she is not at her home (the home home)...she is somewhere else...and doesn't have the option of gaining comfort from a late night visit from her beloved like I do...and she spends a lot of time alone...and so I cried about that for awhile...because now I'm back to nobody should have to feel alone.
And now here I am.
Staring at the screen.
Thinking about how awesome it is that MyFK said he prefered to walk himself to school without me, a first...which is beautiful...but (do I even need to draw the lines for you?).
Trying to figure out if I should go replace the alarm clock I broke yesterday by accidently dumping an entire glass of wine I poured and never drank into it...or if I should swatch....or make more little toys....or wrap up and send out the toys that I have already made...and it's very quiet here.
Excpet the chirping of the crickets my son keeps in a tank for feeding his gecko.

any kind of mojo is good mojo, but...

My knitting is coming along better today, which I find interesting.

I think perhaps the knitterly bunch of you automatically tossed in some knitting mojo while you were doing the lawsuit mojo, too.
Go figure ;-)

I think I have been delivered from sock hell (more on that soon, but I'm about to miss my NaBloPoMo deadline if I prattle on too long)....and today I have a finisished object:



Mince (or so he's been dubbed by his new caretaker, TheMIG)
Yarn: Lamb's Pride Worsted...Rust, Autumn Harvest, Limeade
Needles: US #8's, Susan Bates little plastic knitting needles for kids, and US #8's wood dpns by Clover
Pattern: Squarey, found in Unusual Toys For You To Knit and Enjoy by Jess Hutch
Modifications: I couldn't find a 12" pillow form, so I stuffed him with poly-fiberfill
Started: I can't recall...after the pumpkins I think, but before the mice perhaps?
Finished: his little appendages were knit up last night and sewn on today

the wishing of luck can begin now please

LuckyCat in C-Leg Blue

From This Weekend's Jaunt Into Japantown

Tomorrow morning is a meeting with my AttorneyMan. He's going to prep me for everything that will happen one week from tomorrow. That's the mediation date. My AttorneyMan is definitely the good guy, so I'm not worried about having a meeting with him, but I am worried that there are going to be many details discussed that my currently anxiety-ridden seive-like brain will not be able to hold onto. I have visions of myself restless over the weekend trying to remember what he said about bottom lines and insurance bills and not being able to remember diddly-squat.

So TheMIG is thankfully coming with me to the meeting tomorrow to keep track of it all. (Love You)


I am a strong believer in long distance communal intention setting. If I can please ask the following favor (and I will probably ask you once again next week, sorry).....


If you are willing, please pray or cross your fingers, or do your mojo, or whatever spiritiual thing it is you do, so that:

* The schedules of something like 6 attorneys and 1 judge all miraculously line up like some cosmic event, so that we are all there for the mediation on November 28th and that it does not get postponed.

* I remain calm between now and then, and that on the day of the mediation I remember to bring lots of feel-good-keep-busy knitting and all of the other little tools I will need to feel settled.

* That this whole thing will be behind me very soon, preferably ending with this one mediation date (unlikely, I've been told... but hey, whatever... visualization and setting intention can be a powerful thing, so let's do it).

* Justice will be served.



Much thanks to all.

one more meme

As promised. For Scout.
(sorry it's a couple days late, darlin'...it was a get-away weekend!! *smile*)

1. How and when did you learn how to knit/crochet? Who taught you?

Mom, if you are reading, and I have this wrong, feel free to correct me :-)

I think I was about 7. My family was visiting Solvang, CA and I was allowed to buy one item from a toy store (most of the items in the store being "old fashioned/handcrafted"). I picked out this little book about knitting. I can practically see it in my mind. It was about 3x5 and had a lot of blue on the cover. My mom had done some knitting, and I assume she helped me with casting on, but I also think I took very well to reading the instructions and doing things myself. I specifically remember knitting soft-boiled egg cozies for my grandparents, amongst several other items. About a year later, some lady offered an after school knitting class at her home. I was the only kid that already knew how to knit, so I got to choose my own project. I chose to knit a varsity cardigan for a babydoll. It was lemon yellow with a white stripe just below the waist. I remember my mom helping me cast on, and I think she also taught me how to change colors and do the shoulder shaping. I have no idea why, but I have this image of my doing some of this knitting in the bathroom LOLOL.

I don't think I did any knitting again until my early 20's when I knit this very wide, very long garter stitch scarf (mostly to keep myself distracted during meetings). I then started on one of those afghans where every square taught some new technique. I also had a pattern library and would just swatch squares, with no real intention towards a project. I also taught my friend Karen B. to knit back then, too...I still have the little stockinette "mojo" bag she made for me to thank me for teaching her (wonder where she went...she moved out of state, and I lost her). Anyhow, also in that era, I decided to try making my first garment. A mauve colored tank top. I started it, and knowing nothing of guage, it was clearly going to turn out enormous. I shoved it in a bag, and that was that.

I didn't pick up knitting again until about 2-1/2 years or so ago at the suggestion of my accupuncturist. For the entire first year after my accident, I couldn't even lift the fingers on my right hand due to nerve damage. It was suggested that I take up some form of repetitive exercise regimen that included small hand movements. With all the therapy I was having for my pelvis and legs, plus the stretching and weights for the arm/shoulder, I couldn't bear taking on another physical therapy routine for the hands, too. So I decided to pick up the needles as my physical therapy.

My first project back in action was my kitty ears hat, and it was my first time knitting in the round, first time with dpn's, first time getting gauge for a fitted item, my first real wool, and my first i-cord. I've been pretty busy cranking out stuff ever since.



2. How has this craft impacted your life? (besides financially!)

Well, for starters, my fingers work again!
And I think the real question is what area of my life has this craft NOT impacted. Seriously. I have made friends through knitting. I have created think time through knitting. I have calmed myself through knitting. I have been mentally engage and challenged by knitting. I regained a sense of my creativity during I time I was struggling with my dancing (that one is still ongoing) with knitting. I regained confidence in myself, and a sense of pride and accomplishment. I have a hobby I can share with my child. I have made things with my own hands that I have enjoyed gifting to others. I think I could go on....but again, the point is....deep impact. Almost everywhere.

3. Pick at least one person to talk about who you have met through the knit-world and why you are thankful to have met them. Feel free to get all mushy.

Hildred. I have no idea if you still drop in on my blog, lady...but if you do, I love you. And if you don't stop by here, well....I'll tell you I love you when you get back from your trip ;-)

I met Hildred at the knitting workshop held at my LYS (now closed). Even then, she and I would sometimes meet at her home for tea, knit and chat. I don't know how old Hildred is, but in the maiden-mother-crone spectrum, she's in the crone-zone, and crone is a word I use with utmost respect. Hildred is vivacious. She is one upbeat lady, and is able to put a positive (or at least humorous) spin on things, even if she finds those things annoying. She has a laugh that really is proof positive to her honest and grand sense of humor.

She is extremely giving of her time and of herself. She primarly knits using yarns from recycled thrift store sweaters to make scarves that will be sold at charity fundraisers. She's brave at trying out new stitch patterns, but has pretty much stuck to scarves...excpet every once in a while she'll whip up some amazing non-scarfy thing out of the blue.

Speaking of giving, she is a retired physical therapist, and has given me loads of advice and hands on healing/bodywork.

And I don't know if this will make sense, but....Hildred has never once treated me gimpy. She has never once treated me like a young whippersnapper. She has never treated me like I was anything other than...well...sounds cliche to say an equal...but, and equal! A contemporary. She treats me as if I am simply just another person on the planet to meet and get to know and share a little bit of ourselves with, screw all the pretentions.

Hildred, you are truly a gift to me. And yeah, I might not have met you if it weren't for the sticks and the strings.

4. Comment and let me know when you post this in your blog so I can read them all.

done!

9 random thoughts over a steaming cup of chai

This post was typed early this morning, while the house was quiet and my mind was rambling. Then things got busy, and now here I am drinking champange and wine with my beloved celebrating our meeting-a-versary in a Japanese style hotel in Japantown in SF (which, even though it's only 30 minutes from home, feels like another planet).


In actual order of brainfart:

1) Yesterday's post does count towards NaBloPoMo, because it took thought to compose...and it also counts even if only one person "got it", because it was composed for only that one person in the first place.

2) This morning finds me knitting my first stitch since last Friday.

3) I have been needle felting and fondling my stash, though. I bought a new underbed storage box to put it all (well most all..hehe) into, so it's all (mostly( in once place.

4) The shumps are almost done, but they are at a stage where I have to be willing to try them on every few rows to check for fit. Haven't had the time.

5) My two socks on the needles are sitting there with sad little frowns because both of them (Jaywalkers for me, Trekkings for TheMIG) have fit issues, and I don't have the brain power or will power to rip back.

6) It's 10 days until the mediation date for the lawsuit and I think I'd better get a refill on the ativan LOL.

7) Thanks for the comments about MyFK's artwork. For the record, when he showed it to me and asked me if I liked it, I told him I loved it and thought it was very creative (which is all true). He was also somewhat sitting in my lap, therefore in front of me, and thankfully could not see my face which was chuckling quizically. Last night I pulled the drawing out again and asked him to tell me more about it. He said the ladies were both underwater creatures. They live in shallow water, and the flowers on top of their hats are above water. The things coming out of their tummies are tentacles (I think it was TheBon scored on that one), and the one with the heels has a purse, while the one with the tennis shoes has a lunchbox. Then he produced from his stack another drawing, this time of the Underwater Guy that "lives a deeper in the water, and has a mating call that sounds like...insert throaty sound something like an ululation/zaghareet and a turkey gobble.
Lordy. *giggle* His creatures have mating calls.

8) I have to put flea meds on all the pets today.

9) I got D-S-eh-ehL…I got D-S-eh-ehL !!
(sung with an elementary school “neener-neener” voice for full impact)
Seriously. This is so cool. You know your life is going to be permanently changed when you go to visit the Harlot’s blog to read the last 3 posts you’ve been behind on, and shazaam!! The kajillion tour photos just immediately explode onto your screen.
Dudes. I’m actually catching up on everyone’s blogs! I'm almost there. I think I topped out at something like 178 feeds to be read via bloglines. Thank heavens some of them were blogger gooding and reposting stuff I'd already read. I'm under 50, and closin' in.



ok...back to TheMIG, the wine, the deep Japanese soaking tub.

three

parenting advice needed -- please help

How on earth do you support your child's creative spark when they produce this....



...and then ask you what you think about it??

And no, I did not ask what those sticky-outy things are supposed to be. Maybe they are a place to hang the handbag when she needs to go hands-free.
~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, and NaBloPoMo content critiquers (is that a word?)....I did write 3 pages of rambling content (of the "checking in variety") that will probably never be posted...although you never know. Some of it is damn funny, so if I can trim it, maybe you'll get another double-whammy.

For now, be very thankful that I have spared you.

twice in one day. aren't you stoked?

Day 15.
It is exactly halfway through NaBloPoMo, and it is also the exact moment where I see the light.

I have no desire to be a daily blogger.

I can probably get through this month, and I have received the benefit of this "project" really making me think a whole lot about what it is that I write here, and my writing process. I'm digging that aspect.

But me no likey this thingy.


A fine example of what I'm trying to say here (because I am flat out of words at the moment) is yesterday's post.
I really didn't care to write what I wrote about yesterday.
It definitely was a picture into what was current for me in my life at that very moment, but it was pretty close to my telling you what I had for lunch, which supposedly we are never to do, but which I have already done.

What I really wanted to write about yesterday was something altogether different. Something about yarn, and little loops, and other people's afgans, which I hope to still do. But I couldn't write that yesterday. Yesterday I wasn't able to think straight. Clouding my mind were images of buttons and manuals and screens and menus. Because it was all that I could see, there was nothing else I could get myself to blog about. My daily events were a roadblock to what I really had to say.

Usually when I have moments like that, where I want to write about one thing, but am consumed by another, I just don't post that day. Simple.

But not this November.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The other thing driving me nuts is that I can't make the time to read the blogs I love reading so much...whether it be the lack of time, or the desire to flee from the computer as quickly as possible after creating my own post, or the guilt of taking the time to read blogs when I hear the clock ticking on my own entry that is due that day.
*sigh*

Personally, I'm with Neil* and am ready to do NaComPoMo--National Commenting on Posts Month. But I'm worried about that becoming an oBLOGation, too.



* for the record, I've only read five blogs today. BloodyCrafts because I knew it would be a picture. Inky's, because it had "meme" in the title. Carol's, because I saw from the title that it would engage me in thinking about something other than myself for 2 minutes. Fussy's because she's the hostess of nablopomo and it feels like required reading (even though I love her blog and will definitely continue to read once this is over). Neil was new read, and I only made it there because Fussy linked to it. Fussy linked to a few other blogs, and even reminded about the randomizer...but I could only manage one new click today, and Neil was it. Why? Because I haven't even caught up reading the blogs of the people I have made (cyber, albeit) friends with. There are 172 unread feeds in my bloglines. I feel like I'm missing my friends.
See what I mean?

mid-way meme

15 down, 15 to go.
tagged by Inky.

For one who rambles on endlessly in dire attempt to be "understood" this one was a challenge.
--------------------------

You.
Can.
Only.
Type.
One.
Word.
No.
Explanations.

1. Yourself: complex
2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend (spouse): tolerant
3. Your hair: greying
4. Your mother: supportive
5. Your father: humorous
6. Your Favorite Item: hairbrush
7. Your dream last night: running
8. Your Favorite drink: tea
9. Your Dream Car: camper
10. The room you are in: livingroom
11. Your Ex: dufus
12. Your fear: misunderstood
13. What you want to be in 10 years? satisfied
14. Who you hung out with last night? bunnyman
15. What You’re Not? reserved
16. Muffins: sure
17. One of Your Wish List Items: massage
18. Time: blink
19. The Last Thing You Did: therapy
20. What You Are Wearing: black
21. Your Favorite Weather: warm
22. Your Favorite Book: blank
23. The Last Thing You Ate: crackers
24. Your Life: full
25. Your Mood: anxious
26. Your best friend: occupied
27. What are you thinking about right now? leaving
28. Your car: blue
29. What are you doing at the moment? zoning
30. Your summer: dancing
31. Your relationship status: unstable
32. What is on your TV? blank
33. What is the weather like? pleasant
34. When is the last time you laughed? forget

Tag.
You.
Are.
It.

ok, so now what

a box of dsl hell

Prior to today:
* The computer has dial-up.
* The cell phone loses it's charge after 15 minutes of talk time.
* The television does this occasional thing where the whole screen scrunches down into a 3" high band of flattened images.

Seriously. What a joke.

The computer line...well...that should go without saying. I'm fed up that I'm missing out on all the YouTube fun and podcasts and whatnot. Friends keep sending me links to stuff that I can't even enjoy. Grrr.

The cell phone. The batteries were so old that they would no longer hold a charge, and the model of the phone was so old that they didn't even sell replacement batteries anymore. I was rudely hanging up on people mid-conversation, with no way to call them back. Lovely.

The television. I bought it brand new. In 1994. Last year I started noticing this green splotch on the left side every once in awhile. Then about 3 months ago though, it started doing the scrunchy 3" high screen thing. For a long time, I was able to play "Arthur Fonzarelli and the jukebox" with it. I'd walk by the tv, kind of bop it in just the right place, and it would spring back to life. MyFK thought that was one awesome trick, and so he started to hit the tv, too. Being that he doesn't know his own strength (especially when he's pissed because he favorite show is being interrupted), he was banned from being The Fonz. But that didn't stop MyFK from jumping up and down. One day he figured out that if he stood in just the right place and acted like a gorilla, the tv would occasionally come back up full screen. It has been three months of a stomping angry kid. I've dealt with it very well, and I've taught him all the important lessons about anger management, the unimportance of television and material things, and patience blah blah blah...but I think I'm done. I've done my duty.

SO. I have been extremely fed up with my archaic technology. But I haven't been able to do anything about it. The money, you know. No leperachauns, no rainbows. So I've been sitting here waiting for just the right moment--you know, the one where the stars and the planets align and a very good deal presents itself just at the moment when there is a little something extra in the till.

Enter Today:
* In the mail arrives the box o'DSL stuff. The monthly is only 5 bucks more than what I was already paying for dial-up, and the equipment is free once I mail in the rebate. The monthly fee goes up in a year, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

* I got a new phone. My cell company plied me with $100 towards a new phone if I renewed my contract, which had just expired...and the phone I wanted had a $50 mail-in rebate. Bingo.

* I got a new tv. Certainly not for free, but it is nothing fancy. The cheapie kind. The kind with the sticker on it that says that in February 2007 I wont even be able to use it without some convertor. Another bridge I'll cross when I get there.

And here I am tonight (please be kind in remembering I lack the geek gene):
* I can't figure out the dsl stuff. Most of the instructions for hooking it up make sense, except for the part about where to stick my filters and that other part about how I am supposed to "train" the dsl box thingy for 10 days. Me?? Train IT?? hahaha

* The phone...well, I figured out how to change the ring-tones, and I chose the one that sounds like an old fashioned 1930's handcrank phone ...hahaha. Supposedly this cellphone does everything. It even holds 2gb of music, but I'm so lame that I can't even get the damn software installed correctly. Maybe in the meantime I can get it to go next door and spit flames at the Neighbor guy's white thingy.

* The tv is hooked up and running fine. Except that I can't figure out how to program it onto the universal remote that goes along with the satellite box. I can't find the manual with all the little code things, ya know? So I called the satellite company, and customer service referred me to .pdf file....a user's manual...except that it's 165 freakin' pages long and is taking forever to download as I AM STILL ON DIAL UP, bitch!

And I can't call the satellite company back and make them lookit up because they're closed now, and even if they were open, I have to charge the cellphone now anyhow, which only came out of the box partially charged.

So whatever.

TheMIG arrives tomorrow night with his cape on (yay!).
And all will be well with the new electronica.

kit tested, mother approved

Ok. So the knitting of felted mice actually ended up becoming every bit as addictive as the silly little pumpkins. I guess that for now, making tiny, playful, instantly gratifying little dittys is working just fine for me, thank you.

It started off by my making that green one for Ms.Hazel, my mom and dad's new kitten. Before I gave it to her though, I tested it out on TheMIG's cat, Tad. It was pretty clear I was going need to make a second.



The second catnip mouse I made I tested out on my cat, Tramp, and that's when I knew I needed to make a third...



and well....as long as I was on a roll, I figured that Inky's new kitty Morticia needed some stuff, and I've also been remiss in sending gifties to Tad's brother Newman (he is the owner of mnvnjnsn, the authress of the blog Medicine Balls).

So the next thing you know, 5 mousies.






But then I remembered that Morticia and Newman have siblings. And I was about done with mousies. So with the help of my mom and MyFK, we made felted balls, needle felted on some designs, and hooked them up with door-knob elastics and streamers.


We really had a fun time making them together.
Everything was done by dinnertime on Friday night.


edited to add: I just saw the Inky's new cat wasn't a good fit and is looking for a good home. anybody out that way need a kitty? I'll make more toys!

finally, an answer without more questions

Roxy the Robot keeps TheAmpuT company

while she folds MANY piles of laundry

In regard to yesterday's question, wondering about how much housework could be done if I channelled my frustration?

The answer is: A lot.

Thanks for all of the comments. For the record, I have no desire to be that obsessive about housework. The question for myself yesterday was really one of, "is there some way of harnessing this energy".

Frustration creates a whole lot of energy (so does anger and sadness, and I've had a couple days worth of that, too).
Typically I strive to "settle down."
Calming activities...yes. Good good.
But I've actually been wondering if something fruitful could come of all the frustration if I just tapped into the wave and surfed it somehow. Use the energy for something productive, as opposed to working on having the energy dissapate. I wanted to see what would happen if I used the frustration like super-turbo batteries, running it until it ran out, and then maybe having something good to show for all the hours of feeling like shit...instead of spending tyring to diffuse things (which often takes more energy anyhow).

Today would not have my home passing any white glove test, for sure....but I got a ton of stuff done around here, including clearing out a corner that had been stuffed with crap, throwing out a huge garbage bag full of all of those papers I love to hold on to, organizing a kitchen cupboard, all the laundry and then some, and I even made a nice keepsake box of MyFK's artwork over the past few years.

I few more frustrato-producto days like yesterday and today, and things around here could actually feel quite a bit better.

Although I'd really rather not be this frustrated in the first place.
But that's a whole 'nother post.


Y'all were right about a couple of things though....all work and no play could make TheAmpuT a dull girl.

*Haven't knit a stitch since Friday (but I do have a pile of kitty toys I made on Friday, and will post about it tomorrow).
* I have 209 unread posts in my blog-line feeds. Gah.
* And I've been horrid about emails and replying to comments...but please forgive, I do read them...and thank you all very much :-)

what if

Been watching too much Six Feet Under, for sure.

Knit-thinking lots about (the character) Ruth Fischer. She tends to do a lot of scrubbing and polishing when she's frustrated.


Wondering what my own house might look like if I "harnessed the energy".

de~coffee~nated

the lonely brew station

Today marks 14 days without coffee.

I didn't quit.
I just ran out of vanilla creamer.
I didn't make it to the market for a couple of days.
When I got there, they didn't have any.

I have not been without caffeine, just sans coffee.
Instead I have been drinking some fabulous teas.
Fancy oolongs, greens, hand tied jasmines, some flavored blends, genmai cha (green w/toasted rice).
Just today, I revived my passion for a hearty cup of chai.

I had been thinking about switching to decaf for months.
Coffee does not create anxiety (my life does that all on it's own).
But I began to notice that coffee was definitely fueling the anxiety.
The anxious symptoms were predictably appearing about 30 mins after a cup o'joe.

Here I am, two weeks later.
Not decaffeinated.
Just decoffeenated.
A couple of sluggish days and only one headache.

I feel better.
I wonder what would happen if I cut out all the caffeine.
It wouldn't be the first time in my life I've done that.



But I miss vanilla creamer.

a message from greatspirit thru helen

Frank and Helen, lovebirds and residents

of the convalescent hospital I volunteer at

TheAmpuT: Awww, you guys look sooooo cute and happy!! Now, did you two know each other before you came to live here?

Frank: (wistfully, while rubbing her fingers) Ohhhhh no, we met here!

Helen: (waving her finger and beaming) If you pay attention, you can find love everywhere.

Well, I've been doing the knit-think-knit-think-knit-think thang today.

I have a lot more knitting to show for it than thinking, though.

Kitten Knittin'
Yarn: Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride Worsted (M120 Limeade), and scraps of Koigy for the eyes and whiskers
Needles: 2 Plymouth/wood US#7 dpns
Pattern: Felted Catnip Mouse, found here
Modifications: none
Notes: I felted this by hand in the kitchen sink. Easy breezy.
Started+Finished: 11/08/06

Knitting this was a snap. Maybe an hour from casting-on to being felted. I have a feeling I'll be whipping up a few more of these tonight and tomrrow. There are many new kittens out there needing toys *grin*. This first mousey, however, is destined to go to my mom and dad's new kitten, Hazel.

She's adorable, has extra front toes, is much smaller than she appears here, and was an SPCA rescue kitty.

More knitting....
In that picture up top, the background fabric that mousey was sitting on, that stripey thing there, that is a Jess Hutch toy.
I can't show the finished item yet as it yet it is a gift. But it is damn cute. As is all her stuff.

I'm also working on the shumps (the pajama shorts for my stump). They're almost done, actually. I hit another little roadblock upon seaming the crotch. I decided that those four seams were coming together in a place that would probably be not so cuddly and comfly, ya' know?? I decided that I really wanted to add a crotch gusset there. So I knit one up and sewed it in, but it looked like a linebacker's ballsack. A wee bit too much extra fabric and I look like I've got something very unnattractive going on under my skivvies. Gah. I'm working on v2.0 now. I think I've got it right this time.

And lastly, in relation to knitting, I am in sock hell right now.
I have been for weeks.
Both pairs on the needles are looking at me with the, "ha ha neeener neener maybe you should just frog me" face. Hate that. Haven't decided what to do about it.
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No spaghettios today, but guess what.

Yesterday I heard the NeighborGuy doing some yardwork out front, so I dashed out there to ask him about the WhiteThingy. (if you need a recap, click here).

I said, "Hey, remember a few weeks ago when you said you'd lower that white tent thing?"
He said, "Oh, yeah. It's as low as it goes. It can't go any lower than that."
I said, "No it isn't. It's clicked up to it's highest setting!"
"Well, my wife's unlce came by when it was beginning to blow away, and he used duct tape to tape it to the patio railing, and now I can't lower it because the tape is in the way."
"I know that. You told me you'd cut it off and lower it and retape it. It's just tape."
(goddang dufus)

So then I whipped out the photos. Yup. I actually did it.

"Dude. Here's the before photo...see that little dark spot down there, that's the old blue awning...and now here, this is a photo of the new white one."

"Oooohhhhh maaannnnn!!!!! Wellllll.....IIIII dunnooooo....I don't really think I can do it. Let me think for a minute."

And then he left (to go look at it, or so I thought) and never came back out. And so far he hasn't lowered it.
Ass.
I've already looked into county policies about obstruction of view, but I have no leg to stand on (HA--well I do have one) because it is considerred a "temporary structure." Even though it's been there for almost 17 months, it's temporary.

Jess suggested I should take all those shoes I'm not wearing anymore and have some sort of target practice. Several realtime friends have suggested I just flick a half-lit cigarette in that direction.

Not bad ideas. I am taking them into considerration.

I'm thinking the next step is to show up at his doorstep with some scissors, a role of fresh duct tape, and a bottle of tequila. Maybe he'll let me in and do some shots while I fix the problem for him myself.

too tired to title

the knitted wicker furniture at M.W.'s house

Writing this post today has been one suckass experience. Every attempt to sit and type about some topic other than what sent me into the Land O'Franco-American has ended in writer's block.
So now that it's close to my midnight NaBloPoMo deadline, I have nothing left I can do but write about yesterday. It feels like I'm getting out the shop-vac to hose up the emotional vomit.

I kinda felt like yesterday's pictorial was a bit of a cop-out as a NaBloPoMo entry...but only kinda. It did meet my personal goal of being process oriented, that much I can say for sure.

I only ate 1 can of Spaghettios. But I ate it as breakfast, basically.
Right after leaving a message for my therapist.

I have a therapist. Not the PT kind, although I have those, too. This is the talking kind. I see her on an as-needed basis. She thankfully squeeched me in for an emergency appointment yesterday and we now have two more dates lined up this month. Seems I have moved from as-needed to I'z-needin'.

I'm under a lot of stress right now related to the lawsuit/accident. Honest to god, I really really can't wait for this all to be over with. I am not fooling myself into believing that the case will one day be over and that later that night the faeries will sprinkle pixie dust and wands will be waved and I will wake up the next day and all will be right with the world (please-please-please). I'm not that deluded (cherry on top?). But I am hopeful (and I do believe in faeries, I do, I do) and I do hold fast to the possibilty (fantasy?) that I will make a big leap forward once this chapter of my life is over. I'm really holding on to the notion that the case will end, a door will close, and another one will open. I don't even mind if the new door doesn't open right away and I'm stuck in a hallway for a bit. Whatever. Fine by me. But I am very ready for this door to close. I am sick to death of all the details being all up in my face. And I really hate feeling like I'm stuck-on-stupid over something that happened 2-1/2 years ago.
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The accident created many things that were therapy worthy...flashbacks, insomnia, anxiety, issues of self-worth, body image stuff, and I've dealt with every one of them...although it would seem that lawsuit shit is like peeling another layer of the onion.

There is another big thing the accident created, and that is Relatus-Interuptus.

You see, TheMIG and I met only 3 months before the accident. Our relationship was kind of propelled from zero-to-sixty in like, ohhhh...3 seconds. We kind of skimmed right over the phases that a developing relationship would go through.

Needless to say, we have some issues. I think that the stress I am feeling right now is making them more difficult to deal with than if they came up at some other time, but there isn't much I can do about the stress level right now.
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So the big question I've been asking myself over the last few hours (aren't you all just dying for a knitting post yet??) is why I get into a fight or flight response when someone is trying to organize my thoughts for me.

When I am having fffffeeeeeelings, I can usually articulate them, but not always in a way that is organized. My feelings can babble, like a brooke. Meander, like a stream. Roar, like rapids (wanna get in a canoe and go for a ride?? wheee!!).

Given some time, some yarn and some needles, I can usually go and knit-think-knit-think-knit for a bit and come back with something useful. It might not be perfectly linear, but when I can do it, it is something that even a left-brainer can make some sense out of.

But if someone (and by someone, I mean someone I am emotionally invested in) wants me to organize the thoughts faster than I am ready, or if they want to organize them for me so they can, oh....maybe check for understanding and carry on a conversation with me....I freak.
Fight. Or. Flight.

If I even get any sense at all that someone is organizing my feelings, I freak. It makes me feel like they are taking notes, making bullet points, and creating a power point presentation (and sometimes they are...at least two out of those three). So as soon as I get a whiff of the organizing, I yell or hang up or run out of the room or want to leave everything behind...until I start breathing again.

And I'm not sure why that happens. So I'm going to go crawl into bed with my knitting and some tea and see if I can figure out why the fuck I am so terrified by someone wanting to help me be understood.