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.
--------------------

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.
------------------

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.
----------------------------------

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.

take two of these and call me in the morning

I can already tell.
It's going to be one of those days.

moonbeams and magnets

Saturday Night Sky

(it doesn't show well, but there was a rainbow halo around the moon last night)

Comments on Comments
I did not have any difficulty writing the last two entries, but sitting with myself after posting them was kind of like having ants in my pants.

Thank you very much for your comments, and I especially would like to say thanks for the honesty. Pretty brave to be so open. Sometimes what we think and feel is not always deemed PC.

For the record, I don’t believe that any of us are always PC.
I think we just try to act like we are.

I believe we all have a thoughts that are not even close to being PC.

We all have prejudices.

We try to act like we don’t have prejudices.
But we do.

(don’t lie--you know that you do)

I used to tell people all the time that I wasn't prejudiced until I started listening to what I was thinking rather than what I was actually saying out loud.

I comprehend that much about getting along in life is about understanding the societal norms and figuring out when to keep our mouths shut.

But I also think that not being honest about the fact that we do have prejudices is one sure-fire way to never have our thinking expand or change.

I mean, really…if we lie about what it is we are really thinking, how can we embrace or change our thinking?

We can’t learn something new about ourselves by hiding the things about ourselves that already exist.
---------------------------------------------

Magnet Still On My Fridge, circa Two-Legged Era—it says: Must…Buy…Shoes…
(I can't seem to toss this, either)

More About The Shoes

The shoes you saw the other day are all from pairs I have bought since becoming an amputee. I still wear the left shoe of all of those pairs.

They are post-accident shoes.

My pre-accident shoes DID sit in the closet for about a year, unworn.

Most of them have heels that make no logical sense to wear while crutching, nor will they work with my prosthesis, which likes things nice and flat.

I did finally move those shoes into a plastic bin, which was tossed into the cramped and messy garage.

I went out there looking for something else a couple of weeks ago, looked at the shoes (which are so many you can’t even get the lid on the bin) and walked away.

I tell myself that there are so many that I would need help to dispose of them.

It’s too big of a job.

Yet, I’ve never asked for help.

I guess I’m just not ready yet. (?)

To ask for help, or to get rid of them, or both…I’m not sure.

They are obviously some tie to my former life.

Now that I think about it, they might actually be the last tie.

Maybe that’s the problem.

~~~~~~Picnic time. Here come the ants :-)

more on that

Let's not forget my prediction: My experiment with creating posts using the techniques I use to create a dance piece is bound to get interesting.

When I first sat down and worked on yesterday's post, there was a lot of content. A whole lot. After much processing (and even a dry-run with TheMIG), it ended up just as you see it. A photo and a couple of sentences. That's it. It was just supposed to hang there. Like art.

Think about when you look at an art installation, or when you watch a performance. As a witness you might never really comprehend the artist's intention. But that's not always what it's about, is it? (Just in case: No) Part of it the art experience is that you get to interpret what you see.

Yesterday's post was intended to make you think. Because yesterdays incident made ME think.

Anyhow, now that I'm seeing yesterday's comment-page potentially becoming a slap-fest (and I don't like that) , here's your "post-performance, meet the artist" moment.
----------------------------

This is a rewind for you of what actually transpired yesterday between me and the developmentally disabled GroceryBagger. In real time this went very fast, and feelings were intertwinded with thoughts and words, so this as close to verbatim as I can get for you. But it's pretty damn accurate:

Bagger says: "I feel so sorry for you. You only have one leg."

I think to myself: YOU feel sorry for ME??! That's interesting. I was just feeling sorry for YOU!

Then I think: This is a trip. I'm often telling people, "Ohhh...it's just a leg." I'm just glad to be alive and have my mind in tact, and here you are GroceryBagger, and your mind is NOT in tact but you've got this great job (looove TraderJoe's) and you are working hard and you seem to be doing just fine. (I'm often grateful for my "in tact" mind, by the way--part of my accident trauma involved major blood loss and flatlining twice. Extensive neurological screening was part of my rehab. Supposedly, I'm "fine"...hehe).

Then I think to myself: This is probably the most sincere sympathy/empathy I will get all day (because on the average, at least 3 people will say something to me), and this comment is genuine and honestly sweet. Too bad they aren't all like this.

But in response, all I SAY to her is: "Oooooh, it's not so bad."

And she says: "Well, I really am sorry."

And I say: "Thank you. It's really okay, though. In the end, we ALL have something about ourselves that isn't perfect."

And then I drive off thinking to myself: I can't believe how quick I am to get all up in other people's business and judge them and make assumptions about who they are and guesses at what I think they are thinking and feeling...and I do this assumption thing all the time, even though I'm in the midst a lifelong lesson in about being personally sick to death of people making assumptions about me. Interesting.
------------------------------


I had another thing like yesterday happen to me a couple of months ago.

My cousins had come to town and a bunch of us went to a winery in Napa to do some wine tasting before lunch. My cousins have many talents, but one of them is that they are awesome with kids, the wife-half of the duo having been a teacher and administrative educator, and the hubby-half having an affinity for the kind of magic tricks that you can do anywhere and amaze all your friends (and his tricks are not just for kids, because I'm pushing 40 and I'm still entranced by his skill and charm).

Anyhow, this day at the winery was set up for families with a bar-b-que and live music, and something else (was it a motorcycle show??--hmmm, maybe I did lose a few braincells). It's a small and casual little winery, so outside of the tasting room, there were kids playing about, including my own...the rest of us were inside sampling. The HubbyCousin left those of us who were tasting to poke around.

When he came back, there was a little girl running alongside him. I think she was ohhhh maybe 8-ish. She came up to our little group that was standing in a semi-circle sipping and chatting, and started introducing herself (kind of in a stiff, formal way that made me think she has been taught "on our planet, this is how people greet each other for the first time"). It quickly became clear that she had a developmental disabiltiy.

When she gets around to me she says, "Why are you on crutches?"

To which I reply "Well, cuz I only have one leg, see?" and as I look downward to indicate the obvious, her eyes widen and tears start streaming down her face. She was howling that is was sooooo bad, and soooo horrible, and weeping....and then noticing the scars on my arm, and wailing about that, too....and if I recall, I think she even threw her arms around me (an odd detail to be unsure about, but it was an intense moment, and I can't be certain).

It was tough.

So I start to run through my standard dialog for kids which includes all the things kids really want to know in 6 short sentences:
It was a car accident.
It didn't hurt.
It was a surgery, where they put you asleep so you don't feel anything--do you know what a surgery is?
I sometimes wear a robot leg, and sometimes I don't.
I'm okay.
I do everything you do, only maybe a bit differently, and I'm even a dancer.

I tried to tell her that I was fine, and that yes it is sad, but that it really is okay....and the other adults in the bunch were helping calming her down, too. Someone finally suggested that we all go back outside so she could play some more, and she basically just kind of stopped crying, wiped her face, spun on her heels and left. I moment later, we all moved outside to watch the band. Shecame over to our table to try and get HubbyCousin to teach her a magic trick, and then she almost sat on my lap and started showing me what she could do.

The whole experience was very odd to me because while I just did not know what to do with myself at that moment of outburst, but I fully appreciated the genuinity of that moment with her. It made me think a lot about how grief is so different in other cultures. You know, the cultures that actually let you lament when someone dies. You get to wail. Since ummm, that's really how you feel and it's part of the grief process. Man, it's just all very fascinating to me what is socially acceptable to think or say or do when wer are having an intense emotion or experience. Especially since we all have intense emotions and experiences.
----------------------------------

And so alllll of this begs my next knit-think-knit-think question:
Why will I accept the comment from the person with a develpmental disability as sincere and honest, just because they lack the ability to censor themselves...while on the other hand, if JoeAverage is having an intense emotional response to seeing me, he had better not say anything to me, or I shall deem him a rude asshole.

Interesting. Aint it?

most interesting part of my day

"Right Shoes Waving Goodbye"

July 2006

As said to me today, by the developmentally disabled bag-person helping me out with my groceries:

"I feel so sorry for you. You only have one leg."

love thy view

For all the things about TheShanty that make me cringe on a daily basis, there is one thing about my home that is guaranteed to bring me a smile.

The view from my kitchen window.



If I am doing what I am supposed to be doing on a every day (thing like cooking and washing dishes), I am blessed with several opportunities to gaze at a small patch of San Francisco Bay, Alcatraz, Angel Island, and one of the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge. I love it. Even if there are power lines criss-crossing through it. This view (and it's much better in person) makes attacking the never ending dish pile a much more bearable chore.

As beautiful as my tiny little window to the world is, between where I stand at the sink, and where the view is, lies my neighbor's house. I have to put blinders on to create a sightline past the neighbor's yard to enjoy this wonderful sight. One wrong tilt of the head and I have an entirely different experience--from looking at something wonderous and everchanging, to peering into the set of Sanford & Son.

Two summers ago, this next door neighbor built a nice redwood deck in his yard so that I could watch all of his compadres stand around the bar-b-que drinking Coronas, staring at grilling cow parts while waiting for juices to form.

Actually, I didn't mind that. The neighbors are a lively, but decent bunch, so it was actually entertaining and educational. I could prattle about the kitchen, and at the same time do some people watching, eavesdrop, brush up on my spanish....and hey, I could even still watch the fog roll in, too.

Last winter however, when the weather started to turn, NeighborGuy put up a blue tent-thingy. I'm not sure what you call it. It's not just a tarp, and it's too craptastic to deserve the title of gazebo or cabana. Canopy? Whatever. In the photo above, it's actually set up in the foreground. As you can see, it does not obstruct my beloved view.
But it is blue.
It is very very blue. It's a very "man made" plastic friggin' shade of blue, and it was totally clashing with the template of the sunsets and the changing foliage. I hated the blue-ness of it for a very long time.

In addition to my hating the blue-thingy, I hated what became of the porch once he installed it. Bar-b-que season ended, and as the fiesta season came to a close, the unused contents of NeighborGuy's livingroom started oozing out onto the porch to live under his tent-thingy. Old rocking horses, a broken sit and spin, a stair master, throw rugs draped over railings, and more...all were there for the entire season. And all winter long, I was grinding my teeth to a smooth surface watching all the family's unneccessaries get soggier and soggier.

By spring....well, somehow by spring I had finally taught myself how to look out the window and not look downward, but only outward so that my gaze went over the crap and the blue-thingy, and all I saw was my beautiful view. Learning to do this saved me a trip to the dentist and a case of tmj.

See? I rose above. I made it work.

And as a reward for my silent patience, after winter ended, the next spring the NeighborGuy bought a little trailer so he could haul all of that rain damaged crap to the dump. Weekend by weekend the crap went away, the redwood deck was refinished, the grill made reappeared, as did his amigos y familia and the cases of Corona.

Then last this past summer came to a close. About 5 feeks ago, it started feeling like Fall was in the air. I watched from my sudsy little perch as NeighborGuy took down the ugly ass blue-thingy to replace it with a much nicer canvas white-thingy. Ahaa! Another reward for my zenful acceptance! An improvement! "The white blends in so much better," I thought to myself as I watched it being raised, "It doesn't clash! It matches the clouds!"

Well, yes it does, but.....



The damn thing is several feet taller at the center point that its predecessor.

And it is. Right. In. The middle. Of my view.
My. View.
The one and only thing about my house that makes me smile. (To add insult to injury sometime later in the week, a bright red Elmo appeared on his rooftop to keep the matchbox cars company, I guess. Lovely. I just adore seeing outcast toys while I make my morning brew).



Seeing know way to "gaze above" my irritation as I had previously, I decided to talk to NeighborGuy about it. You see, this white-thingy has an adjustable height. I can see the little clicky widgets on the support poles (how can I miss those detials, I am forced to look at the thing 18 million times a day). NeighborGuy has the white-thingy jacked up to it's highest possible notch (of course), which seems completely unneccessary, given that he is 5'7" and the Mrs. is 5'2" and well, they aren't really using it for much more than storing crap again this winter, are they?? I mean, a whole new batch of crap is already oozing outside as I type this.


Ok. So. As I was saying. The tent went up 5 weeks ago. I digressed backin to grinding my teeth for about 2 weeks until I could find a nice way to talk to NeighborGuy. Once I got myself ready to play nice, I waited to catch NeighborGuy outside. I very nicely spoke of my dilemma, and he replies, "Oh...I'll tell you what I'll do for you! I'll lower it a bit, and everything will be okay." I was relieved to have him be so accommodating. We've already had a Hatfields+McCoys encounter over all of those empty Coronas filling up MY garbage can because he'd already filled BOTH of our recylcing bins, and was left not having anywhere to put my own garbage.

Well, he made that promise to lower the white-thingy 3 weeks ago, and the white-thingy still has not been lowered. I don't remember who the hell I said this to this past week, but every single time I have to go to the kitchen sink now (which happens MANY times a day) it get a full body twitch that feels absolutely cancer inducing.
Not.
Good.

I've been thinking I actyually need to invite the NeighborGuy over into my kitchen so he can look out the window for himself. I've even been tempted to just print out the two photos above and caption it with "before" and "after" and maybe toss in a "WTF??!" and leave it taped to his door. But I'm trying to get calm and nice-nice again so I can just casually ask him about it again the next time I bump into him outside.
*sigh*

This morning I woke up to the sound of rain. I just couldn't wait to drag my arse to the kitchen (sarcasm!), and look out the window to see all of NeighborGuy's wet soggy crap. I went to fill the kettle and that's when I saw this (try to ignore the down comforter left out in the rain--look at the sagging white-thingy!!!):

Hahahaha.
Maybe mother nature is going to go to bat for me.

edited to add: since writing this, my neighbor has already pushed the sagging puddles up from underneath with a broom to make the water run off, but noow he's gone to work, and I'm doing a rain dance so it will fill up again before he comes home.
-----------------------

Now, what is this I was saying about NaBloPoMo and writing stuff of substance?

Well, here's the thing with all of this. Very recently (liiiiiike as recently as my recent "break up" with my dance company/choreographer), I was told I was passive aggressive.

This was absoulutely news to me. You see, I don't believe I am passive aggressive at all. If you ask me, when I get pissed, I think I'm just flat out aggressive.

I've spent a couple of sessions "on the couch," and man...I am very proud of myself when I am able to think before I speak when it comes to anger. I pat myself on the head. It doesn't happen often. I truly am more inclinded to blow up.

So If I'm doing anything at all that might smack of passivity, it might be my chilling out for a minute (some times so many minutes it equates to days), so that I can find a way to express my (still angry) feelings more rationally and with luuuuv (hear the birds tweeting yet?).

Seriously. I think I am one of the least emotionally passive people I know (and I'm dying to hear from those of you who know me in the flesh if you think differently--here's your free ticket to ride--have at it).

But dancing around the kitchen today watching NeighborGuys tent fall down instead of talking to him has kinda got me wondering now. Maybe I am passive aggressive??? I dunno. I'd rather do the rain dance than pop an ativan over the white-thingy. And I'd rather do the dance than make myself sick over it, too.
(tweet tweet).

and so it begins...

NaBloPoMo.
A month of daily blogging. My little experiment with myself to see what spurts out and how quickly I can clean it up and make it presentable.

My goal is to have at least one entry per day that is something I can sink my teeth into. I want each day to post something noteworthy (to me), and I understand these might be things that do not seem all that salient (to you), if you are stopping by. You might just have many fun-filled days trying to figure out why on earth something seems of merit--but rest assured, if it's here this month--it's because it's important to me.

The random inserts of fluff shall continue. I will not deny myself the posting of the occasional giggle-inducing, time-wasting quiz, nor will I ever be able to completely squelch my natural inclination to prattle on. But my goal is to have a daily mindful post, even I choose not to write, but "say it with pictures".


Blog Fodder.
In reading other blogs, I've seen that some bloggers are crafting plans of attack for their blog fodder (haha: NaBloPoMoFo). I considerred writing out a list of 30 topics to follow, and I even examined the possibility of creating some sort of theme for the month. But I've decided to work on this more organically, following portions of the process I use to create a dance piece.

Now, I don't create a performance piece on a daily basis. It often takes months. So this whole notion of using this creative process for daily blogging could get real messy.
Watch for flying crap.
But the idea is for me to begin writing each day with something that really inspires me, to explore myself more deeply, to improvise with the topic a bit, and then clean it up and post it.

We'll just call them showings of works in progress or something, so I can feel better about it.


Things I Fear May Hinder My Success.
* Blogger.
I probably don't have to say much more than that.

* The Month of Minimum Days.
If y'all remember from last year, in our school district, November means 3 National Holidays, 1 Day off for the teachers to prep for conferences, and 9 minimum days. This means that during November, MyFK will only have 9 full-length school days. I actually think is more full days than last year, but either way--less computer time for mommy for sure.

* Big Legal Activity.
November also means meetings with my attorney and (cross your fingers it doesn't get rescheduled again) a mediation date. I have a pretty good hunch that might mean added stress, although I'm not trying to create that reality by projecting. (ohmmmmmm)

* Knitting.
I can think and knit, but I can't type and knit. At least not yet.
And I need to knit. Need.

* Reading Other Blogs.
There are people whose blogs I enjoy that are part of this wild ride with me...and I bet I find a few more blogs I enjoy as a result of this...which means more posts to read...which means less time to blog.
Interesting little predicament.



~~But I am the Queen of biting off more than I can chew.

wheeee

If there are hills and valleys, today's a valley.
I'm sick of hearing myself whine, for crying out loud...and let's hope I snap out of it quick before you get 30 days of this crap.

But I did actually laugh out loud after taking this little "quiz" filched from JanuaryOne:

What Disney Ride Are You? Mickey's Philharmagic You're not a ride at all, but you're magical, and 4-D, and when I'm on drugs, you're the coolest thing I've ever seen. You're Philharmagic!!!

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

the weekend score card

Gains & Losses
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gain #1--Goodies In The Mail

Ya' know...at some point here, I kvetched about my arm being cold with all the metal bits in it, and I was also complaining that my one and only pair of armwarmers was getting kind of worn out, and that they were gauntlet style, with fabric across the palms of my hands and I couldn't knit socks while wearing them because the dpns kept getting stuck in the gloves.

And lookie who took note of all of that complainin' and just fixed that right up for me?!! TheBon!! I just looove them! They are so damn cute. My favorite part is the matching little sheepsies *big fat grin*.

Leave it to a seasoned goodie swappin' kind of person to toss in little bonuses, too.




Some of her handspun, (I covet every single thing I've ever seen of hers, and this yarn is so yummy, and squishy and beautiful and it has beads spun onto it), some really fantastic tea (I think I'll be writing more about that soon...I'm in love with it and must have more), a finger puppet for MyFK, and one very knitterly card. It was like getting a secret pal gift, and it aint even a swap! I am consistently blown away by the generosity of fiber freaks. Just one very cool and thoughtful thing to do...and so very cool considerring we haven't even "met". Yet. It sounds like she might be cruising down in February for Stitches West. Woohoo!
---------------------

Gain #2--A new hat (in the style of Brownielocks and the 3 Attempts)

Oohhhh my, this hat is toooooo big...





And this hat is toooooo small...



But THIS hat is juuuuuust riiiiiiiight!

Beret
Yarn: Lorna's Laces Shepherd Worsted, Mineshaft+ Charcoal (from stash, leftovers from the Baby Surprise Jacket)
Needles: Denise US#8 circs, and Brittany US#8 dpns
Pattern: Last Minute "Purled" Beret by Wendy Bernard, found at TheGarterBelt
Modifications: Used CC for the ribbing and the "topper". The ribbing cast-on with 72 stistchas (as if for a size small), but knit to 1-1/2". On the first round with MC, I increased the stitch count to 80 (as if for Med/Large), then followed the pattern for the Med/Large from there on out.
Notes: used steam method for blocking.
Started: 10/24/06
Frogged: 10/25/06
Started: 10/25/06
Frogged: 10/26/06
Started: 10/27/06
Finished: 10/28/06
-----------------------

Gain #3--A New Wheelchair

TheMIG picked up a wheelchair for me this weekend!
I'm soooo thrilled to have it here, but I'm not quite in love with it yet. We're in the gangly fumbling stage. Thye wheels on this one are much smaller that that of it's predecessor, which means every time I reach down to go for spin or to lock the brakes, it looks like I'm waving my hands in the air like some magician waiting for the chair to move itself. The major bonus though, is that with the wheels being smaller, I am actually able to get into tighter spaces with it without banging into the walls...yay! In about a week or two, we'll be used to each other, and all will be right in the world, even better than before. No monthly co-pays.
---------------

Gain #3--Hallowiggin' (again).

This Hallowig was for Robbin. She is a patient at the convalescent hospital that I've been going to for several weeks now to visit my LITA match, James (more on James during NaBloPoMo). I really dig Robbin. We've had some great chats. She's about my age, and she has MS. We are both are really into music. Robbin just adores Halloween, she has her room is fully decorated, and has been wearing various Halloween shirts for a few weeks now gearing up. Last week I showed her my Hallowig, and she asked if I could make her one so she could get dolled up for tomorrow. Happy to olbige :-)


Same exact specs and everything as the first one (except!!... the method. I don't have two circs in size 8, so I on the first one, when I joined to go intot he round, I use dpngs. My dpns were a bit short to carry all the stitches, which drove me nuts last time...stuff falling off everywhichway. So this time, after I cast on for the bangs and joined in the round, I stayed round on a single circ for as long as possible before switching to the dpns. Much better).

------------------------

Gain #4--I Gained Many More Questions (but I have no answers--so maybe this is more like a loss instead of a gain?)

No answers to the question of why I am using my being an amputee as a primary identifier. Only more questions. Hate that. More knitting, more thinking. More knitting, more thinking.
-------------------------

Loss #1--And Only One. But a big one.

I am no longer a company member of Dandelion Dancetheater. I have been having issues for quite some time over the use of videotapes that have been made of performances. My issues and concerns are many, and are very emotionally charged. I'm not ready to sort them out here, nor am I certain it is appropriate for me to do so.

The director and I have tried talking this out on various occasions, and it's probably safe to say that we're not really hearing each other. From my perspective, if I really am hearing what I am pretty darn sure I am hearing, it is really not going to work for me going forward. We left it as that we might talk again down the road and see if things have shifted.

The resulting split reminds me of how it how it feels when you have an amicable break-up in a romantic relationship...you know...the, "I really care about you, but this just isn't working out..." and the, "I hope I can still have you in my life as a friend..." stuff.

...and then there is the losing half your friends in the split-up part.
Except in this case, I lose them all. They were all "his friends" in the first place.

I'm quite upset about it (understatement).
I know I can see the friends I've made there outside of working together, but I will really really miss dancing with them.

There are lots of other things I will miss for sure. Too many and too sad for me to list, but losing connection with the people I bonded with so deeply is a very sad thing.

knit...think...knit...think...knit

Heading north with TheMIG for the sound gig and to visit his family is something I decided to skip. TheMIG is still going though, and he very graciously offered to go check out a couple of wheelchairs spotted on that area's Craigslist. I just got the call that he's found one that should suit me just fine.
I'm jumping up and down with happiness. Internally. I'm not a fan of hopping ;-)

SOooooooooooooo.....
With TheMIG gone and MyFK off for the weekend with his dad, I'm alone, and totally enjoying myself.

When I was a little kid, I really had a ball when I was alone. I had a tree fort and used to go there by myself and do arts and crafts. But in my 20's I would go to these bizarre lengths so as to never be alone. It was like I was almost afraid of it (probably afraid of myself), and I would disguise my jumpy behavior as my just being super-social. If I wasn't having friends over, you'd probably find me hanging out where I was likely to find other people I knew. Almost always.

I am =nothing like that now. I totally enjoy the company of others, and have a blast at a party, but at some point I developed the need for solitude, peace, and quiet. Now that I think about it, this more balanced perspective probably came right after becoming the mommy to a child that is never silent (and I mean never--not even in his sleep--he talks then, too).

I love a good hermit day, and I really must have one everyy once in awhile to order to maintain my sanity.
----------------------------

So this hermit will do some knitting weekend.
When I do a lot of knitting, I also do a lot of thinking.
While I do have some of my best "A-ha!" moments while I'm in the shower or driving, the repetitive loops of yarn over sticks seems to give me the space to ponder some of life's deeper questions.

What's on my needles this morning is: the redux of the oversized hat (I'm actually on Take 3,--grr).
And what's currently on my mind is: Why am I using being an amputee as a primary identifier?


Today is the Fall Festival at MyFk's school. His teacher is in charge of the Cake Walk. She asked if I would call the families of her students and ask for donations of baked goods. One of the calls was to Franny's house. I know the dad-half of this family on a "hello, how ya' doing" basis (he's the one that drops off and picks up the kids), and although I was pretty sure I had met the mom once, I wasn't sure.

When I called about the Cake Walk, it was the mom I got on the phone. I gave her the Fall Festival schpeel, she happily agreed to bake something, and then she said to me, "I'm trying to figure out if I've met you before."

I said, "I was just wondering that myself, and I think we may have met a couple of years ago at So-And-So's house for an Easter Egg hunt with the kids...my parents were there too...they lived across the street..." and just as I was adding, "I'm the one-legged lady..."

...she overlapped by exclaiming, "Oh, Yeah! You're the bellydancer!!!"

Now, why she is identifying me with her recollection of my being a dancer, and why I am identifying myself (first) as a gimp, is pretty damn interesting to me.

And it's not the first time I've asked myself why I do that. Because I think I might do it more often than I take note of.
And I will be reflecting upon this while I'm knitting this weekend.

wigged out

Day (or three) late, dollar short...but finally!
The post about last Wednesday's Stitch-n-Bitch.

A few of our regular bunch had this idea to do a Hallowig KnitALong, with a photo shoot on the 25th. Only three of us brought finished do's, but it sounds like there could be at least 2-3 more finished up by next week, so you might being seeing one more round of photos.

(L to R: Beanmama, Donna, me--not sure how well it translates in the photos, but Donna's Hallowig has blonde "roots" heheeee!)

This was Donna's first SnB, and if I recall (it's late and I'm running on fumes) I think it was her first social knit gathering ever. Damn cool of her to show up at her first event donning the item we were using as a KAL. Yay! I'm pretty sure we were all on good behavior, but someone dusted her with wool dander (probably me), and she's allergic. Now that we know about the wool, next time we can plan for her to be flanked by people knitting cotton warshrags or something.

It was great to meet Donna because it was my first time meeting another knit blogger! Donna found my blog right after the Yarn Harlot's visit to California. She and I were both in attendance at the book signing, but didn't meet in person. We've been reading each other's blogs, and have a exchanged a few emails since then. She doesn't live too too far away, and she worked it out so that she could meet up at SnB. Hopefully she can come again sometime.

Here's Donna and I in our kittyhats, too.

-----------------

On another Hallowig note, I brought the silly-little-ditty to bellydance class last night for Circle Dancing. It is a night where we get a bit more dressed up than our regular classes and do some improv performing for and with each other.

With bellydancers and their garb, it's often about all things sparkly, swishy, and immodest. The wig got passed around and I think every one of us tried it on. It was hightly entertaining and amazing to see how different it looked on each of us, not to mention seeing how the wig looked paired with bellydance costumes. Lots of giggles. Wish like hell I'd have taken photos.
-----------------

Hallowig
Yarn: Red Heart Kids, 100% ACKrylic
Needles: US#8 Denise, and Brittany US#8 dpns
Pattern: found here at Knitty, designed by Megan Reardon
Modifications: After casting-on, I started with about 1-1/2" of stockinette to create the little rolled "flip". I made the entire wig a little shorter in the length (my face is too oval for a long bob), and I also went a little shorter in the bangs (so I wouldn't lose my eyebrows). I tossed in a couple of barettes and added some little snap-on sparkly-hair-do-dads I found buried in my hairclip bin.
Started: Oct 16, 2006
Finished: Oct 18, 2006
Notes: With NO disrespect at all to the designer (because I believe this to be quite the creative and clever little pattern), I do believe this may in fact be the most ridiculous thing I will ever knit.


Of course, I said that when I knit an icecream cozy...so who knows.

stream of conciousness style

I have more days like yesterday+today during November and NaBloPoMo, all you're going to get is a photo.
---------

Wednesday.
Wednesday night went late because of Stitch-N-Bitch, and I really need to get the photos up because it was fun, and I got to meet Donna in person, and because the wig is pretty damn silly.

Thursday. *siiiigh*
Thursday: did the morning mommy-drill, volunteered at the school for an hour, volunteered at the convalescent hospital for two hours, went across town to the Social Security Administration to pick up some document needed for the lawsuit, went to the main public library, then back to the convelescent hospital to loan out some books, stopped at a thrift store to "kill" 15 minutes before picking up kids (note to self: next time sit and nap or knit socks--duh), picked up MyFK and friend, brought them home, fed them a snack, went right back out again to taxi them to over to art class, back home to clean the house and chat with CatharticInk for a bit, started dealing with pain problems in my stump, put on stage make-up and got costume stuff together for dance class, went and had a really late night at class because we "circle danced" for Samhain/All Hallows Eve (a few days early yes, but our is class in on a Thursday, whatchagonnado), talked with friends/dancers way too late and got home around midnight, couldn't sleep...tossed and turned allll night long being awoken by extremely sharp pains in my stump (happens every once in awhile for no apparent reason, and pain meds didn't keep it down).

Today.
Totally friggin' exhausted and still have a very thick layer of makeup on. Haven't had coffee yet. Typing this in the middle of morning mommy duty drill. Have to help out in MyFK's classroom from the moment the bell rings up until 11am. Go buy cake for the cake walk for Saturday's Fall Festival (there is no way I'm turning on an oven--putting my head in it is far too tempting), put finishing details on MyFK's halloween costume, clean house, back to the school to pick up MyFK plus his super rowdie friend and host a playdate. Make dinner (something cold, no oven again LOL). MyFK gets picked up at 730pm to go with his dad for the weekend. If the pain stops, maybe go right to bed. If not, well...let's not go there.

This weekend.
TheMIG is headed up north to do sound engineering at a festival that is supposed to have some bellydancing, and while he's up there he's going to visit his family. I'm considerring tagging along to see that dancing, but also to check out a few wheelchairs advertised up there (big retirement community in the area). But TheMIG is the sounds guy, and he will be the first one in and the last one out, and that makes for a very long night and I'm already exhausted (and still in pain)...then staying at his sister's overnight, and I've never stayed with his family before...kinda awkward. Also, if I go, we need to take my car, because his isn't big enough to haul all of his equipment, plus me, plus the possible new wheelchair. Which mean unloading my car of many items and putting them...where-I-don't-know.



That's me. I'm not even going to reread it or edit it.
I'm going to brew coffee.
And maybe read this in a day or two. And hopefully laugh at myself.

frog and snippet

The shumps/snorts are momentarily on hold. I've finished the last leg panel, but I'm now pausing while I consider when to start sewing up the side seams and switch to working in the round. I also need to figure out how I want to handle tying the decorative side seam stitches in with the decreases.

While that's percolating in my tired noggin', I've been sitting here realizing that said noggin' is totally friggin' cold. It's getting quite chilly here, intermittently--one day I need a heavy jacket, the next, I'm in a tank top. So even though I should be whacking out a few hats for this awesome lady's charity knit, I selfishly decided to work on keeping my own head warm first. The only handknit bonnet that I have of my own has Kitty Ears. Not quite your go-with-anything topper. I really need another warm hat that I can wear when I don't want to look 5.

So yesterday afternoon I went through my stash, picked a pattern, and knit a swatch. I got gauge. I knit the ribbing of the hat. I tried it on. It fit. I kept knitting. I tried it on. It still fit. I knit some more. Tested. Fit. I repeated this a few times more, way more often than neccessary, because well, I'm just that compulsive about checking fit too often as I go. Anyhow, I reached midway and started in on the decreases. Checked, and it still fit. I knit three more rows. I tried it on one more time.



WTF??
It no longer fit.
I look like Dumb Donald.
Totally bizarre, and I still can't figure out what happened, other than maybe my head shrunk while knitting and watching The Colbert Report.

MyFk frogged it for me this morning. I couldn't bring myself to do it, and he had a blast with it anyhow. I'll try casting on again later this afternoon.
Grrr. Brrr.
---------------

I had a girl's day out yesterday with Wheelchair Dancer. It was fun, but a little awkward for me. I decided to be bold and admit to her that I'd been avoiding her, and why...because it was nothing at all she had done that caused me to put her off. It was all my own shit. I tried to resolve my feelings on my own internally, and it wasn't working. All that was left to do really, was to be honest.

I don't know WCD all that well. We've had dinner an a few coffees over the past couple of years after dance related things. She and I have one cool thing in common: we are both dancers with a disability. But beyond that, we are really quite different. Which is good. I'm not into having a little army of matching friends. But we are different in one specific aspect that has been troubling me.

She's got alot of bounty in her life. Abundance.
And I do not.

Now, normally this is not a thing that determines one way or the other whether or not I get to know you better. In fact, when I was a kid, my dad retired young a very rich man, and he lots his investments in a land deal when the interest rates shot up to 17+% back in the late 70's early 80's, whenever that was. We went from having two houses, horses, and my dad having his own private plane (his hobby/passion was being a private pilot)...we went from that, to living in a tiny two bedroom apartment and losing the frills, to say the least. Betcha didn't know that about me ;-) Point is, I'm very aware of the fact that how many "things" you have is not the sole determination for one's happiness.

Anyhow, so like I was saying, normally your abundance (or lack of) is not a thing that determines one way or the other whether or not I will get to know you better. But with WCD, it has. I think maybe because she has an abundance of pretty much exactly the things I am so damn frustrated about lacking. She's got an army of fancy wheelchairs, I've got a rental chair being taken away by the insurance company. She lives bi-coastally and travels several times a month, I haven't even been able to pool the resources to take my son to Boston to meet his own grandmother, and he's 9. I have a shanty of a house that is primarily inaccessible, she has 3 places she calls home, and is customizing a fourth to meet her disability needs. She landed the position at the nationally renowned dance company we both auditioned for, I'm trying to sort out whether or not I can continue to work with the grass roots company I performed with over the summer.

Stuff like that.
And the thing is, with any other friend in my life, I'd be so tickled pink and happy for him/her! I mean I really truly am the type of person that can be joyous for other people's success, even if I'm not all that successful myself at that same moment.

But I haven't been able to do that with WCD. And it's been troubling me immensely. I really really REALLY do not like thinking that I am missing out a what could be a good friendship just because I am steeped in jealously and envy. In all my 39 years (ugh), I've never run into this problem of not being able to be genuinely happy for someone who "has", just because presently I am a "have not". And as WCD put it, all could have been different just by a toss of the coin. Isn't life interesting?

I can't believe I'm actually blogging about this, but whatever. I'm always good for airing out my dirty laundry where the neighbors can see it.
It's what I'm working on right now. I gotta keep track of it somewhere.
------------------

So if you recall, as it turns out, WCD was the winner of the Blogiversary Raffle...and we finally settled up yesterday. Her dontation is (I think--and I've spaced, and am waiting for her to confirm) going to The Sierra Club. And for the little "something-something" (which was to be something like a book or yarn) we actually agreed on a handknit--some guantlet style arm warmers, a little lacy, in black.

Of course she asks for something handknit after twice pointing out that my knitting is a little ummmm, "obsessive". Hahahaha. Yah.

I have to get my head warm first and bang out a couple of holiday gifts before I add the armwarmers to the queue, but I'm already pouring over lace patterns so that I can choose one that feels just right for her. I'm actually thinking of adapting PomaWhatever somehow, but I'm not sure about the stitch count. We shall see.
------------------------

More on the wheelchair front.

A lot of what got me through the stress on Monday, was my reminding myself of the fact that I do at least have one wheelchair in my possession,and for the meantime, it will suffice. It suffices poorly, true, as it is too wide for my house....but hey, better than nothing. I spent a lot of time on Monday thinking about those commercials asking for donations for people in other countries who need chairs and have none. I have very strong images burned into my brain of people crawling down dirt roads on their knuckles, dragging their legs behind them, and meanwhile, I'm bitching about the fact that what I do have isn't perfect.

So ummm, it's very nice, but y'all need to not bug me anymore about the tip-jar thing on my blog for donations. I'm too pridefull to make a public request like that, and I'm too concientious to accept that kind of thing when that assistance really should go someone who has NO insurance company to be battling it out with. My problems should be over in a few weeks. There are people out there who need help more than I do, and there are already have links set up for donations. Please go there if you feel compelled to give.

Oh, and you are correct, Sara. Yes. I most definitley would be tempted to spend any incoming donations on yarn, even though yarn is not "smack".

Yarn is crack.
(is there another fiber junkie out there that can back me on this??)

If I were to allow donations, I would not fritter it away on yar. I would buy wheels with it.
Spinning wheels. Bwahahaha.

But thanks to you guys for being so generous of spirit. You rock *kisses*.
-----------------------

Tonight is the Berkeley Stitch and Bitch, which will include our photo shoot of ShallowPigs--I mean, Hallowigs. Whee! Donna is coming out to join us, and this is actually my first time meeting another knit-blogger that I met online. I'm very excited. Hopefully photos tomorrow.
-----------------------

Look at me! Look at me!
The total non-geek read a tutorial about how to add a button to the sidebar, and I did it ALL BY MYSELF!! (my parents tell me that "I do it myself" was my first sentence)

One of the buttons is for NaBloPoMo.
Come November there is high potential for things to get very strange over here.
A whole month of this prattling on and on.
Be scared. Be very scared.

update: the two week reprieve.

Thanks all, for commiserating with me yesterday and for the offers of housekeeping and bounty hunting. Truly appreciated ;-)

Here's what happened yesterday afternoon when the poor delivery/pick-up dude arrived.

I answered the door in my wheelchair, said hello, while the guy shuffled through his paperwork and announced he was there to pick up a return. I said, "Yes, I know..." and rolled backwards to where I park my crutches and grabbed them. Meanwhile, he was scanning the room, I guess looking for the other (non-existent) wheelchair that would take the place of the rental I was returning.

He said, "Aren't you still using that?"
I mean, ummm yeah...it would probably still be warm from my buns as he loaded it on the truck. So I explained, yes...I still use it. Everyday.

I think right about then I might have gotten a wee bit misty-eyed, but not to influence the guy, I swear. It honestly was a natural response to literally having my legs kicked out from under me.

The poor guy just kind of stood there with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds and then said, "I...I....I can't do that to you. " So I began to explain about the insurance snafu, and he opened the front door, started to slip out and said, "I'll just say I came and you weren't here," and tried to leave. But I said no, because (get this Sara) I've pulled that routine twice already, and I can't keep up that schtick forever.

He said he was going to step outside and make a call, and when he came back, he reported that they were giving me two weeks to sort things out with TheBigBoxInsuraneCompany (rhymes with Meiser), and that someone would call me from his office about the billing stuff.

Then the guy just stood there with his mouth open catching flies again, and then his eyes got all watered up, and he said, "I just can't take it. That just aint right."
And he turned around and left.
----------------

Now meanwhile, I would like to add (just so you don't think I'm sitting here wearing a hat that says "Victim" on it) that I have in fact been trying to fix this situation both from the insurance end, and from the equipment-ownership end.

The insurance snafu all began in June, and the mess created a lapse in coverage. It's very complicated, but the general gist is that in June, I needed to change coverage, and one department told me to apply for Plan A, while another department later, in mid-August, denied my application and informed me that I never even qualified for Plan A. Getting that straightened out took until the last week of Septmeber, and during that time, the Durable Medical Equipment stuff got very messed up.

It's almost fixed. I just got off the phone with my doc and his nurse (whom are both great, even given the fact that they work for TheMeiser), and it's almost straightened out. Couple more days, and a couple more rounds of phone calls probably.

Meanwhile, I have also been looking for a cheapie replacement chair that I could just outright buy, because yah...I do pay a small co-pay on the rental, and over time it will add up to the cost of the chair.

TheMIG has been helping by calling around on Craigslist ads for me, but it's very difficult to find exactly what I need when most of the fucktards advertising don't know diddly-squat about wheelchairs. They're probably just cleaning out dead grampa's garage. They don't even seem to know that wheelchairs come in more than one size. They don't know dimensions, details, brandnames, etc...hell, some of them are even selling "transport chairs" thinking that they are actual wheelchairs (transport chairs don't have the big wheels on them so you can push your own self...they only have four small wheels and therfore you have to be "transported" with an assistant pushing from behind).

The wheelchair I use in the home has a 16" seat and is a hemi chair (hemi basically means lower to the ground, at 17"). Most chairs we are finding advertised have 18" seats (which won't fit through most of the doorways in my house), and are adult standard (which means 21" from the ground, and then I can't use my one good working leg to help me scoot around...and I use that alot). The hemi chairs (or chairs that are somehow adjustable to become lower) seem to be more difficult to find used.

Also, the CL people here in the Bay Area seem to think the chairs they have are gilded thrones or something. The chairs on CL are all "just like new!" and the sellers are asking for well over $150 in most cases. Considerring TheMIG just found an on-line store I can buy the same clunker I have now NEW for $165, that's not making sense. There is a used one for $85 I'm checking out this weekend, hopefully. And yes, I have scanned garage sales, but that's been like looking for a needle in a haystack. Or a needle in a pile of needles, maybe.

So I'm cool for a couple of weeks, and hopfully the solution will be reached before the guy has to come back out and I make him cry again.

You can still come and bring casseroles if you want.
Not because I need it.
For the company.

..and so this is a day where things will get really interesting.

Today is the day that they come to take away my wheelchair.
The one I use inside my home.
It’s a rental via medical coverage.
There has been an insurance snafu, and until the mess is sorted out, the equipment supply company has to take it away.


I started to write this very funny and long 3rd person fairy-tale about how I ended up with this crappy (albeit neccessary) piece of mobility equipment. My story included little details about how I do, in fact, outright own a similar looking (but 2" wider) clunker that I keep in my car for running errands, but how I can't get it that chair into the house from the curb.
The entrance to my own home is not wheelchair accessible.
And even if I could get the chair into the house, it is wider than the rental chair (read as: really the right width for my AmpleAss), which makes it too wide to fit through the passageways of my teenytiny shack.

In my fictional kingdom, there was to be a princess that used a skinny carriage inside the house... and for sporting around town, a more well-fitting one (fitting, kind of like Cindarella's lost shoe...only my chair is more like a dirty old tennis shoe than a glass slipper). The Princess in my story uses crutches to get from inside the house to outside the house, from one chair to the other.

The fable included a Fairy-Godmother (occupational therapist) who way back in the beginning of gimphood had given poor equipment advice, based on hopes of all of the things people thought I would accomplish (ummm, like consisitently walking), rendering the need for fancy wheelchairs useless.

And of course, no tale is complete without the Wicked Evil Villian--the big-box-store version of a health insurance company who will either pay for prosthetics or a quality wheelchair, but not both.

I was going to write all that.
Actually, I did write quite a bit of that, but quickly realized that the editing would take far more time than I have.
Especially since every frickin' task I do around my home is now about to become 4-times more difficult and 10-times more time consuming, as they will all be performed on crutches.

~~A note from the non-TeeHeeing AmpuT

stoopids

THIS was my favorite Halloween decoration.




THAT was my box of Halloween decorations.




THIS is a (very dark, sorry) photo of the rest of the decorations strewn all over the livingroom.




THESE are The Stoopids.

please help. i can't stop.

Felted Miniature Pumpkins
Yarn: (all odds+ends from stash) Bodies are Lambs Pride Worsted in Autumn Harvest, Rust, and Orange You Glad. Stems are Cascade 220 and Lion Brand Wool Ease
Needles: Bodies on Brittany US#10 dpns; stems on Susan Bates US#6 dpns
Pattern: found at Wool Windings (free pattern here), although PieKnits was the pimp ;-)
Modifications: none
Started: yesterday
Finished: today
Notes: This is my first time felting my own knitting! (I've only done a few thrift store sweaters for butchering into other projects)

knitting knews

Last night's SnB was held at someone's home instead of our regular cafe, and our evening included a yarn swap (although I thought it was odd that a few folks interpreted "swap" to be synonymous with "give-away" and were taking yarn without having brought anything to trade...settling that was a bit uncomfortable).

I got a good deal though and swapped 2 skeins of my nice but neglected stash for 3 skeins of Brown Sheep Kaleidoscope (80% cotton/20% merino).

I have no idea what it's going to be when it grows up, but oh, how I love the colorway. Score!
-----------

There was also a raffle last night for...get this one:
An unseamed, but fully complete, handknit sweater.




Now, I never got the entire backstory, but somehow this cardigan was donated to our group. I have no idea by whom or the reason why. The lone ball band with the leftovers for seaming says it's KnitPicks Shimmer in Grape Hyacinth. That must be incorrect, as this thing is most definitely not knit in a laceweight silk/alpaca blend, nor is it variegated. But whatever it's knit in, it's really cute, and a bit more plum colored than what my camera is picking up.

As luck would have it, it appears that the sweater will likely fit the winner perfectly, but since she has impaired vision and doesn't know how to sew up knitting (I think she was a crocheter), she's unable to seam it up herself. I've agreed to finish it off for her.

Why? Well, I actually enjoy finishing work, if you can believe that...and I do a fine job, if I do say so myself. But more importantly, I'm seaming up this wayward castaway because I see this sweater as my golden opportunity to tame my fear of set-in sleeves.

In all this time knitting, I have only made one sweater (and I just realized that I've never blogged about it or showed photos--ummm, I'll add that to my list of things to do). It was a drop shoulder hoodie. It fits great for what it is--an oversized sweater. But I don't really like the most way drop shoulder garments look on me. I look like a slouch.

Since the finishing of the hoodie, I have set aside umpteen-million patterns for fitted tanks and shells I might like to try. I've also considerred a modular T-shirt pattern that would bypass the sleeve issue altogether. I have even pondered the possibilities of a raglan. MyFK wants a sweater, so I could try it on a smaller scale. But never once have I considerred a sweater with a set-in sleeve, even though I know I prefer the fit of a set-in based on my store bought sweaters.
What's the panic with set-in sleeves?? Well, I am afraid that I will knit the sleeves and that they wont fit into the body of the sweater. I'm afraid that I will never understand the physics of "row count" meets "stitch count". That I won't understand my "knitted gauge" versus my "washed guage" and that I'll knit something that will look fine until it is laundered and will then look like crap and live in a closet. I fear that when it comes to sleeve finishing, my confidence in my seaming abilities will vanish--that I will suddenly lose all concept of "ease" (hehe--that's kinda funny).

If left to my own devices, I'll probably come up with any excuse and never try knitting set-in sleeves and find many other projects to support that. Nope, I am not one of those fearless knitters that just casts-on and tries things...and yes, I fully comprehend the notion that knitting is only sticks and string and that there are other events in life far more worthy of my fear. Ok now, where's that ativan ;-)
hahahaha

Anyhow, this is my plan. I'm going to learn to do this set-in sleeve thang ass-backwards. I'm going to do it with someone else's knitting LOL. I'm not going to knit my own sweater with set-in sleeves, all the while chewing off my fingernails worrying if the fit is going to succeed or fail. Oh no. I'm going to seam up this total stanger's finished sweater. With any luck, it will just work, and I will gain knowledge and confidence. And if the sleeve doesn't fit, well then another knitter can be the ass for screwing up the math.

Wish me luck.

Hey. Should I block the parts before I sew them up you think?? The shoulders are already seamed, but the side seams are not. I'm thinking block first because the pattern is a bit lacy, but I'm open for suggestions.
Thanks.
-----------------

I have also done a wee bit of knitting of my own this past week.
Wee. Very wee.

I sent a belated housewarming gift to Inky and Mr.Inky, and the basket included my attempts to create a couple of somewhat "goth-esque" Mason-Dixon Warshrags.




My other Finished Object this week is an ACKrylic, obnoxiously bubblegum-hot-pink, super Halloweeny, and "sooo last year" head covering thing, whose name rhymes with "Shallow Pig"....



...but I'm not going to model it yet . It will be donned at next week's SnB, where several of us are whipping them up (even Mz.Donna, who is going to make the pilgrimage to her first SnB and join us---woohoo!).

If I get permission from all involved parties, I'll post the group pic here.
-------------------

I've also done quite a bit of writing about my knitting habits and their current parallels with the rest of my life. I've threatening to blog about it for weeks now, and be thankful. It's a mess. The more I write, the more there is to write about. It is growing to epic proportions, is and destined to become some sort of part-mini-series. It asks way too many questions and doesn't have enough answers and may need to result in some sort of science experiment. I'm enjoying the reflecting and the writing, but what I have so far has a huge need for editing. It barely makes sense to ME and I'm the one who wrote it. hahahaha

But what else is new ;-)