WHY I LOVE THE ANNUAL KR RETREAT

Let me count the ways
1. A veritable treasure trove knitting experiences
2. An unrivaled group of people, each one kinder, wiser, funnier, and more talented than the next
3. A long weekend away from homely cares, having my meals appear magically and just as magically whisked away, my bed made, magic towel bars that replenish themselves with fresh towels and the amazing self-cleaning room and bath
4. My annual yarn purge (without which, I would be in imminent danger of becoming the subject of an A&E Intervention episode. Seriously, how do I manage to accumulate so much yarn in a year's time? (rhetorical) We all know the answer. To date I have 10 XL Space Bags stacked and ready to go.
5. I discover all of the projects still on the needles. Some are removed, the rest will stay surfaced one last year. If at the end of the year, they are not finished, they will be cannibalized, the yarn to go to KR next year or kept for something new.
6. Seeing all of my old friends and meeting future friends. Because after all, yarn can delight you, warm you, teach you, even sooth you, but I've never met a skein that could make me laugh!

A MOP AND A LIST

I have had so much time to notice my surrounding due to my tiny misstep in April. At first I was so angry, shocked, drugged, and weepy, that all I could do was resent the fact that I could not escape at will. Slowly this changed into frustration because I couldn't pinpoint the whereabouts of any particular item that I needed. It wasn't because I had forgotten where it was, rather it was impossible to map out exactly where things were, in the myriad piles of crap very important possessions.
I became resolved to take control of the space that other family members laid claim to 10 years ago when we bought this house. These family members, who shall remain nameless have been absentee tenants and perfectly good space is being used as Warehouse 13, or Area 51. There's a lot of unidentifiable crap taking up ROOMS, not closets, not corners, but ROOMS.
I haven't yet decided how to resolve the entire dilemma, but I am laying claim to the designated guest room, which will no longer be the guest room, but Rosi's aka Mom's Yarn/Knitting/Sewing Room. It is the smallest room in the house and has only one window which gets precious little natural light, but when I get done with it, it will serve my purpose and maybe, just maybe house a guest in a pinch.

THE SKELETON IN MY BODICE

The CT scan is actually much more clear, but this will have to do for now. It's really self explanatory, after reading my description of its current state. J tells me that the x-ray taken at the hospital had the broken piece of bone floating above the surface but it was correctly aligned. This is why we are able to conclude that "reducing" the dislocation is what caused the pitiful misalignment. The other things shown by the CT Scan are the many bone shards hovering around the break. They're waiting for reabsorbtion. Sounds like something on the Sci Fi channel, or Star Trek. You know, like the Borg ship reabsorbing and assimilating lost members.

So what does all of this add up to? In the immediate sense, I am now a prisoner of this grotesque injury, commanded to keep it perfectly immobile for 3-4 weeks. Physical therapy will then attempt to rehabilitate the shoulder. This involves passive movement only for an additional 3-4 weeks. If all of the above comes to naught, my shoulder will be reassessed. In the mean time I can no longer be a physical participant in my own life.

TSI PART II

Just as I managed to unlock the door, a gurney with two extremely large EMT's appeared. (I could have sworn they were wearing red soup bowls upside down on their heads) Evidently I wasn't calm, imagine that! One of my inquisitors rescuers kept yelling, "calm down ma'am", over and over, louder and louder. Evidently I must have started screaming again when they picked me up off the floor and put me on the gurney. Out from behind them appeared a gray faced township police officer, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but at my back door. He asked if the phone in my bra might have my husband on the other end. Then I understood his appearance. J has that effect on people when he's using his official voice. Back on the gurney, they decided to put me in the ambulance s l o w l y. Turns out my blood pressure registered something akin to "barely breathing". My sister said it has to do with immense pain and shock. Even though you're screaming bloody murder, you can have a vagal incident, which sends your blood pressure into the basement.
From here on out I will refer to the EMT's as T1 and T2 (think Cat in the Hat). T1 was the calm down ma'am female who was in charge and T2 was the jolly driver who promised me the slowest possible ride to the Hospital and wanted to know why I had so many cook books. I'm not kidding here. He then proceeded to tell me in front of the baffled cop that he wanted to go to the CIA, which I understood, but the poor cop looked like he had fallen down the rabbit hole. Oh, I forgot to tell you that once I was safely on the gurney, I lost use of both arms. My right arm was holding on to my left arm, pressing it into my stomach for dear life. I'm not sure how long it took T2 to drive to the hospital, but it was long enough for my blood pressure to come up just enough to have 50mg of fentanyl 5 times. When we arrived, T1 told T2 that she would take the flack for dosing me so heavily. Seriously, the stuff never touched the pain until that last 50 mgs.

Next stop: The ER that I never knew existed

This was the ER that whisks you into a large private treatment room, no flimsy curtains in this ER. A team of medical professionals start swarming before you've been transferred from the ambulance gurney.
"No allergies, can you tell us your name, do you know where you are?.....ok, here's some dilaudid, now lets put sticky tags all over you, hook you up to machines that are going to blink and beep and bleep and warn us if you as much as sneeze."
Unfortunately Click and Clack in the x-ray department didn't get the memo that they should be quick, competent and professional. If I had a third arm, I would have attempted to smack both of their silly faces. At one point I said that I couldn't perform some contortion they devised and I would need help. Both of them looked at me like slack jawed yokels and asked what I wanted them to do. I'm afraid I lost my inhibitions somewhere between the fentanyl and dilaudid and told them to "shoot me". I then pretended to be anywhere but there, closed my eyes and let them figure it out. But I digress.
Six hours passed from arrival to discharge. The orthopod on call couldn't be f----d to come in, so he diagnosed over the phone and told them to jam my broken shoulder back into the socket..... "the piece that shattered at the top of the humeris will just jump right back where it belongs"
One minute J was there and I was awake, the next I woke up and it was all over, but the shouting, as they say. Seems that unruly broken bone decided to misbehave again and jammed itself into my humeris two inches below where it had come from.
Time to rest.....catch up with it tomorrow.

TIME TO CHANNEL BETTE AGAIN

When I started this blog a few years back, I was in the midst of my first body betrayal brought to me by that oh so merciless joker, "Aging". Although Aging has thrown a few cheap shots my way between now and then, he's actually been pretty benign. I admit it, I was the model of contentment, expecting nothing more serious than the sniffles now and then. But nobody expects TSI , either.
Two weeks ago to the day, I innocently put my lunch in the toaster oven on bake (god forbid it would have been turned to "toast", the setting which switches itself off) and set the timer. Ding, ding, ding, ding and up we get, free of care and full of the expectation for the weekend black tie fund raiser for my favorite charity. I worked very hard all year for the charity and sat on the Gala committee, successfully soliciting sponsors, auction items and looked forward to spending the evening with a fun bunch at the table we sponsored. Foolish, foolish earth woman.....
The big toe of my right foot somehow got stuck in my pant leg. My eyes grew wide in surprise, I hopped twice, certain the toe would come loose. Not sure if it did, because the next thing I remember was regaining consciousness, lying unceremoniously on the floor, with my shoulder wedged up against the bar cabinet. What the???? I also heard this blood curdling scream piercing the air. Lets see now; I wasn't expecting it, I blacked out from the excruciating pain and was brought back to consciousness by my own screaming. That's three of the four. It must be The Spanish Inquisition. (Monty Python fans are the only people who will get this, everyone else, disregard)
The next hour is a piece of time that I wish to have expunged from my permanent memory. It involved a very silly crab crawl involving one arm, one foot and one ass cheek. It also involved the serious consideration of giving up and waiting 6 hours for J to return home. But alas, that pesky toaster oven was stupidly continuing to burn brightly on the other side of the wall and it was one impossible stair step away from my twisted crab crawling self. The wireless computer keyboard was closer than the phone. Five minutes, or was it twenty, later I kicked the keyboard to the chair, kicked the cordless mouse to the floor and managed to hit reply to one of J's earlier messages, typed h e l p and clicked on send. The phone started ringing about a minute later. Of course it was miles across the room. Ok, not miles, but it rang it's full complement of rings 3 times before I crab crawled over the distance, picked up a ruler from my knitting foot stool and knocked the thing to the floor. I learned later that I was screaming unintelligibly, so J had no idea what the hell was happening or had happened. Thank goodness, he didn't let his boss send a carload of agents to the house. He did, however call 911 and stayed on the phone with me as he ran to his car and got on the road for the 1 hour commute from work to home. He gently reminded me that I would have crawl to yet another side of the room, gain access to the dead bolt key and unlock the door for the emergency people who would be arriving momentarily. After uttering some very bad language, I stuck the cordless (thank goodness for cordless technology) phone in my bra and began my final crawl across the floor.
As for the rest, I'm exhausted now and need to sleep, but I'll resume later. Typing with one hand is extremely slow.

THE IMPORTANCE OF THE QUEUE

If you're like me, you have tons of ideas and lots of ufos, not to mention stash galore. There are also times when you purchase yarn, let it sit for a few weeks, then immediately forget what you wanted to do with it. Most of my yarn purchases are made with a pattern, or at least an idea in mind and I keep promising myself that I am going to keep a notebook of yarns purchased and the pattern behind the purchase. Never happens. However, there are always those yarns that sit either outside the main stash or on top where you can snatch them quickly to knit a gauge swatch when you find THE pattern that deserves this glorious yarn. You bought this yarn because you couldn't resist it. It sang a siren song so enticing that nothing else would satisfy. Such is the case with my KR Retreat purchase of String Theory Yarn. I'm warning you this yarn is love at first touch and colors so rich that you can get lost gazing into the skein.


I think I've finally found the pattern for my Black Tulip Worsted Silk Merino. Don't expect to be wowed by the pattern, although it is indeed a lovely pattern. I love this yarn so much that I've been searching for exactly the right pattern, that will fit and might even flatter if knit to the correct measurements.(don't want the ribbing to be snug enough to spread) You see I want this to be a sweater that I can wear every day if I so desire and I know I will "so desire", but also wear with a dressy black T-neck and slacks out to dinner. You see this yarn is so rich in color and luxurious in feel and sheen, that I believe it will imbue the sweater with mystical properties.
Ok, maybe I go too far, but anyone who loves fiber and color and dreams of that perfect pairing of utility and beauty made with your own hands, knows whereof I speak.
Now if only I could discipline myself to finish the sleeve of my nephew's sweater and make progress on the 3 projects that have deadlines, not to mention make some progress on Jamie's sweater, I could begin this "might be the one" sweater. Would that these were the only problems in everyone's life, but I'm going to enjoy this calm period while it lasts.

I DID NOT NOTICE,

Did you? I find these little quizzes on other's blogs and think they might be fun. I just now noticed that I am a Lime Green Hippie High Priestess! The lime green worries me a bit, but I kinda like the Hippie High Priestess. You may call me Sister Hangover Holy Moonbeam, who moonlights as a social working comedian. I like it.

LONG TIME COMING

It has been a long slow winter and it's only just started. There has been some unexpected happiness and unexpected sadness, serendipitous meetings and sad goodbyes.

On the knitting front I had a prolific year, gave all of it away to my new and beloved co-workers at the DVS Shelter. No photos, no postings on ravelry, but I did enjoy knitting some of the more trendy patterns, like the Noro striped scarf , Sivia Harding's Moebius , and several quickie corkscrew scarves in luxurious yarn, along with the really fun and quick knit Caliometry.

Speaking of beloved co-workers, it's important for everyone to know that all of your local community services, including your local Domestic Violence Shelter, are hurting under the budget contraints left over from prior political decisions. Our local budget has been cut by aproximately 20% and we are scrambling to provide the same level of service. If you have the time, think about volunteering at your local DVS or donating money, clothing, food, bedding, etc. Make sure to check with your local shelter to see what's needed. When the economic picture looks grim, women and children are the first to become disenfranchised and abused. What I've realized is that we don't see what we don't want to see. Most of the victims are either intentionally hiding, or are the "invisible women" that most of us look right through.

Now for something completely different. (quote from Monty Python) I had an unexpected sad/happy long weekend, saying goodbye to one Aunt and spending wonderful close and funny time with my beloved sister and Auntie El, who flew north to help say goodbye to Aunt Shirley.
Auntie El is everyone's zany aunt. Our family would be a much more serious bunch without her. The three of us needed Depends on our funereal road trip. I know that sounds disrespectful to some, but as my nephew says, "It's how we roll". I managed to knit my sister a caliometry for under her bike helmet over the weekend and after seeing Auntie wear the Kiri I knit her a million years ago, I started a pink (her favorite) Ishbel
I'm about to sent it but I did photograph it first. Isn't she gawgeous? So easy and fun to knit.

WHY ARE THESE WOMEN SMILING?

HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY

GOOD LOOKIN' BUNCH

HAIL, HAIL, THE GANG'S ALL............

KNITTER'S REVIEW RETREAT 2008
WILLIAMS INN, WILLIAMSTOWN, MA

SMOKE RINGS

WIMPLES, SMOKE RINGS, COWLS?
I haven't the foggiest, but I had such a good time knitting these two. I used the same yarn in different colors for both and it is the most glorious yarn for these patterns. Just the thing you want to swaddle around your neck and face. It's Handmaiden Fine Yarn Swiss Mountain Cashmere and Silk. I prefer the semi solids in these yarns and these patterns make the most of the suble shade differences. The pink is in the colorway Rose and the blue is the colorway Topaz. The blue has already found a home and the pink will be stashed away with other FO's for just the right recipient. If you're interested, the blue pattern is a freebie and can be downloaded from here. The Pink is a purchased pattern and was a breeze to memorize and you can find it here .
Now I remember why I have kept this dumb vase all these years. Kind of creepy, but it works.

The Secret of the One-Skein Shawl

This summer has had lots of dramatic episodes, some welcome, some definitely not welcome. My knitting has been constant but my concentration has been less than adequate. What to do? I put all of my beautiful complicated lace in progress away. I went to Knitter's Review and made a copy of Clara's One-Skein Shawl pattern. I pulled out single skeins of yarn that I adore. Some I combined, some I used solo. Some I knit exactly as the pattern read, some I added twists, ribs and holes. For some, I had a specific person in mind, others I just knit without knowing who will wear it.
This has been one of the most delightful knitting interludes. Here are my little "glories". Oh, you will see one ringer among them. See if you can spot the impostor.

OUR VERY DEMOCRACY

A statewide story which looms large in our house.

BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED TOPIC

I lost my emotional footing once during the past week, described in the above post. I was able to attribute it directly to a complete lack of knitting that day. I'm perfectly serious. Now that I no longer smoke and try not to use food as a panacea, I truly need my knitting.
Although I have no photos to prove it, I have actually accomplished not a little knitting in the past two months. I also had the opportunity to venture outside my knitting comfort zone while attending Knitter's Connection in Columbus, Ohio last month. More about that later.

I have also started teaching knitting to young and old alike. My new volunteer career has offered me lots of opportunity to share my love of knitting. My students range in age from 7 to 67 and from English speaking to Spanish speaking. I do believe my students have taught me more that I have taught them. The women and children I have the privilege to know in this setting, are brave, resilient, determined, funny, talented, smart, beautiful, and strong. I am officially Miss Rosi when I'm there. That took some getting used to, but I've grown to love the sounds of the voices, no matter what they call me.

Next time: my adventures in Columbus and list of finished projects

THE PARTY'S OVER

After all of the hoopdidoo, time and effort I spent on the "other blog", I was not able to attend my 40th class reunion after all. My family suffered the tragic loss of a young family member and I spent last week far from home, mourning with the rest of my extended family.

SHE DID IT!!!!!

Some time ago, I wrote about my courageous sister and her 50th birthday. Well, she did it! I am so proud of her I don't really have words. My youngest daughter met up with the group in Columbus, Ohio and finished the last leg into Washington, D.C. to the Lincoln Memorial and finally to dip those front tires into the Atlantic at Bethany Beach, Delaware. The following pictures will tell the story.

HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN? TOO LONG!

I realize that all 6 readers of this blog have come to the conclusion that I have abandoned Knotasissy. Let's just say I took a sabbatical. Why a sabbatical? Because I took a vacation from one writing project to work on another more pressing. It had not a thing to do with knitting, and my personal knitting has suffered. That explanation for another post.
You see, I have been cheating with another blog. My (gasp) 40th High School Reunion is this summer. Shhhhhhh, I graduated when I was 5. The crazy thing about this blogging venture is that I was never a school spirit kind of girl and I never had a desire to go to any of the other reunions. Of course, until now, they could never locate me. The net has changed all of that. So, you might well ask how did I come to be the one to create, curate, administer, and author this communal blog. Either my classmates are the biggest bunch of con artists (a distinct possiblility) or none of them has any clue about setting up an "idiot" blog on blogger. Now, I ask you, which is the more plausible answer?
I hereby resolve to stop this foolishness and start paying attention to my first and most beloved blog. However, I have learned that I am something of a hussy and I will continue "enabling" my elderly classmates of yore. She's not nearly as lovely as Knotasissy, but there is certainly more pathos and not a little "spunk". I hate "spunk"! (Mr. Grant on MTM Show)
Did you think I was going to give you the link after that build up? Maybe I did.

Pretty grown up for 5, don't ya think?

Rosi,
who's leaving for Knitter's Connection tomorrow, so look me up if you're gonna be there

TIME

Living in the heart of PA Dutch country, lots of silly half German words and nonsensical sayings written on tourist kitsch, creep into your every day vocabulary. Lately I keep thinking of the cartoon depicting a farm wife with a very large backside saying "The hurrier I go, the behinder I get". When I first moved here 30 plus years ago, I didn't get the joke either. First I was too young, second I didn't know about the curious "Deutsche/English" grammar that life long residents sneak into everyday conversation.
There are days when time seems to hang luxuriously all around you and the possibilities of completing tasks, small and large are a pleasure. But
thereareothertimeswhentimeseemstoracefasterandfasterandeventhoughyoutrytokeepup, (sigh) y o u s e e m t o g o s l o w e r a n d s l o w e r .

It's good to be busy, but I dislike it when I'm busy and out of sync. My mother always blamed these anomalies on the changes of season. I think she may be right.
Tonight I start my 40 hour training to work with Domestic Violence Services. It is something I did long ago when my children were babies and I always said I wanted to volunteer again when I had more time. Since time seems to be racing past me these days, I'd better not wait for "time".
So tonight, I start a new adventure in hopes that I can at least serve as a warm body, so that others with experience can do the very important work that happens every day in every town in this country. Would that it were not so.
Oh, and I am hoping to start a knitting class for the clients! Great way to reduce the stash, dontcha think?

A NOOK OF ONE'S OWN

Virginia Woolf may have wished for an entire room of her own, but I've decided that even though that is my desire, I don't want to wait any longer. Our home consists of 6 down and five up and a fully finished third story. The basement is out of the question......did I say it's a realllly old house? You have to have an exoskeleton and have six to eight legs to live in our basement. I know I've whined about this before, so I'm not going explain why none of this space is available for my exclusive use. Instead I'm going to post pictures of my newly cobbled nook which measures a little less than 3 feet square. Most of my stash is in plastic tubs in the attic, stacked 5 deep so it takes up a very small space. I had to get rid of some clothing so that I can I have the luxury of having close access to my immediate stash in the armoire right next to my nook. Do I have to count that as part of my nook? I think not; I just recycled a space that was already mine to use, before anyone else could claim it.
This stash business is tricky when you have other family members with far more "serious" collections and avocations (god forbid I should use the word hobby for what they do in their leirious time (combination of leisure and serious). ba dum bum!

Who, What, Where

I don't think I'm alone when I say that with the advent of Ravelry, I'm finding that I'm ignoring my blog. It's not that Ravelry and Knotasissy are so similar. T'hey both chronicle my knitting, but Knotasissy is much more personal and Ravelry takes less emotional energy when I'm feeling like shutting the world away. I have to be careful to resist my temptation to hibernate completely at this time of year. To that end, I'm going to bore all who stumbles in here.
FAIR WARNING!!!

First and most exciting is the news from my sister and my youngest daughter that they will be participating in Ride for World Health . My Sis will be riding the entire cross country route. My daughter will ride the final leg from Ohio to Washington, DC. I'm so proud of them both, I could pop. This year's ride will benefit Medecins Sans Frontieres Imagine that! As we know this is a charity near and dear to the hearts of many knitters. Quel Coincidence! By the way my sister is on the far left in the bottom row of cyclists.
This is a gift she's giving herself for a very big birthday. She is one of the most focused and determined people I know. She is my baby sister and I am constantly in awe of her achievements and contributions to the greater good. This is a woman who, while working as an RN on weekends, raising 3 children, caring for a home and husband, commuted 200 mile each way to midwifery school during the week. She is now a practicing midwife with a very successful practice. But hey, she's conquered that and her two sons have graduated university and are on their own. Her daughter is about to graduate High School and her life just needed a new challange. So while she is still a midwife and a community activist, social change is slow and she needed something else. Hmmmmm, how about riding a bicycle cross country for world hunger? See what I mean? I'm tired just writing about her. I'm sure I've forgotten something, but I wouldn't want anyone to think she was toooooo good.

Ok, from the sublime to the "ordinaire". What do I do when I hibernate? Knit, of course! I also remove layers of accumulated "stuff". In this big old rambling house, I had yet to find a spot for myself. I finally carved out a corner, and I do mean a corner, of our bedroom in front of the fireplace. I would say it's about 3x3 with a small cabinet and end table with a chair wedged in between. I have an ott floor lamp behind me. I haven't taken a picture yet because I must find a different chair as the one I'm using is literally falling to kindling. The result of this little change is that my knitting productivity has risen considerably. In the last two months, I've started and finished most of what is on this page.

I've decided that I'm going to the Knitters Connection again this year. Last year was the first year and I had a great time. This year, the classes are too good to pass up and best of all it means I'll be away for my birthday. Birthdays have never been all that successful for me. There was the year James surprised me with a trip to the laundromat while I was pregnant with our first daughter. We lived in a three story walk-up, so I suppose it was a treat of sorts.....but you see what I mean. This year I'm flying and I'm not renting a car. I am hoping to meet some KR people who will be there, especially the now "World Famous Clara Parkes", the Queen Bee herself. I'm just so totally looking forward to seeing her. (wink, wink)

THEY'RE POPPING OUT EVERYWHERE

Seems babies are popping up all over in my daughters' lives, as well as my husband's office. I'd forgotten how much fun it is to knit baby hats. No pattern neccessary, just wing it: On the left is a simple meandering cable which looked far too plain for a little girl named BLUE. A little felted flower added just the right girly touch. The Irish cap next to Blue's hat is for a little girl named RUE. (I'm not kidding here folks) It seems Rue has an Irish Daddy, so the cable is borrowed from an Alice Starmore sweater called Inishman. The other hats were made long ago and given away, but it was fun to bring them together so that my other daughter could send samples to another new mother on the west coast, so that she can choose a style, color, etc. that suits her little girl SIDNIE?

Do you smell gas?

I know, I know, it's such a strange question, but read on. I have learned my lesson from past holiday seasons that I must come up with bizarre measures to protect my knitting enjoyment and integrity. I no long promise anything to anyone. That doesn't mean that I don't have grandiose plans. I just don't speak them aloud. It's also a mistake to answer the question, "What are you knitting"?, or worse, "Who's that for"?. DO NOT ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS. DO NOT SMILE MYSTERIOUSLY. Both of these actions can only lead to disappointed and recriminatory looks aimed at you during gift opening. What's a knitter to do, you might well be thinking. You could knit in the bathroom or any room with a lock, but this would cause some serious issues if you live with other people. Other options, such as knitting only when others are asleep or out of the house come with their own complications. My method has been working quite nicely. I just smile absentmindedly, peering up stupidly over my glasses and ask if anyone else smells gas.(we have an old gas boiler and two other auxiliary heating systems, so this question strikes fear into all that live here) The knitting questions have all but stopped. I think it's a sub conscious Pavlovian aversion to the cellar steps.
Below are some of my grandiose mystery projects.

Em's Graduation

My oldest just graduated from the NAWCC School of Watchmaking. We are so thrilled for her. She was the only woman in her year and graduated at the top of the class. On the top left is a pic of Em and her Dad at the graduation dinner. Left to Right is Em and Ant with Bea (the three amici), Em and Bea, aka, the school Mom, and a pic of Em, Tom, and Ant, who couldn't resist hamming it up.
The job search is in full swing for all of them. Em has already weathered her first 2 day bench test at Tourneau and although she was offered a position, she has decided to explore further. After all, a girl's gotta eat. More pics and info about the graduation and the school: NAWCC

Em in Switzerland

Em Hard at work

November Knitting

Thanksgiving 2007

Knitting and Knitting and Knitting and Knitting and Kn....

It has been a busy month and one to remember.
I went to my second KR Retreat and loved every minute of it. I underwent surgery one day after returning from the retreat and found out that a dangerous appearing growth was nothing more than a harmless blob in disguise.
I quit smoking 2 weeks ago. I am officially a non-smoker. These are words I thought I would never say. J quit smoking today.
My daughters cooked Thanksgiving dinner together for the first time and excelled. I am a lucky girl. I would dearly love to write further on all of these topics, but I have literally lost two weeks because of the surgery and I'm trying to play gentle catch-up, instead of my usual frantic race to exhaustion. So instead, I will tell the tail in pictures, bad pictures, but pictures non the less.

KR Retreat 2007

What the Hell is that?

What, you may ask, is that garish picture on the right. Well, you see I'm an avid reader and one omy favorite bloggers/KR buddies had this little quiz on her blog and I couldn't resist. Rho, of course was something lovely like Watership Down. And as anyone who knows me, will attest, I love bunnies. I guess if I had thought this through, it would have hit me in the head with a 2 x 4 that my quiz wasn't going to produce anything so lovely as Fiver and the "brambly ditch". So you also might ask; why the hell are you keeping this overly intense, slightly lurid pic on my lovely blog. The answer is simple, I like what it says about my character. I'd like to think that I am the person described under the book cover. You might want to take the test. It was quick and fun. If you do, let me know who you are, in the comments.
Just to push all that green and black down a bit, I'm including a couple of wonderful shots from my first visit to New Mexico.

ENE and I have reconciled

These pictures look like a perfectly innocent scarf blocking and resting peacefully. Don't let her fool you. This scarf is the devil in disguise. She thwarted me in at least 10 diffierent yarns, 4 different types of needles, and numerous cast-ons in the past 18 months. I once got to the 50% stage, only to find that I was off center way back near the beginning. Why did Ene hate me? I have no idea. I know this is crazy talk, but sometimes my desire to produce a specific project is in direct proportion to how impossible that pattern becomes.
So, how did I do it? I kind of snuck up on her this time, with no expectation of a finished scarf. I caught every mistake she threw in my way and pushed all doubts from my mind. My hands were actually shaking while knitting the last ten rows! I know, I know, "nutjob".......
But at least I'm a persistant nutjob with an Ene scarf to keep me warm this winter.

Grape Soda Hegerows

I just have to use this color for this post and then I'm going out to buy a grape soda. Thanks Jane, the socks were lots of fun and they fit my daughter perfectly. They will be making a trip to Switzerland the first week of October. Maybe I can get Em to take some travel shots of "Hedgerows on the move". I'm afraid my attempt at artistic photography is a bit silly, but I do love that this is the first pair of socks that I've knit that are almost identical twins, instead of distant cousins.

Grape Soda Hegerows

I just have to use this color for this post and then I'm going out to buy a grape soda. Thanks Jane, the socks were lots of fun and they fit my daughter perfectly. They will be making a trip to Switzerland the first week of October. Maybe I can get Em to take some travel shots of "Hedgerows on the move". I'm afraid my attempt at artistic photography is a bit silly, but I do love that this is the first pair of socks that I've knit that are almost identical twins, instead of distant cousins.