OCTOBER

October is a month that seems to kick off the season of hustle and bustle. Not only do the holidays of Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Christmas roll up in short order, but the weather becomes cool, and the energy that flagged all summer long seems to slip back into our lives.

For those of us involved with Domestic Violence Services, it is an intense month of "awareness". Now each month of the year seems to have 3 or 4 causes that want to claim the month as theirs. And colors, don't get me started on colors. With all the colors of the rainbow available, most causes share their color with 5 or 6 diseases. It's enough to make anyone turn their back on every rubber bracelet and every crisscrossed ribbon, but this is my blog and my heart belongs to the millions of women and children and even some men who suffer in silence year after year, week after week, minute after minute under the brutality labeled Domestic Violence.

This month, as a DV volunteer advocate, DV school visitor, DV volunteer resident assistant, and Chair of the local DVS advisory board, I will spend my time trying to "push mud uphill". If we are going to end this scourge in our country, we must start with our children. I mean young children, not high school, not even junior high aged children, but younger. We must teach our children to respect others, not just themselves. We have to say the words "domestic violence". It is an atrocity that thrives in silence and behind closed doors. Sometimes it leaves no physical marks, but the result is an expensive burden on our society. It leads to mental illness, juvenile delinquency, homelessness, drug use, alcoholism, violent crimes of every type, sexual abuse, child abuse,.......enough!

So in the words and melody of my youth: "teach your children well", and keep your local Domestic Violence program in mind when you consider your charitable giving. It may not be the fashionable cause, but it is a far reaching cause.

The Garden at the end of July

This is why I refer to J as my "constant gardener". I love the wild loveliness of our garden. There's always a new surprise with every corner you turn. The light this morning was a little eerie, but that's one of the things that makes a garden new every day.
Thanks Jane, your photos always inspire me and this time I actually took some of my own.

CHANGES AFOOT

It comes as no surprise to those in my life, that I bid a hasty farewell to 2009. I hate wishing a year away, but there are times when a year is sent to test you. I have lived through other such years and I'm sure there will be others.
This year I am determined to improve my chances of living through several more years, good and bad. I finally dug out my old determination, dusted it off and tried it on. It still fits. I have big changes in mind and I need help to get there. Nutrisystems is helping me with one change for the first few months and when I get weary of their "cuisine", I will switch to Prevention Magazine's 400 Calorie Fix. Is that all there is to it? Nope. I have the good fortune to be a student of Briala Silva of Briala Body Works. If I get lazy, she will track me down and hound me. I am ready to stop risking life and limb just getting through an ordinary day. I am ready to feel well, and secure that I can manage to get from point a to point b without disabling myself.

So have I put my life on hold until all of this comes to pass? Not on your life. I have become more involved with Domestic Violence Services, both as volunteer advocate, advisory board president, and community educator. I have two dream vacations planned for the end of summer, early fall. This is after all, a HUGE birthday year for me and if I don't plan how I want to celebrate, no one else will. Later in the fall, I will look forward to the arrival of my first grand niece or nephew, then a graduation celebration for my daughter who will wind up her long and intense schooling with the Wostep School of Watchmaking at N.G. Hayek, In between all of these earth shaking events, real life with J, my life-long love, continues to be both exciting, exhausting and filled with real life drama, thanks to his job.

I'm not going to make any promises about blogging more frequently, but I do have some gorgeous things on the needles and when they are finished, they will make their debut right here.
Look for Falling Waters Shawl, designed by my darling friend Jane and featured in another wonderful friend's book. I also would love to make the Yggdrasil Blanket for a special baby.

In the mean time I leave you with our personal scene of the winter that was.

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.