Of Books and Hooks

And books for hooks,

(and my favorite pieces of each new book - The Picot Star Table Cloth, and the "idea page")

. . . and hooks on books,

(the KnitPicks double ended crochet hooks - stick with your regular crochet hooks - just saying')

(a Tunisian crochet hook brought to knitting on Tuesday so as to be reassured that it was not a mistake at the factory!)

And my current hooking obsession! Babette has been pulled out of hibernation and is moving along at a rapid pace. Eight of ten sections are complete. As I look back now, I've become a better crocheter in the two years she's been asleep and I see the things I should won't do over. The one thing I do know I'll change, based on Motifs book, is how the squares and sections are joined. There are much prettier, more decorative ways to do this. And that won't take much time. There are only 127 squares. But I'm hooked.

Agony of DeLeg

I am on injured reserve for a while; I have an owie-elbow. Mom and Dad don't know what happened to it and if I did remember, I don't know how to tell them. Tuesday night it hurt so bad I couldn't even walk on it. On Wednesday morning it still hurt really bad so Mom took me to see the vet that I love so much. Dr. Matt pushed and pulled and poked and prodded and tugged and turned. I was so brave; I didn't make a peep. Even when he got to the part that was the most hurtiest. Mom cried. Dr. Matt said I was "stoic". I love the girls at the vet store so when one of them came to get me for the back room I was happy. They gave me a cookie and picked me up really careful and put me on a funny table. They told me it was for pictures. I was thinking of the blog and tried to smile. But then I saw the pictures - you guys would not want to see them! They were scary pictures of my inside guts and stuff. Dr. Matt was happy at the pictures because nothing was broken. He showed them to Mom and they got that worried human face on account of some dark stuff in my elbow. They called it "swelling". The next words I heard really scared me - rest, 7-10 days, no swimming or running, quiet, medications (I do not like to take pills!!).

Today I am not wanting to rest so much because the medicine makes me fell like I am better than I am, but I am not. Mom just caught me waking up from a dog nap and I forgot about my elbow and fell down when I tried to go get some water. Mom is thinking it will be a funny (not ha-ha) couple of days trying to keep me rested and quieted.

Holli - the dog.

Face the Strange Changes

Dear Diary,

I finally made that call to the OB/GYN practice today to schedule the appointment I’ve been putting off for several months. In so doing I’m beginning to accept the fact that Nature has a plan for me over which I have no control. It’s just – I’m not ready. Seriously – not ready!. So I’ll rattle off my concerns – fatigue, can’t remember stuff, emotional blubber house (more than usual), the obvious missed periods, someone else’s boobs have wound up on my chest, extreme crankiness (more than usual), can’t remember stuff. Nice lady doctor will be compassionate and we’ll discuss all of these with care and concern. We’ll come up with a plan. She’ll give me that same stupid booklet again, the one with the gray-haired couple who look as if they should be checking in to Happy Acres Retirement Home, happily walking arm in-arm, that describes all of these things. I’ve purposely never read the booklet before because -THAT LADY IS OLD AND I’M NOT OLD! I have a twelve-year old daughter. I’m a school mom. I’m not old yet. I just cannot get over tying this whole process to “being old”.

When Kathryn begins this whole journey, in weeks, months or years from now, it saddens me just a bit to know that her whole experience of it will be without me along for the ride. How stupid does that sound? It’s just I always imagined us giggling in the bathroom or running back and forth asking: “Hey – do you have a ….?” All the while driving Jon crazy with our “period talk”!

I’ve talked with Jon. I’ve explained what I think is going on and how I feel and why I’m acting the way I am. He is, of course, so terrifically wonderful. He says the right things and does the right things and hugs me and use words like “It must feel strange to blah blah blah.” And every time he does, I secretly yell inside “He deserves somebody much younger and newer and not old and on the downward slide!” Yes, I know this is silly thinking; see above list of symptoms.

The girlfriends are what girlfriends are supposed to be. You can tell them everything; they tell you everything back. Even the things you don’t want to hear. Nothing is off limits. We talk about how everyone’s experience is different from the next but that we all share the common experience. Like childbirth. Books are recommended. Some are specifically NOT recommended. Tears are shared as readily as laughter. With them, I suddenly don’t feel old. I don’t feel like pitching The Red Tent with them, but I feel a bond that I know will sustain me.

Still, NOT READY! When I turned 50 I told myself, and anyone who would listen to me, that it was the best time of my life. I felt the best I ever had – physically, emotionally, mentally. I was at peace with myself and the world around me. That was only 18 months ago. Now this? I feel like crap? I don’t know the person living in this body? Or, more likely, I don’t know the body this person currently inhabits? Yes, I am fully aware that I am wallowing, wallowing in self-pity. But damn – it took me 50 YEARS to get to the top of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs and only 5 months to tumble back down to the bottom of the triangle! Couldn't the hierarchy have been an inverted triangle? Just a little more space at the top would have been really nice.

So Diary, I made the call. I accept what’s going on. I know that all of this will pass. I’m assuming that I’ll be back to my somewhat same-but-different self at some point. I will try to be graceful and at peace with all of this. After I press the “PUBLISH POST” button. But until then, I just really hate this.

Love,
Deb

Mini-Baker

Kathryn has become a fan of a few blogs lately; notably, Chris and Bakerella, cats and cupcakes - the life of a twelve-year old! So when the demand was issued call came to gather at "The Big House" for a family dinner to celebrate* with baby brother and wife of just one year who are in town, we jumped at dessert for our "dish to pass". Nanee asked for a "pan of brownies". "Pan" of brownies you say - that's just not going to work here anymore.
Although we were allowed to use a package mix, mini-brownie bites were what K wanted. With a raspberry plopped right in to the middle. I had to do some serious maths to recalculate the amount of cooking time required for the mini-ness and the raspberri-ness and it took several attempts before we got the proper done-ness.

Because of the proximity to the holiday, the decorating theme was easy. Although we wanted to make flags, the mini-ness sort of took away the space required.

We compromised.

The nieces / cousins didn't really care so much that there were no flags on the brownie bites.

And all of a sudden my hopes that 48 brownie bites might get me through the family dinner AND the two meetings I have at my house on Monday and Tuesday evening this week - were . . .

. . . gone!!

Just vanished!

Not even one little brownie bite left for this guy who was waiting at the end of my parent's driveway as we pulled out. Guess he knows where to go for leftovers!

*Keep your fingers and toes crossed for baby brother Dennis and his beautiful wife Helen; they are expecting a baby early next year; grandchild number 10 in our family! xoxox

Hmm . . .

Maybe it was his party hat?

Do-Over

Jon would say that if we have to start painting rooms over again, we've lived here too long. I claim that since everyone uses our laundry room to enter our house, it should look better than it has.
Jon put up the wainscoting a few weeks ago. The weather finally cooperated (in that it is fall again here in Minnesota) so that it could be stained and varnished over the weekend.


Tig spent the weekend worried about his next meal since his feeding station is on the counter up there by his big butt.

A fresh coat of paint and a new Target window covering and now the BACK HALL, not the ENTRYWAY looks bright and sunny.

Holli's little breakfast nook, with a picture of her mom, looks fresh with the empty bowl it tells me it must be time to eat!

And something for Tig to play with while he waits all day for dinner!

Sweet

Our weekend - sweet! Two date nights with the Mr. I finally got to see "Star Trek". He indulged me. As a result of Saturday's funky weather, I had plenty of time to . . .

. . . finish up skeining, measuring and petting 125 yards of merino/silk/bamboo. And then I just stared at it, and showed it to Mr. a lot because I really like it . . .

and . . .

. . . I finished this side (Solid Square #149 from 200 Crochet Blocks) . . .


. . . and this side (Fretwork, #197 - same book!) of my potholder I seamed them together for the Tuesday Morning Knitting Group's "Let's Just See If We Can Crochet Potholders and Then Decide What To Do With Them".
Extreme close-up to show the tidiness of my crochet stitches.


And . . I decommissioned something that many of you might have called a "poncho" if you were inclined to get "that look" from me and a stern lecture that it was NOT a poncho but more like a "multi-functional wrap with one hole and no sleeves." This MFWWOHNS, made from Eco-Wool was skeined, washed and left to dry in the room with the world's largest residential dehumidifier. Eventually, this will become Copine.

Everyone needed a break by Sunday and thankfully the weather cooperated enough to spend the afternoon and evening outside, rolling in the catnip plants.

How was your weekend?