One of Those Strange Things

ennadoolf points out that she has an acrylic garden - in response to my post where I said I have an acrylic yarn farm. Well, my darling, a farm is nothing more than a garden on steroids. So I thank you for being a partner in my acrylic yarn-ness!

That rage continues. For those who are keeping track (and for those who are not) there are two new hats in the stable. That brings the total to - I don't even know. I know there are 15 on sale in the shop
and eleven of those were created in the rage. There are now at least eight that have not been photographed, just sitting on the models looking cute, so if I take off my socks and count little piggies more than one time around and carry the one, I get 19. 19 hats, four scarves and a purse all made in about a month. I would say that was pretty good, wouldn't you?

Mr. Honey, as always, has been very supportive, he mentioned that I have a 'fine variety of hats' and I said to him that he could also rejoice that the yarn stash was being used. As I was starting the white hat you see on the left and pulling the yarn from the stash bag he passed by and said "Are you sure that stash is going down?"

Well, I think I coughed or something to stall to come up with a good answer because I had snuck off to the car and pulled out six of the sixteen skeins hiding in the trunk and I put them in the stash bag. This leads me to believe I may not be as stealth as I believe I am - but I am not going to bring up the subject lest I am as stealth as I believe and confess to being a yarn hoarder which would then blow my stealth-ness. Besides, he has a key to the trunk and that could cause random trunk inspections and that takes away a key component to my yarn hoardiness. That sounds incredibly - sordid. Yummm.

So, I said to him the incredible thing about these hats was that they all took less than one skein of yarn to make. I then pulled out a half skein as proof.

"What are you doing with the leftovers?"
"I can make another hat or save it to make afghans or I can make fingerless gloves."
"Yes! Now that's a good idea. You should make the fingerless gloves. I like that."

How much do I want to encourage this behavior? Mr. Honey is already incredibly supportive in the spousal role - do I actually want him to weigh in on the knitting? On the one hand, I haven't gone too far off when I've listened to him in the past. And it pulls him closer to me so he might not question the stash again - like when I eventually sneak the other ten skeins into the house and the stash bag. And making the fingerless gloves really isn't a bad idea. They would match up to a hat or could be their own accessory - even though I am inclined to make my favorite afghan that uses chunky weight yarn. I haven't made one of those in a long time and these remnants would look really great in the pattern.

I will probably wind up making a few pair of the gloves. I checked out some of the other shops and they sell fairly well. Then the rest of the yarn will go towards the afghan cuz I still need to make the big afghan for the sale.

It's all about the compromise in a marriage - and the need for a secret stash.
041304

Don't Fight It

I was looking for a pic of me and the hubby and though I have tons, they are all in glued in the wedding album.
Today is our 13th wedding anniversary. Every year I ask him if he wants me to renew his contract for the coming year and I ask him for a two year extension. So I'm locked in until 2022 while he's only committed until 2010.

He didn't know what he wanted for his anniversary gift. Usually he'll want a book but he couldn't think of one he wanted this time around. I know he's been working really hard at his retirement job and around his mom's condo getting it ready to sell. Someone is giving me a free coupon for a massage so I am going to give it to him. I'll make the appointment and drive him to wherever it is and wait while he gets his body tended to. I'll even let him have a female masseuse.

What did I get? I got a shopping trip to Hobby Lobby and I got 21 skeins of yarn, 5 sets of double pointed needles and sequins in black, green, blue and pastels. I tried to buy more. Seriously. This was a different Hobby Lobby where I'd never been. It is a huge store, but the yarn department wasn't very big. There wasn't much in the way of clearance yarns so I went with the tried and true. I really did my best to clear out the store, but it just wasn't to be.

I still got a boat load of my favorite yarn. Didn't need the yarn but now I am so set. He didn't even flinch when he saw the total and he even carried the bag to the car.

We then went off to a restaurant where we'd never been called Pete Miller's - we got a $100 off certificate that cost us $50. We brought home enough food for a meal tomorrow - best kind of meal is one you can have twice and pay for once!

So how is married life? I love it. I've been engaged a couple of times and this was the only time I made it down the aisle. He was worth the frogs that came before him.

So, What's The Story With Duke?

Here's what happened with Duke:

On October 30, 2006 I was in the choir loft at church when I felt a tightening in my chest. It was like a vise grip. Of course I thought to myself, "heart attack" except my heart rate was normal, no sweats, no light-headedness. I made it through church all right and I went home to watch the Bears game.

During the Bears game, the pain got really bad. It was so bad it almost knocked me off the sofa onto the floor. Joe was outside and I couldn't call to him so I managed to get myself over to the table where there was a bottle of aspirin and I took an aspirin thinking again, 'heart attack.' The pain eased a little, but it didn't go away and again, no other symptoms. I watched the rest of the game. (Which the Bears lost.)

The rest of the day, the pain stayed constant though I was functioning somewhat normally. Joe did come in and I told him about it and I said to him that if the pain kept me from sleeping we would go to the emergency room because the ER would be filled with Sunday night crazies, the best time to go would be in the early morning. (I was very confident there was no heart attack, however, pneumonia was now a thought.) So, at three in the morning, we went off to the ER and by now, I was feeling the pain and also a little 'off'.

Stick with me, we're getting to the dog.

The ER was empty so I was able to go right into the triage area where the attendant was doing my vitals. Blood pressure was normal, heart rate was about 80 (which is a little fast for me) and my temp was 99. I told him that 99 was high for me because my normal temp is below 98.6. Which he fluffed off with some trite explanation. But it had me worried. They put me in a room to run the EKG and all the other things they run when they think you're having a heart attack and it all came back normal. In the meantime, I told the nurse I was freezing. She thought it was because it was a cool morning so she wrapped me in a blanket while I was waiting for some other test. The blanket didn't help. I told her I was getting really cold. (I had been in the ER for about an hour.) She decided to take my temperature.

102.

She walked over to the attending physician who said, "Her EKG and everything else is normal." The nurse said, "She has a temperature of 102." He said, "Wow, that's interesting. Let's get her lungs X-rayed, maybe pneumonia." (You think?)

X-rays came back showing no pneumonia, but there was a little spot on my lungs they couldn't figure out. So, they decided to send me for a CT. (Which looks like a big donut.) So, while I was there, I asked the administrator if the room was unusually cold and she said it was a little cool but not cold. I was freezing again.

I was returned to my ER cubicle and told the nurse I was freezing even more than before and I was feeling horrible. She took my temp again. (Two hours in the ER)

104. She rushed to find the doctor and tell him. He said, "Call ICU, we need to get her up there. All her tests are normal. I don't know what's causing the fever."

Of course, the rooms in ICU were all filled so my hubby and I stayed in the ER until they kicked someone out up there and then they took me up and put me in a room. Quarantined. Everyone had to wear a mask and be covered before they could enter. Including the HB who was already as exposed as anyone could be.

I'm getting to the dog.

The fever took a hold of me and here's the weird thing: I could still respond to people but there was music in my head. If someone said anything that was close to a song lyric, that song started to play in my head. There was gospel music, rock music, folk music, songs I didn't like from the 70's, songs I didn't even know I knew. Every single note and every lyric and the last song would play over and over in my head until someone said something that triggered a new song. I couldn't hear my voice - everything was a song (lyrics and music). My head was a contemporary/R&B/Gospel/Broadway music station.

After around the clock blood drawing and blood tests and two days in the ICU, three doctors came in to tell me what they suspected: Bug in my blood. That's what one doctor called it.
"Is that the medical term?"
"That's what we're calling it. We're trying different antibiotics to knock it out. We're looking to see what caused the infection."

I called my sister the nurse. "Yeah, they tell you it Bugs in the blood."
"You mean I have blood poisoning?'
"Yes."

I was in the hospital for a week. Three days in intensive care. They wanted to wait until my fever broke to move to the general hospital. (No pun intended.) I knew my fever broke on day three when I woke up and the music was gone. (With no disrespect to Don Maclean; I was happy the day the music died.)

I had to ask my overnight nurse what I had to get a straight answer because I figured she wasn't included in the shroud of secrecy surrounding the medical term for what I had. And she wasn't - she spilled like an over soaked sponge.

"You have sepsis. There was strep in your system and instead of going to your throat it got in your blood."
Oh, the condition that's 70-90% fatal. That explains the pain, the low blood pressure and the songs in my head and the different antibiotics.

I left the hospital cured of sepsis (but with a weakened immune system). My doctor also said I was a diabetic -(I tried to explain to him I had been drinking an inordinate amount of grape juice the whole week before and that's why my sugar level was up, but he would have none of it. So even though my last few blood levels have been below 5; a diabetic I remain.) and I came out 30 pounds lighter.

And with a bill of $60,000. But through the magic of insurance, my out of pocket was about $3200. (This is important to remember.)

The HB protested over the bill (this, too is important to remember) and asked me to call the hospital to see if we could get a discount if we paid it all at once. (They gave us 10% off.) So, with my signature on a check, my most serious illness was a thing of the past.

OK, so last year, Duke was playing in the backyard and hurt his leg. We took him to the doctor who said he ruptured his knee. We opted for stabilizing the leg with a cast to see if he would recover. And he did. Until a few weeks ago when he ruptured it again. The HB said to me he was thinking he would opt for the surgery this time because Duke is still a vital dog, full of energy and life and very healthy. And the doctor said the surgery was about $2000. We would have to be referred to a surgeon at another hospital.

So, off we went to see the surgeon armed with Duke's xrays and records. The surgeon examined Duke, looked at all the info and said the surgery was an option and Duke was a classic case and the surgery could be done that day and cost $3200. There's a big difference between $2000 and $3200. Both the HB and I said "Oh," but while my 'Oh' was followed by the word 'my', the HB followed his "Oh," with the letter 'K'.

OK? My bill for a week to cure a sometimes fatal disease was $3200 and you would have thought the Feds were raiding our account but the dog gets an OK? Not even, 'can you leave the room doc while I talk this over with the old ball and chain?' He just wanted to know if it had to be paid all at once so he knew whether or not he wanted to write a check or use a credit card. (He used the card.)

So, duke had surgery to place a pin in his leg so his bones don't rub together and cause further damage. He is recovering very nicely and I have to admit he is probably worth it because he does bring us great joy and because the child we call ours is 30 and on her own. I don't begrudge a penny of my inheritance being spent on the dog.

But the HB could have protested just a little.

It's Your What?

So, I completed the HB's new scarf -putting my other wips on hold so he could be snuggly and warm. I thought I would put the scarf on his chair where he would see it in the morning when he got dressed. I was walking into the bedroom and he met me at the door because he was going to the bathroom. I told him his scarf was done and I was putting it on the chair.
When he came back to bed he said, "Did you say my scarf was done?'
"Yes."
"Wow. Thanks, babe."
Fast forward a few hours later when he's walking into the house from work. (He works from 5am to 9am because that's what you do after you retire.)
"How's the scarf?'
"It's upstairs."
"You didn't use it?"
"Oh no. That's my dress scarf."

Is your face looking now like my face looked then? Somewhere between what the___ and huh?

"It's your what?"
"My dress scarf for Sundays."
"Does it get cold only on Sundays?'
"No."
"What are you using on those days?'
"Just my coat."

There's not a chapter for this in Men For Dummies. I don't know what else to say.

What Goes Around

The H-B has been bumbling around for a few days grumbling because he cannot find his winter scarf. It was there one moment and gone the next and he doesn't know where he put it. It's not in his car. It's not in my car. It's not at his mom's condo. It's lost.

After a few days of this, I spoke up (well, the fun was gone for me so I had to move on)
"Would you like me to make you a scarf?" (While thinking - you have a wife who knits, you could have had a scarf an hour after you lost the first one.)

"Did you make the last one?" (Hmmm, couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but I think not, just surly.)

"No, but does it matter? Do you think it was lost because it might or might not have been homemade?" (Definately sarcastic)

"No." (Grumble, grumble. Open closet door for the umpteenth time, close closet door with no scarf)

"So, would you like me to make you a scarf?'

"Yeah, why not?'

"Would you like another black one?"

"Yes."

"I will check and see what black yarn I have in my stash."

"There's some in that box."

That box? "You mean in the box of yarn you're making me give away? I'm pretty sure I have more black yarn that won't turn me into a false advertiser. Would you like a scarf or a cowl?"

"A scarf."

Man, how I wish I didn't have those other skeins of black yarn in the upstairs stash. I could have turned that into a legitimate reason to shop.

I Didn't Buy Any Yarn

I am in the middle of dejunking my office because it will become a combination office and yarn room. I cleared away all the rubble, then I put everything loose into boxes and next I will move those boxes plus whatever furniture I can out of the room so the floor will be cleared for the hubby-bubby to come in with our steam cleaner and clean the carpet. The we will move in yet another computer stand and figure out where the boxes of yarn will go. I started this yesterday and yesterday evening I announced I was going to Joann.

"Why?" The H-B asked rather suspiciously.
Now, he has never asked why. He's never said anything. He has accepted the fact that his existence is now yarn based in the same way a cat lover's spouse must accept hair balls.
"Not to buy yarn. I just bought yarn. I am going because I want to make my own stitch markers." (This is the truth) "I'm not even going to look at yarn." (If God were Zeus, I would be struck by a lightening bolt.)
"Un-huh."
So, off to Joann I went. Got the stuff to make the stitch markers, picked up The Prayer Shawl Ministry II and Knit With Debbie Macomber - Back On Blossom Street book of Prayer Shawls. But not one ball of yarn. Oh, I looked and Lion Brand was on sale for 25% off, but I wasn't at the Super Store; I was at the regular store and they were practically wiped out. I did see some Paton's Melody that was tempting, but I have nothing to knit with it. (Though I could have looked in the patterns books and found something.) I felt it more important to be a good wife than an impulsive buyer. In truth, our house is a wreck and it is the yarn that has tipped the balance so I must reign it in. So no yarn.

I did make my stitch markers which will fit needles up to size 13. I will buy more goods to make them for size 13 and up. I don't often knit with 13 and up needles, but just in case.

I don't know when this became an obsession. But it could be worse - mebbe - I suppose it could be drugs or booze or young boys. Yeah, better that it's knitting.

A Celebration of Mothers

So, here are the mamas. My mother's birthday was yesterday. She would have been 78 years old. This is my favorite picture of her and Joe. We buried Joe's mom on Saturday. Believe it or not, the man in the picture with her is not her husband. It is her fiance.
She was engaged at 81 years old. We were engaged together. They never married - Leonard passed away the January after we were married. This was taken at our wedding reception.

Yesterday was a conflict of emotions for me from sadness over Josephine and remembering my own mother. All that was left of me was exhaustion. I didn't grieve or celebrate much because it was all so overwhelming.

But today I can take a moment to remember two women with influence. My mother told me shortly before her death that my sisters and I were her best friends. How neat is that: to raise your best friends? That was especially important to me because I am seven and ten years younger than my sisters - the youngest and a decade is a long time. My sisters and I are close as well. We used to have a weekly sister chat and schedules have made that an every other week if we're lucky sister chat, but we are still together. We have two brothers as well, but you know, they're boys.

I came to see my mother as a woman - I truly believe that is a gift we can give to our parents - to be mature enough to see them as human beings after we've seen them as parents. That was the day I became her friend. Trust me, I heard "I'm not your friend; I'm your mother." when I growing up so I know what a transition it was from one to the other. It was during that time that most of the lessons came to roost. I'm still learning from my mother. From who is was and who she wanted to be but couldn't become. From how her own mother influenced her life to cycles that should continue and those that should be broken. She is still my greatest teacher.

Joe's mom was at our house after we came back from my mother's funeral. I don't know what we were talking about but I must have said something about my mother's being gone and she very gently but firmly looked at me and said: "I'll be your mother." And there were times that she championed me and defended me and called me just to chat. She had another daughter-in-law who is the uber daughter-in-law and who has been in the family for more than 30 years - she was closer to her than she was to me, but I have no complaints. She did right by me.

She came with me to one of my women's meetings at church and charmed all the women there. (At her funeral someone whispered to me they could still remember her apple slices.) We went on a trip to Phoenix together. She gave me a package of Joe's baby pictures. When I was the foreman for a special grand jury, she baked apple slices for the jury. When she said something I took offense to and told Joe about it - he went down the street and talked to her about it. She immediately called me to apologize and told me she was so happy I was married to her son.

I sang at her funeral on Saturday. Amazing Grace and The Lord is My Shepherd she did like my singing so it was a gift I could give to her. I actually made it through both songs. The final gift I can give her, of course, is to take care of her son. Both her sons spent a great deal of time with her. They weren't mama's boys at all but they were caring, devoted sons which makes them both devoted husbands. My sister-in-law and I are two lucky women - and don't we know it.

On the other hand; they are two incredibly lucky men - thanks to the mamas.

It Was Joe's Birthday...

yesterday. And yet, we did not celebrate. He says he doesn't even want to talk about it for a week.
For one thing, he still has a terrible infection. But moreso, his mother passed away Monday evening. The doctor called us Monday morning and said all she could do is make her comfortable and we should get there. Joe's brother was in New York and headed back. Joe and I went to the hospital and Joe's sister came along with his brother's wife. We were there all day - we never left her alone.

My mother-in-law spent the day moving her arms about and we finally figured out she was working. She was a coil winder during the years her husband was away in the war. She said many times it was that job that got her the pension she enjoyed. Before that, she had never worked. It gave her a sense of independence and spirit. Her hands moved throughout the entire day. She did not doze off or sleep. And I knew. I knew the moment she stopped 'working' she would go home.

Joe and I left after 7 that evening. He went back at about 8. They all left at 10:30. She stopped working at about 11:00.

My own Mom passed away in 1997 shortly before our first anniversary and someday I will tell you about the remarkable woman she was. After her death, Joe's mom showed me a letter my mother had written to her. Obviously, it was a letter I wanted to keep, and Josephine said I could have it only after her death. I could have the letter, and her wedding picture which I always admired. They will work themselves over to me eventually. And I will cherish them both.

She was an extraordinarily strong woman. Flawed, as we all are, but strong nonetheless. They are stories for another time. For right now, I am going to keep them between me and Joe. Just for the moment because it is what he needs. But I will tell you about both of them. Because there are things to say.

Well, This is a Surprise!

59 As a 1930s wife, I am Superior Take the test!

Ok, so I found this on Cozy's blog and found it on a few other sites. Since everyone scored poorly, I thought there must be some sort of trick. So, imagine my surprise to find out that in the 1930's I would be considered a superior wife.

I'm not showing this to my hubby. It would only make the poor man laugh and that could cause some acid reflex and it would not be pretty.

Mind you, I believe I am quite the wife. I love being married mainly because I know I married the right guy - kinda makes it a no brainer. But right guy or not, this marriage gig takes some work and the thing is - even if you live together first (which we did for a year) you're not prepared for the moment when it all becomes legal. I remember standing at the altar after the vows saying: "Wow! I'm gonna need a lawyer to get out of this!" What can I say, I'm a die hard romantic.

Trust me, it's not easy being a good wife without a good husband involved. My mother-in-law survived her first marriage to my hubby's dad and found happiness in her second to a man who wasn't mean, abusive or drunk. Now, people would say she was a saint in her first marriage - but who ever goes into marriage thinking of sainthood - I know there were some sins I wanted to commit the moment I could legally get away with them cuz I was hitched!

I want to be a superior wife and though I may have made one in the 1930's I wasn't even born in the 30's. I want to be a good wife in the 90's, & 2000's. But I don't think I am going to tempt fate by find a quiz that tells me if I would be a good wife today.

I'll just have to take my own word for it!