Just breathe.....

Oh, my. I feel like I'm living in a fog or a dream or watching a movie being made. I am aware of the reality but have no free will, no say or input into what is happening. I can only visit this reality occasionally, for short periods of time, without having to remind myself to breathe. In the meantime, I will avoid all and just keep knitting. The Queen socks are almost done and I need to finish up the Lovefest squares...now, more than ever!

Where are surrogates when you need them??

She doesn't get it

My darling daughter, who gets so much of everything, does not get my fascination/obsession with yarn.

Yesterday, as a treat for enduring yet more tests, I went to both LYS. I was ostensibly searching for the Magical Mitten pattern (no luck) but took the opportunity to fondle some yarn. Both of these stores are sweet in their little yarn-shop-in-old-houses sort of way, but they both left me cold for inspiration. Just too much of the same old, same old. (Not to mention, walls of acrylic...what's the frickin' point??) I should have spent the time fondling my stash yarn instead.

Still, did I manage to avoid all temptation? No, of course not. In the second shop, I spotted the display of Schaefer Anne and meandered over. Before I got to the table, I spotted this.

Before I even got my hands on it, I knew it was coming home with me. The colors - not my usual fare - knocked me out. As usual, my crappy camera does not begin to show the intricacies of this colorway. The copper is bright and shiny, the browns and tans are deep and rich and the subtle shades in between are perfect. All this and it feels like silky velvet. I swooned. I petted. I carried to the counter. Ah, sweet euphoria!

When I got it home, I was opening my purchases on the bed when my dd came in. I quickly grabbed the yarn, ripped open the bag and handed it to her, saying "Look at the yarn I bought! Isn't it exquisite"?

She turned it over in her hands, looking at it somewhat dubiously, and then tossed it back towards me, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the bed. She didn't say a word...just gave me that look that says some combination of "mom, you've lost it" and "it's only yarn". I could only gasp in disbelief as I snatched up my new yarn and fondled it closely to my heart.

I really am a sick person.

I really am sick since just hours before when
I opened the mailbox, I found this and it prompted almost precisely the same reaction in me. It's a gorgeous 700 yards of Dream in Color Baby in Dusky Aurora. Oh, how I love it!

Maybe I'm not so much sick as I am fickle??

Making progress despite all........

I've been busy. Busy with doctors and tests and busy with knitting. I finally finished the Cape Cod sweater for my sister. It became a bit of a trial since I ran out of yarn, managed to find more on Rav and finished with this much to spare! Needless to say, the last few inches were filled with a dread of running out yet again. I love it, love it, love it but am terribly afraid its going to be too big. My gauge was spot on, but it just looks larger than I envisioned. We'll see.

I also finished the socks....a pattern I loved which was faster than lightening to do. Of course, they are also smallish socks which always helps them to zip by. They aren't at all what I wanted (see previous post) but I do love the pattern and have my fingers crossed on the yarn. It was lovely to work with but I'm not sure they will hold up. I don't know that I will become a member of the Araucania fan club...

Next, I've been making squares for the Lovefest Throwdown. Its the most gorgeous cashmere (thanks to our generous kitty) and the "squares" are more like swatches and it's given me the opportunity to try out a whole host of patterns. I've been playing mostly with designs from Knitted Lace of Estonia and I'm loving them all! I have 7-8 (I've lost count) of the total 17 I need to make already finished and am determined to get them done before I start any other major project. I let these people down once before and I won't do it again. The deadline is in April and since I don't know when surgery will be or how soon after I will be able to knit, I want to get them done! No pics to show - they will be a surprise!

My next big project will be a wedding shawl for Alana. I showed her a boatload of patterns and she has narrowed it down to these - the Triinu Scarf (enlarged to shawl size), the Madli Shawl, and the Maikell Shawl - all from Knitted Lace of Estonia as well as Alpine from VLT.

I will be delighted to knit any of them and cannot wait to get started!! It's taking all the restraint I have not to cast on NOW and spend all of my free time working on any one of these beauties, but I'm not giving in! My plan is to use the white Zephyr I bought last year....we'll see if I opt for something else instead. I do love Zephyr though so I'd be hardpressed to change my mind on this, though I did adore the yarn I got from Joslyn's Fiber Farm - Shine. It was luscious with a beautiful sheen. I have to look at the dress again to see what fiber will look best.

I must say that one great thing about doing all these swatches is that I have finally gotten comfortable with nupps! I'm no pro and they don't come naturally, but I can make them and they look damn good! This will be a plus if I opt for the any of the three Estonian patterns...they are very big on nupps! Apparently this is because shawls were sold by weight and nupps made them heavier, thus more expensive. In any case, they don't scare me like they once did, which I'm happy about!

Then there are the walls in the living room which I am working on as energy and time allows. The wallpaper is off. It ended up being a two step process - one dry scrape with the razor blade and then one with vinegar and a clean razor blade. I'd like to shoot the people who think they can wallpaper over drywall without priming! It took forever, but its done and I have one wall has been sanded, primed and mudded. It's going to be a section of wall at a time since it's tedious beyond words to try and skim coat this whole room! But I'm getting there.

Lastly, I bought yarn....bunches more. I am addicted, what can I say? The odd thing is that despite all this lace knitting and drooling over shawl patterns, what do I buy but sock yarn! It really is an obsession since I have more sock yarn than I can knit in a year, maybe 2. Still there's something about the color combinations that just make me lust after them. The only ones that have arrived so far are this gorgeous Koigu and a Jitterbug that this photo does nothing to - it is so much richer and deeper than this with strands of navy so dark it's almost black....damn camera!

Cuffs, cuffs and more cuffs....

Oy vie, what a weekend. Well, not so much a whole weekend as Friday and Saturday. I think I'm losing it - that ability I once had to put two and two together.

Since I ran out of yarn on the Cape Cod sweater - here in all its amputated arm glory - I was actually "free" to knit something else for the first time in months. (I didn't pick up a needle between May and November and have been knitting on this damn sweater ever since.) Actually, I love the sweater...I really do. The detail is exquisite and, as usual, Starmore's pattern is a masterpiece. All those little stitches really do look like a scallop shell when you're done. Okay, maybe you do need to squint, just a tiny bit.

But, best of all, when I finish knitting, there will be all of 5-6 ends to weave in and that's it....no sewing together at all!! HOORAY!! In fact, because of that, I may use this pattern as a template for every pullover I make from now on.

So...since I was able to knit whatever I wanted, did I pick up some lowly UFO? Did I actually finish something from the baskets of projects already started?? No, of course not. I dove right in to something new and decided to make socks for a dear friend who has been patiently waiting since last spring. It seemed like a great idea on Friday afternoon...after all, I was out of yarn and couldn't work on the sweater, right?

Finding the pattern wasn't that hard and it only took an hour or two, before I had it narrowed down to three different ones...leaning heavily towards two of them. But the yarn....yikes!

Now this friend loves color so I started out with this Sockotta. It was colorful and seemed appropriate since it wouldn't create a heavy wool sock. However, it looked awful. Well, it's not that it looked so bad, but none of my carefully chosen patterns worked....they simply disappeared in the busyness of the colors. I am also not a fan of cotton sock yarns and, coupled with my other complaints, it was destined for the frog pond within a few inches. It's too bad because in a lot of ways it worked.

So, then I tried this Cherry Tree Hill yarn, which I love...the colors are gorgeous and I thought it might be perfect. Nope. I tried it first with my favorite pattern and it was a no-go. Ditto the second and third. What was going on? This inability to find the right yarn for the pattern was starting to feel reminiscent of last winter when I was working with the Spunky Electric and never did find a pattern I liked for the colors. Another cuff saved. By now, it was Saturday and my frustration at lost knitting time was beginning to show. Still I was determined to find the right fit and dove back into the yarn stash once again

This time I seized on some Lorna's Laces which jumped out at me. The colors were gorgeous and for a moment, I thought I had the ideal yarn. Happily, I unwind the skein, pull out the ball winder and an hour later, I am ready to begin. I worked up the scalloped cuff on pattern one and really thought I had it. However, a few rows into the main pattern and, as usual with LL, the pooling began. I hate this so much. Spiraling would be bad enough (but maybe doable), but not pooling.

Since I did love the colors though, I decided to try pattern two. Working my way through the ribbing, I was already skeptical and sure enough, by the time I reached the leg pattern the pooling was jumping out at me like a big zit on a teenager's forehead. Man, how I hate this! It makes me reluctant to continue to buy this yarn, despite how much I love the color combos they create. Frog pond revisited. Another cuff saved.

Finally I gave up searching for color and chose to let the pattern tell me what yarn to use. It quickly led me to this Araucania which I knew was right before I even cast on. It was now 2 pm on Saturday and I am finally ready to knit. Oh wait, first, I have to unwind the skein which happily goes really smoothly. Pull out the ball winder yet again, and by 3 pm I am ready to actually begin knitting! The colors are subtle but overall, the yarn works! I am so happy I could burst into song! I'm loving the way it looks, I love the pattern and I am thrilled to be on the way with this new project.

Of course, on row two, Chelsea walks in with the day's mail and in there is this...the Cashsoft I need to finish the sweater.


Sill all was not lost as I was too stubborn to stop and by this morning, I had this.......

Where to begin.......

It seems more than daunting to try to bring this blog current but I feel I must. I have hurt some people I care deeply about with my silence and they deserve something from me. It may also help me to see how far I've come.

When the house was sold late last spring, it was my plan to move to the Cape and regroup at mom's. When Chelsea's summer class began and we went down to begin preparing for our arrival, that plan fell to shreds. Not only did I sense we weren't going to be embraced by the sibs, the feeling was they didn't even really want us to be there. It was shocking to say the least and with two weeks to spare, we went back to VT to come up with Plan B.

I found a condo in town and signed a year's lease, convincing myself that leaving VT in "stages" was going to be better. I would have lost my house, but not my friends, my support system and my life as I knew it. The idea of condo living was hugely appealing to me and I began to embrace this new twist in my future.

There was a gap of nearly two weeks between the closing and being able to move into the condo, and since Chelsea still had her class to finish, we stuck with our plan to head to the Cape...this time to "vacation" and wait. All of my belongings were either in storage or still sitting at the house, waiting their move into the condo. We arrived on the Cape with clothes and not much else.

The first day, Chelsea went to class and I sat and stared. Leaving Vt had been so traumatic...the last afternoon in our house was one of yelling and tears as everything was taking longer than we wanted. I cried for the whole trip down as my dear daughter begged me to get a grip. I was oblivous to how hard this was for her as well, leaving the only home she'd ever known, as I was overcome with sadness, anger and resentment at yet more loss in my life.

So that first day, I sat and stared. The second day I did the same. Being alone all day gave me no reason to move...there was no one to watch me give in to my emotions and no reason to do a thing. So I sat. I felt like the commercial for depression even knowing I was the poster child for it. Still I couldn't move.

By the third day, I realized this was going to be my life in the condo. I would have nothing to do. Twenty minutes of picking up and my day would be done. There would be no projects, no yard work, nothing needing my attention. I would just be sitting. I began to realize that what had seemed so appealing about condo life was really about the exhaustion of moving. All those weeks of cleaning, sorting and packing had left me so tired I was relishing the idea of doing nothing. Little did I stop to think that, once rested, how boring that would be.

So, on the fourth day on the Cape, I decided to finish the bedroom. I cleaned out mom's things and started striping wallpaper. I worked my butt off and was so tired by the end of the day, I could barely move, but it felt right. The next day, I started early and got it ready to paint. By the end of the week, I had finished her room and could sleep in a space that didn't feel haunted by her presence...in both its wonderful and difficult ways. She was everywhere and her absence hit me at every turn. Had I been in VT, I knew I could pretend she was still alive and yet here, it was impossible.

Within a week, I knew I had made the wrong choice. I knew I was supposed to be on the Cape and that I was meant to redo mom's house. It was so obvious to me that bringing this place she and daddy built, that she had toiled over for so many years, back up to speed was my job. It was the last gift I could give her....to make her home beautiful again. Once I realized this, I was caught in the dilemma of whether this would create problems with my siblings. Did they really not want me here or was it just that I needed to slow down and move through things more slowly? It had been six months and they had done virtually nothing to any of mom's things. Was that about denial or lack of time and desire? Could I be selfish and do what I needed to do despite them?

I decided I could. So I broke my lease and at the little "going away" dinner with my family (complete with housewarming gifts for my "new" home), I informed them that I was staying after all. They seemed only somewhat surprised and supported my decision.

What followed is a blur. I know it involved threatened lawsuits and logistical nightmares in terms of moving my things. Much of what I owned went into storage and yet that was okay. I threw myself into working. Chelsea went back to school and I started once again, sorting and cleaning, stripping wallpaper, painting, refinishing furniture. Some days I would have four or five projects going at once...a dresser I was painting, a table I was sanding, a bookcase getting its final coat of finish.

Somedays I started at 4 am and worked until midnight. I realize now it was about not thinking...about making myself so exhausted I would fall into bed unable to move my arms or legs. I was in a state of depression, so eager to remove myself from my reality, that I created a world in which there was no chance to feel anything beyond the physical. I stopped answering the phone, reading emails, opening mail. For months, I lived in my own private bubble with no contact from anything or anyone outside my self-centered life.

Friends worried. I didn't care. I tried to convince everyone I was fine, despite my silence and withdrawal. The kids worried, which was harder. I tried putting on a veneer of doing fine, but they didn't buy it. Trevor came from California and for five days, I rallied myself into being social. We had a lovely time, revisiting memories of our vacations here when he was little and slowly, I began to look around me. It was after Labor Day and the crowds had left but the weather was still lovely. I had forgotten how soothing it is to sit at the water's edge and listen to the waves roll in. I had lost sight of how special this place can be, how full of memories and events from my past.

The other thing that happened which went a long way towards bringing me out of my depths was the labor itself. Not only did I think constantly of mom and how many times over the years she had painted this wall or washed this woodwork, but it made me think of dad too. These stairs beneath my paintbrush were boards he measured and cut, nailed into place as he created this home for his family. It was coming home in a way I found so healing and so complete that my depression began to lift and yet re-entry was a long time in coming.

I didn't know where to begin in explaining to people where I was. It all felt so confusing and so raw, that I continued to avoid everyone. I wasn't ready to rejoin the world and yet knew I couldn't continue through the holidays to sequester myself away much longer. Being here meant family obligations that could have been avoided in VT; the holidays meant reaching out or blowing my "cover" that I was fine. I was afraid and embarrassed at being so out of touch and didn't know how to begin to recover those relationships...nor did I know if I even wanted to. Couldn't I be an island? Couldn't I live the life a hermit and not be noticed?

Through the weeks, I had completely redone two bedrooms, the front and back entry areas, a hallway and the stairway. I finished the last big project just before Thanksgiving...the kitchen. It had taken me weeks to complete and I was thrilled with the results. Mom's kitchen, the hub of our home, was clean and bright and a rich deep red. It was warm and welcoming and I knew she'd be pleased. The kids were coming and it was going to be a happier holiday than last year when mom got so sick and then died just before Christmas. For the first time in months, I was actually excited about something beyond a paint color or a finished wall. My excitement involved other people and I was relishing being with my kids.

Thanksgiving and the weekend that followed were a joy. The kids made me laugh and there is just something so wonderful about my family unit feeling as it should to me, with us all together. Listening to them laugh, tease each other, sqabble in jest, sounds so comforting and familiar. It never ceases to warm my heart. I felt energized and ready for the Christmas season to begin. I was eager to have new shops to explore and gifts to buy for those I loved. I was ready to get moving again on living my life and not just holing up in the solitude of the house.

But I guess someone had other plans for me, because the day the kids left, I got a toothache. Within two days, I was in the emergency room with an absess and infection in my face. I looked like a cartoon chipmunk. In the proceeding months, I had managed to arrange for health insurance but had yet to get a doctor and certainly not a dentist. My lack of attention to this detail suddenly seemed huge...and was about to get even larger.

The day after being in the ER with my tooth, I stumbed rushing for the phone and torn a muscle in my calf. I literally could not walk. Because of the large amounts of medication I was taking for my tooth, coupled with my heart medication, my leg bled internally until it was about four times it normal size. Another trip to the ER to rule out blod clots and a hasty choice in doctors found me with strict orders to stay off my leg and keep it iced. So much for shopping. With no choice but to sit still, I pulled out needles and knitting for the first time in months. It had been so long, it all felt awkward in my hands.

The leg refused to heal. The swelling refused to go down and my medications refused to get in line. My life became hobbling to the doctor for blood tests and limping back home, to sit with my leg raised. I was depressed, frustrated and fed up with being infirm and before I knew it, it was Christmas. Then it was New Years. Once again, the transistion from one year to the next was painful and sad and colored in negativity. And the leg wouldn't heal. The swelling would not go down. It had been nearly six weeks and I still couldn't walk and the doctors kept saying they couldn't do anything until the swelling was down. Argghhhhh! I was no longer depressed. I was pissed. Finally, towards the second week of January, it was "small" enough to be evaluated and a therapy plan engaged. Within just a few days, it worked and I was able to begin moving about more comfortably. It seemed forever since I'd been well and I was determined to rejoin life.

Through this period of time, my darling daughter had decided to quit school. She had been unhappy for months, her grades were suffering, she was lost in terms of majors and goals and it all became too much. I had worried about having her here...about both of us losing ground on our relatively new independence and falling backwards into her being a teen and me being a full time mom again. Where was the happy medium between being supportive and enabling? Little did I realize how important her presence was to become and how all these thoughts about my role in her "recovery" would be a joke.

I managed to enjoy my return to good health for about a week. I was still being blood tested weekly as my new doctor struggled to get my meds under control. Then, what began as a fever and impending chest cold became something quite larger. Two days of a temp of 102 and I couldn't breathe. No cough, no cold, just a fever and no breath. I couldn't lie down, I couldn't sleep, I was miserable. I was being hit with one thing after another and so sick of feeling crappy!

The long and short of it is that my "chest cold" and inability to breathe was fact a heart rate out of control and I suddenly found myself in an ambulance being raced to the hospital. After a diagnosis of pneumonia from a heart that couldn't keep pace with its own blood flow, I was admitted for four days. Slowly my heartrate slowed, my temp came down and I was out of the woods.

I've been home for 10 days now, feel a bit stronger all the time but have no doubt that open heart surgery is in my very near future. It scares the crap out of me, but I can no longer live this way and postponing is no longer an option.

In all this time here, through all the various ups and downs, I have thought my being here was about mom...what I could do for her, my last gifts to her etc. Now I know its really all about me. This is where I'm supposed to be and is the perfect place to renew, recharge and reheal myself. My daughter's presence is so wonderful...she cares for me, waits on me and feels useful and needed. She has enrolled in the local community college, is excited about her classes and has found a job she thinks she will enjoy.

And I am happy here. I am loving the mild winter, the snow that comes, looks gorgeous and then melts away. I am knitting again, working on the next room slowly and without obsession and happy to be able to meet my sister for lunch on our mom's birthday. I feel like the last six months are a blur, yet provided me with a clarity I needed. I know I disappointed, offended and hurt people through that time and can only offer an apology. I never meant to do any of those things and yet couldn't stop them from happening. I don't know what the future holds for me...there is still much to sort out and decide. But I feel strong enough and optimistic enough to begin thinking about it. And that is progress, even if slow in coming!

She said yes and my baby turns 20!

Twenty years ago this moment, I held my new daughter in my arms. I was struck by how tiny and perfect she was, how much she looked like my sister and how foolish I had been to think I would have trouble sharing my love for Trevor with the "new baby".

Twenty. Good grief! Where did that time go? She hasn't been the easiest child and God knows, particularly during her teens, I was ready to sell her off to the traveling circus, but now she's twenty and all those attributes I found so trying have come home to roost.

From the time she was 5-6, I told people she was everything I wanted her to be in an adult woman...strong, independent, willful, unswayed by peer (or parental) pressure to do something she didn't want to...if only she would stifle those characteristics until she didn't live with me, we'd get along a whole lot better! And now, she IS that adult woman and all those same personality traits are serving us both well. She still has her moments, but overall she's become a wonderful person who I love to bits, who makes me proud and happy to be her mom. And now she's twenty. Ye gads...how can it be?

And Alana did say yes! T called from Italy a few days ago and you could hear his grin through the phone line. It was, as Alana said, "all perfect"...from the setting, the proposal, the ring, the timing...both sounded as happy as I've ever heard them. I'm thrilled and delighted...so grateful they found each other and can only pray they continue to grow and thrive together. They are a perfect match and I'm overwhelmed and overjoyed at my own nachis!

Speaking of Alana, despite house inspections, appraisals, cleaning out Jane's and spending far too much time on Ravelry, I have done some knitting! I only bring Alana's name into this because I finally blocked the scarf I did with the yarn left over from her Christmas shawl. It is here....


and here....and here. It's the Scarf with French Trellis and something something border from Victorian Lace Today. (Why is it all those patterns have such convoluted names??)

It was an incredibly quick and easy knit and looks far more impressive than it was to make. Anyway, it's been done forever and now is finally finished, for which I'm happy.

Also on the lace front, I've all but given up on the Spring Mystery Shawl...as the mystery unfolded, I found I just wasn't wild about it. I have a hard time articulating what I do like about lace, but know what I don't like pretty quickly. This just had too much solid area for me and so, since I was utterly in love with the yarn, I used another ball of it to start my first ever faroese pattern from Anne Hanson.

It's started off a little tricksy because of the many charts and I will confess I used the text for several inches before switching to the charts. That was a challenge! I've been knitting off charts for so long, using the text is like flying blind...there is absolutely no sense of the pattern and was so much harder, I was actually shocked.


I'm very intrigued by the styling and, since it is bunched on a 24" needle and indistinguishable as more than a lump of something, I can't wait to see it all stretched out. It's going very quickly, despite the forever lengthening purl rows. But even these have been good as I finally downloaded my first audio book from the library. It's Water for Elephants and I'm loving it! Unfortunately, I can only listen during the purl rows as the knit rows take all my concentration, so it's a slow "read". Maybe I'm too one-side brained or something, but I can't imagine how people do both at the same time! Maybe if it were stockinette stitch or something, but not lace!

Anyway, progress photos (such as they are) are here:














In keeping with my inability to have just one WIP, I'm also working on this little scarf from Miriam Felton...it's adorable and will no doubt be a Christmas gift for someone, although the color is mine, mine, mine. It's the perfect porch knit, four row repeat that is a cinch to remember. It's only mildly tedious and a good thing to have going when I need a break from the faroese.


I also finished the cotton socks. Note to self: you hate knitting cotton...even if it's only 50%. They are....okay, at best. Love the colors but the fabric itself leaves much to be desired.

I hate spring

The gardener in me cannot stay out of the backyard. I am drawn to it like moths to a flame and it kills me every day I stroll about. There's the lilac where Degan is buried, the crabapple the kids got me for Mother's Day, what, 12 years ago? The rose I dug up from Virginia's yard before she moved to Seattle, the July blooming irises from Diane's garden, the native Columbine I brought from the Whitingham house, along with the heliotrope from there. All the hostas and daylilies from Tom & Thomas....how can I ever replace these things? I can't take them all with me and if I could, what would I chose to leave behind? How could I ever decide. Each has its own history, its own memory and its own place in my heart.

These gardens, these plants have been such an enormous part of who I am and what I do for so long and I will never again have the time, incentive or health to reinvent similar gardens. And even if I could, they would never be the same. None would hold the memories, the stories, the joy of these.

I am drowning in spring fever with no place to take it. The sadness paralyzes me. When there is so much to be done, I want to climb under the covers and pretend this is all a bad dream. I need a dose of Maureen's wisdom to reframe myself...again. It's all I do lately. Emote, stifle, regroup; emote, stifle, regroup. Any and every possible distraction is seized upon like a drug...anything to keep from facing the reality of this state of being.

And I want to slap myself for it! It's not like I don't have a great place to go; it's not like it won't be quite wonderful in its own way, being there. I just hate that its not my idea but being shoved down my throat by the courts who saw Jim at his illustrious best as he spun out his false interpretation of the events. He's so good at lying, no one can top him and, without knowing him, he's so easy to believe. I can't go to the place that makes me so bitter about how our society treats women....I just can't go there.

I don't hate spring. I just hate this one.

Done in by a vacuum cleaner......

I love spring. I say this about virtually every season, but spring really IS my favorite. I drove to the airport yesterday (She's home!) and it was a visual delight all the way. I was assailed with every turn of the road by the stunning beauty of the crabapples, apples, pears, cherries and red buds, all in full and glorious bloom. It never ceases to take my breath away to see these 40' trees covered in flowers. The underpinnings of forsythia, azaleas, tulips, and daffodils made for a picture of riotous color and sensory overload. Even the dandelions made me happy. It's a trip I will miss...but only this time of year!

It's been an odd week of knitting. I got embroiled in a controversy on Ravelry with a KAL that went belly up. It didn't just fold, it imploded and the brouhaha that evolved was of mythic proportion. However, what started as anger and resentment, turned into laugh out loud humor, before coming full circle to anger and resentment once again. I won't even begin to describe it in any detail, because its a tale with so many twists and turns, it would take me all day to draw the frickin' map!

The plus side of it all was making some wonderful friends and sharing a ton of laughs...people can be so funny, given the freedom to express themselves and I sensed it was a first for many. Great to watch that spirit develop and to hear women who may not be used to voicing honest opinion, taking it on and reveling in it. Sergei must have thought I was nuts, laughing so hard at my computer screen, but then I question what perceptions of American society he's getting from living with me anyway!

The negative was that I did precious little knitting or much of anything else, reminding me once again how the computer sucks up time like a vacuum cleaner! I indulged myself even knowing it is NOT a luxury I have at all, but now the temptation has been removed and it's probably for the best.

The last 24 hours got very ugly and I've walked away, having been so misunderstood that I, in my foolishly hopeful way, made it worse by trying to explain myself. I was ultimately accused of name-calling and got several nasty messages about my words. Name-calling? Me! I, known for being the least judgmental person people know...name calling?! Anyway...it just shows how limited the one-dimensional medium of writing can be.

I got so upset and cried, feeling guilty, anger and sad. Then I got pissed...mostly at myself. 100,000 people may be dead in Myanmar and I'm sad because I was treated rudely? Get a frickin' grip!

So, in the end, I'm back to knitting as a solitary sport...and, in truth, not going to be doing even much of that. It really is time to kick into full gear with the move. Still not sure if it's going to happen next month or more into July, but I can no longer allow myself the luxury of being paralyzed over where to start.

Okay, I can hear movement upstairs. She's home!