Monday, March 30, 2009

Some Mornings

Some mornings are more difficult than others. Some mornings you wake up with a headache thirty minutes late and the dog has had diarrhea on the floor and you don't have time to dry your hair all the way so it stays a bit curly which makes you self conscious and you realize that it is already time to leave for work and you are still naked without any makeup and then in the closet you notice something that you put up for an occasion such as this:

Look to this day!
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence:
The bliss of growth
The glory of action
The splendor of beauty
For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow only a vision
But today well lived
Makes every yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore to this day!
Such is the salutation to the dawn.
- Kalidasa, Indian Poet

And you breathe deep. And it is okay.


Thursday, March 26, 2009

In Which I Reveal More About My Personal Life

On a note unrelated to anything but my opinion, I hate that schools have come to selling ad space on their paper. But (thank you, my dear NPR), I do love a good group dance. I am particularly gifted at the bunny hop, myself.

As the arm heals, the crafting increases. I'm planning a quilt, but I only have 20 coordinating squares, so I've thought of this arrangement with big borders:

Or maybe I'll cut them into triangles and be really wild.

There's been some knitting, too:

This is the spiral cowl that I was working on that fateful day when it iced over. I've missed mom's birthday by three months, but there's a chance for cold weather down here long into April (when I was in middle school it snowed eighteen inches one year). And there's always next year.

There was a little progress on the bright orange monkey socks on the way to New Orleans, too. I'll keep their picture secret for a bit.

Speaking of that trip, I've been corrected. I did not go with "a friend." I went with Andy. See:

Hi Andy. ;-)


Sunday, March 22, 2009

There is a House in New Orleans...

...they call the Rising Sun, it's been the ruin of many a poor girl, and God I know I'm one.

Maybe not.

But I sure did have fun in New Orleans this weekend.

I knit in the car on the way down. My friend and I ate shrimp and beignets and pralines. We drank hurricanes in a piano bar and we walked everywhere. We touched stingrays and learned about wetland loss. We road on a steamboat while listening to live jazz music. We toured an old home. We watched all the street performers and wandered through some galleries. We spent some time in the casino.

The company was perfect, the food was fantastic, and my four day Spring Break was a wonderful vacation.

I may need to move somewhere where there is more water.


Tuesday, March 17, 2009


Just a little bit. Just for 20 minutes or so.

But there was knitting on a sock tonight. By me. :-)



I like this. Flaws aren't as scary if they're shared.

I'll share one of mine:
I pluck my eyebrows obsessively. I'm afraid of what I'd look like if I let them go...sometimes I think my whole face would be an eyebrow.

And, ahem, I'll share this quote from Janet Barber: "I refuse to think of them as chin hairs. I think of them as stray eyebrows."


Monday, March 16, 2009

I Typed This With Two Hands


I haven't posted too much lately, and I'd like to say that's because I've been busy, but it's completely the opposite. Nothing to post! I made cupcakes Friday, took them to the parental units Saturday. I've seen a lot of movies I could review... maybe not.

However, news today: I am typing with both my right and left hands. I'm still in the brace, but the strength is returning!

I'm going on a "road trip" this weekend to Louisiana, and I'm hoping to be able to at least hold a double-pointed needle in my left hand by then. Maybe? I probably won't be able to really knit, but I can't imagine a car ride without a sock-in-progress on my lap. I'm thinking I could just hold one, like a security blanket? Is that too strange?


Sunday, March 8, 2009

(Not Really A) Knitting Post

It's nice to be sitting here with only an ace bandage and a brace wrapped around my wrist. However, I'm still as useless as ever (I say this in good spirits).

I knit using the "throw" method, so I thought that maybe I could knit a little bit with my brace. Having one hand makes me really aware of all those little things I used to do without thinking. I'd forgotten how much I do with my left hand when knitting--it's the holding hand, the steady hand, the background hand. An important hand.

So I won't be knitting for a few more weeks (3 in the brace!). However, I'm considering my sewing machine. I think I might be able to run that with a brace... and there's always painting... maybe I'll get a creative post up soon...

(My what a lot of elipses! I think it's time for bed.)


Friday, March 6, 2009

I Survive in 26 Steps

My apologies, but I must tackle this in list form.
Oh and by the way, if you don't like medical procedures? Read no further.

How my "date" went:
1. We (Dad and I) arrive 15 minutes early.
2. The receptionist says to have a seat, that it will be 15 minutes. We are waiting on the xray tech.
3. The lights are off in the waiting area; Dad turns them on.
4. We wait an hour.
5. I go back to the back, the doc takes off my cast. I stand over the sink, watching him feel around for the pins.
6. I begin to feel queazy.
7. I am taken to the hallway, given an antiseptic wipe and told to continue wiping off the tips of the pins (my skin is healed over them).
8. I am taken in to a room--I think it was an xray room--and I stand while the doctor takes out a needle and proceeds to dig around in my hand near the pins, numbing me.
9. I realize I am going to pass out. I tell the doctor I need to sit. He says to wait until he is done. The edges go blurry. He is done.
10. I sit down.
11. I looked at my hand. It is bleeding from the shot.
12. I put my head between my knees.
13. I recover.
14. The receptionist, now an assistant, asks me if they are going to take the pins out.
15. I hyperventilate a little bit.
16. I recover.
17. Doc douses my hand in iodine over the sink.
18. We pull the chair over to the xray table. The chair breaks. I get a new one.
19. The xray tech explains to the receptionist how to work the tourniquet.
20. I think I might have a panic attack.
21. I don't.

At this point, I wish someone is there to hold my hand and say, "You're a brave girl!"

22. The receptionist works the tourniquet. The doc cuts me twice, yanks out the pins (this part hurts, even though I'm numb), and pours hydrogen peroxide over everything. I get two little band-aids with Neosporin, a splint, and a wrap over it all.
23. I survive. They even give me water.
24. Dad asks the doc if we did an xray. He says no, that it would just be "more money" and that everything "felt fine."
25. I make an appointment to go back in three weeks.
26. Dad takes me to Pei Wei where I gorge myself on salted edamame.

Two additional thoughts:
a) Maybe this wasn't so much "surgery" as a "procedure," but I still feel that it qualifies.
b) Those pins sure looked like knitting needles--almost exactly like my metal sock dpns, actually.


Date Night

Today is Friday and tonight I have a date -- with my surgeon. Cast removal, pin removal, antibiotics, and pain medication.

Sounds like a great date to me!


Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Arm Drama

The hospital I've been going to for my xrays, surgery, doctor's appointments, etc., was on the news Friday. It closed. Yes, closed. Apparently it's in bankruptcy.

Monday, concerned, I called my doctor's office (his main office is in another city, not at the hospital) and surprised them with the news.

Today, the day they were supposed to take the rest of my cast off, I called again, and was given this response: "You've got to give us some time here." I was polite.

But I'm not feeling polite. I want this thing off my arm! I want my arm back, my wrist back. I want to knit and sew and paint and play tug-of-war with Roxie!

And I'm reminding myself that patience is a virtue. That it's either gut up or give up. So I'm gutting up. At least my arm is still there, under the cast, waiting. I'll get to see it soon.