Walking to Hope

My son and I are friends on an app called Strava.  It is a fitness app that allows you to post your activities.  A few months ago I noticed my son started giving his activities cute names and often were accompanied by cute pictures as well. 

I started to name my walks and swims and aqua classes.  Often the name is just where I was, or who I was with but there is one that is named for where I am going. 

Walking to Hope.

Every Friday I meet some people for coffee at Hope Centre.  I have been meeting up with them since last November.   Now that the good weather is upon us I take advantage of it and walk the 4 1/2 km to the meeting place.  It takes me about 45 minutes.  My dh picks me up afterwards somewhere along the route as I walk home. 

I admitted to a friend recently that I don't like walking just to walk.  I need to be on an errand, or with a friend catching up.  I rarely will go for a walk without a destination in mind. 

Usually I walk to the mall to shop, or to the library to return/borrow a book, or to get my haircut, or see the doctor/dentist.  I am fortunate to live in a place where walking to these places is an option and is doable for me. 

But now Friday has become the best of destinations. 

I walk to Hope. 

As I walk I reflect on the beauty of where I live.  The horse stables I pass by.  The house with all the bird houses in the front yard. 

The house with the hedge trimmed like a prancing pony.

 I even give thanks for the new construction that has allowed for a wonderful walking/biking path under the highway overpass.  It used to be such a dank, scary place to walk under.  I walk past the old houses on the grand boulevard and the more modern ones that seem to be springing up here and there.  A district in transition.

Just like me.

The turning point

Excerpt Chapter Twenty-One - Nine days and counting

She put a linen table cloth on the table and put out the good silverware and good china.  She lit one of her new candles.  She made some rice and chicken, and a Greek salad. 

She put on some soft music and poured herself a glass of wine. 

She remembered something her daughter had once told her.  Her daughter had just come home from having her nails done, and taking herself out to dinner and a movie.  When questioned about being alone, her daughter had said. “I am an awesome date, I take myself out, and I am an awesome date.”

So there she sat: wine, candles, good china, and good food.  She set a second place at the table.  The cat jumped up onto an empty chair. 

She looked out over the city – the lights sparkling in the distance, the waxing moon shining in the window. 

If this was it, would it be enough? 

“Yes”, she whispered softly. 

“Yes, but it doesn’t have to be enough.” 

There is  more. 

You are worthy to have more.  

Ask the question?

“What ails thee?”

Ask it again, to those close to you.

“What ails thee?”

Ask.

“Where does it hurt? “

“Everywhere”, she would answer.

But that wasn’t true.  It didn’t hurt everywhere and it didn’t hurt all the time. 

Why had she forgotten that?

She decided that tomorrow she would leave things as they were – she wouldn’t decrease her little pink and grey (grey and pink) pills any further.  She would just let this past week settle.  There was a lot to think about, and she needed some time.

But for tonight?  Tonight she would just be company for herself.  She picked up her latest knitting project and began the lace section. 

And, yes, she put in a lifeline before she started.

“Better safe than sorry”, she whispered, 

"Better.  Safe." 

Coming Clean

I have been wanting to write a non-knitting post for a while, but I keep getting waylaid.  Well, not waylaid exactly, more like I keep chickening out.  As if putting the words down will mean it is true and the truth is hard for me, for others, and I do care what others think of me.

I have been working hard on my mental health for the last six months.

I started meditating everyday.

I started taking Bio-K pro-biotics every morning (because I read an article about how depression has been linked to an imbalance of the flora and fauna of our gut, and my gut and I are not on the best of terms.)

I started seriously tackling my French lessons.

I started to learn Croatian for myself and to support my daughter who is living so very far away.

I started Lumosity brain training.

I went to my Doctor.

Who referred me to a counsellor.

Who referred me to a psychiatrist.

Who suggested group therapy.

I was referred to a group for trauma recovery.

Trauma?   Yes, trauma. 

I took the test y'all, and I passsed - with almost all of the symptoms of someone with ptsd.

In the last couple of years I have mentioned to those very very close to me that I felt like I was suffering with ptsd, but to hear it aloud, from a counsellor's mouth, that was hard.

So that is where I have been over the past ten weeks.

And it has helped.

A lot.

I don't feel as crazy.  I feel like the way I behave in certain situations has some context.

I realize I have been a product of trauma in my life for a very very very long time.

And now I have a tool-box to deal with my anxiety.

Literally, I have a tool box filled with things that help me when I am triggered.

And I also have a figurative tool box.

But back to my earlier list.

I started to get obsessed with not losing my streak in Lumosity, Meditation, French and Croatian.

It was exhausting.

I never really got the counter to work on the Croatian app.  But I did do it every day until the short course was over - yay me.

I lost the Lumosity streak first.  no biggie.

Then I lost the French one after about 230 some days.

That was hard - and the program even said I could get in back for $17.99.  Really?

(Ok, I was tempted for a bit).

The meditation one was the hardest.  Some days when I didn't feel like meditating I would put on the app and turn off the volume so it would count my day without me doing anything.

See?  I was cheating to maintain my meditations streak!   How embarrassing to admit.

But then, earlier this week I lost it for real.

And it hurt.

And then my son said - 'Mom, it is about non-attachment.' 

Duh.

So now all my streaks are gone

Except this one.

I will keep moving forward on my mental health.  I am making progress and I don't need a counter to tell me that.

And one last thing.  I have a friend who speaks Croatian.  I am going to contact her today and see if she will give me private lessons.  We can knit and talk and have tea and I will learn something new.

Without the counter.

Without the stress.

I don't need an app to tell me I am doing ok.

I know that I am getting better and doing ok.

And now?

Now I am off to teach twenty-four thirteen year olds about Copernicus and how he rattled the world by proposing something different.

I can relate.

I bet, so can they.

Well of course it was

Sometimes we get caught up in a rebate deal when shopping. My husband arrived home a couple of months ago with two packages of batteries. (ok it was December and we needed batteries for the snoring Santa - don't ask).

The deal was if you sent in the receipt showing the purchase of the two packages you would get a five dollar rebate.

Five dollars people! What's not to like? I can get a latte at my local coffee place for five dollars.

So, I followed all the instructions and what we got was a pre-loaded, on-line only, Visa card with five dollars on it.

Did I mention it was an on-line Visa that we could only use for purchases on-line?

Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I can't think of a time I bought anything on-line for five dollars. And we are talking five dollars Canadian!

So, it languished on my messy desk until yesterday.

Ah-ha, I thought. I will spend it on Ravelry. There are many patterns for sale for five dollars.

But, alas, although this is true, they are almost always five dollars American, and with our dollar being the way it is right now, that priced me out of the market.

Unfortunately you can't search Ravelry for 'patterns that cost five dollars Canadian'.

So I spent a good part of yesterday searching Ravelry patterns. I looked at mitts, hats, baby things and I did find some two dollar patterns, but I am so miserly I wanted to use up as much of the five dollars without leaving, you know, $1.61, or something on the card.

Finally I started to look at illusion-knit cloths, pot-holders, and then finally (why it took me so long, I don't know) I started to check out double-knit pot-holders.

One of the very first ones I found was this

but it couldn't be purchased on Ravelry, only on the designers website.

By then I had figured out that with the exchange I needed to find a pattern that cost $3.50 USD.

I went to the website and the first few on her page were $3.25, $3.75, $4.25, and one was $2.50. All US Dollars.

I clicked on the one I wanted.

$3.50 USD which converts to $4.90 CAD!

The design?

The Tree of Life.

Of course it was.

I have a Tree of Life felted fireplace screen that my Grade Four class made for me many years ago. I look at it every day from where I sit and knit and write. The Yggdrasil Tree from the Norse Myths.



So ya, of course it was.

(And now my husband is trying to figure out how to get that last ten cents off the card)

And not be sad

"But I want to be clear, I’m not trying to be anyone’s savior. I’m just trying to think about the future and not be sad."
"Elon Musk, Ted Talks, 2017

Those words of Elon Musk have been going around and around in my brain this past week since I heard his interview last Friday. Especially the four words 'and not be sad'.

That is what I want. I want to wake up in the morning and not be sad. I want to go to bed at night and not be sad. I want to go through my day and not be sad.

"Oh easy for Leonardo"

**

I am awaiting an appointment at Hope Centre. I am looking at trying some different medications. I am looking to talk to someone. I have a couple of groups I might try.

Today my anxious stomach was in full throttle so I decided rather than taking the orange pill I would go for a walk in the rain - return a book to the library - maybe vote.

I did.
I walked.
I voted.
I returned the book.

The thought of walking home was overwhelming. I thought of calling my husband to come get me.

Then I thought I could just start walking and get him to pick me up somewhere along the route.

Then I thought I could just walk to the bottom of the big hill and get him to pick me up there.

I couldn't imagine how I would get up that hill feeling the way I did.

But then?

Then I started to walk home one foot in front of the other.

I got to the bottom of the hill.

And one foot in front of the other I made it to the top.

I made it home.

One foot in front of the other.

And not be sad?

I am still sad.

But I am home. I did make it to the top of the hill.

One day I will not be sad.

One foot in front of the other.

This post was written May 5, 2017 - Today is a better day. Not the best, but better. One foot in front of the other.

**line from A Child's Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas

Not too old to snuggle (and an ask)

When she was younger she would come to my house weekly after school and we would knit. And have tea. And chat.

Once she turned twelve it seemed like all bets were off. When her family came to visit or we went to visit them she was noticeably absent - sleepovers, skiing, hanging with friends.

I missed her.

Last Saturday she plopped herself down beside me and asked me if I could rub her neck. She was sore from a day of skiing.

I rubbed. She cuddled in. We chatted about this and that.

She was back.

I am not sure when the opportunity will arise again, but it is okay. I will take what I can get.

One of my three honourary grand-daughters, and not totally lost to me after-all.

Speaking of grand-daughters I am going to put out a request to my readers.

My blogging friend, Michelle, has set up a gofundme page for her grand-daughter. McKinlee has a heart defect and has already had soooo many surgeries, and her parents are doing all they can. They need some help, besides all the prayers you can send their way, but financially they need help. Every little bit can help.

You can read McKinlee's story here, and if you are so moved you can donate to the GoFundMe here.

I don't have many readers, but if each one gave a dollar it would be a couple of hundred dollars to make their month a little less stressful. Something is everything.

Thank you for considering.

Here is to grand-children everywhere. May they live a life of good health and god-willing, peace.

Waking up from a dream

It was one of those awful early morning dreams: conflict, misunderstanding, loss, sadness.....

and then a knock on our camper door.

Two little girls, four and seven, scampered in, chattering away, shaking off winter boots, crawling up onto the bed with me.

My eyes opened to their smiling faces, their questions, their simplicity, their innocence.

The dream tried to linger with me.

The seven year old said I had tears in my eyes.

"Just morning tears", I assured her as I tussled her hair.

The dream tried once more.

But there, on that bed, that morning, there was only love, and happiness, and innocence, and questions.

Lots of questions.

And playing with the fan and the lights.

And coffee (for me).

And cookies (for them).

It is my favourite way to be woken up.

I look forward to more mornings just like them.

Yop 40 Update and a word (or three) about Hope

This will be a short update as I am not feeling so great today.

I did finish the fourth quadrant of my blanket, so I have to block and sew it together and then figure out how to knit the border on directly.



I got caught up in some stash busting and made these two cutie pies for a friend of mine who had given me the pattern.




And I needed to finish this which I have been wearing pretty much non stop (although my husband asked me not to wear it when next we cross the border - duh):




Last night I wound the hemp I bought at Fibres West so I can start another zodiac potholder (or two).



I have begun a second square of the Iona blanket, but the teddies kinda got in the way. Once I finish this one the next will be in a different colourway (which means I have more yarn to wind).



Currently I only have two wips, so of course I must cast-on those pot-holders tout de suite!

Also the weather is finally sunny so I think today I will be washing some fleece - stay tuned.

***

On a personal note, I walked by a gentlemen both coming and going to the library and he was engrossed in a serious conversation about someone named Josh.

As I walked by him the second time he was saying "Hope is Hope". Then he said it again and followed it with "Hebrews 20:11 - look it up."

I took that as a sign and went home to look up the reference. There is no Chapter 20 in Hebrews, so I looked up 11:20.

"By faith Isaac blessed Jacob and Esau concerning things to come."

It was about Faith. The gist being the Faith is Hope. At least that is what I am taking from it.

I think it was a message God wanted me to hear.

Faith is Hope.

I had forgotten that.

Silly me.

Yopping Update 35 - a frog, a sock, a tree of life and firemen too!

Yes, I frogged this week. I picked up my Cookie A socks which I had cast on during my cast on flurry a number of weeks back, and working with the dark blue was making my eyes very tired and me very cranky. What's the fun in that. I have not abandoned the pattern, but I think I have just the homespun that will do perfectly. Stay tuned.

I finished the first quadrant of my baby blanket and it is very pretty, and knit up fairly quickly. Look at all those trees of life.



I picked up my Tibetan socks that I am making from homespun and voila



first sock done and ....



second sock to the heel so I will finish these tonight while watching the Oscars. On a side note the book in the picture is my go-to sock book. I have made every sock in the book, but these tibetan ones I have made at least ten times. I LOVE Cat Bordhi.

Oh and the firemen story....

I was swimming laps yesterday and had been in the pool about 30 minutes when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a flashing light I had never noticed before. I looked up and saw all the lifeguards ordering people out of the pool. This usually happens if a baby's diaper has failed and, well, you know.

But no, this time the lifeguard told me to follow everyone OUTSIDE! It was 7 degrees outside (celsius) but felt like it was 0. Luckily I had brought a towel onto the pool deck, something I rarely do, so I wrapped myself up and followed the line of people. A lovely man joked with me that he thought the pool was the safest place if there was a fire, and as I was already starting to shiver I agreed.

The staff were handing out extra towels, and I snagged another one, and although they didn't make us go right outside, they did make us stand near the doors in the large atria. I was tempted to snuggle up to the warm looking Dad who was holding his three year old, but I only stood close enough to get some of his body heat.

The firemen arrived all geared up and searched the building and finally determined it was a false alarm and the blasted alarms were turned off, but are still ringing in my ears.

They allowed we could go back to the change rooms but the pool wouldn't open for another five minutes while the lifeguards got reorganized.

I headed for the shower and turned on showers for all the little girls that were shivering. Once they let us back into the pool I headed for the hot-tub, then the steam room, then the sauna and then back to the shower.

I think I am warmed up now.

My excitement for the week. And why are ALL firemen so gorgeous? Is that is the job description? Wondering minds want to know.

We had snow again this week, but my hoya is blooming so I have to believe Spring will come. Two blossoms this time. I know my mother is looking down from the spiritual world giving me props.



I did get three things onto the blocking mat this week and took over the kitchen table for a day. I will post artsy pictures once they are dry and I can find a gorgeous model.



Please notice the sun coming in the window. Sun!! Made for a crummy picture, but SUN!!



And to close here is a picture of my long suffering husband.



If you want to follow other yoppers here they are.

Changing my header

As I posted my New Year's blogpost on facebook, my blog description jumped out at me.

Well, not the whole description, just the word depression.

It didn't sit well with me.

"Thoughts on an empty nest, depression, love, hope, faith, grace, humour and chronic illness. Not necessarily in that order".

Not necessarily in that order, and yet that was the order I listed them.

It took me a while to find where that description was - and then I changed it.

Thoughts on the second half of a life. A life that includes swimming, knitting, love, hope, faith, grace, humour and depression."

I know that depression is still in there. But it isn't front and center anymore.

I don't want it to be front and center anymore.

I am more than that.

And maybe, just maybe, part of healing is to change how I describe myself.

It's the little things.

I don't describe myself as someone living with chronic illness anymore, even though 'technically' I do.

I don't describe myself as someone living with chronic pain, even though I currently am.

I do have so much love in my life.

I do have faith.

I do experience grace in my life.

I do have humour and can see the glass half full most of the time.

I have hobbies I love, friends I love, family I love.

Depression is there too, in and around and amid all the other things, but it is not the only thing. It is not what describes me even though it is part of me.

So yes, I have changed my header.

I am going to change the headers I give to others too.

I believe changing those headers can change people.

I really do.

If I expect the worst of another they won't disappoint me.

I believe if I think the best of another it can only help.

My thoughts, our thoughts, are powerful things.

Our words are powerful things.

Sharing the negative images, and negative words of another, only strengthens the negativity.


"Mind is the Master power that moulds and makes,
And we are Mind, and evermore we take
The tool of Thought, and, shaping what we will,
Brings forth a thousand joys, a thousand ills: —
we thinks in secret, and it comes to pass:
Environment is but our looking-glass."

James Allen, As A Man Thinketh (1902).


What if I, we, stopped sharing the mean or intolerant things people said or did, and only shared the kind, and the tolerant.

Would it make a difference in my life.

In the world.

I think so.

The Christmas Story

I gave my mother this creche piece by piece over many Christmases.

The camel still bears the price tag - $.79 from Woolworths. The creche came to me after my mother's passing. I am so happy to have it.

I am often reminded of two sayings from two of my favourite Christmas television shows. From the Grinch - "Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store. Maybe, just maybe it means something more." And from A Charlie Brown's Christmas " And lo there were shepherds abiding in the fields, watching their flocks by night..."

I avoid the stores and shoppers and madness of this holy day that has become so commercialised. For me it truly is about the magic of Christmas and about that story that began 2011 years ago. For me it is simply about family, and being with those I love.

I watched the Nativity Story last night. It was so beautiful. So simple. So true. There are people in our midst that need our love, and support. Sometimes these people are family. Often they are strangers.

There are people in my life who are lost, and who feel unappreciated. There are people in my life who are experiencing their first Christmas without a loved one. There are people in my life that are lonely despite being surrounded by others. There are people in my life who are at odds with the world, or with themselves, or with others.

For all of these people, for all of us, I believe there is a stable. There is a stable that keeps us safe and warm, and although it is not a mansion it is filled with love. Sometimes we all have to experience many doors being shut in our face, many hearts turning away before we realize the warmth, the stable, the shelter, the forgiveness, the love, is simply within us.

The Christmas story is a simple story. Mary and Joseph were simple people. The shepherds were simple people. Even the wise men were simple people. And because of this simplicity they were able to take part in a simple story. All the nonsense that now surrounds them, and the birth of that child, cannot take away from the simplicity of it all.

A child was born to bring love, peace and forgiveness into the world. If we let it, this story can bring love, peace and forgiveness into our hearts.

So to all of the people in my life, and all of the people in this world I wish you Peace and Love and Forgiveness.

Update Twenty One - YOP and Life

My yopping update is small:

1) Body of sweater is finished and I am knitting the sleeves two at a time and have finished two lace repeats (17 to go).



2) I spun an ounce of Blue-faced Leichester, and 2-plied it. Fingering Weight - Yay!



3) I spun a fat single out of some unknown brown fleece I had lying around. I think I will spin more of this to make a child-size sweater/jacket.



4) I donated some worsted yarn to my friend who is teaching in a one-room school and wants to teach her five students how to knit.

5) I found my orifice hook that I thought I had lost when I transported my spinning wheel to and from the school last week, and it was making me very sad - but it was found on the driveway the next day, under the car, wet from the rain, but no worse for wear. Phew.



Lastly I have joined an Advent KAL on Ravelry called the Peace Project 2016. The designer will release four rows of the pattern every day of Advent. We will knit peace all around the world. Join us if you want. Here is the link to the project page. If you are not on Ravelry you can find out more details here.


Earlier this week I posted on facebook:

It's ok to not be ok, tell someone you're not ok. It's ok.

So ok.

I am not ok.

Well some of the time I am ok, but lots of the time, lately, I am not ok.

I am doing all the right things: swimming, yoga, sleeping, working, seeing friends, knitting.

But I can feel it when I wake up in the morning.

First thought?

In sixteen or so hours I can come back to bed.

It's nothing in particular.

It's nothing in general.

I just feel down.

I have felt this way before and it has resolved. Sometimes through a change in medication. Sometimes through talk therapy. Sometimes just time.

I know it's not just me.

I think the world is feeling this way too.

I think many of us just want to go to bed and pull the covers over our head for the next four or, God forbid, eight years.

So why don't I?

Because of the glorious hugs I get from family and friends, students - past and present.

Because of beautiful sunsets and fantastic moonrises.

Because of the joy I get from teaching.

Because of all who need hope

Because.

Because if I go back to bed, it means the bad guys have won.

And I can't have that.

Because deep down, underneath my sadness I believe what Samwise Gamgee believes.


So let's knit on, soldier on, keep on going forward together.

Shall we?

An old friend is gone

This image is all that is left of this driftwood.  It has been a stalwart monument on our little beach for as long as I can remember.  Certainly for the past twenty-seven years. 

It sat above the tide line on a grassy point of a beach where we swam, watched sunsets, collected rocks, skipped stones, swam in the phosphorescence, watched meteor showers, threw sticks for our border collie and shepherd, laughed at the antics of little puppies and watched our families grow. 

It watched over us through it all. 

Last year a storm finally was its undoing. 

I didn't know it then, but I know now it was a harbinger of things to come. 

But here is what I know. 

The monument is gone.  The memories are not.  Its etheric imprint is still on that beach.  I still see it in my mind's eye, even though when I visited that beach earlier this week it was not physically there, but I saw it.  Through the rain and my tears I saw it. 

One lonely stick stood against the sky holding the place of that tree I had assumed would always be there.

But nothing lasts forever I was told once not long ago.

That was wrong.

Love lasts forever.

True love of a sibling, a child, a pet, an aunt, an uncle, a mother, a father, an in-law, a grandparent, a friend will last forever.

I believe that.

I have to.

Blocking the Hell out of It

I have finally finished a shawl I have been working on since last July.  It was fiddly and I would put it down for long periods of time while other projects caught my attention. 

While away for the Christmas Holidays I brought it along, and picked it up, and kept at it until it was finished early this morning. 

It is a very complicated lace pattern, but what with the yarn I used and the needles I used the lace pattern is not really showing up. 

I also ran out of yarn so it is much shorter than what I envisioned. 

However, I believe if I 'Block the Hell Out of It' it will be beautiful and functional and lovable.

I wonder if one can block the hell out of my life?

Blocking requires soaking the finished object until it is wet through and through. 

I can do that - what with my swimming and all.  I can soak myself through and through.

Then the soaked garment is placed on a blocking mat and stretched and pulled and pinned into place with wires and pins and measuring tape and a few good curse words thrown in.

Usually when I block a shawl I get almost to the end of the pinning and then realize it isn't quite working out and I have to unpin and start again. 

This endeavour usually involves taking up all the floor space in my 'crafting' room, or taking over the kitchen table for a day or two.

Once you start blocking something you often notice the mistakes you have made.  There they are, staring up at you, and you know there is no way to hide them.  You also know that some well meaning fellow knitter will likely see the mistake and point it out to you when you pass it around as a show and tell at your next knitting group evening. 

So ya, like life.

You work on your life, sometimes more, sometimes less, and then some phase of it is finished and you look at what you have produced and sometimes the intricate work is hard to see.  Sometimes the mistakes are hidden, and sometimes glaringly obvious.  Sometimes it seems too small for all the effort you have put in, and sometimes?  Sometimes it is just not what you expected it to end up like and then you have a few options. 

Rip the whole thing out and make something else.  This doesn't translate so well into life.

Block the hell out of it and hope it transforms.  Hmmm.  This might translate.

Put it away and just forget it ever happened.  Tempting, but not really a good option.

Gift it. 

Or maybe in life it is just to look at it as a gift.  What have I learned from this experience?  Will there be a time I look back on it and am grateful for what it has taught me? 

If it is a gift, shall I just wear it and talk about it and share it with the world?

So, first things first.  I am going to block the hell out of this shawl and see where that takes me.

And while I do so I will ponder the current project that is my life and see if I can soak it, and wire it and pin it into something I can live with. 

And if not?

If not, I will just have to continue one stitch, one step, one breath, one day at a time and welcome what is coming towards me and be grateful for those moments that are filled with grace and hope and love. 

And faith. 

Faith that nothing is unsalvageable. 

Nothing.

Just one word

My niece introduced me to the idea a few years ago of finding a word, one word, to set your intention for the new year.  

I have come up with this word. 

Understanding.

I will go into this new year with the intention to understand. 

Understand myself. 

Understand the other. 

Understand the world. 

Understand the lessons that are before me to learn.  

And today I keep thinking of this passage from the Bible.which I have heard so many times during Communion services.

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7)

As I have said before in this blog, I need to protect my heart.  This is no less true today than it has ever been. 

What about you, dear reader?  Do you have a word for 2016?

Tu me manques

You are missing from me.

You told me once that this is the translation from the French - Tu me manques.

It seems more poignant than saying 'I miss you'.

It seems to say it all - those five words.

You are missing from me.

Carrying On

This has not been an easy year, There is no point going into details here.  Those who know, know.

Suffice to say I am hoping 2016 will be kinder and gentler, but I fear it may not be so.

For my own mental health I need to focus on the good things in my life.

I have many awesome friends, who are there for me even if months have gone by without contact.

I have young people who love me and like to sit on my lap while I read to them, or sit beside me while I knit with them or hold my hand while I walk with them.

I have relationships with students from years gone by, who call me up to have tea together and chat about their future.

I have my swimming.  Thank God for my swimming.

I have my sister and brother who are there for me while I babble on through tears, and I know my other sisters and brother would be there for me if I opened up to them with my broken heart.

I have my work - which fulfills my need to feel respected and worthy.

I have the love of my husband of thirty-eight years which is constant and profound.

I have the love of my son, who is there for me, who can make me laugh and is so very wise.

My daughter told me last summer that 'we have time'.  I have faith that this is so.

I have my weekly knit group and people there who care for me and reach out to me when I start to withdraw.

And my knitting, I always am creating something.  So there is that.

I have the birds at the feeder.

I have cedar forests to walk in, and those magnificent trees give me strength and some peace.

I have the daily chores.

I have my weekly yoga practice.

I have the sunrises and sunsets (except for when it's raining) and then I have the rain, and now the snow tires are on I can look forward to the snow.

I have the cat, for now, who seems to know I need his company in the evening.

I have my writing: this blog, my poetry, and a novel to edit.

I have a talisman from \Saint Joseph's Shrine given to me by my dear cousin and aunt.  I carry it in my pocket every day.

My mother used to tell me, and my daughter has it tattooed on her arm, "This too shall pass."  I am praying that this is so.

I can't imagine Christmas this year, so I won't, but I have my Advent candles to light my way through this, the darkest of months.

And, I have you, dear readers, and I am thankful for your comments and support.

Flat

That is how I feel.

Flat.

I did swim for fifty-one minutes today - doing my version of individual medley (I throw in the elementary backstroke instead of the butterfly). That felt pretty good.

I read a very interesting book on illness.

I sat in the sun.

But still, and all, today I just felt flat.

We went to the night market.

It was crowded, but manageable.

I did buy a very cute knitting project bag.

I did run into a student I had taught for five years. She introduced me to someone as her second mom.

The music?

Not so good.

We went to another night concert.

The music?

Equally, not so good.

The food was ok.

The popcorn was ok.

The sour keys were ok.

The Mexican coke was pretty good.

(Coca Cola you guys.....sheesh!)

I woke up today not wanting to do anything or see anybody.

I think I am going to bed in the same frame of mind.

I kind of want to go to the folk festival tomorrow, but I am afraid to spend all that money, drive all that way, navigate the crowds and still feel flat.

That would be silly.

Here's hoping

"the sun'll come up tomorrow,

Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow

There'll be sun."

A is for Advent Apple

And so it begins. Throughout April I will be posting from A to Z(ed) about the squares in the quilt my grade eight students made for me as they graduated from my class in June 2012.



At my school we have a tradition of celebrating the beginning of Advent by having the children walk a spiral of evergreens holding a red apple with a small white candle embedded in it.

They walk the spiral with their unlit candle and in the centre of the spiral is a candle flame from which they can light their little candle and then place it somewhere on the spiral as they leave.

It is a symbolic walk in the middle of winter when it is dark and dreary outside and we have to hold the light in our hearts until spring returns.

The journey starts in complete darkness except for that one centre candle, but by the end the room is lit with the glow of many little candles nestled into apples along the spiral path.

From preschool through grade three each child walks this on their own. In the older grades the school comes together each Monday of Advent and a child is chosen to walk the spiral on behalf of her or his class.


So many advent memories of my own children and then of the children I taught. So many shining candles reminding me that even in the darkest of winter there is always light.

Always hope.

Finished Object Friday - it was a close one

Last summer I bought some lovely sock yarn. At 67 grams I realized it wasn't really enough for a pair of socks, and since it was a one off from an independent dyer I put it aside.

Then I decided I wanted to knit this pattern and figured if I shortened the leg to make them ankle socks I could pull it off.

So first sock done.

When I measure how much yarn it took this was what I got:



So then I measure what I had left once I had turned the heel on sock number two:





I then weighed my half finished second sock and the remaining yarn:



Well I don't know how much my stitch markers and circular needle weighed but I figured it was gonna be a nail biter....

I had 4 lace repeats to go before the toe.

After one repeat I had 10 gms left.

After next one - 7 gms.

Then 5 gms

2 gms left and the toe to do.

I got within 5 rows of finishing and could see it wasn't going to end well, but I had a long tail left on my first sock so I added it in and kept knitting.

I was within three rows of finishing the toe, but only had enough left for the Kitchener graft.

I tried it on, and it was good enough for me.

Ta-Da! See? At least 8 inches to spare.


and that makes a pair:


That is how I spent my Friday.

You?