Last day for the home girls

KnightStar is on his way home, and Katie and I are enjoying our last few hours of leisure. (Leisure, my ***. I've been cleaning.) (OK, so I've also been watching Mythbusters.)

Last night, I started the heel flap on the zebra sock.

When it's hot out, Miss Katie does what she does best.

Ow.

I thought about using "Ow" for my title yesterday, but I'm glad I saved it.

Today, everything between my shins and my mouth hurt from the CPR training. As luck would have it, today was when my company had their massage therapist in for chair massages. I counted my quarters and scheduled an appointment.

She zeroed right in on my right shoulder and gave it a hefty workout. "It may hurt for a day or so," she said. Sweet jeebus. I got home and started doing normal things, like washing dishes and working a crossword puzzle, and I can barely move. Even watching TV hurts.

I hope I can find enough pillows to get into a comfortable position for sleeping.

Sorry for the whining. Maybe I will feel all better tomorrow.

No good deed goes unpunished

I took my annual CPR recertification today. It was mostly uneventful, although there have been some changes in the procedures since last year.

One thing hasn't changed - the hands-on part of the class is strenuous, even more so than in the past. I was already a little achy from some work I did around the house yesterday, and now my neck and shoulders are positively sore. My surgeon told me last month that I may continue to have occasional aches around the surgical site for several months, and it turns out that performing CPR will bring that out, as well.

If that is not enough - I came home with a battle scar - a nice little bruise.

If I popped a vessel for a rubber dummy, imagine what I might do in the event of an actual emergency.

Bachelor girls

KnightStar is off exploring the galaxy, so Katie and I are home alone for a bit. The side of me that misses him has a poem in the Piker Press this week. I wish I could say it was a heartfelt outpouring of my feelings, but in fact, I wrote it several days before he left. I am taking the poetry class and Barnes and Noble University, and this poem grew out of a challenge posted in the clubhouse. I knew he was going on his trip, though, and that certainly affected the direction of the poem.

Saturday, I got up early and went to Sergeant Bluff for the prequel to RAGBRAI, the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa, which started Sunday. I helped sell newspaper souvenir packs and hand out t-shirts. It was warm, but not blisteringly so, and we had a nice breeze most of the time. Still, it was a long day, about 20 hours from the time I got up until I crawled back into bed.

Tonight: Change the cat litter and take out the garbage (usually KnightStar's job.)

Tomorrow: Finally catching up with the CPR training I was supposed to have May 31, the day I had surgery.

Nature report

Item: Today was cooler, and tomorrow is supposed to be cooler still. As hot as it has been here, our friends in Kansas and California and Nebraska have it much worse.

Item: When I came home from work, I heard little peeps from the finch nest. I think we finally have babies.

Item: Last night, KnightStar rummaged around the kitchen until he found an old cottage cheese container. Then he took it to the sink and started filling it with water.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"It's been hot," he replied. "Chuckie probably needs water."

I'm not the only softy around here.

RIP Woody

I was doing dishes this morning when I heard a woman shrieking outside. I looked out the window, expecting to see kids misbehaving or a creepy boyfriend trying to be macho. But no.

Instead, I saw someone from down the street was walking her two dogs - and one of the dogs had Woody in his mouth, shaking him.

She finally got the dog to put Woody down, and got both of the dogs away and back home. One of the other neighbors and I went outside a few minutes later when the dog's owner came came back to pick up the deceased. Apparently Woody broke away a couple of times, but the dog probably broke his neck the third time.

Just a couple of days ago, our next door neighbor and I were talking about the groundhogs. They hang around in his backyard a lot, and he was wondering what kind of food he could put out for them. (He's a tender-hearted guy who has also protected baby bunnies from sneaky cats.) I have never seen all three of them out of hiding at the same time, but he has, and said it was one adult and two babies.

He thought one of the babies was crippled, because it seemed to have trouble moving its hind legs. Terry and I had also noticed that one of them didn't move very fast. That's the same one in the picture on the link above. When the others ran home, they hid. Woody would waddle under the shed when he spotted us, and then turn around and stick his little white nose out to look at us. We saw him doing that yesterday, in fact.

Until I see the other two, I won't know which one the dog got, but I have to think it would be the curious and slow-moving one. I'll miss seeing the little guy.

I learned something else this morning, too. Knowing it was going to be hot today, I called Animal Control to report there was a dead animal on the sidewalk. The dispatcher told me "they only come out for domesticated. You'll probably have to throw it away yourself." With all their protective gear, they won't come near a dead groundhog on a public sidewalk, but they expect me to pick it up with my kitchen tongs and throw it in the trash, where it will sit for three days until the next garbage pickup. If a rabid fox stalks your kid's swingset, you better hope Atticus Finch is around to put him down.

Mea culpa

I've been a bad blogger this week, but I have an excuse. I signed up to take the poetry writing class at Barnes and Noble University. I tried taking the same class it last year, but my vacation to Waythehelloutthere, Nebraska fell right in the middle of it, and I never finished.

This time, I am trying hard to keep up with the assignments, and so far, so good. I've already written three poems that I would rate "Good enough that Aser is going to plotz when she reads them", have started on a fourth, and am thinking about the fifth and sixth. Some of the assignments don't really seem to be up my alley, but I still try them, and hey bingo! They work out.

Wednesday was six weeks since I had surgery, and I'm finally feeling like my old self again. Back in the old days, major surgery like this was an automatic six weeks recuperation at home, and I can see why. This week was the first time I could wear pantyhose or zippered pants without wanting to claw them off my body by the time I got home from work. Of course, back in those days, a burst appendix (which is what the doctor thought I had, although I didn't) was a short road to a tragically early death. I've said it before - it's not perfect, but I still like modern times.

At the picnic

DMAS had their annual picnic yesterday. This year, they had a joint meeting with the Central Iowa Mineral Society. I thought that seemed like an odd pairing - stargazers and rockhounds - but it turned out to be pretty entertaining. Both groups are interested in how things came to be the way they are.

When we pulled into the parking lot, we saw a couple of rabbits enjoying their own dinners. They obligingly stayed put while I sneaked around with the camera, trying to get closer. This one, the larger one, had a nice white cottontail.


This one was smaller. Terry called it "that scwewy widdle wabbit."


It's a little hard to see, but that one is munching on some greenery. Click on the closeup to see it even larger.


I didn't have any road-ready knitting, so I grabbed a new ball of sock yarn and some needles to take along. This is Opal's Zebra stripe yarn. Not the most exciting as far as color changes go, but it was nice and meditative, and I got a couple of inches done.


Warning! Warning! It's just a month until Stitches Midwest. We are expecting to have six KnitWits there, plus a friend of a KnitWit who is flying in. Plus Terry. No, he is not going to Stitches, but he is going to come to Chicago for a long weekend. I've printed out the Market floor plan, and have located the places that I remember from last year, in that "I like X that I got there, but I really wish I had also bought Y." I'll be shopping for the Ys next.

July 5, 1996

5:00 PM...


and 10:00 PM.


To this day, we still believe that the only good part about dressing up is when you can finally take off your shoes.

Fun on the Fourth

No work today - that's fun. (For me, anyway. KnightStar is slaving away.)

A barbecue with the KnitWits - that's going to be fun. (KnightStar is also having a barbecue at work. Apparently, they actually have a grill at his office. Man. My company only has a popcorn machine.)

Digging through my mom's recipe box for my favorite Jello salad recipe - that was fun. I'm not a big fan of Jello, but I like this one because it has lots of fruit, and pecans, and a layer of sour cream in the middle, and hardly any Jello at all - just enough to hold it together.

Looking through patterns, trying to decide what to knit next - that's fun. I may finally cast on the fraternal twin mate to the unfortunate sock.

Seeing what Katie usually does with her day while I am at work - that's fun. She was too quick, and I wasn't able to get a picture of her chasing her tail around like a kitten. When she slowed down, though, I was able to catch her sitting in her bird blind.

Felting Party

The KnitWits, miffed because their usual Friday night hangout has adopted "summer hours" and closes at 10:00 PM, decided to meet at Amy's last night for a felting party. Four of us had items ready to be felted. I had the Booga Bag and Felted Bowl.


They are both upside down here, being shaped while they dry.

This was my second attempt at felting Noro Kureyon, and I had the same experience as the first time. Thus, here is my Kureyon felting tip: You can wash the bejeebers out of it, and it will felt some, but not quite enough. Take it out of the washer and let it sit overnight while you fret about what you are going to do with it. The next day, decide to give it one last chance. Throw it back in the washer for about five minutes, and it will felt right up.

Amy had a skein of yarn that caught my eye. It is space-dyed with light blue, medium purple, and light greenish-yellow. We all passed it around and discussed what one might make with it. Eventually, it landed in my lap, and I brought it home and wound it up. I forgot to take a picture of it in the skein, but here it is on the swift.

And on the ball winder.


[Non-knitter glossary: The most traditional way of organzing yarn is in a skein, or a big loop. It's hard to knit directly from a skein, though, because it would be all spread out and the yarn would get tangled and the cats would attack it. For easier knitting, the yarn is wound into balls.

[In the first picture, the skein is on a swift. This swift opens like an umbrella to hold the yarn firmly, and spins so the yarn feeds off evenly. The second picture shows the yarn being wound onto a ball winder, which produces a compact biscuit of yarn that won't roll away.

[You don't absolutely need these tools - I remember hold skeins of yarn on my outstretched 8-year-old hands while my mother wound balls by hand - but they sure are nice.]

Yarns that are dyed like this always look much different when they are wound into balls, and they look much more like they will actually appear when knitted. Here it is in natural light, with my day lilies in the background.

I'll take it to our next gathering for everyone's continuing perusal and planning.

On the other side of my porch, I have some little roses.

Oh, I get it

I just noted with alarm that the blog has not had any hits today, and then I realized that I have not posted for a week. Hmm, that could have something to do with it.

So - the emergency ball of yarn arrived yesterday, and winding is underway. Some of the KnitWits wanted to see my nostepinne, so I started winding on that last night. I'm here to tell you, nostepinne plus sport weight yarn plus novice winder equals a long time to wind. I'm about ready to take it off and finish winding by hand, but I hate to be defeated.

I also found a reasonable substitute to use for the Kureyon i-cord. It is now ready to be felted.

I got new glasses. Unlike previous glasses, the bifocal part is perfect, but the distance vision is a little squirrelly. I may have to take Lens Crafters up on their 30-day guarantee. But darn it, the glasses are cute. And the sunglasses are perfect.

I have poem in the Piker Press this week, Making Bread With Maslow. As Sunday evening rolled around, I realized I did not have anything on hand suitable for the Food issue, so I had to write something myself. It started out being a "bread as a metaphor for sex" poem, but I wasn't too far along before Abraham Maslow and his hierarchy of needs showed up. Go figure.

I'm walking and moving better, almost back to normal for short stretches. I've also been doing a few ab exercises. I have to be careful, though, because some of them hurt. and not in a good way.

Tonight I had a glass of wine, my first since the surgery. Like caffeine, if you don't partake very often , it doesn't take much to have an impact. Yippee!

Tragedy comes in threes

First, there was the unfortunate sock. Then, there was the abbreviated bag handle.

Now, there is the hapless gift.

I haven't photographed this project, not wanting to spoil the surprise, but I got the pattern and yarn when we went to Minneapolis a couple of months ago. It was coming along nicely, but on Saturday, I suddenly realized...

I don't have enough yarn to finish it.

I took my plight to the KnitWits, and we discussed ways we might salvage the project, including some creative striping and embroidery to disguise a different dye lot. Amy took one of the ball bands and offered to look for the yarn during her travels this week.

(Explanation for non-knitters: Most yarn has a both a color number and a dye lot number. Yarn from the same dye lot, the same batch, should match perfectly. Yarns of the same color, but from different dye lots, may appear to be the same, but can be obviously different shades when knitted up.)

Fortunately, the price sticker on the ball band had the name of the store. Yesterday, I looked up Creative Fibers on the web, found an e-mail address, and sent them a semi-hysterical message. Within and hour, I had a response - "Yes, we still have that dye lot, and we will set one aside for you." I called today, and the yarn is now on its way to me. I hope this is the beginning of a trend, with knitting problems being resolved easily.

Today was my second day back at work. Yesterday I was tired. Today I was achy. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

Restorative knitting

The KnitWits looked over the unfortunate sock from the previous post, and weighed in with their advice:

1. Knit the second sock however I want.
2a. Have "fraternal twin" socks, or
2b. Like the second well enough to rip the first one back and make it match.

Grudgingly, I admit that it sounds like a reasonable plan, but I am still not ready to cast on.

Instead, I opted for some fast 'n' easy fun knitting (felted division) this week. I made a bowl from the the One Skein book.


It's just a shade more complicated than a rolled-brim baby hat, so it is excellent mindless knitting.

Then I dug out some old Kureyon and made a Booga Bag.


I'm probably the last knitter on the planet who has not made a Booga Bag. It's extremely simple, as well, and watching the color changes in the Kureyon is fun.

I did have a problem, though. I have completely consumed the three balls of yarn, and still need about two more feet of i-cord for the handles. Gah! I hate to buy another ball of yarn just for the few yards. I've put out the call to the KnitWits to see if anyone has a dab of this colorway in their stash. If not, I will have to bite the bullet and buy some yarn.

My advice - make the handles first, then knit the bag until you run out of yarn.

In other activity this week, I got my staples out and am now being held together by tape (which is starting to fall off.) I had an eye exam and ordered new glasses. Katie had her annual vet visit and is A-OK.

Monday, I go back to work. It will be nice to be back among people again. At least, I say that today. Check with me about Wednesday to see if my opinion has changed.

The sock I try to love

I finished a sock yesterday. It's a first sock, so I don't get official "off the sticks" credit for it. It has, however, been on the sticks for at least two years, so at least it is some progress.

Here is the sock.


The yarn is fun. I've always called it the Easter Egg sock because of the spring pastels. I did it toe up, with a simple lace pattern on the leg. It looks okay, but I don't know - something about it just doesn't work for me. It fits, but I don't especially like the way it looks on my foot.

For the first time ever , I did not cast on the second sock the same day the first one came off the needles. I probably will today, unless I decide to scrap the lace, rip it out, and do plain ribbing. I just don't know what I want to do with it. Except I can see using the yarn to make baby socks. Now those would be cute.

Katie likes it, though.


Terry is off work today, so I can get my not-allowed-to-drive self out of the house for awhile. I never thought I would be so excited at the prospect of going to the mall.

Nurse Katie

Whenever I am away from home for a few days, Terry always reports that Katie misses me. He said she missed me when I was in the hospital, too.

So naturally, when I returned home, she welcomed me by doing all of those thoughtful things kitties do. You know, following me into the kitchen so I can give her a drink of fresh water, waiting while I haul myself out of the easy chair - so she can steal it, dashing around wildly where I am trying to walk, walking across the incision.

Hogging the ottoman so I can't put my feet up:


Her newest trick: drinking the water from my mug. She will use her paw, or she will stick her whole face in there to see if she can reach the water with her tongue.


The doctor wants me to move around while I recuperate. Since I have to go get a new cup of water whenever she does this, that may be her way of helping me after all.

The Lost Week

I work with a management staff of four during the day. One of the four is on maternity leave. One has an unchangeable vacation next week. That left me and my boss for six days. I’ve been saying for months that we are one streetcar accident away from disaster.

I got run over by the streetcar this week.

Specifically, after a couple of days of feeling increasingly crappy, I ended up at the clinic, and then the emergency room, and then in surgery, all in the space of Wednesday afternoon. Because my incision was large and my surgery was late in the day, I got to spend two nights at the hospital. They sprung me yesterday afternoon.

And I will be off work for at least two weeks, completely encompassing my teammate’s vacation. Sorry, boss. I didn’t plan it this way, really.

Terry was off work and spent a lot of time with me, bored out of his mind, but I appreciated it. I got flowers and calls and visit from him and the KnitWits and my co-workers. (Our minister stopped by just as one of my friends was on the phone saying “WTF happened?” That was an interesting parry.) The KnitWits are already planning who can entertain me, and when, during my recuperation. I’m blessed to have good people in my life.

This morning, I woke up thinking that food sounded like a good idea. I hadn’t had any appetite before the surgery, and sure didn’t have any for most of the hospital food. (Not to be critical of the hospital cafeteria. I could tell they prepared their menus with care. Nothing tasted good to me, except the iced tea, the fruit cup and the orange, and even then I couldn’t eat more than a few bites. But really, I am curious to know how they made link sausage pasty.) I knew exactly what I wanted, so Terry drove me to McDonalds for a Sausage and Egg Biscuit. I ate the whole thing. Man, was it tasty.

Before leaving the subject of hospital stays, I would just like to say that hospital RNs are the greatest people in the world. To do what they do, day in and day out, remain professional and caring, and still treat you like you are the most important person in the world, is an amazing thing. I salute them.

Lazy Sunday

It's Sunday. It's hot. It's humid. Terry and I are both off work, and we are being lazy.

Inside, Katie enjoys Terry's new desk, which has a lot more room where she can play.


Outside, I think I found out why the finches are hanging around so much. This is in the awning over our back door.


Terry went stargazing last night, and called me to tell me that our picture was in Sky and Telescope Magazine. The July issue has an article about the Nebraska Star Party, which we have attended a couple of times. Right there on page 102, there we are.

What - you can't see us? How about this one, then?


That's Terry on the right with the cute legs, and me on the left with no face. Directly in front of us is Allen, who brought the photo to our attention.

Please, no autographs.

Groundhog census

I came home from work this afternoon to find Terry's truck in the driveway, the door to the house open, lights on, but Terry nowhere to be seen. After engaging in a little logical reasoning, I went out back to the camper. Sure enough, there he was, with a camera.

"Taking pictures of Chuckie?" I asked.

"There are three of them," he said, "at least."

He had already taken some pictures, so he gave me the camera and I took a few more.

One brave little soldier was sticking his nose out into the sunshine. Two others were sticking to the shadows on the side of the shed. See them there? I couldn't even tell it was two until I enlarged the photo and saw the ears and noses.

As with most of our Chuckie photos, these were taken through a screen window, which accounts for the ethereal glow.

Here's another picture of Woody.

It's getting hard to keep them all straight, especially when they all look alike. I think I will just call all of the adults Chuckie, and the babies Woody until they are big enough to be Chuckies.

At this very moment, Terry is attempting to post his own dueling photos on his own blog. If candid groundhog photos are your thang, go check there.

In other news, I read Jerry Seeger's short story last night before going to bed. I really liked it, but then, knowing his earlier work from the Piker Press, that doesn't surprise me. As I mentioned yesterday, I'm not really into science fiction. This story, though, is first a human story, with just enough SF to give it a twist. Well done, Jer!

One more thing to celebrate

At Borders tonight, I saw the July issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction Magazine. This issue includes the first published-for-money story by fellow Piker Jerry Seeger. It always tickles me to be able to buy something that one of my pals has written and had published, and this was no exception.

We first encountered Jerry on the NaNoWriMo boards a few years ago. He was so witty and charming, I asked if we could keep him. He admitted that he would like being kept, and that is why he is listed as "Jerry the Keeper" on my sidebar.

Even though I am not a big SF fan, I can read Jerry's stuff without my eyes going all googly. (That's a compliment, really.) I even managed to give him a brief, but thoughtful, critique of a couple of paragraphs of one of his stories recently without once saying, "What the hell are you talking about?", and he seemed to appreciate my insights.

Also, he once wrote and submitted a poem that he knew I couldn't publish, but he thought I would enjoy it just the same. How can you not like a guy like that?

Which is my way of saying, if you buy the July issue of F&SF, turn straight to page 135, and read "Memory of a Thing That Never Was".