A new era for blogging...

The picture is the same but the title and theme of my blog has changed. The details which may already be obvious to some will be coming soon. So much has changed in the 2 years since I started the blog and I plan to write about that much more in depth in the upcoming months. I feel like each day is and will be a new journey, starting with tomorrow. Tomorrow I will get up and go to work for the first time since the end of October. I don't know if I'll be able to work even part time but I need to give it another try before giving up for good. I fear I know what the answer will be and that I'll know within a couple of days but I feel strongly I need to try anyway. I am deeply appreciative of FMLA and that my job has been there for me since August when I have either not worked at all or barely worked enough to consider myself part time. Unfortunately, time is up and I either need to be able to do it or hand the reigns over to someone else who can. It has been an extremely difficult journey and the thought of leaving after a decade makes my stomach turn, but I know the choice really isn't mine. My job has been a source not only of income for me but a major part of how I've defined myself and where some deep friendships have been made. If it were my choice, I'd work. Whatever happens I'll know that I fought to the end and that I didn't give up before I had to. Now I'll go to bed and prepare myself for the next leg of this journey knowing that no matter what, good things will happen for me as long as I believe they will, work or no work.

Johnny didn't make an appearance today

Fun Fun Fun. That's my sarcastic response to this week's bout of testing. On Tuesday I went to have adrenal testing that involved having an IV put in so that they could draw blood, inject some sort of hormone and then draw blood two more times a half hour apart to see if there is any reaction to the hormone. I also had blood drawn for another test but I can't even tell you what that was for. The good news was I didn't have to wear my ol' pal Johnny and they allowed me to drink water during the testing. Even so, by the time the vampires were done my eyes were glazed over and I felt like I had been drugged, likely because I can hardly spare a thimble's worth of blood before the POTS sets in. The nurse said it looked like they take a lot more blood than they really do but I did the math- 66ml which equals around 13 teaspoons. I was surprised though that as the day went on I returned to normal and even had quite a bit of energy. That is until I woke up Wednesday morning. After deciding early Wednesday morning that sleeping in was my best bet I finally dragged myself and the 3 kids out of bed around 7 to head for work. Once I got to work I realized that I wasn't sure how or why I had gotten there and could barely carry on a conversation. It didn't take long to figure out that staying wasn't a good idea especially if I was expected to make a decision about something. That and I had plenty of people looking at me and telling me I looked pretty bad. That's only helpful when you feel crappy. I decided to cut my losses and head back for home and a nap with my pooch.

You can only imagine my glee when after sleeping for two and a half hours I was woken by a phone call from the nurse at the Doctor's office. Seems the blood was all bad and I needed a complete do over. Did I mention that the RN doing the test was new to it and had to dig around for a vein and then I had to move my arm around like an antenna reaching a signal to get the blood to come out? Well apparently that "breaks" the blood and doesn't work. Whatever, so I told them I'd come back today for round two. As luck would have it, the nurse decided that she'd make sure this time it worked by forgoing the IV and just sticking me each time in a new place. Yay! She's the first nurse I've ever met that didn't use a butterfly needle and there was more of the of "oh I can't find it"than I like to hear so by the time we were done I had 4 fresh holes and very little sense of humor left. Now the trick is holding it together tomorrow. I packed my lunch bag this morning with lots of water and Gatorade and I'm still pumping the fluids. That and keeping a positive attitude will hopefully make tomorrow go better than yesterday did.

In other news I have been working on my backyard oasis. Eric finished building a patio a few weeks ago so I've moved my swing there and have started some planting. Eventually he'll enclose the hot tub so I'll be able to use it this winter. I wanted to plant a garden around my pussy willow so this weekend I did it! Yes it looks kind of sparse right now but the roses will each get to be 3 ft around and tall and I wanted to keep it simple, unlike my other gardens. I was ecstatic when I found a light purple rose bush, the first I've found in all the places I've searched. I'm hoping to do lots more roses everywhere I can. I'm most excited about my wisteria, which isn't yet planted but is the one thing I have wanted for years. It needs something to grow on so it'll be planted right outside the hot tub wall so it can grow up the side of the screened windows and onto the roof, which will be clear plastic. I can't wait to sit under that next year!

Flying Purple People Eater

Who says you can't teach an old bike new tricks? I love my old bike but with my disability I can't peddle it for any distance. I was bummed that it meant missing out on family bike trips and had to come up with a way to be with the family, especially with Moxie Day looming. A few months ago I saw a man riding a bike with a motor attached and was fascinated. I clocked him going over 30 mph next to my car! I figured there had to be a way to rig my bike up too so Eric started the research. In less than 2 weeks my old bike went from a worn looking blue bike to a flashy purple with flames and best of all, A MOTOR! With a gas powered kit, spray paint and decals it has been totally transformed. Once again I am riding with my family but the funny thing is I have to idle it in order to stay with them. Sometimes I just take off and do circles because that is so much more fun! It is supposed to go 40 mph although I haven't dared tack it out. I just go fast enough to feel wild and regardless of how I'm feeling I can't help but smile.

Frankie and I in 2006


My bike as Eric started to take it apart for painting


Some flames, pinstriping and a "Happy" border for good measure

Almost done, it just needs the gas tank and the clutch!


Frankie likes this ride so much better! Now when I go without him he carries on in a jealous fit.

And since I like purple so much, I am currently knitting a beautiful lace top in purple cotton. It may not look like much yet but I love stopping every once in a while to look at the lace as it knits up.

WOW!

Holy Cow, where did I go? I haven't been blogging and I don't have a lot to show for knitting either. I can attribute my silence and lack of knitting progress to several factors but I guess the biggest is that work has been kicking my butt lately. It seems that for a while when I haven't been getting home late from work, I've been making up for it by working at night when I should be knitting! In between I managed to spend a few days in DC with Eric. I also had to finally give in and buy a new (used) car even though I fancied myself growing my yarn stash bigger and bigger every month I went without a car payment. My car finally started to cost more than it was worth and when it wouldn't pass an inspection without a large chunk of change, I gave in. I love my new car, but I do sorta miss the excuse that no car payment could justify my lavish yarn addiction. At least I've been so busy lately that I can't seem to go through yarn as quickly as usual.

My biggest knitting accomplishment has been finishing a sweater that has been hibernating for nearly a year. It was so close to being done too. I considered frogging it but now I am deliriously happy that I didn't go down that road.

I have a few other projects that have been started but languish in various stages of completion. I am slowly working on those while I search for the next big project. I used to be so rigid about finishing one project before starting another but these days I just seem to flit from one to another. I just need to find the sweater or top that I must have so I'll get it done. I'm also working on some baby stuff, which is so much fun! While I was in DC I worked on a baby hat because it was easy to carry on the subway and around the city. Next will be a baby sweater in a soft baby bamboo. Baby things are not only wicked cute but go so fast they are a great way to feel a sense of accomplishment.

The DC trip was fun although the weather didn't cooperate at all. We decided to haul our camper to a place just outside the city. In the evenings we were holed up in the camper listening to the rain beat down. We had to yell over the thunderous rain to hear each other inside that thing. The best time of all was when we decided to drive into the city late one night in our jammies to visit the white house and Washington Memorial. Even the rain couldn't stop us from enjoying that escapade and it seemed much more fun than trudging around in the rain during the day.

That being said, it was a difficult trip too. I wanted to go because Eric had never been and I wanted to do something for him. I occasionally wondered if it might not even be possible for me to do all of the walking I'd need to do, but I ignored those thoughts. I figured I could call it quits when I needed to, not really acknowledging that I still haven't accepted what my limits need to be. I ended up pushing myself and ending up in some difficult situations. Perhaps it was what I needed to do in order to realize that I have a disability that is real, even when I like to pretend it isn't. Eric and I both came to better understand that we need to adjust our thinking. I need to accept and ask for accommodations and he needs to remind me to do it. For the first time, I realized that even with a cane there are just some things that I can't do the way I used to. It was heartbreaking when Eric would talk about going back with the kids and I'd think to myself that I can't do this ever again. I finally told Eric that if we went back, I wouldn't be able to go to places with them. I was devastated at the idea that I would become an outsider to the family outings, hearing about them but missing firsthand the laughter and joy of the actual moments. Eric was instrumental in explaining to me that it is time to be proactive in how we approach situations and do it differently but that it isn't the end of my participating in outings with my family. It just means that I may need to do some things in a wheelchair, or do less at a time. I'm no where near ready to be in a wheelchair, even if its just for a short trip but I am ready to accept some changes. The first major adjustment was getting a handicap placard for the car. Now its just a matter of continuing to adjust my expectations and be willing to accept help. This is a road that I never thought to travel but none the less, here I am. I'm still trying to figure it all out and still learning about what comes next. The biggest challenge now is to allow myself and others to see the disability that I have worked so hard to hide.

Please pass the salt

This weekend I managed to get to SPA for about an hour which also means I managed to snag some fabulous new yarn. I was hoping to hang out for the day but I was in more pain than usual to start my day. I have gotten better at accepting changes to my plans and realizing that just to do part of it is something to celebrate. Still, it will take some time to really get used to being fully okay with having a disability and all that it brings. There are times when I still feel like I'm in complete shock.

I've already started work on a sport weight shawl in a soft wool I bought from a local spinner at SPA. pictured below I was the most excited to get some more "bunny", actually a blend of angora and wool and it was enough for an entire sweater!

A while ago I wrote about my breakdown at a yarn store when I went only to buy one skein of yarn for a scarf but ended up buying a lot more. I finished the scarf and have worn it to comfort myself at work when only something soft and squishy will do. I took a pic of it modeled by my Valentine Teddy Bear. He came in the mail from the Vermont Teddy Bear Co, a gift from Eric. He has the cutest shirt, which says "Knit Happens". He's also wearing his own little scarf that I made in the same pattern as mine from stash yarn.

My biggest knitting accomplishment of late is my Lett-Lopi vest. When I started it I wasn't sure which yarn I was going to use in the fair isle. The only thing I was sure of was that I was going to use stash yarn, since I have been challenging myself to use stash yarn whenever possible. I LOVE this vest!

Since my last post I have opened the Pandora's box on my illness. I can't honestly say whether I'm glad to know what it is or not. Unfortunately, I got two illnesses for the price of one, both with the potential to leave me disabled. My fierce determination to beat one illness faltered a bit when I realized that I could beat one only to be brought down by the other. I was quite sure I would be diagnosed with RSD/CRPS even though I hoped beyond hope that it would be something treatable instead. I was diagnosed with that and also with a rare disease called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome- POTS. It sounds completely ridiculous to say actually. Yes, I have the POTS. Right now I am trying to treat the POTS with fluid and salt. Lots and lots of salt! I can't help but acknowledge the irony of trying to be healthy only to find out it can make things worse. The POTS does explain some things that the RSD didn't and I guess I am glad to know that part of things. It is the POTS that has forced me off my treadmill and has made me sick so often when RSD wouldn't have. In a nutshell, my heart rate spikes dramatically when I stand up (or sometimes even when I'm lying down) and causes dizziness, confusion, and most noticeably an inability to regulate my body temp. Even the RSD has been a little easier to hide, except for my limp. I'm keeping this quiet at work since it is clear that coming out with it could have devastating consequences. Although people can see that I limp and know that I've been undergoing testing, they don't know how much difficulty I'm having. As long as I can do my job, it shouldn't matter to anyone anyway. I'm continuing to take things one day a at a time while I do my best to control the effects this has on my daily life.

Most days, I'm just glad that I accomplish as much as I do with the additional challenges. Even today when I went out to snow blow not only my driveway, but my neighbor's as well, I was grateful that I was doing it. Last week the whole time I was snow blowing I had this stupid grin on my face because I was actually DOING IT! There were times I believed I'd never snow blow again. Some of my neighbors looked ready to suffocate themselves in a snow bank while I blissfully buzzed around with the snow blower. It was plain to see how easily we take those things for granted. I always pay for those efforts with extra pain but I try to keep doing everything that I can. The pain is inevitable either way, but it's a whole lot easier to handle the pain when I feel like I earned it with hard work.

My name is Amy and I'm an addict

It's been a while since I've had one of my extreme yarn buying moments. I've been stash busting and trying to decrease my yarn consumption since the beginning of January. I'd call it a New Year's Resolution except I resolved to never resolve again so let's just consider the timing coincidental. It seemed like a good idea to detox a bit since my stash closet has met it's capacity and ultimately I would like a new car someday. I was doing well and even made a few things purely from stash.

Then last week I slipped a little when I bought some yarn to make a vest. Even then I planned to use some stash yarn in the vest too. I thought about it in advance and knew what I was going to buy for the vest, fully justifying my impending purchase. However, I saw some lavender Malabrigo when I got to my LYS and HAD TO HAVE IT! It was new and it was meant to be. I bought it along with the yarn for my vest and figured even though I spent over $100, I had a $50 gift card to make it seem less lavish. I managed to get through that experience with only a twinge of guilt which was almost impossible to feel when my fingers rubbed over that new Malabrigo. Yummmm.

Then came today. Never should I even enter the general vicinity of a yarn store when I'm pissed at my boss. Never! When will I ever learn. I just happened to be in Waterville about a half a mile from a fabulously stocked yarn store today. I told myself when I got out of my meeting there that I would just slip on over for a minute and buy 1 skein. I justified it by telling myself I deserved it for working hard for my money and putting up with the Queen of Lies and Back Stabbing for a boss. I was thinking about how soothing a soft, beautiful scarf that I could fondle (and possibly choke myself with) would be whenever my boss comes near me. So after all kinds of self talk and justification, I went. What I didn't expect was to walk into the store and immediately see those magic words written on the whiteboard "All hand knit yarns 20-50% off". Oh my. I immediately started to shake and get that sick nervous feeling inside while my thoughts ran into overdrive. I must buy, I mustn't let this sale die in vain while simultaneously the other part of my brain said "run, get out now, don't even look, JUST SAY NO!" I kept walking as if I was on autopilot, all the while feeling tingles all through my body and a small bit of nausea. I felt out of control and almost rabid as I began to touch the vast array of heartbreakingly gorgeous yarns. I made myself move slowly in a controlled way even though inside I could feel my heartbeat speeding up and my breathing becoming erratic. I couldn't stop. I have a problem. I need yarn, especially yarn on sale.

When I left I was slightly less shaky but now feeling like a closet yarn freak with a problem. I was carrying my bag wondering how I was going to sneak "that" into the house. My original plan had been to put the 1 skein I was going to buy into my work bag, heck maybe even my purse. I figured it would be days before Eric even knew about it. Usually he teases me about my incessant yarn buying but I wasn't sure how he'd react to another binge so soon after last week. When I got home I tried to smoosh the over sized bag into my work bag, after I took out a bunch of other things to make room. I casually walked in the house and set my stuff down. He's not stupid. He probably knew I'd go to that yarn store before I did. Maybe he knew I had a problem and didn't tell me, who knows. I didn't get into the house 15 seconds before he asked me if I went to the yarn store. I just hung my head in shame. I've never been addicted to anything before I got into yarn. First I started experimenting with the cheap stuff from Walmart and JoAnn's but after a while it just wasn't doing it for me anymore. I started going to dedicated yarn stores and picking out more expensive and luxuriant fibers. They just looked and felt so good! Before I knew it I was buying yarn just to have it, with no particular project in mind for it. How can something that feels so good be bad?!

In my defense though, it could be worse. At least its safe to drive after I've gone on a binge in the yarn store. That's a good thing too, since I'll probably never get a new car and can't afford to bust mine up!

I tried to deny I truly have a problem. I looked up the diagnosis of addiction thinking I may only really like (LOVE times infinity) yarn and if I saw the symptoms I might see that I don't really have a problem. Yeah right. I included the diagnosis here from freedictionary.com for anyone else out there in serious denial of their yarn/fiber addiction. You know who you are! Even though I have a problem I don't plan on stopping. Whenever I think of a car payment vs. buying yarn, the yarn always wins. If there ever comes a time when I get anywhere I'll just hang out in my closet and sniff the yarn.

Diagnosis (from freedictionary.com)
In addition to a preoccupation with using and acquiring the abused substance, the diagnosis of addiction is based on five criteria:
loss of willpower
harmful consequences
unmanageable lifestyle
tolerance or escalation of use
withdrawal symptoms upon quitting

playing with smilebox

Judgement Aside

It's been a while since I have posted any knitted projects here. I am always working on something even though my progress tends to be much slower these days. Recently my daughter turned 7 and for her birthday I made her and her doll matching hats. It was really self serving because she had commandeered my alpaca hat and wouldn't take it off except to bathe and sleep. I was hoping a new hat would replace mine, but she seems to be an alpaca girl like her mom. She likes the new hat but still loves the alpaca one. I'm just going to have to make myself a new one.

My 5 year old was insisting on a new sweater so I finally got to work on that. Not only was he insisting on the sweater but he was full of ideas about the colors and how it should look. He really wanted a rainbow sweater. I just couldn't bring myself to do an all out rainbow sweater so we compromised on the colors a bit. I tend to stick to basic hues and little to no color changes in my desire to "blend in" so this was a challenge for me. I had to keep taking deep breaths and remind myself that if it looked downright awful it would be okay. He is definitely his own person and really the only one in the family who could walk out of the house proudly wearing this sweater.

Now I am working (slowly) on a vest with fair isle for myself. It's worked from the bottom up so that's new for me. I'm already getting a little bored with the stockinette and thinking about casting on another project to work on a bit in between. There are so many projects and so little time!

Apart from knitting, I am still working through my grief over the death of Ashlee, one of my neighbors. She was only 12. For those of you who haven't heard the story there it can be found here: http://www.wcsh6.com/news/local/story.aspx?storyid=100128#comments along with my comment to the unfortunate people who felt compelled to judge this family. I just have to keep reminding myself that they aren't blessed with the knowledge I have

I was at a session with a therapist to talk about dealing with my illness when Ashlee died. I was full of thoughts about the talk and a metta chant I was given to practice as I drove home, blissfully unaware of what was happening near my home. I had no idea that many of the things we had talked about in that hour would be put into practice for an entirely different reason.

3 families were directly involved that night. We are a small neighborhood where the children play together and move about freely in each other's homes. There are things we know that only we can know about the families and about the events leading up to that night. It is heartbreaking to see the judgement directed at Ashlee's parents. It is time for judgement to be cast aside. I for one feel no power in anger and blame. It will take a long time to put the pieces back together again. Now that the funeral is over we all have to find our ground. Those 3 families need to figure out how they'll interact with each other and with the rest of us on the street. It is our job to embrace them and stand by them no matter what.

When the 10 year old who survived the crash came by with his mother earlier today I fully understood the crossroads we're at. It was never more important than today to welcome this boy into our home. My son was sick and yet I was filled with pride that he also understood the importance of playing with his friend regardless of how he was feeling. He seems to know innately that even though he wasn't with the others that night, he will play an important part of the healing process. The boy's mother didn't want to come into my house and I understand that. When I looked at her it was as if she'd seen a ghost, which I believe she has and will see for a long time. The fear of judgment was all too plainly there in her eyes. It is tragic that we've come to this. Grieving for a beautiful girl filled with potential while we figure out where everyone stands now. Nothing can be assumed now as we greet each other and look into each other's eyes.

As for the 13 year old's family, only time will tell. The story there is too deep and wrought with unfortunate circumstances for me to explain. I'll admit that I myself judged that family in the past. It was that judgment that kept us from allowing our son to play at their house. There was a time when Eric and I questioned our decision and felt extremely uncomfortable having to explain to them why we made that decision. We all make choices as parents and usually don't ever know if we were right or wrong. As the owners of the snowmobile that family will have their own set of ghosts or demons to deal with. It is more of a struggle for me to keep from judging them, but I am making strides and I'll keep at it. I've learned that sometimes judgement serves a place and that it can save a life. Yet I am seeing now the difference between making choices that you feel are best for your child versus being spiteful and holding a grudge. As for the others, I'll be there for that family too, if ever needed.

I may never be able to see the good in all of this. It is a harsh reminder that we never know what corners our lives will take. I'll just hope that my role in healing will be a positive one and that the pain will begin to diminish in the days/weeks to come.

"You are just as capable of making a mistake as anyone else. By insisting too eagerly upon a small right, you may turn it into a wrong against yourself and also against your neighbor." Lawrence G. Lovasik

What are you REALLY paying for?

Today I got home from work to a letter from the local free lawyer service, Pine Tree Legal. They help low income people with legal issues for free to save them from all the horrible people, especially landlords (like me) who would otherwise victimize them. The letter was regarding a previous tenant who is seeking compensation from us to the tune of $2000. Last spring she annihilated our septic system. As soon as the plumber began fixing it, her boyfriend began talking about how "the landlord is going to pay for this." This reported to us by the unfortunate soul we sent to fix the septic system, the same guy who was able to tell us what had really happened to the septic system to cause it to fail. The boyfriend who was ranting and raving was the same boyfriend who was living there "under the radar" because otherwise the tenant would not be eligible for Section 8. For those you not familiar with Section 8, they pay a portion of the rent for low income families. The portion they pay depends on the family's income. In this case, the tenant was paying about $33 for a 3 bedroom apartment. As a landlord I see a fair amount of single mother's with Section 8 who soon after moving in have the father of their child(ren) living with them and therefore are ineligible for the program. Hard to prove, but pretty obvious anyway.

After the septic system was fixed (that day), the tenant contacted a code enforcement officer and before he arrived, removed the fixed parts to create a scenario that would give the impression we had not taken care of the issues. They had told the person fixing the septic system they planned to take it apart after he left, so we had a little heads up on this one. Unfortunately, they did not put it back together so in the end the damage was extensive.

The tenant gave her notice and we had to wait 30 days before we could get in to even see what she claimed was so bad. Once we finally did, we found that sewage had gotten into the floors and the septic had not been working for some time because it had been taken apart.

We made a claim to our insurance company and the agent who visited was coincidentally, the same agent who dealt with the tenant's claim. Apparently, she had moved into a hotel, citing illness and unlivable conditions so the insurance company covered all of her expenses while she lived in a hotel. The agent was also faced with the boyfriend, who he had to tell to stay out of it because he "supposedly" was not part of the family. He too claimed to be sick and disoriented from the situation.

Our costs were over $10K because we had to replace the entire septic system and floors, rugs, etc. This does not even include months of rental income lost because of the time it took to do all of the repairs. We had heard through others that the tenant had contacted Pine tree and was looking to sue us, in fact that was the plan from day one. I have my thoughts about whether that was the plan before she even moved in, but that I'll never prove.

We waited and didn't hear anything for months. We assumed that Pine Tree did some leg work and figured out there weren't grounds to sue us on. At least that was our assumption before today. When we got the letter, we called the insurance agent who handled both our claims. Did he not tell us that we were covered from liability because she had gotten paid and it was the same insurance company? Luckily, he answered our call and verified that the request for this $2000 the tenant is seeking is "double dipping". He might have also mentioned that she's a "tool" (man, I love that word!) Anyway, I have a better word for it, it's called "FRAUD". And that's what I told the lawyer in the letter I wrote in reply to her audacious request for $2000 to cover the costs of temporary housing due to the septic system failure that the tenant herself caused. Yes, I mentioned "fraud" because I for one always call a spade a spade (in this case, the spade is actually a creature lower than prehistoric frog shit at the bottom of a New jersey scum pond). I also mentioned that the lawyer oughta call this agent for the full story and then kindly let us know when this issue has been resolved. To make it easier, I gave her his name and phone number, he's expecting her call. Perhaps I should have asked for an apology too...hmm but truthfully I'd rather never hear from this "creature from below the scum pond" again.

So its a long story, but in the end, this "creature from below the scum pond" bilked Section 8, Pine Tree, the insurance company and Eric & I. You may not care about Eric and I or the insurance company, but guess who's paying for Section 8 and Pine Tree! Before you think this story is rare, let it be known that I've been around social services for a little while now. I won't go there, but I'll also tell you as a landlord that I've seen many other sad excuses for human beings. For instance, a woman with 2 children with Section 8 who paid about $20 a month for a 3 bedroom, claiming the father of the children was involved but didn't live with her. What we observed was that he did live with her, he had a good paying job, they had 2 cars, a motorcycle, outdoor "toys", among many other possessions. We've had people dealing drugs, setting the place on fire, and outright stealing. We've evicted more people than we can count and the apartment building isn't even in a bad part of town. Many of these people accessed social service programs.

So, think about what you are paying for. I for one used to be a far out liberal, wanting programs for everything and everyone. I have seen the error in my thinking and have much different beliefs now. While I firmly believe we need programs to help people who are hurting financially or for reasons not of their making for example mental illness, there are too many people who are taking advantage of those programs by bilking the system. My strongest advocacy and support goes out to children who need every chance we can give them. No child deserves to be hungry, hurt or to live in squalor regardless of how dishonest and corrupt their parents are. I am advocating for mandates to be set and followed so we can save our money and ourselves from dishonest people without making the children suffer. Surely there must be a way because what these children are learning by watching their unlawful, blood sucking parents is not good for them or our future society. When Clinton was president he revamped the welfare system and instituted sterner welfare to work programs. Maine has staunchly resisted the mandates and sadly there are still people who are not working when they are physically able to, even after the supposed 5 year lifetime limit on welfare benefits. It's time for Maine to get with the program!

Knitting for Coworkers

I just finished a fun project for a coworker of mine...a roll of toilet paper. She's had a rough couple of months so I thought I'd try to cheer her up a bit. A few months ago as part of a slew of money saving changes, the toilet paper was changed at work to a cheaper brand. Let's just say the change was uncomfortable for most of us to adjust to, in fact I may have gotten a paper cut at one point but I never looked to be sure. My coworker, in a mad frenzy to literally save her ass decided to grab any of the old toilet paper she could find and hoarded it in her office. Some of us chose to honor her ingenuity by decorating her office with the toilet paper one day while she was out. This is just another installment on the toilet paper legacy.

In other knitting related news, my flair for legwarmers seems to be catching on. I will refrain from complaining that it has taken several years of relentless work for this to finally happen. At least my legwarmer craze was acknowledged by most of my coworkers. If you ask one of my closer colleagues to describe me, legwarmers will come up. While I am a closet legwarmer wearer in some ways (I wear them under my pants), I am open to discussing my love for them and showing them off when the slightest bit of interest is shown.

Recently a beloved coworker/friend of mine sent me a beautiful card with a dog wearing legwarmers. She then told me a story about trying to buy some small legwarmers for her granddaughter's doll only to discover at the register that they were doggie legwarmers. She explained that she couldn't for the life of her figure out why they would sell 4 legwarmers that were the same for a doll instead of two different sets. Unfortunately the price for a set of doggie legwarmers is a bit drastic, so the poor doll had none. That's when I stepped in to save the day. Not only was her granddaughter very happy with the legwarmers, she has sent me a message. "Thank you and my doll needs boots."

Shhh, this is a secret. I am beginning my preparations for a set of 4 legwarmers for her dog, Jenna. It is just the next phase in my all out crusade to bring legwarmers back out into the open where their beauty can be enjoyed by all. Waaa Haaa Haaa!

Love the tree...

...As you love me

Today was pretty uneventful. More specifically I was feeling too under the weather to notice much if anything eventful was happening. So I ended up packing it in and heading home early from work, hoping to just vegetate for a while and forget how lousy I was feeling while I waited for some pain meds to kick in. When I was home long enough for the meds to start working and my feet to start moving, I got up and noticed "a problem". My son's tree was lying on its side in the backyard. I immediately realized how completely awful this was and how telling my son would be almost as bad as telling him one of the pets had died. I also immediately realized that it was unlikely an accident that the tree was in its current position, remembering what my children had recently told me about the new neighbor children saying they had wanted to cut it down. At the time my son had informed them that it was HIS tree and that they could not go into our yard and cut it down.

The tree was obtained as nothing more than a small sprig when my oldest was less than a year old at the Maine State Parade, a parade that he and Eric were in. We planted it that year in our yard and a couple years later (when the picture was taken) we moved it to make room for some landscaping we were doing. When we moved here about 5 and a half years ago, it was transplanted again, here in the corner of our backyard. We have watched it grow into what was, until recently, a tree taller than our son! I regret not taking a picture this past fall with my son in front of it when I talked about doing it. That brings me to the moral of the story.

In the past several months I have learned more than I ever wanted about doing things and not putting them off. I can't begin to list all the things I regret not doing now that I never will, or even the things I wish I could do 1 more time, like dance, ice skate, run etc.

When I went out to look at the tree more closely, I saw that it wasn't cut at the bottom, but had been cut about halfway down, about 4 feet. I asked the neighbor child who was at that moment playing in our stream if he knew what had happened. I informed him that it appeared to have been cut, judging by the hatchet marks. He denied doing it, although I still had my suspicions.

I was unbelievably relieved that it wasn't gone completely even though it will never grow the same again. It got me thinking how much that tree is like me now. It will never grow the same but at least its alive and will still be special to us if we allow ourselves to change our belief about how its supposed to be. As Eric and my oldest went through their rage and disappointment over the tree, I stopped them to remind them its okay to be angry and grieve over it, but that it isn't a total loss. I shared with them how the tree is more special to me now because it can help remind us about accepting things in a new way, like me with my illness. I also told them in no uncertain terms can it ever be cut down now, even if it doesn't have the right shape. Eric agreed that we can help it grow into a new shape and helped explain to the kids that it will never have the Christmas tree shape we had planned for it but that will be okay.

That being said, Eric still went straight over to the new neighbors and told the mother what had happened. He was angry (very angry) but he kept his cool and showed the mother and the son the picture of our son with the tree. He explained how it is special and can't be replaced with another tree because of the sentiment its held for us and our son over the years. Again the boy denied it, so Eric told them that he would be calling the police to make a report. Incidentally, shortly after the policeman left our house, the mother showed up with her son to admit he'd done it and to apologize. Even though he did it, it helped make the situation a little easier to accept when he owned up to it. It probably also helped salvage a potentially bad relationship with the new neighbors, since this was our first and only interaction with them, they have only been here about a month.

I have to admit that I am making lots of parallels in the world now as I deal with this unrelenting pain. I am almost certain I will be diagnosed with RSD aka Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy or more recently called CRPS. It is not a good thing and I tried for a long time to deny I might have it. There was a time when I was spending time every day researching all the possible diagnoses I could get. Believe it or not, I would actually try to choose some over others, thinking this or that would be better than this one or that one. It sounds pretty ridiculous but I guess being in this situation can seem ridiculous anyway. I would continue to "up the ante" and knowing it was a little worse than I had previously allowed myself to believe, choose one that was unthinkable a only few weeks before. I think it was my way of preparing myself for whatever would come and trying to have some control over accepting one thing over another. However, I had become well versed in RSD/CRPS and had refused to accept that one, even though it seemed eerily similar to my symptoms. In fact, I showed Eric some information on it one day that I had printed off and he thought I had made it up, thinking the symptoms and thoughts about it could have been written by me.

I haven't been diagnosed with it yet, but two doctors have brought it up and the last neurologist is going to test me for it at the end of February. I have wanted a diagnosis for so long but I really don't want this one. The odds aren't in my favor for it to be anything less than debilitating, even with a positive attitude and a will to fight against it. It was has been said by some to be the most painful of the chronic pain conditions. I have already gotten to the stage where irreparable twisting in my arm has taken place. I just keep believing that with the right help I can overcome it and stay positive. I am fighting everyday to let my brain decide how I feel, not my body. Some days its more of a struggle than others, but I don't plan to ever give up. I will keep feeding my mind with positive information and thoughts, changing my perception about how things should be and being satisfied with how they can be. That's what I can control and I intend to do that. My body almost seems like this separate entity, a demon, trying to take over, but I will fight it and ask for help on the days it seems impossible. There are days when I feel sad about losing the person I used to be, or the things I can't do anymore, but I don't dwell on that. I just have to accept the person I am now and not even fear what may happen in the future. This serves me well and has given me some release not only from that loss but from so many other ditty little things that haggle us through life.