A Nudge for the New Era

I got a little nudge reminding me that I renamed my blog and had some promised changes coming. Even though it's nearing the end of March it still feels like the new year and that's probably because so much is going on around me at once I feel like I can't catch up. I still can't promise to get completely up to date in this post but at least I can get a little further in explaining why the changes and where I am now. In future posts there will need to be time devoted to more details as I speed through a lot of information in this one.

When I posted last I was giving my job one last real good All American try. It didn't work and I walked out with the last of my things at the beginning of February after resigning less than two weeks after my return. I still find it hard to believe and do my share of grieving still just trying to figure out where I fit in now. There's been a lot of pain since then and my I can't begin to explain all the different things I've felt.

It's been a roller coaster ride and I've allowed myself to feel emotional pain like I haven't in a long time. I said the blog would be moving in a different direction definitely because the chronic illness had taken a lead role in my life and was leading it on a whole new path in. It's also because I knew that I needed to blog in a more upfront and personal way. A few years back I remember I'd write in a journal but for a while I refused to write in it at all because I didn't feel safe enough to write what I truly wanted to and decided I wouldn't write fluff. Then one day I opened the journal, wrote all the stuff I had wanted to write only to go back a few months later and tear it all out. I don't feel like I can help others understand what it's like to live the way I do and not be completely open. Most of all, I can't help me. This doesn't mean I would say or do things that would jeopardize my future or that I might regret saying, it just means having a little less pride and being a whole lot more honest. One important piece of information that I was leaving out of my blogging was the dysfunction of my childhood family and its affects on me today. I love my parents and would not want to hurt them, just like I don't think they mean to hurt me. Unfortunately, they failed to protect me as a child and still do today. I haven't given up hope that I might soon get somewhere with them but I do not have a relationship with my brother or sister.

I grew up in the "scapegoat" role and had nearly overcome it (I thought) until I became sick and became once again, easy prey. I had many traits that deep down I knew were the result of my upbringing, for instance working tirelessly to prove to my boss that I was a great employee even though she'd never give me the benefit of the doubt. In fact, on my last day at work the HR Manager finally admitted to me that my boss had a policy changed partially because of something she had wrongly believed about me, this after I had confronted them both on several occasions about how I knew this was the case. It will take me a long time to get over hanging on to a job for so long knowing my boss believed something about me that she wouldn't admit or allow me to disprove. It hits too close to home. Someday I hope to let my former boss know what I think of her but for now Eric is making me promise to wait until my SSDI is all set. Yes, she could be evil enough to lie, lying is one thing she does best.

Even more painful is the fact that as a result of my childhood, I have held so many people at arms length because I feared how they might hurt me if I let them in. Believe it or not, this changed only because of a bad thing. If you don't believe I'm really opening myself up, here it comes. I truly allowed myself to openly trust and love my friends when I found out Pam had cancer and was secretly realizing there had to be something wrong with my health too. That was when I realized I had made friends that I truly would do anything for and even though I knew Pam would be okay in the end, the pain I felt at knowing what she would have to go through to get better was heart wrenching. I knew that I could barely get my own work done but would do anything to help Pam that I knew how so I offered to do as much of her work as I could. That's when I started to open up and started really allowing myself to trust these friends more than I've trusted a friend since I was in junior high.

So, if you know me well you know my pride is one thing I hold onto dearly. I don't walk out of the house without makeup on(which at least 1 doctor has told me doesn't help my case) and I find it difficult to admit I might need a little help. I've made friends over the years because they wouldn't give up on me, even when I made it damn near impossible (Susi, that's you). No matter how we came to be friends, those of you who are reading this most likely have some personal connection to me. Thank you for your help, it means more than I can say. I have a lot of work to do on myself, on letting down my guard, my pride and sometimes asking for help but I swear I am getting better. Many of you have reminded me that I have shoulders to cry on and have no doubt, I'll be a shoulder or a call away anytime for any of you too.

Here's to a new era for Amy's blog. And for those of you unsure of what my chronic illness is here's an abridged overview so if you have actually run out of interesting things to do you can google away! I have a problem with my autonomic system, which controls many of the subconscious activities a human body does. I was first diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome, then Vasomotor Rhinitis, then simultaneously the big ones, POTS- Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia and RSD- Reflexive Sympathetic Dystrophy. Those last two are the ha ha's that tied everything together. A few months later it was discovered I have adrenal insufficiency. I take a bunch of meds and unfortunately one is prednisone. Adrenal Insufficiency is the supposed easiest of my 3 major illnesses to treat but not treating it could result in death. 3 years ago I weighed 127 lbs. When I left my job in Feb I had gained a few lbs from my settled non-dieting weight of around 135lbs to about 143ish. Today, just about 6 weeks later I weigh around 163 lbs! This is setting off a new slew of testing and advocating for a different med, which so far isn't going well. This is part of what having a chronic illness is all about. I'm told I can't stop the med or I'll die. If I don't stop the med how long before I can't walk from the pain on my RSD riddled right hip, leg and foot? This is the reality I am willing to share with you all now (actually, I had to or you'd have thought I was pregnant). Just kidding, I want to share and hopefully someone else out there new to chronic illness will happen upon this site and find some shared experiences comforting. Who knows?

And so, tomorrow begins the next step.

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.

Limping Along

Well, tis the season for sitting on Santa's lap. We took the kids to visit and get their photo this weekend.
I got a special surprise when two of my "other children" gave me a special photo of them sitting on Santa's lap. I laughed so hard it hurt. It doesn't take much. They really aren't kids at all, as the photo will tell, but I have the great pleasure of working with them and supervising them.


I have to admit that my previous optimism over my health problems has waned over the past few days. Unfortunately, I had placed too much stock and hope in the second opinion I went for from a neurologist in Portland. I realized too late that I had been expecting that visit to be the light at the end of the tunnel and hadn't really prepared myself for anything but that. He wasn't bad, but certainly not promising in delivering any more answers. He wasn't even willing to answer me when I asked outright what the worst case scenario is, and if the possibility exists that I could die. I don't spend too much time contemplating dying, but it does occasionally enter my mind that the longer I wait for answers, the further along something catastrophic could be getting. It hasn't helped that my current pain medications are starting to fail and I am struggling to even walk now. I have accepted that I likely have a permanent limp and I can handle that, but the pain is not something I am willing to accept. I use a cane to walk in the house and now have to seriously consider if I am ready to start using it in public. I also have a tremor in my hand that before came and went, but now seems to be here for good. The neurologist told me that I have carpal tunnel syndrome and even suggested that my tremor might be anxiety. That was just plain stupid! First of all, the fact that I have carpal tunnel is not even worth my time to think about. It is so mild compared to everything else that I could care less about it. Second of all, the only thing I even worry about is talking to doctors, since everything else seems mild in comparison. If it was anxiety, I can't help but think it would be in both hands, not just in my affected side. I don't believe I even have the ability to be stressed or anxious about life and work, even though he kept alluding to the idea that I have a stressful job.

I have learned to live in the moment and really think only about today, every day. I have found ways to be nurturing and available to my children that don't need much physical exertion. In a nutshell, I have LET GO of many of my own expectations and worrying about whether people think I am a good mother, wife or employee. That is one of the positive changes I have seen from all of this. For the first time I have realized what it means to really stop and "smell the roses". I sit more and listen to my children, watching and just letting them know that I love them. It's hard to believe that before I was so busy trying to be "Supermom" that I missed many of the really special moments. Yeah, my house isn't as clean, but overall it isn't bad. I just take shortcuts wherever I can. I am still hopeful (naive?) but discouraged with the doctors. I have so many things in life to be grateful for and I don't intend to let anything stop me from enjoying them. I am not sure what the next step is for me with doctors and testing, but I guess in a few days I'll figure it out and move on. For today, I will do my best to muddle through the pain and look forward to celebrating my birthday with Eric for a few days in Kennebunkport.

Johnny the Superhero

I have only gotten to wear 2 johnny's this week, that is if you consider the cape like contraption I wore today a johnny. (Of course, it is only Thursday so there is hope I'll get called to wear another one tomorrow!) The nurse called it a Johnny, but it was really a cape with one tiny snap in the front. If it hadn't been covered in brightly colored flowers, was made of yarn and worn over the rest of my clothing, I may have actually liked it. I wore this for my mammogram and at one point when the nurse had flipped it back over my shoulders I told her I felt like a superhero with a flowery cape. The really great news is that my mammogram came out positive, nothing to worry about. And, if I do say so myself, my boobs look even better on film!

Yesterday I had a second cortisone shot in my neck. Since I was well prepared for the johnny and the back bearing, I had Eric write out a message for the doctor on my back. It said, "What's up Doc?" I think the doctor must expect just about anything because he took it in stride, even though I have noticed that he has a great sense of humor. Speaking of humor, the amount of time I spend going to doctors and the hospital for tests is getting beyond ridiculous. That and the frequent phone calls. When I told the receptionist at work I was going to the hospital again today she just shook her head in dismay. I told her I like to spend my spare time there, and I am getting to know a lot of people. Next week I have two appointments, so far. It's almost hard to believe that a year ago I would've done just about anything to avoid doctors and didn't take any medications, not even a vitamin. I don't even sweat it anymore when I have to bare naked parts, get injected, or subject myself to boob smooshage.

I have been working on knitting but things are getting done much slower than usual. I went through a knitting funk for a week or so where nothing seemed to turn out right. I started a second sock for "Mini Me" and realized that somehow I had counted wrong and had done several more rows of ribbing than I was supposed to. I switched over to a pair of mitts for my nephew but couldn't seem to get into it. It suddenly came to me a few nights ago that I really needed to knit with something extra soft and that would fix my "problem". I immediately came up with an idea and resurrected the angora that I bought at Spa last year. That seems to be just what I needed. I am making a hooded scarf with it and I'm almost done with the hood! I had forgotten how soft and utterly amazing this yarn is to knit with. I am already trying to think of another project so I can pick up some more at SPA this year. Eventually, I'll need to finish the sock and the mitts. I think my nephew will cast me out of the family if I don't make him those mitts soon. I have worked on several smaller projects and I am totally itching to make a sweater. I haven't decided what sweater I'll make, but immediately after the Xmas knitting is done, I will be casting on.

It's a birthday tree

When I was a child and went to visit my grandparents one of the things we would do around this time of year was go out and cut a birthday tree for my mother and I. My grandmother died when I was 8 and my grandfather died a year later when I was 9. Although the house my grandfather built was still in the family, there wasn't the same tie that brought us all together at that house in North New Portland.
Today Eric and I took the kids up there for the first time. We went up Millay Hill Road, where generations of my mother's family lived, back then without electricity or plumbing. In recent years electricity has been brought part way up the hill but there is still this vast forest up that hill that is relatively untouched and primitive. My cousin and his wife live up there, a hefty walk into the woods with solar panels providing electricity and hot water. My grandparents house is at the bottom of the hill, currently owned by another cousin and occupied only a few times a year. Across the field is a farm house where my great grandmother lived when I was very young.
It was hard to imagine that I had never brought my children there before. Tradition is very important to me and I try to pass on as much to my children as I can. Even though 25 years have passed since my grandparents were alive, the land and house still hold vivid memories for me. It was a long drive, 2 hours each way, to get a birthday tree. But the tree is special, because it came from Millay Hill Road in North New Portland, one of the most special places on earth. It's been over 25 years since I have had one of these.

Johnny my love

I've gotten one on my neck, one on my hip, three on my lower back, and today I got one on my chest. Nope, those aren't tattoos, those are the x-rays I have gotten over the past few months. Two were just this week. By the time I was crawling into my third johnny of the week earlier today, I couldn't help but hum that ol' Liz Fair tune, "Dance of the Seven Veils"
Johhny my love, get out of the business
It makes me wanna rough you up so badly
Makes me wanna roll you up in plastic
Toss you up and pump you full of lead

This was moments after a phone conversation with my PCP where she was instructing me to go for the chest x-ray and telling me it's time to get "aggressive". I adore her, but part of me wanted to say "huh huh, when did that become apparent?" I am thinking of the mounting medical bills from all of the CT scans, lumbar puncture, blood tests, EMG, nerve conduction and x-rays. Not to mention the several doctors and physical therapy, which I failed. Not only am I getting weary of the radiology dept at CMMC and inconclusive tests, but dammit I HATE johnny's!

Earlier this week I donned one to get a cortisone shot in my neck, where I might have arthritis. I am waiting patiently for that to work so that I can go next week to do it all again. I am also waiting for the radiology dept to tell me when I can pay them another visit for a diagnostic mammogram and an ultrasound of my heart. The mammogram is on the advice of my neurologist deciding that although he doesn't think I have breast cancer, he can't figure out what might me causing my problems so maybe I have breast cancer, of course, not that he thinks so, but it could explain those things. (that was almost a direct quote, without the hands up in the air, baffled look attached) It's almost become an office joke that I spend all my lunches at the doctor's or radiology dept. Sometimes I do both. I am not concerned so much about the breast cancer, since I have almost had MS, arthritis, fibromayalgia, swollen lymph nodes and probably a few other things I've forgotten. I definitely have pinched nerves and can't walk without limping, but I don't know why. I've come to the conclusion that it's better not to worry until I get something worth worrying about.

The highlight of my adventures to the x-ray room was definitely today. Usually I get to keep my bra on under my johnny, but not today. No, I got to bare all under that bare thread tablecloth with strings I had wrapped around me. Not only did I get to sport that God awful contraption in an upright position, but the x-ray was pointing right at the spot that would prove to the world that my anatomy is not quite as perky as it used to be. The part that almost did me in (sometimes I swear I'm going to laugh myself to death) was when I got to sit in a chair a few feet away from some workmen doing demolition on the x-ray room. Yes, I must have looked so regal there in my johnny, boobs on my lap staring awkwardly askance, pretending to have a great fascnination with the clock, strategically keeping my gaze away from the men at work. One thing I have learned, modesty flies out of the window when you have the "great mysterious illness".

But no matter what, I will still reign supreme as the Queen of the backyard hot tub!

Emily's Meme keeps going...

I am going to keep this Meme going since that is the point of a meme. To find out more, check out Emily's blog here:
http://chickwithsticks.typepad.com/my_weblog/2008/11/meme.html

Then if anyone reading this is so inclined, consider continuing it. Please let me know if you do! The challenge for me is keeping the answers to one word. That leaves some of the answers open to different interpretations.

Where is your mobile phone? purse
Where is your significant other? diningroom
Your hair color? dirty
Your mother? nurturing
Your father? wise
Your favorite thing? family
Your dream last night? work
Your dream goal? retirement
The room you’re in? livingroom
Your hobby? knitting
Your fear? unknown
Where do you want to be in 6 years? self-employed
Where were you last night? home
What you’re not? untruthful
One of your wish-list items? steady-gait
Where you grew up? Topsham
The last thing you did? processed
What are you wearing? legwarmers!
Your TV? off
Your pets? rambunctious
Your computer? works
Your mood? BRAZEN
Missing someone? grammy
Your car? red
Something you’re not wearing? tiara
Favourite shop? TKE
Your summer? short
Love someone? many
Your favourite color? periwinkle
When is the last time you laughed? 2:30
When is the last time you cried? doctor's

A Big Red Wolf I'd Rather Be

Serendipity is my all time favorite word. That and the form I most often it use it in, serendipitous. That's the word that came to mind when I got home from the library yesterday with a children's book and only then realized it was perfectly fitting for my mood. It was just serendipitous! I grabbed it off the shelf for two reasons, the title was "The Red Wolf" and the illustration on the cover was beautiful. I thought my son would enjoy it. When My son and I opened it up a short time later, I was delighted to find myself reading a story about a young girl knitting herself into a wolf costume in order to handle the great "wild world". I quickly decided that I was meant to find this book right at this moment.

I have always been a somewhat mild mannered person. I treat others the way I wanted to be treated only to often find myself falling "victim" to bullies and aggressive people who don't operate in kind. Over the past several weeks I have watched in somewhat slack jawed surprise as my meekness has slipped away, leaving a more confident and empowered me. I have wondered what was it that finally made me feel this good about standing up for myself! At first I felt horrible when I raised my voice in order to be heard. But yet, I did it again when another "doctor" refused to listen to me. It was then I realized that I had done something amazing, I had started letting others know that I am a person too. Since then, I haven't let any opportunity pass to stand up for myself when its been warranted. I have never felt so empowered in all my life. I have stood up to doctors and medical professionals several times without shrinking back. I have whole-heartedly declared that my chronic pain has nothing to do with depression and stood my ground in the face of huge circumspect. For the first time I didn't care whether I could convince someone else or not because I was convinced and that was all that mattered. It has even made me stronger at work and in other parts of my life. The more I stand up for myself, the better I feel, regardless of the chronic pain I have every day. Even though I have this pain, I am not a victim, not of whatever illness this is or of anyone else. Throughout my entire life I felt it was better to give in rather than cause strife, but I have finally realized that I can treat others the way I want to be treated yet still demand the same respect. I am telling the world, I am soooo the opposite of depressed, even though medically speaking I should be. I think my frequent flier miles at doctor's offices finally brought out this other side of me and it's one of the best things to have happened to me!

So anyone who loves knitting and wants to read a great children's story about being empowered through knitting, check out this book. "The Red Wolf" by Margaret Shannon.

From Publishers Weekly A canny seven-year-old princess and a trunkful of knitting wool bring down the house or, more accurately, the castle tower in this cleverly told tale. Locked up by her father to protect her from the dangers of the world, the princess Roselupin knits her magic birthday yarn into a fuzzy red wolf suit. "If the world's too wild for the likes of me,/ Then a BIG RED WOLF I'd rather be," she says. Becoming a red wolf so big she bursts right out of her tower, Roselupin revels in a day (and night) of freedom. But the next morning, in a development explained only in the illustrations, a thread catches on a twig and the princess's suit unravels. Captive again, the imperturbable Roselupin uses more yarn to knit her father "a rather mousy-looking pair of pajamas." The final picture shows a forlorn mouse in a crown gazing out the window as Roselupin runs to join a circle of children in the town square. Shannon's (Gullible's Troubles) antic mixed-media art will have readers howling, too; in one spread, the gargantuan wolf revels in a dazzling selection of baked goods offered by courtiers who seem lilliputian by comparison. The old-world castle town and the dark forest are the stuff of classic fairy tales, but Shannon's sly humor and resourceful heroine are eminently her own. Ages 4-8.
Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information, Inc.

A Super Garden Gnome with Glow In the Dark Teeth

Well, the countdown to Halloween is here. Only a few days left to make sure that everything is ready to go. I have gone over my checklist and made sure I have all that I need. I have even knit and felted a gnome hat. True to his character, my youngest has been building onto his ensemble so that he will indeed, be the strangest child on the streets this Friday night. I originally suggested that he be a garden gnome for Halloween. He quickly embraced the idea and began to notice and collect gnomes where ever he could. Then he decided that he must have a cape, so he became Super Garden Gnome. Then last week he came home with glow in the dark vampire teeth, and added that to the costume. This weekend we picked up some silly glasses. I am almost scared to see what he'll come up with next. I have a sneaking suspicion it may have something to do with his new long johns, which he insisted he needed after seeing his dad wearing some on Saturday. I can just picture it now, a long john wearing super caped garden gnome with harry potter glasses and glow in the dark teeth, oh and did I forget the camouflage belt? He is so different than my other two children, who are content to go as a football player and snow princess. Usually I can't even get them to wear a whole costume.

As for knitted projects, I've gotten a few things done.
An Alpaca hat, which I made for a friend's birthday and then stealthily kept for myself. I'll eventually get over the guilt.

A pair of Football mitts out of some stash I had lying around. No, not Stash the kitty although he did come out for the photo.

I also finished my Maine sweater a few weeks ago and an ear flap hat for Eric. I'll get pics soon.

I am currently working on a sweater for my son's 10th birthday, coming up in a week and a half. I am loving fair isle right now and will try to throw some into the sweater. I bought the yarn and colors before I had a plan and fair isle seems like a nice way to bring the colors into play in a creative way.

Time Out

It seems fitting that the weather is changing and the landscape is beginning to take on the look of fall. I have done a lot of my own changing while I adjust to getting to know a new me and accepting that I have a chronic illness. It didn't just happen, in fact for months I have avoided people like the plague and for years I have dealt with a variety of symptoms that come and go. It's only now that I can say with a certain level of acceptance that I am living with this. I like routine and knowing what to expect but I also do well with small amounts of change and usually get excited about what I might learn. That is the attitude I am attempting to garner here as I face an uncertain future and adjustment to my long term goals. I am also waiting for a name for my illness though I strongly suspect I know what lurks here. With luck, it won't be much longer. I haven't posted in a while because I have searched for the proper opening to what is going on with me. In some posts I left it out but that didn't seem like the thing to keep doing. It is not my intention to solicit sympathy just to offer an excuse for a somewhat noticeable change in my behavior that is difficult to explain in regular conversation.

In the meantime, I do not have a lot to show in the way of knitting but there are a few things I've been working on. I am rediscovering my passion for reading which had taken a backseat to knitting the past couple of years. I go back and forth between the two past times now and even though this is hard for me to believe, I have gone an entire day or two (or more, I've lost count) in the past few weeks without knitting. I also mixed in a trip to Disney World with the family a couple weeks ago. My plan was to make a bunch of baby hats for charity but I was so busy I managed to make half of one the entire week!

I've made two pairs of mittens in Noro for The Littles (my two younger children), but have already lost one of the second pair!

Alpaca Mitts for me,

A catnip light saber for my new kitty, Stash (I was originally thinking of naming him Darth). He doesn't quite like it yet, instead he fears the force...

and finally started working on my gray sweater again that was started in July. I am pinching myself because I wrote the pattern but cannot find it anywhere. I convinced myself last night that the sweater can still be finished (just the sleeves are left) and I have enough information to get by. As for my hope of sharing it with others, nada. It'll probably turn up in my son's bedroom around next April or so, along with the other mitten.

I am making myself finish the sweater. Once that is done I can move on to new projects. I have plans to knit a felted hat for my son's Halloween costume, a sweater for my oldest and then start Christmas presents. It doesn't seem like I am starting as early as I had planned this year. Hmmmm.