Finishes

This finish from last Sunday thrilled me, and a whole lot of other people.

Then, through the week, I managed to finish three knitting projects:

Granted, the shawl and the sweater were "just" blocking. . .

I don't think anyone in the annals of knitting abhors blocking as much as me.

Realization

After having a cavity filled yesterday morning, I stopped by Barnes & Noble to just look around.  I ran into a former student who works there, and we stopped to chat.  Except I had very, very, very little to talk about.  My life is nothing, basically.  There is nothing happening.

How do I change that when all is black?

Mind Over Mind

My worst bouts of depression manifest themselves in the unquenchable thirst for sleep.  Even though the logical, educated part of my brain knows that what I'm feeling is depression, and it would be possible to fight through, the despair is so overwhelming and deep that I can't move.  Sitting and staring is as far as I get, and the hopelessness consumes me.  If I can't get away from it, I'm certain that this time, it will swallow me whole.  So I sleep.

Today, I have slept.

With This Ring

Last Friday, I had a few errands and appointments I had to take care of.  It was going to be the first day out of the house since the ice storm.  Though there were still substantial amounts of ice and snow in yards, streets were traversable.  I chose this sweater to wear:

My mother made it.  The colors are purple, lime and white.  Which led me into her jewelry box to stare at this ring:

.

Daddy made it for her because, from top to bottom, it holds Briton's, mine and Hannah's birthstones: opal, amethyst, pearl.  A lovely idea for a Grandma, but a perplexing gift.  Daddy was intensely superstitious, and one of the most serious jewel superstitions is that no one should wear opals unless they are their birthstone.  Otherwise, they bring bad luck.  Why he had the ring made for her, whose birthstone was aquamarine. . .  It just had to be for the symbolism.  I don't know if she ever wore it.

Friday morning, I decided to.  The ring matched the sweater perfectly, and it was Valentine's Day.  Briton and Hannah are my only two Valentines.  And I hadn't worn an amethyst on my birthday.

That day, I fell on our icy sidewalk.  I am still in stiff soreness, and the bruises (from head to thighs) are beginning to come in in all tints and tones of purple and green and milky yellow.  Opalescent, one might say.

That day, as I was lying in a hot epsom salt bath to try to get ahead of the aches, the toilet made a very peculiar gulping, burping sound, and began to overflow.  I am no speedster out of the tub anyway, so you can imagine how glacial were my tries to get out and to the toilet before the floor was flooded.  I was late.  And by the time I got everything mopped up, the bath was cold.  And I was out of epsom salts.

Then, that was the night of the earthquake.

I will never wear that ring again.

Did This Really Happen?

The sun came out yesterday and began stripping a lot of the ice from the trees and ground.  Almost like the whole storm didn't happen.  It's funny how that goes. . .

(Those are the lights of Athens Proper in the distance there.)  The steps in the center photo?  I shoveled them off yesterday and there was a solid 4" of ice on each one.  The ice also extends onto the sidewalk and most of the driveway, as those parts of the house aren't ever in the sun.  In fact, when I took the dogs out this morning, Finn headed for the mailbox, and when I hit the sidewalk, well. . .  I hit the sidewalk.  Glasses went flying, left shoulder and the back of my head hit simultaneously.  It seems I clenched my teeth on the way down, too, as my left jaw is aching.  Frankly, I'm too old for that.

Lots of people have so much more snow and bad weather than us --- hopefully, they're all safe and warm and have lots to keep them entertained. 

And for what it's worth, I still think snow is beautiful.

A Very Merry UnBirthday

Today is the 54th birthday I've had, and it has been such an unbirthday-feeling one.  Weather trumps age:

Sleet, sleet and more sleet.  All day.  And still pelting down.  I know it looks like snow, but, trust me, it's solid ice.  Those columns, which would normally give me a place to steady myself as I went down the front steps, are coated.  Not to mention the steps themselves.  Fortunately, I still have power, and none of the big pines around the house have come down.  But this has meant no travel, no visit with, or from, Briton and Hannah.  No one to eat my birthday cake with me:

But, on the other hand, it's been a snow day*, and I got all the cake to myself.

I saved my KnitCrate envelope that arrived the other day

so I'd have something to open today:

Pretty, pretty, pretty merino, silk and possum yarn, raw honey (which tastes heavenly) and chocolate tea.  I have yet to be disappointed in a KnitCrate shipment.

For now, I'm listening to the sleet (although most radars all day have shown Athens as getting snow;  don't know what's up with that), finishing up a disc of "Elementary", and alternating between working on my cardigan and my shawl.  Not all that bad, even if not too birthday-y.



*Even though I stay home most days, somehow, a snow day seems completely different.

Well. . .

. . . More winter weather is coming our way.  Ice, it would seem, which is multiple-times-over worse than snow.  Lots of schools and businesses are already closing tomorrow and the next day,  though nothing at all is coming down right now.

I had an appointment this morning for a teeth-cleaning, which I got in and out of rather quickly, but only after being told I needed a filling in one of my upper back teeth.  After that, I went to the grocery, and it was nuts.  Everybody is being hyper-reactive.  Me, I just wanted to get my Rice Krispies treats and bananas and come home.  And put on a comfortable shirt:

I do have to get out tomorrow, weather permitting, to go to the endocrinologist.  And then go pick up my birthday cake.  (Yes, I buy my own birthday cake.  I have since Dale died.)  Then I'm done with having to go out for a couple of days.  

Any birthday plans depend on the ice that's supposed to be here then.  Hannah has to work, so it doesn't look like we'll all be able to get together.  

The Skagit cardigan is coming along nicely:

A couple of rows were done at the dentist's, much to the fascination of a lady with me in the waiting room.

Also making good progress on a shawl pattern from shelby knits.  The pebbles and sand colors are coming out so nicely;  I'm very happy with how it looks:

Oh, What A Week, What A Week

Feline health crisis.  Got a phone call Sunday afternoon from a FRANTIC daughter, sobbing that her cat was sick.  She begged me to come take her and him to the emergency vet.  A 45-minute drive on my part, despite the fact that she has a roommate.  But, I figured, sometimes you just need your mom.  So, I went.

An inexplicable and infuriating delay at the vet later, there was no real answer about what was wrong with Klunk.  He was given fluids, and Daughter was directed to get in touch with her usual vet the next day.  The emergency vet would fax the paperwork about what had been done on Sunday.

It was a tense, blubbering, completely exasperating afternoon/night.

The roommate took Daughter and Klunk to the vet on Monday, where Klunk was found to have a fever and bacteria in his bladder.  More fluids, antibiotics --- vet wants to see him again Tuesday.  Daughter is relieved at getting a possible answer, and Klunk begins to act more normally.

Tuesday was the day Daughter and I had been planning to take the shopping trip to Atlanta.  She asked if I would take her and the cat to the follow-up visit, then, depending on the vet's word, maybe we could go on with our plans.

Another drive, more time in a waiting room, but the word is good.  Fever gone.  He's eating.  No need to see him for 2 more weeks.

Now, here's something you should know about me.  I am good in a crisis.  Really good.  But when the crisis is for sure over, the adrenaline drains away and I crash.  In any number of ways.  After the craziness/pressure on Sunday, I awoke on Monday with a pulverizing headache.  It was worse on Tuesday, when I had to make the "health commute" again.  By the time the cat was in the clear and we were on the way to the Mall of Georgia, it was all I could do to hold my head steady.  

After we ate, we went into Barnes & Noble, where I promptly vomited from the pain.  No movie.  No pearl ring.  A peeved daughter.

And I still have The Headache.  Fifth day now.

Mile Markers

Next month, Dale and I would have celebrated our 30th anniversary.  The 30th anniversary is "Pearl."  A couple of months ago, I decided I would buy myself a nice pearl ring to commemorate.  First, though, I needed to take off my wedding band, which hasn't left my finger in these 29+ years.

When Dale died, I wouldn't take the ring off because I thought it would be disrespectful to him, and, especially, to the children.  Over the years, as I've gained weight, my finger reached the  point where the ring wouldn't even move.  I couldn't get it off my finger now matter how many ways, or how hard, I tried.

When the pearl ring idea occurred to me, I asked both Briton and Hannah for permission to take off my band.  They both said it would be okay, so, the other night, I cut it off.  Into two halves, so each of them could have one.

Oddly, I didn't feel anything emotionally.  I suppose when you've been a widow longer than you were a wife, those types of things happen.  

Physically, though, there is no feeling around the bottom of my ring finger.  That's how tight the ring had become.  Hopefully, that will change now.

Tomorrow, Hannah and I are supposed to go shopping in Atlanta.  I'll be looking for a new ring.