2008

What I Let Go Of In 2008

1. My hair.
2. Most of my comfort zones.
   
3. Getting up early every morning.
4. A clean house.
5. Pants that fit right.
6. The ABC-Along, after the letter J.
7. Sleeping curled up on my stomach.
8. A ten-hour work day.
9. Reading books that require an attention span.
10. Doing almost anything that requires an attention span.
11. Spontaneity and some of my independence.
12. Living beyond this moment.

What I Found In 2008

1. Endometrial cancer.
2. Open eyes and heart.
3. The benefits of patience.
4. Dr. Michael Pearl.
5. The blessings and kindness of an army of knitters.
6. That there is always good news somewhere.
7. Compazine.
8. Love and care from my friends.
9. Chocolate milk.
10. New ways to trust.
11. Precious times with my sisters and nieces.
12. Acceptance of most everything that has come my way.

Thank you all for making this strange, powerful journey with me. You're wise and wonderful, every single one of you.
May 2009 be filled with hope and health for all of us!

Still here

I grew something.

What else I have been up to: A little knitting (gifts), working at the bookstore (as often as I can), resting (more often these days), having tests and scans and chemotherapy (good results), preparing for a minimalist Christmas (I've taken "keep it simple" to a new level), and watching my collection of holiday movies (I never tire of "Meet Me in St. Louis," "Love Actually," and "Christmas in Connecticut").

Next week, in between Christmas and New Year's Day, I'll be treated to a visit from my nieces Amy and Sophie. They're coming to stay with me during my next round of chemo (what a thrill, eh?). I haven't seen them in forever!
~:~
With best wishes and blessings and peace to all of you on this Christmas Eve --
Love, Jane

Emerging

My Christmas Cactus bloomed on Election Day this year -- a good, healthy omen. The flowers looked like angels, or birds. This plant astonishes and delights me every single year!

Life is so hectic these days -- with work (busy as we prepare for Thanksgiving weekend), and chemo (going well; four down, three to go), and the Knitter's Review Fall Retreat (I've started sorting and packing, and I can't wait to get on the road!) -- I don't know where the time has gone.

I have a little knitting on needles, but nothing to show and tell. My goal is to have something simple to knit while I'm at the Retreat (socks, of course), along with an idea for a more complicated project to start while I'm there. I'm on the way to finishing up a pair of socks that I might take along. There's a little spinning going on, too -- some Spirit Trail Targhee/Silk/Alpaca/Cashmere roving that's been marinating in my fiber stash for long enough. We'll see.

My sister Ellen came to stay last week, while I had chemo. I love having my sisters around me. I'm surrounded by so many wonderful people all the time, but there's something special about being with a sister, who can giggle with me and tell me that now that I don't have any hair, I look just like our grandmother (no, she wasn't bald!).

There's a little more packing I can do before it gets dark, and before I lose the rest of my momentum. All is well enough, and I'm so pleased that I can travel a little, work, and enjoy the good days. I wish the same for you!

Swirling

My (very late) Rhinebeck report:

This is the only picture I took. We had a wonderful time! I managed to maintain enough energy to make it up and down and around the fairgrounds on both Saturday and Sunday, and the four of us enjoyed our meals at the Eveready Diner and Gigi Trattoria (best calamari ever). There was some consumption of maple sugar cotton candy, but no artichokes. We'll take the cotton candy.

Short but very sweet visits were had with the crew at Spirit Trail, both during the show and back at the motel (oh, those scones Lanea made!). I didn't make many purchases -- a bit of fiber from Botanical Shades, a Grafton corriedale batt, and some pretties from Lavender Trifles -- but I did come home with a beautiful pair of Sheila and Michael Ernst's glass knitting needles. Now to find something worthy of knitting on US 7's...


Back at home, I finally photographed the Honeycomb Hat I made before I left. It's so comfortable and warm that I'm wearing it right now. It's cold today, even indoors.


This is the neckwarmer I'm knitting to match. It's a simple Mistake Rib, round and round, which is all my chemo-brain can handle right now. Chemo brain explains everything if you want it to, and it's as good an excuse as any for being forgetful and distracted!


I like the way the trees outside my house look woven, like a basket. The colors are almost at their peak here, and the wind blowing the leaves on these stormy days gives off an energy that's hard to resist. I'll take some, store it up, and use it later, thank you. It seems that Autumn is whirling and swirling past at a crazy pace -- or is it just me?

It's time to move on to thoughts of the Knitter's Review Fall Retreat -- in just a few weeks I'll be in Williamstown, MA for a weekend with my peeps. Better get started on that class homework!

Time for a break

Waiting Socks, Working

They did their job well during chemo last time -- every time I looked down at my feet I felt better, and they kept me warm, too. Two treatments down, five to go.

That photo will have to represent all the knitting I've been doing. I haven't had time to photograph the three hats in Malabrigo and two in Morehouse Merino that I've completed for this year's Knitters Review Retreat charity project. I don't have a picture of the Honeycomb Hat in The Knitter's Book of Yarn that I made for my own hairless head in a lovely plummy shade of Sundara's Aran Silky Merino. (Hmm, my hat looks almost like Clara's!) I'm trying to finish the second blue Hedgerow sock for one of the Remarkable R's before we leave for Rhinebeck on Friday. She wore the first one last year, so I think it's about time she had the pair, don't you?

Rhinebeck is my goal for the week. I'm working my way towards it in a methodical way. Do this much at work. Get that many hours of sleep. Pace myself with the laundry and the errands. On Friday afternoon I'll be fetched by Judy and the R's, and off we'll go on our yearly adventure. Road trip + yarn and fiber sniffing + good food x four friends = a blissful blast! I hope to get to spend a little time with Jen, Martha, Lanea, Beth, and Purlewe, and I hope I'll run into lots of fellow knitting friends.

It finally occurred to me that I am in dire need of a break from my life. Just a wee one will do for now. My world has been constrained since June, confined to a little corner. I spend all my time tending to the necessary concerns of my health and my spirit, which is as it needs to be. This is my chance to break free for a little while, and it comes at at time when I have some energy and I'm experiencing relatively few side effects.

The chemo cycle starts again next Thursday. At the beginning of all this, when I counted the days on the calendar, I was relieved to find that Rhinebeck and the KR Retreat fall in between treatments. That one-week delay made all the difference! I don't want to mess up the schedule, so I just have to make sure I take really good care of myself, and that my blood counts stay high enough each week (there's only so much I can do about that, but I like to think I am in charge of my bone marrow, you know).

Time to get on with the day, I suppose. There's work to do at the store, and since I'm grateful for every spare bit of energy I have for it, I'm happy to do it!

Two beautiful things

Sunset on the last day of summer.

Warm cat fur.

Randomness (like Sandy, only I don't do it as well):

1. It's now officially my favorite time of the year.
2. Rhinebeck is less than a month away.
3. Judy and the Remarkable R's and I have had our motel reservations since last October. We reserved the same room in the same little place.
4. I am knitting too many things at once. I might have to stop starting new projects.
5. I am constitutionally incapable of that.
6. Saltines and cottage cheese are not stuff to live on. Thank goodness that's over for now.
7. I don't think I have a wish list to take to Rhinebeck. I'm just pleased that I will be there.
8. There are a few people who I can't wait to see.
9. I love Zappos. I ordered three pairs of shoes late yesterday afternoon and they'll arrive today. I'll return the ones I don't want. Almost instant shopping gratification makes me happy.
10. It's time to get a move on if I want to get to work at a decent hour.

No longer waiting

I had been like this little fellow, just at the edge of the waves. I wanted to go in, get started, get my feet wet, but I had to wait. I had the procedure to implant a port in my chest (it's a little disk under my skin, with a line that runs up my jugular vein and under my collarbone -- all the cool kids have them, you know). And then I waited. Again.

My sister Sarah came to help me through the first session of chemo, but it was a week before I could start. That was a terrible week of waiting, and she helped me stay sane. I was all ready, fully-coping with this next big idea. The port was - and still is, at times - uncomfortable and frustrating, so in the end we were glad that I didn't go from the operating room to the chemo room on that Thursday.


My first treatments were a week ago, on Thursday and Friday. On that first day I was a little giddy, not knowing what to expect or feel. I wasn't scared, exactly, or perhaps I was beyond that, but I did know that the only thing to do was to go into that big room and get on with it.

That day turned out to be one of the most amazing and powerful days I've ever had. Once I was there, in my comfortable chair, surrounded by six or eight other women just like me, I relaxed and let the day unfold. I really felt like it was unfolding, too - each next new thing had its place, all the drips and the drugs and the soft talking and the quiet, all the dozing and the reading and the knitting, the short conversations, the passing of time. I remember smiling; it was that big.

When that first day was over, when the last drop had dripped, Rho brought me home and I slept to be ready for the next day, and more of the same. And then when that day was over, Judy brought me home and I lived a lost weekend. What I wonder about chemotherapy after my one encounter with it is this: is it ironic that I am assaulting my body with chemicals, and feeling this way, so I won't get sick again? Or is it just what it is, a means to a good end? From my perspective on the other side of that lost weekend, I'm glad I was there, and glad I am here.



So about the knitting ... I'm still crazy about the Narragansett Bay - Lisa Lloyd - Fine Fleece patterns. These are the socks, in beautiful Foxfire Fibre Fox Sox yarn. The color is called Willow. I'm going to work on the second sock this week and see if I can get it finished.



When the new Knitty came out, I was drawn to the Abby Cowl by Amy Singer. It seemed simple enough, and I knew I had to have some yarn in my stash that would work. A special ball of Qiviut rolled out of its silk bag and right on to my needles. I'm not sure if I have as much yarn as I'll need to make it the full 16", but I can always stop when I run out. I think I'll be warm enough no matter what.


This is the almost-finished pair of socks that I have been calling my Waiting Socks. The yarn is Sundara's Tulip colorway. I cast on on May 27th, and since then they have been my waiting room knitting for every appointment, procedure, test, and treatment. I want to finish them too, so I can wear them to keep my feet warm the next time I am reclining in that comfy chair at the oncologist's office.

I'm sending thanks and love to everyone who has been keeping me in their thoughts and sending juju - the comfort and support I get from all that energy keeps me going. I've been spending this week learning how to navigate this new territory of side effects, changes, expectations, assumptions about my body - new rules, almost. I don't mind, somehow, because at least I'm on my way again, and no longer waiting.

Waiting

I could wait for the sun to come out to take and post these photos, but I won't. I could wait until I have finished more than a little bit of each of these projects to show them to you, but I don't want to. I could wait to post at all until I am not so antsy, but I can't. So here I am, and here they are:


This is a little scarf I am knitting with a pretty pear-colored fiber blend I got from Spirit Trail Fiberworks. It's Cotswold/CVM/Alpaca roving that spun up with a sweet texture, and I plied it sort of willy-nilly on purpose. Well, in reality, I just wanted to spin spin spin, so I let the fiber do what it wanted to do, and I ended up with this nice yarn. The pattern is the Corrugator Scarf, and I'm using size 8 needles. I think. I'm apporaching the knitting sort of willy-nilly, too. I have 280 yards spun up so far, and if I get to the end and the scarf looks nice, then I'll stop there. Otherwise, I'll try to replicate my "approach" and spin more yarn.


Socklessness can last only so long before it begins to gnaw at me, so I pulled some yarn out of a bag and began the Spring Forward socks from Knitty. The yarn is -- surprise! -- Sundara Sock in Sea Green over Willow. The pattern is easy to memorize and fast to knit, only I made a little error on one row halfway down the cuff. Don't tell anyone, but I left it there, because does it really matter if the YO's are one stitch off on one half of one row of a sock? I thought not.


Last but not least, here is the Narragansett Bay Scarf that matches the hat I finished last week. I got this far when the sock urge took over, so it's waiting until I finish the first sock. I played around with needles and drape for quite a while before I settled on size 6's for the Buffalo Gals yarn. I'm pleased with it so far.

The clock is ticking ever so slowly today, just because I am waiting for a phone call. I'm hoping that the nurse at Dr. Pearl's office will tell me when I'll get to start chemotherapy. I've been scheduled to have a port implanted (or inserted or installed or whatever the technical term is) on September 4th, and that has to happen first, so I'm assuming... I'll be participating in an interesting study, so there is paperwork and stuff to take care of, but I passed all my tests with flying colors and I'm ready to go. Why wait?

On a roll

I can't help myself; I keep finishing things. And starting more. And having ideas about other things I'd like to knit or design. This is a sweet little hat that I made last week. It's the "Narragansett Bay Cap" from Lisa Lloyd's A Fine Fleece (yes, I came across it as I was turning pages while knitting the Road Not Taken scarf).

Pattern: Narragansett Bay Cap

Yarn: Buffalo Gals Bison Merino 2 ply

Needles: US 4/3.5 mm

Modifications: Needle size

I've already started knitting the matching scarf. Since I know I don't have enough yarn to make it as written, I've modified the cap chart to make it work. See? On a roll.

My knitting energy extends to finishing and blocking the Rivolo scarf. I love how it turned out! I blocked it pretty seriously with blocking wires, and it looks and feels just lovely. The yarn has a silky shine to it that blocking seems to enhance.

Pattern: Rivolo by Anne Hanson

Yarn: Sundara Merino Sock Yarn in "Aqua over Terracotta"

Needles: US 5/ 3.75 mm

Modifications: Length (I made mine longer) and needle size

Once again, I find myself without a fresh pair of socks on the needles. I'll take care of that right away, or as soon as I decide what pattern to use. It's so hard to choose when there are so many I want to make! I think it's time for a bluish-greenish pair. Or purplish. Or not.

I'm also playing around with a cowl design. I read somewhere that cowls are the new socks. I don't know about that, but I do know that I was looking for a way to put a little bit of Sundara's Aran Silky Merino around my neck, and a cowl is as good a way as any. I'm swatching and frogging and knitting around and around, and one of these days I'll have a pretty neck tube to show. That's all a cowl is, really, isn't it?

It's going to be a busy week for me. I've gotten the go-ahead to do all the testing that I need to have done before I can begin chemotherapy, so I'm booked for blood work today or tomorrow, two scans on Wednesday, and (ugh) dental work on Friday. That last thing, unpleasant as it is, has to be done now because it can't be done during chemo. I'm going to fit some work in there too -- and one of the days will be my first time "on the schedule" since the beginning of June. Till now I've been marching to my own drummer.

Speaking of the drum, I hear it beating now. It's time to get on with the day. There's a breeze this morning, and it looks like another beautiful day.

Finishes

First, a rainbow, Friday night -- a welcome sign.

This post is all about things I've finished. There seem to be so many things in my life that are pending, or that have no end in sight, or that just seem to exist in their own little universe. It's nice that there are a few things around me that do show progress.

The first is a scarf I haven't blogged about yet. I love it. The yarn, the color, the pattern -- all wonderful.

Pattern: "Road Not Taken" scarf from Lisa Lloyd's A Fine Fleece.
Yarn: "Mokusa" Merino/Angora yarn from Spirit Trail Fiberworks, dyed in vibrant, happy pinky-peachy melba sort of colors by Jen.
Needles: US 6
Finished Dimensions: 7.5 by 60 inches
Modifications: None to speak of.


This yarn is soft, easy to knit, and an all-around pleasure for the eyes and hands. If you go to the website, you'll see that Jen has put a few skeins on sale. Hurry, though, because I've got my eye on one or two.

The next project to be finished was these socks. When I began knitting them I thought they'd be mine, but as I made progress they looked more and more like guy socks. So, they'll be a gift.


Pattern: Caterpillar Socks by Anne Hanson
Yarn: "Grey over Golden" Sundara Merino sock yarn
Needles: US 1 (2.25 mm)
Size: Men's Medium
Modifications: I worked a regular flap heel instead of the short row heel the pattern called for. I made it more interesting by doing a little zig-zag thing with the slipped stitches.


The biggest finish of all: Radiation. Done. Finished. Wrapped up. Checked off the list. Hooray! Friday morning was my fourth and last treatment. I'll do a happy dance when I get a little more energy back. It's coming. Maybe by about Thursday...

Next up is a small break before I start down the next part of this road. I'll start chemotherapy whenever Dr. Pearl says it's time. While I wait I'm going to go to work as often as I can, get out and about, and keep taking good care of myself. I need a little more of this, too:


Flying Point Beach, July 25th. The lump of shadow at the water's edge is Niece Rachel and me. We went down to the ocean that evening, had a little picnic, and stayed until it began to get dark and chilly. I miss those two nieces, now that they're back home. It was a real treat to have them around this summer.

Bobbing along

I started a new scarf last night. It's not that I don't have any knitting going on, but that this skein of yarn has been calling to me. It's Sundara's Aqua over Terracotta sock yarn, given to me by my friend Kris. He had an extra. It sat at the corner of my desk for a few weeks, where I could keep an eye on it. Finally, the right pattern came along -- Anne Hanson's lovely Rivolo scarf.


I think this is one of Sundara's most beautiful colors, and of course I'm incapable of capturing it. When she dyes a color and names it Something Over Something, I pay attention. I do have a lot of her yarn in my stash, but I don't hold on to it just because it's precious. I knit with it, as often as possible. I just don't understand the current (Ravelry-fueled) atmosphere of stalking and hoarding and collecting, of complaining about her update process or her website, of being jealous of people who purchase any, let alone enough for a project... it's just yarn. Beautiful yarn, often stunningly so, but still just yarn. It's meant to be used.

Moving on now... Radiation treatments continue, and so does the plain pair of socks that have accompanied me on most of my medical adventures this summer. I'm at the heel of the second sock, so one of these days I'll be done. With the socks and the medical adventures.

This particular adventure -- radiation -- is not all that hard to tolerate, but I am worn out. Fatigued. I have fatigue the way you have a cold, or a sprain, or some other condition. It's real (I always thought of it as something I had to power through), and it's not like being tired or sleepy. It's as if I can go forward, but only on low speed. Strange, but annoying. The other side effects are just plain annoying.

I'm getting lots of rest and eating really good food (protein! fruit & veggies! water!), and that helps. I'm also going to work for a few hours each day, which is good for my spirits. I'm just bobbing along with the current. In a few weeks it will be time to start chemo, which will put other stresses on my system, but I'll be ready.

Bit by bit, row by row, I'm getting there. I can't see the other shore just yet, but I know it's there!

Anchored

Becca and I went to the ocean yesterday. There's always something to be said for a quick visit to the beach, but last night was a special treat, my first in a long time. She came out from the city to see me through my first radiation treatment, which was on Friday (I would recommend my niece Rebecca to anyone who needs a calm companion in an unfamiliar situation, only I've got first dibs).

The air had cooled a bit, but it had that salty, misty haze that lingers after a hot day and sticks to glasses and camera lenses and skin. We stood there for a long time, letting our feet sink deeper and deeper into the sand with each wave, or sometimes walking up and down the beach. That dizzy, unbalanced moment -- when you are planted safely while the whole ocean recedes around you -- feels a lot like living life.

J is for

Strawberry Jam.

Last month (or eons ago, which is what it feels like) my sister decided to make jam. She was here to stay after I had surgery, and it just so happened that it was strawberry season. We had strawberries with almost every meal, and Sarah was always going out to buy more at one or several of the local farm stands. One time she came home with the ingredients for freezer jam, along with about five quarts of ripe berries (I won't link because the recipe is on the back of every Sure Jell or Certo package, and every third blogger made strawberry jam this year).

So now, thanks to my sweet sister, I have enough jam in my freezer to last forever, along with bags and bags of frozen whole strawberries. It's delicious, of course. I like it best on vanilla ice cream, but it's also the star of every peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And when it's cold and dreary this winter, I'll have Sarah's strawberry jam to remind me that another June (and another strawberry season) will be here by and by.

Forward

Once again, I found myself without a fresh sock on the needles. No, no, no. So I cast on this little sock sprout, Anne Hanson's Caterpillar Socks. The yarn is one of Sundara's elusive ones -- Grey over Golden. It wants to photograph orange, when really the grey and golden give the yarn a greenish tone. Anyway, this is the right yarn for the pattern. I though about making something lacey, but this color doesn't want to be lace.



I finished the Artichoke socks in the middle of the night. I've been sleeping well lately, but I wake up at odd times and I'm just not sleepy any more, so I get up. Without a work routine I can't really tell myself that I must go back to sleep because I have to be up at 5:30. For the time being I don't have to be up until I'm darn well ready. So I knit most of this pair in the wee hours, and finished them while I watched yet another episode of Law and Order. If I happen across one, I can't seem to change the channel. Sad. The socks are nice, though!

This week I'll be starting the next phase of this thing known as Having Cancer -- I'm going to have a short course of radiation, once a week for four weeks, which will be followed by chemotherapy after a two- or three-week break. The original idea had been to start chemo as soon as I was well enough, but after consulting with a radiation oncologist we decided that this is the best course. It's more insurance against a recurrence in the future. I'm very comfortable with the plan, because I want the best outcome and I'm willing to put up with what it takes to get there.

Every time there's been something new thrown at me -- the radiation consideration, chemo options, etc. -- I get in the car to come home and I'm practically giddy. Judy and I laugh as she drives down the highway, because who in their right mind would be giddy when told they have to have chemo and they'll lose their hair? Me. I'm giddy because at least I know. I have answers, I have a plan, and that makes me feel powerful. I am powerful.

And hey, I just might have curly hair when it grows back.

I is for

Little green iPod Nano.

I really am indulging my whims lately. It's practical, because I'll have a lot more time to listen to books and music in the coming months. It's also just so darn cute that it makes me smile. There you go -- it has healing properties!

I finished this scarf the other day and blocked it yesterday. The yarn is Spirit Trail Fiberworks Ixchel, 100% Prime Alpaca in "Soft Greens." I love the way it turned out -- the way the little blocks play against each other, the way the colors shift across the surface, the incredible luxury of the yarn. Now all I have to do is write up the pattern and hope that Jennifer likes it enough to display it in her booth this Fall.

I had to have something small to work on along with the big Tuscany shawl, so I found a pattern in my Ravelry queue that looked just the right amount of mindless. They're Megan Humphrey's Artichoke Socks, and I'm using Sundara's sock yarn in "Peacock and Purple." I'll probably finish them in the next few days, so I'll wait to post a photo.

I'm determined to catch up on my ABC's, so look for my J in the next few days. I'll make it to M yet!

My gratitude to all of you who have commented or emailed continues to deepen. I'm floating along on the gentle waves of love and energy that you're sending, and finding that staying afloat isn't such a difficult thing to do after all.

H is for

Healing.

I am healing. It's a slow process, and I'm tender and tentative. I'm learning this lesson day by day: it can't be rushed. What was I saying about slow and steady? Today is better than yesterday, each day.

The process is made easier by all the love and hope and healing thoughts that have been making their way to my heart. Do you know those commercials with the cell phone customer, and the crowd behind him/her that is the network? That's me, only I have an army of knitters at my back. An army. I can't begin to tell you how much you all mean to me. I've been sitting here trying, but it's impossible, and "thank you" seems so small next to all you've said.

Your blessings are everywhere around me, and growing. So healing I am, with your help!

There should be knitting progress to report soon. I'm about three repeats away from finishing this sweet little scarf that I'm knitting for Jen's Spirit Trail booth. Then it's back to the Tuscany shawl for a little more healing energy, and on to a new pair of socks.

Slow and steady

The last time I posted, a whole month ago, I said that life is full. Here is a little of what it contains…

On a Tuesday at the end of May I was diagnosed with endometrial (uterine) cancer. By Thursday I was sitting in a chair opposite “my” gynecologic oncologist, Dr. Pearl. Ten days later, on June 3rd, he performed surgery, and two days after that I came home to be looked after by my sister Sarah and my wonderful friends and family.

I have Stage III C endometrial cancer, which means that some cancer cells jumped ship and climbed on board a lymph node. I’ll need chemotherapy to chase down and obliterate any other cells that might have escaped. It’s in the works, and I’ll start treatment in about two weeks. This news was really hard to take, but now that I know The Plan, I’m almost anxious to get going. Dr. Pearl and his team -- my team -- are one of the unexpected blessings of this experience. I’m in very, very good hands.

I’m coping by thinking and looking ahead, but also by being here right now. Here I am, on the brink. What choice do I have but to put one foot in front of the other, carefully, but moving forward nevertheless? I see no way to navigate this except slowly and steadily. I feel strong, not vulnerable. Today, I don’t want to crawl under the covers; last week was a different story. Perhaps that desire will come again, but not now. I’m surrounded by blessings. People love me so. That’s how I will get through these next few months, and that might be what this experience is all about.

My job is waiting for me, but I miss it terribly. How many years have I been complaining about summer at the bookstore, about the crowds and the craziness? It was a bit of a shock to feel so sad about not being there. In a few weeks I’ll be able to return for an hour or two at a time, and then I’ll work my way towards a more regular schedule. Slowly, though. I have a lot on my plate.



Meanwhile, I have good knitting in my lap. The Tuscany shawl is deeply satisfying. It is filled with a kind of power that I’m either giving to it or getting from it -- I’m not sure which yet. Perhaps it’s both? I’m knitting that green scarf for Spirit Trail Fiberworks -- still, and happily -- and there are socks on needles, too, to be picked up from time to time as my ability to concentrate waxes and wanes.



Sweet Annabelle is watching over me, and now that I’m stronger and my sister has gone home to Chicago, I have a steady stream of visitors and callers, all stepping in to help in any way they can. I’m moving slowly, resting often, indulging my whims, and paying close attention to what my healing body has to say.

This month has been filled with tears and worries, but also with lots of laughter. Funny things have been funnier than usual. I like that. It hurts to laugh, but it’s worth it! The thing remains: I have cancer. It’s not a cold. It took surgery, and now chemotherapy, and it will take hard work and patience and love to overcome it. Today, I’m ready. Or willing. Ready is a strange word for what I am. I’m open.

~:~

I have a couple of things to ask of anyone who might read this: I know I’m discussing my personal life in a very public place, and it’s by no means private, but it was my decision to do so. You’ve all shared your highs and lows with me, after all. And if someone clicks on one of the links at the end of this post and learns something, it’s worth it.

It’s important to me to be honest and open here, but I haven’t shared everything, not by a long shot. I hope that you’ll honor my choice, and not take this news to any public forum. I don’t think I could face seeing bits of my life strewn all over the place, open to dissection and discussion. Putting it here is enough.

What I would like are your healing thoughts and prayers, lots of light, more juju to add to what Clara is already bottling, and one more thing -- hope. Be hopeful!

I am.

~:~

Here are a few links to information on endometrial cancer:

Women's Cancer Network

National Cancer Institute
Medline Plus/NIH

On the horizon

I see a Tuscany Shawl. Life is full. I'll be back soon!

Right place, right time

As I left Judy's house this evening, one R pointed to the beautiful sunset. Yes, I said, it's amazing, and off I went. Five minutes later I'd pulled over on Long Wharf in Sag Harbor so I could capture and enjoy the breathtaking sky. There's the bridge on the left, and North Haven just ahead, across the harbor. Dusk began to settle in the trees, so I turned toward home, and by the time I got here it was full dark. Peepers were peeping in the woods near my house, and I opened the window for a little listen as I turned into the driveway.

It's been a springless spring. The temperatures stay below normal, and we've had many windy, rainy days. And now summer is almost here -- how can that be?

I don't want to forget to show you some of the beautiful fiber that Jen of Spirit Trail Fiberworks has been dyeing. First there's the incredible 8 ounces of Cotswold/CVM/Alpaca roving, which I just realized really is named "Pear/Celery/Wheat." That's exactly what it looks like.


This is the recent Spirit Trail Fiber Club shipment. It's 4 ounces of Superwash Merino Top. It will be socks one day, I'm sure. I love the deep dark blue.


And another thing I'm sure of: there will be spinning this summer, if I have anything to say about it. I've been collecting such beautiful fibers! I'm looking forward to spending more time with my wheels. Before long, I'll be back to knitting on the neglected projects, as well as all the new ones I'm planning. And the design I'm working on for Jen's Prime Alpaca yarn is begging for attention, too.

Can you tell that I'm lining up the sanity-savers? Memorial Day is around the corner, and I want to be ready.

About time

Saturday morning...

Sunday morning...

Wisteria time!

I was a bit melancholy the other day, but it's passed. There's always so much to do, and lately it seems as though there's not enough time left in the day for me to stop and just be. I'm working on it. One step at a time, right?

There is a transformation taking place just outside my door -- the explosion of the wisteria is an annual event that never fails to delight me -- so I'm asking it to twine itself around my heart, make me glad, and bloom any leftover blues away.

Today, though, I'm needed at work. One of the two people scheduled has a fever of 104, so I'll be going in to take his place. I'm not pleased, or even resigned. Resigned will come later, when I get there. Grumpy will catch up with resigned, because I'd planned on spending the afternoon with Judy and family. Wait...grumpy just arrived as I typed that last sentence. I'll get up and get on with it, then, and let the wisteria work its magic!

Happy Mother's Day to all you wonderful women, to my own little Gig, to my sisters, and to Judy -- I'm sending a hug and a kiss!