Fifty-six Hours

That's how long I was without power at home during and after Hurricane Irene. Not too bad, considering that there are many people here on Long Island, and right here on the East End, who don't even know when theirs might be restored.

But fifty-six hours was more than enough. At least I could go to work, where we had power the whole time. At home, I was just uncomfortable and stressed and done. This house gets its water from a well, and when there's no power, there's no water. After I used what I'd stored, I had to haul it from work in a big container. Knowing that my refrigerator full of food was spoiling made it even more difficult. The peaceful haven I count on my little home to be was no longer peaceful, or a haven.

I had a small epiphany this week. Yes, I'm fortunate to live a life where I can count on electricity, running water, and other comforts. But at the same time, I need to acknowledge that I work very hard to provide those things for myself. It's up to me. So when I can't take a shower or flush the toilet, when most of my fresh food becomes inedible, and when I can't see to do much of anything, it's distressing. And I can stop apologizing for that, without diminishing the suffering and hardship that people all over the East Coast — and all over the world — are experiencing right now.

While there was a little bit of daylight on Sunday — in between the moments when I thought I might see Miss Gulch pass my window on her bicycle — I finished the giant swatch I started earlier in the week. It's more of a stitch sampler than a swatch. I worked out the math and the logistics for a shawl with an interesting bit of lace, and played with some lovely lace edges. When my Red Heirloom Tomato yarn arrives from Sundara, I'll begin figuring out how to make it all work on a larger scale. We shall see what becomes of all this swatching and figuring.

I began a pair of socks on Monday, when Kris told me to start something. He even told me what yarn to use (4-ply Organic Poll Dorset from Renaissance Dyeing) and what pattern to knit (Anne Hanson's Caterpillar Socks). I needed someone to tell me what to do by that point, so I'm glad he stepped in and gave me a shake.

Now onward, to Labor Day weekend and the reverse migration of the Summer People — those who haven't given up and gone home already, that is!

It's me again

"New" knitting
I decided what to knit next -- but it's not all that new, and it's not for me. I cast on a pair of Hedgerow socks for Cindy, the wonderful massage therapist who has been treating me for an annoying condition called lymphedema. It's not uncommon in cancer patients whose lymph nodes were removed or damaged during treatment. Thank goodness the treatment is non-invasive, and thank goodness that I found a skilled therapist who really knows her stuff. She deserves some comfy socks, don't you think?

Anyway, the yarn is (surprise!) Sundara Sock in one of her earlier colors called Terracotta over Rose. In person it's a little less pink, and not so bright. I think I'll work on them at knitting group, which resumes tomorrow after a summer break. I haven't been since last year, so I'm looking forward to it. If I can't get away from work a little early, I'll be sad.


Another passage
I'm really liking my hair. As soon as I had enough to cover my head I stopped wearing a scarf. I felt awfully bold on that first Saturday back in July! Now that it's getting fuller and longer, I don't feel like a cancer patient any more; I feel like a woman with really short hair. And I feel like Me. It will be fun to experiment with hair styles without fear, since I'm starting from scratch, and I think I'll keep it short for a while.

So far so good
Now that I've been on Facebook for a few days and it's become another room in my internet house, it's not so daunting. I've managed to resist an invitation from one of the Remarkable R's to join her in Farmville, and I got my sister Sarah to join the rest of the family (my brothers are the next to be recruited). My friend Judy has become friends with my friend Reya, which is a giggle and makes me reconsider the whole six degrees of separation thing, which I suppose is what Facebook is really all about. So it's all good, especially since it is inspiring me to write more.

Catching up

Endings and beginnings
Summer is almost over, at last. At long last. The days feel different -- it's still dark when I wake up in the morning, and by late afternoon the light has that amber tinge that signals a change in the season. It's time for a shift, away from the hectic and hot days of summer, and towards my favorite time of year. It's also time to get back to knitting.

I've been so busy that I haven't had the energy to do much besides work and sleep. I picked up this forlorn sock the other day, and realized that I need to knit as much as I want to knit. My hands have missed it, and my brain has missed it, too. So I'm plugging away, a few rows at a time, and dreaming of knitting something new. What it will be, I don't know. But it has to be new. All the projects that are in various states of completion will have to wait. I need to start something.

Farewell, Portia
About a year ago, when cancer was where I lived, I had to have a chest port implanted so I could begin chemotherapy. A few weeks ago I had the procedure to remove it. I was surprised to find that I had mixed feelings about it -- Portia, as I called her, was never an easy one to get along with. She pulled, she ached, she malfunctioned at the worst possible moments (just as I was about to receive the Big Bad Adriamycin, not once but twice). She made herself a nuisance. But on the other hand, Portia was a means to a good outcome. She made it possible for me to receive the drugs more safely and with less discomfort than if they had had to be infused through a vein. She did her job, most of the time.

So when I was officially done with chemo, I lobbied Dr. Pearl. I wanted to be rid of Portia as soon as possible. When he agreed, finally, and the date was set, I was so happy! I couldn't wait -- but there was something else, too. Portia had helped save me, and what would I do without that little plastic do-dad to reassure me? To be honest, I was scared. Having a port meant I could be treated, and being treated meant I could be well. What if...? It wasn't until I caught a glimpse of her as the radiologist was tossing her away that I knew I didn't need her any more. Goodbye, my fickle friend, and thank you.

Techno-grip
I joined Facebook today. Or rather, I joined and ducked for cover. It was a whim, indulged with a few clicks. What was I thinking? That I was missing something? That I need to be so casually connected with the whole world? That I will be willing to spend even more time tweaking and arranging yet another version of my public self? Yes, yes, and yes. Oh, well. Someone please tell me it will be fun.

Literary pursuits
At least I have been reading (it's part of my job, after all). Four books have had my attention in the past few weeks. Sweeping Up Glass by Carolyn Wall is a well-told story about a woman who tends to take care of everyone. There's a bit of a dramatic story there, too, but I liked the book because I liked the character.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson is so wildly popular that I felt obliged to read it. I don't do suspense/thriller/mystery much; I want memorable words and characters, and this genre is usually heavy on plot and light on character development. But this time, the Girl pulled me in. She's fascinating, and I so wanted to see where she was heading that I read the book in just a few days. It's not for everyone, so don't think you have to read it just because everyone tells you it's fabulous. Reading is supposed to be pleasurable, after all.

Await your Reply by Dan Chaon is just brilliant. Are we who we think or say we are, and do we get to decide? I've never read anything like this book, and I don't want to do it an injustice by trying to tell you more about it.

The book I'm just finishing now is Strength in What Remains by Tracy Kidder. It's a true story about a man who escaped the genocide in Burundi and Rwanda and made his way to New York, eventually becoming a doctor. I spent so much of the past year becoming aware of and testing my capabilities that I came to this story with what I thought was a little bit of understanding. I'll never know though, what it takes to simply survive through the night, what just being really means. I'm a piker.

On with it, then
The Internets are calling. There's this thing called a wall, and one of my nieces just friended me, and I think I'm supposed to think of things to actually write on the wall. Right?

Back to knitting

Well. This sure has been interesting! Several things worth thinking about have emerged from my Blog of Note experience.

1. There really are levels and adjoining circles on the internet, and I suspect that most of us travel in pretty small circles, relatively speaking. I've been so used to a readership of mostly knitters that my new, wider circle is still a surprise.
   
2. Well-wishes and encouragement from total strangers, sometimes even delivered in a language I don't speak, are very nice. Very nice indeed.
   
3. I've never discouraged Anonymous comments, until now. I had to turn them off after I was bombarded with spam. Some people have too much time on their hands.
   
4. My advice to anyone who is named a Blog of Note? Take cover till it's mostly over, then read all the comments and enjoy the rest of the ride.

Now to the knitting. Here is my Whimsy Lace Scarf --



I haven't spent much time with it lately, but I plan to remedy that. It takes about 15 minutes to do a repeat, and I've memorized the procedure, so it's not that hard to make progress. The top portion, in garter stitch, forms the neck or collar. The ruffles cascade around the shoulders.


This is the leg of a sock. It's the tried-and-true no-brain-required Blueberry Waffle pattern, in Sundara's Deadly Nightshade (I think this is a Seasons Collection color). Pardon the cat hair. I'm almost halfway finished with the second sock, and I hope I can make some progress on it, too. One of the more annoying side effects of chemotherapy is neuropathy in my fingers. Lucky for me, mine isn't too bad (and it should go away), but it does slow me down!

My real problem with what I'm knitting is that I want to start a new pair of socks. I'm itching to cast on. I have delightful yarn that's waiting for me, but these two are just as delightful, and they're already on their way to being done. Can I resist, at least until I finish the socks? Probably not.

Our weather has finally improved a little -- the weekend has been sunny and not too cold, so my grey mood is gone. It was too windy to visit the bay yesterday. It would have been nice to get a closer look at all the ice chunks that have pushed up against the shoreline. They take such interesting shapes. I hope that February lets me get out into the world a little more!

I'll be back tomorrow with my poem for this year's (Silent) Poetry Reading. This is one of my all-time favorite blog events.

By the way, today is Pajama Day. I'm in!

Just who am I, anyway?

What a surprise, finding myself a Blogger Blog of Note today! I'm honored, but slightly uncomfortable. Yes, this is a public space, and yes, many anonymous readers stop by ... but somehow, anyway, right now, I feel a little exposed.

You see, I think of myself as a knitblogger. I'm part of a large and wonderful community of people who share my passion, and I'm blessed to have made many friends, both real and virtual, in this relatively small corner of the big old internet. But here, today, the doors have been flung wide open!

My blog and my life seem to be defined by what is going on right now -- cancer treatment and navigating the strange terrain of it, and getting on with it -- but when I seek to define myself cancer isn't at the top of the list.

So: I'm a knitter. I'm a spinner. I've made many pairs of socks, and whatever else that has inspired me. I love yarn. I design knitting patterns once in a while. I'm a bookseller, too. I live with that cat, in a little apartment near the Atlantic Ocean. I go to the water as often as I can, to refill and be and look out at the horizon. I'm a middle child. Sure, I have cancer. I also have a good life that's on the way to getting better.

There. I feel better now. Welcome everyone!