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?

I'm swimming along

And I jumped in with both feet! I added another day to my work week right before the 4th of July holiday, bringing me back to a full-time schedule just in time for the onset of the summer madness. I'm so happy to be able to say I'm really "back" but the trade-off is that I need a lot more rest than before, in the old days before cancer.

An aside -- a few weeks ago I asked Dr. Pearl's nurse (a rock if ever there was one) my burning question: what is this strange time called, this time after treatment, when life gets to/has to resume, when slow and steady recovery is the goal yet uncertainty seems to keep lurking in the corner? "It's called remission," she said. I waited until I got to the car to laugh and cry.

So what do I do each day? Go to work. Work hard, almost as hard as I used to. Come home and climb the stairs (which have been reduced to something more like the Appalachians than Mt. Everest). Eat something. Put my feet up. Watch a little TV, catch up on phone calls, knit if I can concentrate. Read for a few minutes in bed, then turn off the light after the book smacks me in the face because I've dozed off. Rinse and repeat! I have no complaints -- I'm so pleased that I'm able to do my whole job again, and I'm happy every single day that I can come home bone-tired for some reason other than illness.


Knitting has taken a bit of a back seat, but I am almost finished with the second Hedgerow Mitt, which in this photo is only a few inches along. I would have finished it already, but I noticed that before the hand decreases I got a little carried away, and knit too many rounds. I need to frog back so this mitt will match its mate.


I still haven't figured out how to take a good photo of such a red yarn, but I'll keep trying.

We've been lucky with our weather lately, so lucky that until the past few days it's felt more like April than July. Today has been another gorgeous day, and a good day to be able to stay home, recuperate from the week, and enjoy my pretty flowers (a nice surprise from my boss). By tomorrow morning I'll feel rested and ready to take on the pile of things on my list!

A wish

So green, and sunny at last! According to the weatherman we've had thirteen straight days of "measurable precipitation." I'll say.

Nestled in the green (earlier today, before the sun came out) is the yarn I'm using for my Hedgerow Mitts. The Knitters Review Greatest Hedgerowalong on Earth starts tomorrow, so I wound my skein today. I might have started knitting, too, but I'm not telling.

Anyway, I ordered this beautiful skein of Alexandra Superwash Merino from Jennifer at Spirit Trail Fiberworks. It's even more beautiful in person, and it might even look great on the needles, but I won't know that till tomorrow, will I? ;-)

I hope the weather gets better soon. Summer is almost here, after all. It seems like it's been weeks since we made it out of the 60's. The bookstore is getting busier every day, and we spend a lot of our time helping customers choose beach reads, so at least somebody has confidence in the weather!

I love being able to keep the windows open, but there are drawbacks. My neighbor, whose yard is about 200 yards away, has outdoor speakers. My neighbor also, it seems, owns only one CD -- Elton John's Greatest Hits. To top it off, my neighbor really loves to listen to tunes by the pool, because sometimes Elton John may as well be in my living room, well into the late evening. I tune it out and laugh it off most of the time, and at least I don't have to listen to it every day, but every once in a while "Benny and the Jets" sends me right over the edge. And the other day I found myself humming "Candle in the Wind" in the car on the way to work -- not a good sign!

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Yesterday I had one of those little conversations about myself with a dear customer. I haven't seen her in a long time, since she and her husband moved away a couple of years ago. As we chatted she said, "I have a wish for you. I wish you 44 years of good health and happiness. That's how long I've been a breast cancer survivor."

Now, isn't that just the best wish?

Somewhat random, with heart

The other morning I was making my favorite iced coffee, just casually pouring the coffee into the frothed milk (I like to make the milk frothy, and I have one of those little gizmos that does it), and look what happened! A glass of caffeinated love! A barrista moment! I couldn't do it again if I tried.

I'm making good progress on my Boxleaf shawl, but a new photo would look just like the one I posted before. I don't know how many stitches I have on the needles at this point, or how many I'll end up with, but boy, those rows are getting long. I used to be able to do an entire ten-row repeat in one sitting, but not any longer. I have to remember to mark my place, but it's also pretty easy to find my place if I lose it. I'm going to knit until I get close to running out of yarn, and 500 yards will make a nice shawl.

I'd like to be almost finished with the shawl in time to start the Knitter's Review knitalong for Amy's Hedgerow Mitts, which starts on June 15. The pattern is based on my socks, and I love it. Amy and I talked about it last year, Clara loved the idea and encouraged her to do it, and the pattern made its debut on May 28. I'm thrilled for Amy, and I can't wait to get started on my first pair! They'll be in a beautiful red shade of Alexandra from Spirit Trail Fiberworks.

Though I've settled into my skin a bit more since my last post, I'm still finding new ways to think about my life with cancer. It's summer at the bookstore, so a day doesn't go by without my seeing someone I haven't seen in months, or even a year. It's not easy, but I'm getting used to having small conversations about myself with people who are sweet and kind and concerned. I'm not used to sharing much more than book recommendations with my customers, so I'm developing ways to share a little bit of my experience to reassure these lovely people -- yes, I have been sick, but yes, I am on my way to being well. Thank goodness I've practiced here!

Annabelle had the best idea for this sunny, breezy Sunday -- a nice nap in the window, and a bit of a bath. Now, however, she would like her supper. I can't turn her down. Besides, she won't let me forget what time it is!


Have a wonderful week, everyone. Thank you for coming here, and thank you for all your kind, interesting, and uplifting comments and emails. I don't know if I'd be traveling forward (or upright, for that matter) if I were on this road all by myself.

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Today, June 7, is National Cancer Survivors Day. I guess that includes me!
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