I Just Can't Catch a Break

So Tuesday was the third and last series of shots. We headed down to Rancho Mirage in 112 degree heat (god, I HATE the desert), got all signed in, and then waited a short time until it was time for the nurse to do my write-up. I answered all her questions, and then she asked me if anything was different or had changed in the past two weeks. I told her that I had lost 20 pounds in a week and was barfing every night - all night. She looked at me funny and went to talk to the doctor. Then she came back, told me to go have a ciggie while I waited for the procedure, and that was that.

I had barely finished my ciggie when the PA came out and told me they were ready for me. I was led into one of the operating suites and went to lay down on the table. That's when things changed.

I can't remember the PA's name, but I've had him before and he's really nice. He told me that they were doing another procedure and that I'd have to sit up with my forearms on my thighs. I asked him what was going on, and he said that the doc was going to do a spinal tap. I had to sit like that so my spine was curved, thereby allowing access to my spine.

A what? A SPINAL TAP???? Oh no. Oh no no no. I've heard those things hurt. I asked him if it was absolutely necessary and why the doctor was doing one. He didn't know, but he told me that the doctor was good at them and not to worry. Sigh. Why couldn't it be the band that was coming to play or something?

The doc came in the room all cheery and happy, and I asked him why he was about to torture me. You have to realize that this man is always happy and usually banters with you while he's sticking you full of needles. He got serious and told me that he needed to check something. Shit. Then he told me to breathe slowly and deeply, and to just relax and not move. Then I felt it.

I am here to tell you that spinal taps make those steroid shots feel like a massage. I thought I was going to pass out, but it was over in about five minutes. Then he held up the vial for me to see. The fluid was clear and viscous with little things floating in it. He went, "Hmmm" as he looked at it. I asked him what the floating things were, and he said that's what the lab was going to find out. Then he said that something was a definite possibility, and even if it turned out to not be so, he wanted me to be prepared. I looked at him and said, "Prepared for what? What do you think is wrong?". Then he told me.

Bone cancer.

On top of the other shit.

OH FUCK.

I sort of went blank after that. I didn't even feel the steroid shots. He wants me to see another doctor pronto and gave me a list to see if my insurance covers any of them. We'll find out in a couple of weeks if I do have bone cancer. If I do, then I have some hard decisions to make. In the meantime, I'm trying to ignore it. I'm actually the calmest one in the family. My poor mother is falling apart, and Hubster is having a difficult time, too. But I've sort of come to the realization that I'm terminal anyway, so what's one more thing? Besides, I may not even have it.

So that was the fun and games I got to experience at the doctor's office.

On Monday, we went to Sea World in the evening for my belated birthday outing. They have a new thing this year where they're open until 11 p.m. Because we got there late, we only got to see one show - the Shamu Rocks! show - but it was way cool. We went on some rides, got soaked, took the sky tram over Mission Bay (stunning - I'd sell my soul to live in San Diego), and looked at a bunch of stuff. The neat thing is that our tickets are good for the rest of the year. All I have to do is order an ECV and a parking pass online at least three days before we go (to ensure that I get a scooter), and we can go every day if we want and not pay admission. A lot of the parks down here are doing similar things. The economy has hit them all hard (with what they charge to get in, I'm surprised that they get any business at all), so they're trying all kinds of gimmicks. Southern California residents also get special consideration and special deals. I want the Disneyland pass - that's my happy place - but I won't go until the fall. It's too hot and there are too many kids right now for my comfort zone.

Emma is glued to me like flies on shit. I can't go to the bathroom without her suddenly bolting up from a dead sleep and walking ahead of me. What's so endearing is that if I fall on the stairs, she's right there licking my face as if I were a puppy, trying her best to save me. Then she walks ahead of me on the stairs in case I fall again. I guess she figures she can break my fall and protect me, and she probably can. Speaking of the M, here's a new picture of her:





I was sitting in my knitting chair right next to her. I had made a sound or something, and she went on full alert. She looks a little different than she did as a puppy, doesn't she?

My current knitting project is a pair of socks for a lady who was a customer (and still is), but has now become more like a sister. She knitted me two pairs of socks (I have to get pictures of them on here) and included two gifts with them. This is the third time I've started these damned things because I fucked up on frogging them (lace is such a bitch to rip back), and then got mad and cut the sock free from the ball - twice. This is why I always buy two skeins, unless the yardage is WAY above 400 yards. Here's a picture of the first one. Enjoy!





The yarn is by Neighborhood Fiber Co. I can't remember the name of the color, but it's her colors. I normally don't knit with a tight twist yarn, but it knits like a dream. Once you stretch it out, it looks totally different. I sent her this picture to see if she liked the colors and pattern, but I purposely didn't stretch it out so she has something to look forward to. I think she likes it. :)

One of the new artists who is coming onboard is called "lightbrownhare". Wait until you see her yarn. You're all going to shit a major brick. I've already bought something like eight skeins, I think. All but one of them is tight twist. Hmm... maybe I've turned some corner and am becoming something other than what I thought. Anyway, check her out on Etsy. She does two skeins in the dyepot of the type of yarn I've been buying - one with 400 yards and the other with 600 yards (you all know which one I bought), and each is different not only in design, but in saturation. I have to stop talking about her - I'm getting the urge to go shopping.

I'm also doing something new in the shop. I'm instituting an "Artist of the Month". My first artist is Laura Neal of "Drooling Over Yarn". There will be an interview (and hopefully a picture) of her on the shop site by the end of the weekend. Oh... and I extended the sale through Sunday night in honor of the holiday.

I can't believe that in a month, we'll be on the road to Portland. I've been getting stock for the show, and I think we're going to have more than enough. I'm also working on the shop this weekend. I should be out of pain from those damned shots by then. Tonight, I have to pull three orders and then knit on the sock.

I think I've blathered on long enough. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday weekend. This will be my first one without those damned fireworks blasting for four days and all night long, with the fear that a bottle rocket is going to land on my roof. Things tend to burn up here. In fact, there's a fire somewhere around here right now.

And no, it's not me getting pissed off and yelling at someone.

Yarny Goodness is OPEN!

It's about damned time. I've opened Yarny Goodness for business again!

The vast majority of changes are internal; however, there will be three new fields added at the bottom of the home page: Coming Soon, New Artists/Merchandise, and Updates (for new work added to existing vendors). I'm also having a 15% off sale running through July 1st. Oh... those new fields will appear as I add new artists, which I'll be doing ever day or two and over this weekend.

I'll write a decent post tomorrow, but I just wanted to let you all know that you may now spend all your money with me. (snort)

Welcome back!

It Looks Like I May Survive Another One (and general musings)

Yes, it's that day again. Today, June 23th, is my 51st birthday. (And Happy Bday to you too, Bezzie.) :)

There was a time when 30 seemed old. Then 40. Then 60. Now, 52 seems like a really wonderful age to attain. This birthday is meaningful for many reasons, not the least of which is that I'm still here. Things are on a downhill slide right now, but I'm here. So what's going on?

Well, I lost 15 pounds last week, I spend all night barfing (and not words on the screen), and I'm losing my appetite.

Don't get me wrong - I'd love to lose weight. Just not this way. But this is the way that it's happening, and I can only hope this is a phase I'm going through, not the next step of the disease. Hubster is terribly worried, but he tries not to show it. The same with my mother and grandmother. I see my doctor next week, so I'll talk to him about it then.

Emma has become my personal protector. I can't even fart without her barking, running right to my side, and gluing herself to my leg. If I sit on the couch, she either sits on the couch next to me or on the floor against my leg. It really doesn't matter as long as some part of her is touching me. When I fall and cry, she abandons whatever she's doing and runs to me, checking me out as if I were a puppy. And the ultimate sacrifice for a bulldog?

Hubster took her out to do her business while I was sitting in my chair eating a piece of cake covered with powdered sugar. All of a sudden, a moth the size of a B-52 began attacking my face and head. Logic and reason tells me that the moth was there because of the insanely bright light which shines down on my work. Hysteria and fear tells me that the moth was there to torture me with it's wings and nibble me to death. So I did what any sane woman would do.

I screamed. At the top of my lungs.

As soon as I began to scream, Emma, who was about to take a dump, stopped herself up like a cork, began barking as if an intruder (the human variety) was breaking in the house, and dragged Hubster inside (we have to take her outside at night on a leash because of the coyotes). She literally dragged him up the stairs of the deck and into the house, where she immediately stationed herself next to me. I was still screaming and waving my hands around wildly. Never mind the piece of cake which had fallen over, spilling powdered sugar all over the chair, floor, knitting, etc. Never mind that all the doors and windows were open. Never mind that it sounded like I was being beaten or murdered all the way to Palm Springs. I was terrified, and Emma saw it as her duty to save me. Hubster was NOT amused and began to yell, whereupon I began to cry. It was not a pleasant scene.

The upshot? The fucking moth disappeared and Emma is now constipated. Great.

I can't quite believe that I'm over a half-century in age. It seems like yesterday that there were gas lines, Levi's were $27, an 8-track was the epitome in car stereos, Senior Cut Day to Santa Cruz had just passed, and I graduated from high school. Then came college and work, and my daughter. Then I got married. Six years later, I got divorced and spent a year alone in my house because you couldn't give away a house anywhere in California. Relationships. Fights with the family. Illness and deaths. So many things, so many events, so many memories. And now I'm sitting here at 4:45 a.m. in a big cabin in the mountains of Southern California wondering how in the hell I got here. Life is funny.

I saw a picture of San Francisco yesterday. It was shrouded in fog and made me intensely homesick. I love it here and will die here (and now, that's not just me saying it). But it's been six months since I've been home, and I really miss it - and my family. I know my mother will call later today, and my daughter will probably call, too. But it's not the same. I crave the birthdays of my youth, when everybody fawned all over you, you got lots of presents, and the entire day was magical. Now, it's a day like any other day. I don't get presents from Hubster; we've never exchanged birthday gifts because I buy whatever I want. It's not a special day anymore. And yet... some part of me longs for it to be. Every year, I'm disappointed and wait until the following year to see if it will be different. And every year, it sucks worse than the one before.

Last year at this time, I was heading up to Folsom Prison for my visit. My boys bestowed gifts on me, and we had as much of a party as they could manage. Hubster picked me up, gave me a card with a baby English Bulldog on it, and had written inside that that was part of my gift. Then we headed to Reno and stayed in a tiny closet of a room. He gave me $25 and told me that we were broke, but that he had managed to scrape that amount of money up so I could gamble a little. At the time, I was a beast - depressed, angry, demanding to know why we drove to Reno with that tiny amount of money. I've been known to bet a helluva lot more than that on one hand of blackjack. But I soon calmed down and realized what a huge sacrifice he had made. Sometimes, I'm an ass, and I certainly was that day. As it turned out, I was able to gamble for hours on that money - I just didn't play my usual high-limit slots. And we had a wonderful time. I selected Emma the next day, and the rest is history. What I wouldn't give now to have a trip to Reno again.

And yet, not all is lost. I guess next weekend, I'll be whisked away to one of the local Indian casinos for a spa day. I think there's an overnight trip involved, too, where I'll be alone. That's fine by me - I can sit, knit, watch TV, and sprawl in a bed. A bed. Luxury. I'm so tired of sleeping in the chair, but yet, that happens every night. So far, I've not had to run upstairs to hit the bathroom, so I might have a decent night. We'll see. Anyway, I'm looking forward to next weekend, and we'll see what today brings.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been reflecting on my life, and it's been a damned good one. Sure, I've had terrible times - we all do. But I wouldn't trade any of it for anything. I've met fascinating people, traveled, eaten well, loved hard, had my dream car, my dream house, and always come out of adversity smelling like a rose. I've been with Hubster for 20 years. I have a snoring bulldog laying next to me, making sure that her Mommy is doing okay. And should I not make it to my next birthday, it's okay. I'd rather stay here with Hubster and my family, of course, but should that not be in the cards, I still wouldn't change a thing.

Well... I would like to finish this damn pair of socks first.

Secret Pal 14 Signups to Close Monday, June 22nd

Yes, I'm finally up and alive. I'll post later tonight or this weekend; I have a lot of people to thank and a lot of things to get done, but for the time being (today), I'm still under rest orders. My back is killing me; it seems that the shots aren't doing anything other than being a pain right above my ass.

This post is really meant for one thing: I have to let everyone know that if they want to join Secret Pal 14, they have just a couple more days to do so. Signups are closing this Monday, June 22nd. We've extended the signup time to see if we could get more participants, but we can't extend it any longer. So please... if you want to join what I truly think is the best swap going, sign up before we shut down and can't accept your application. We have to divide everybody up into groups, get a hostess assigned to them, and open the swap on July 1st.

Thank you, everyone, and I'll blab a lot more in the next day or two. Have a terrific weekend!

Letting her rest...

Howdy all -

Mark here again...

Pam is definitely trying to over-do again because she wants to do well by all of you... her artists and her customers. However, I've put my foot down again (and it is a very big foot), and I am having her rest. The shop will be up in the next few days -- in a week no one will even remember if it opened on a Thursday or a Saturday.

Thank you all for all of your kind letters, they've really made her feel better.

Take care, everyone.

The Sick Bitch is Home

I'm finally back home and safely ensconced in my chair with my knitting in hand (I'm working on a very special pair of socks for a very special friend). Well, that's not entirely true - I moved to the couch so I could write this post. First of all, thank you to everyone who sent me letters with such lovely sentiments. I was truly blown away, and my spirits were lifted high. You're all such wonderful friends; I wish I could meet all of you in person, but it really doesn't matter. I carry you all with me in my heart.

Things have gotten a little worse. Even though the discs are leaking, they're also swollen so badly that the doctor could barely fit the needle in. This time, I felt it slide along the vertebrae and heard the pop and crunch as it finally went in - four times. Sigh. At least he didn't do my knee again. I have to repeat this again in two weeks. Happy happy joy joy. Right now, I'm exhausted and in a considerable amount of pain. Emma is curled around my hips as I'm sitting here typing; she's trying her best to make me feel better. I was in bed sleeping, and she curled up against my back (right above the injection site). How in the hell she knows where I hurt the worst is beyond me.

I'll be working on the shop later tonight - I just don't have the energy right now - so we can reopen tomorrow (Thursday). I've probably already told you, but I'm having a 15% off sale. We have a lot of new artists and merchandise, so come and check it out! I even have that most coveted of yarns - Woolly Boully. There isn't much - only about four or six skeins - but if you're a fan, grab it while you can. Jenny dyed it just for me, so of course I had to snatch a skein for myself. :)

Signups are still open for SP14, so if you're at all interested, please go to the blog and sign up! Of all the swaps I've been in, this is my favorite. It's a lot of fun, and you make really good friends through it. A lot of people who signed up for the last round haven't signed up this time around, so I hope you come back and join in the fun. There are only a couple of returning hostesses - the rest of us are new - so look for lots of contests, games, and other fun things with great prizes to win!

My birthday is next Tuesday (June 23rd), so I'm already telling Hubster what day it is just in case he forgot. I love birthdays, and this will be my first one away from my family. He hasn't given me any clues as to what we're doing, but whatever it is, I'm sure it will be lovely.

My back is killing me, so I'm off to knit for a while before I work on the shop. It's good to be home, and I'll get a letter off to everybody who wrote in the next few days. Again, thank you - what a homecoming!

Hm... maybe I'll dose up on Dilaudid before I begin to knit. Then I can see how many stitches I can drop when I nod off and drop my sock on the floor.

Simple things amuse me.

Pam in Hospital

Hi, this is Mark (Hubster). I sent out an iContact newsletter, but then I realized that not all of you get the shop newsletter.

Pam had to go to the doctor's today for what she thought was just pain management. He gave her four shots in her spine again. She's in the hospital resting and will be home tomorrow, so we've had to postpone the opening of the shop since she's the one who does all the actual listing. It will open Thursday instead of Wednesday.

I'm sorry for the delay, but her health is my primary concern. I want to thank everybody for all the letters she's received. They have really lifted her spirits to know she has so many people who love her.

Mark (Hubster)

Time to Post!

I've really got to get my shit together.

Days pass and nothing gets done. No posts, no knitting progress, nothing. I've decided that I'm tired of being in a funk and have kicked myself in the ass. I don't know how much good it will do, but at least I'm giving it the old college try.

Oh wait... all I did in college was get knocked up. Scratch that.

I'm giving it the old uh... uh... hm. I'm trying.

I've got a bit of news for you all. The shop is finally opening! Come this Wednesday, June 17th, we'll be back in operation. It's been a long time, I know, but what with everything going on, it's been very difficult to get any work done on it. However, I'm going to be putting the finishing touches on it Tuesday, so look for it to be open Wednesday afternoon (in case I don't get all the little things done on Tuesday night). I'm having a 15% off sale on everything through Sunday, so come and see the new artists, the new merchandise, and go shopping! Please... I need the money. :)

I want to thank everyone for the comments they left about my condition. You don't know what those meant to me. I'm always amazed at the number of people who read this blog, and even more amazed at the number of friends I have and all the people who care. That's why I continue to barf out my life here - I'm talking to my friends. I see the doc tomorrow, but it's for pain management. At this stage of the game, there's nothing that can be done other than to manage the pain. I don't know if he'll put me on anything different, up my current meds, or what. As long as he doesn't stick that fucking needle in my back again, we're square. (shudder)

On a more humorous note, it's happened again.

RIINNNGGGGG RIINNNGGGG RIINNNGGGG

"Hello?"

"Hi! This is Adele! How do I pick up a stitch that I dropped six rows down? You know, it's the pattern with all the YO's and K2tog's and SSK's. I think it's on the section where the pattern begins to change and you start doing a lot of increases and decreases and picking up stitches and it looks like basketweave and..."

"Uh... I'm sorry, but this is WHO?"

"Adele! I'm the one with the long blond hair, kind of pudgy, I drive an SUV..."

"Uh... OK... uh... I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you teach a lot of classes, so maybe you don't remember where I was on that particular project. I'm on Row 37 and ready to change to color 10."

"What class did you say this was?"

"Lace entrelac. So I tried pulling the needle out, and a bunch of the little basketweave parts fell out and the lace unraveled and I can't get them back on the needle and I cut all the yarn on each piece so I only have little pieces of yarn to work with and should I use a smaller needle?"

(my head is spinning and my eyes are beginning to blink rapidly)

"Uh.... how did you get my phone number? It's unlisted."

"Oh, I got it from another lady in the class, you know, the fat one with black hair. She's a lot farther along than me. So when I ..."

"I don't mean to cut you off, but I haven't taught that class for two years, I don't know who you are, I have no idea what pattern I taught, and I'm afraid I can't help you."

"What sort of lousy teacher are you? I paid a lot of money for that class and you said I could call you at any time and you'd help me and I need help and you have to help me because you said you would. So like I said, I think I'm on Row 37... no, maybe it's Row 47..."

"I'm sorry, but I have another call coming in. I can't help you. My advice is to throw it away, start it over, and pay attention to what you're doing."

"You're a rude bitch and I'm never taking another class from you again." CLICK.

Geez. Anybody who can't count shouldn't undertake a project like that. Whatever it was.

Then another call did come in.

RIINNNGGGG RIINNNGGGG RIINNNGGGG

"Hello?"

"Hey pretty lady, this is Fantastic Frank. How you been, doll face?"

"Uh... who are you trying to reach?"

"The Java Lounge! You're just playing games with old Frank again. Hey, I need to reserve five tables for tonight. We're in a bowling tournament down in Hemet, and we want to come for coffee and fattening shit afterwards. Can you fix me up, hot stuff?"

(we have the number that used to belong to Java Lounge, a coffee place here in town which closed right before we moved here)

"Ohhhhh... Frank! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. I'm busy with customers right now, but sure! I'd be happy to reserve five tables for you. What time?"

"How about 8:00 p.m.? We finish up at about 6:30, but you know it takes time to get out of the bowling alley and drive up the hill."

"Not a problem, Frank. We'll see you then!"

"Fantastic, honey pie! See you later!" CLICK

Heh. I'm going to hell for sure.

Then I decided to try out one of the knitting applications I bought for my iPhone. I think this one is called "Knitting Buddy". You can keep track of yarn, needles, projects, etc., on it. So I figured I'd put in one of the sock patterns I'm working on for a friend. I touched the screen under "Needles" and was presented with every size needle ever made. After figuring out how to use it, I got the needle size put in. Then it asked me for the type and length. OK... no problem. Yarn? Got it. Color? Uh... this is an indie multi (as are all my yarns). So I selected the most prevalent color (they give you a list). Picture - download or take one? Uh... well.... I do have a camera on the phone, so I touched "Take One" and the camera came on. I put the ball of yarn on my leg, centered it in the screen, held my breath, and touched the button. FLASH! Picture taken. Then I saw it.

A perfectly centered picture of my foot.

I took another one. This one came out better. Then it gave me a "Notes" section, into which I put the fact that the yarn is a multi and listed all the colors. There. One project down, four more to enter. At least I'm not inventorying my stash. That would take the new 32g iPhone with a memory card added. I've decided to keep track of my projects in this thing and take pictures of the finished items.

IF I finish any items.

I think I have about eight knitting applications for the iPhone, only one of which I've used. There's even a row counter, a gauge counter, a shopping list thing, blah blah blah. If it's a knitting gadget, I buy it.

I don't remember if I told you, but my Emma has been sick. She came in the house a week or so ago after going outside to go potty with poop and blood all over her butt. Since she's shaped like a solid fireplug, she can't turn around to clean herself. She stood there with sad eyes looking at Daddy (she knows that Mommy can't deal with doggie doo). Hubster cleaned her up and then took her upstairs to feed her dinner. Right after dinner, she had to go out again. Same thing. Fifteen minutes later, she had to go again. And so it went for two days until we could get in to see the vet whom our groomer recommended.

We finally found the vet's office in the middle of a grapefruit orchard (it smelled really good). He took all her vitals, examined her, looked at the poop sample we brought in, and told us that she either had a viral infection or an allergy to something. In any event, he prescribed sulfa drugs and told us to put her on a rice and cottage cheese diet until her poops were firm again. He also gave us a cream which Hubster had to rub under her tail a couple times a day for about a week (she had a skin infection under her tail that we didn't know about). Sure enough, she cleared up almost immediately. This guy is good - every bit as good as our vet in Livermore. He reminds me of the old-fashioned country vets you see on TV. We're keeping him.

And on another Emma note, she presented us with a totally mauled dead animal this evening. We think it was a squirrel, but we're not sure. Hubster took it away from her and threw it over the fence. Gack. That dog is more like a cat than a dog, from bringing things home to us to how she holds things in her paws to how she stalks potential prey (like the cardboard tubes inside toilet paper rolls).

Figures I'd get an identity-confused animal. There's nothing normal in this house.

Except me, of course.

(cough)

PLEASE Sign Up for SP14!

This is a plea, pure and simple. I hope you consider it.

Secret Pal 14 is nearing the end of it's signups, and we're way down in numbers this round. We're also low on United States participants. Please... consider signing up for it. There are three tiers of signup amounts: $30, $60 and $90. It's a three-month swap, so you have plenty of time to get to know your pal. Of all the swaps I've been in, this is by far the best. The hostesses are exceptional (we have a lot of new hostesses this year), there are contests, and it's just a whole lot of fun. I've made some incredible friends in the rounds I've participated in.

There's also a Ravelry group which is dedicated to discussion, and a blog for general and specific information. It's well-organized, and I think you would have a ball participating.

If you would like to sign up, the blog is at:

http://secretpalxiv.blogspot.com/

All the information for joining (as well as the swap rules) are there.

I'll be writing a regular post in the next day or so. I've just been too busy and tired to sit down and write something which you would enjoy reading, but I'll correct that. Until then...

SIGN UP!!!!

The Curtain Has Begun to Fall

Lest you think that I'm a happy buffoon all the time, I have to throw in a serious post every once in a while. Actually, I gave this post a lot of thought before I sat down to write it. Is it the right sort of thing to blog about? Is it something you want to hear? I don't know the answer to either of those questions, but since I barf my guts out here anyway, I decided that you might as well know this, too.

It all began a few weeks ago when my pain doctor ordered two MRI's - one for my lower back, and one for my left knee. I had been having a lot of problems with both areas - lots of pain, falling down, etc. So I went and had the one on my back done, but had to reschedule the one on my knee. I had it done about a week ago. Then came the follow-up appointment with the doctor. He asked me to come in a little early. Huh? He normally only sees new patients early in the morning. So why was I being called in?

Hubster and I went on Thursday. He wanted to come back into the exam room with me to talk to the doctor, but I didn't want him to. So while he snoozed in the waiting room (this is in Rancho Mirage, right next-door to Palm Springs - think next-door to Death Valley and summer temperatures) enjoying the air conditioning, I went back to see what the scans said.

It was a little worse than I thought.

It seems that the disease has attacked my spine and popped three of the discs - the bottom three. There's fluid leaking out of them and, pretty soon, my spine may not be able to support my body weight without some kind of horrendous back surgery to get bone off bone. The same thing has happened in my knee (the other knee just has a lot of arthritis in it... oh goodie). So after staring at the doctor with a really stupid look on my face, paying attention to his explanation using anatomical models, and reading the radiologist's report for myself, he sent me next door to his surgical suite. I just had time to go out and have a ciggie. Why, may you ask, did I have to go next door? It's a lot more fun than you might imagine.

I had to have three injections of steroids put into my spinal cord/discs and one into the cartilage in my knee.

It looked like it was going to be a long wait, judging by the number of old people waiting in the office (am I REALLY that OLD?), so I asked the nurse if I could go have another ciggie and explain to Hubster what was going on. She squeezed my hand and sent me outside into 101 degree heat. I carefully explained it all to Hubster, who looked like he was about to collapse (and not from the heat). Then it was back inside to experience something which I was scared shitless of.

I had reason to be scared shitless. It hurt like a mofo, and I had to remain absolutely still during the entire thing. Those fucking steroids make you feel heavy and full, and the needle is the size of my thigh. It has to be strong and rigid so it doesn't bend when the doc inserts it, but Jesus... The only fun part of the whole thing was watching it go into my spinal cord on the fluoroscope, but he just felt my back with his fingers and deftly inserted it. You can tell he's been doing this a long time and is at the top of his game - there was no hesitation whatsoever, and he knew exactly how far to push before he backed off and pushed the plunger. Even so... He wound up putting four shots into my spine and somehow managed to hit the same hole every single time.

The one in my knee hurt every bit as much. I had to keep my knee bent (I was flat on my back with the fluoroscope on either side of it) so he could maneuver the needle under the kneecap and into the cartilage. He didn't even have the good grace to put Flintstones Band-Aids on the injection sites.

So I've been completely wiped out all weekend. I wasn't allowed to do anything on Friday, and Hubster made me stay home from work this weekend and rest. It was the best thing I could have done, really. I just wasn't able to do much of anything. So now I wait to see if the injections helped at all. If they do, then I get to have them done again in two weeks. I'm tempted to say they didn't do anything just to avoid that horrible feeling. He's talking about switching my pain meds to morphine (probably the pump they surgically implant) or Roxanol (pure THC), but he's waiting on that until he sees how I'm doing. We'll discuss back surgery later on, but only if it will considerably alleviate my pain level. A few things are certain: it isn't going to heal, it's not going to get better, this is all just to help the pain level, and I'm fucked.

With the biggest dick of all.

I Can't Think of a Title...

but that doesn't stop me from blathering.

So what's new? My friend from England came over for two weeks, and we had a wonderful time. There was lots of knitting, a trip to Warner Brothers Studio, dinner on the beach at San Diego, bumming around downtown Idyllwild, working on orders for the shop, organizing my studio, and lots of other fun things. Hubster took her out some days because I was sound asleep, but they seemed to enjoy themselves. All in all, I think it was a wonderful two weeks.

On the medical side of things, I went to see my new pain doc. He has me on a new pain med (Dilaudid), and another new pill for fibromyalgia. He also ordered scans of my lower spine and left knee. His fear is that a virus has attached itself to my spine and is eating through the bone. If that's the case and it reaches my spinal cord, well... let's just say that i won't be writing many more blog entries. I'll find out the results when I go see him next week.

There was another contact from that bitch who apparently thinks she's hot shit in this town. This time, she left a message on the post that included the letters we traded, saying I had hand-delivered her items and not refunded her shipping. She also said that she questioned my business integrity. I sent her a reply, left up the comment until I got bored with it, and then deleted it. I also refunded her $7.00. Since I apparently talked about nothing but my health at the SnB meetings, she should have heard that my short-term memory has been affected by the disease and drugs. Heh. Like I give a shit. What puzzles me is why she waits a few weeks and then attacks. I had no idea I was so interesting. Unless the meetings have been moved to a secret place, they've been shut down at the coffee house; the blog has also been removed. Since there were only a few people attending each meeting, that seemed to be the most logical thing to do. Either that, or I'm Typhoid Pam.

Hubster and I went out the other night and returned with a new car (new to us, anyway). We only have the truck, and if it breaks down, we're stuck with just the bike (like Hubster would ever ride behind me). Being Memorial Day weekend (and a really sucky economy), there were sales galore. We found a Jeep Liberty for a terrific price; the thing looks brand new. I've claimed it as my own. It's a deep garnet pearl - my first red car. I just love it and can't wait to take it to work this weekend.

I think our daughter is coming this weekend, too. There's lots to do around here on Memorial Day weekend - art shows, a community-wide garage sale (complete with map so you can find all the houses having one), spaghetti dinners, etc. We're attending a few of the events, but since I have to work and the kid will be here... It'll be nice to see her. She's moved into a house with lover boy and his sister, so I'll get all the gossip.

We're also currently under an ant attack. The bug guy is coming tomorrow to get rid of them. We have these huge black ants and these red, hairy things (I'm not sure I like living in the forest yet). I'm also covered with bites from spiders and skeeters. So much for being Nature Woman.

The shop is close to being open again. I've been trying to get out vendors' packages (those who are leaving), and listing new ones. We're also changing the look of the shop. One new thing we're having are grab bags. For $50, you get five skeins of top-name indie yarns. I'm also having Opal grab bags and Lorna Laces grab bags. I have so much yarn that it just isn't feasible for me to photograph and list every one, so my friend came up with the idea of the grab bags. I'll try to honor color requests, but these are all multi-colored skeins. I think it will be a fun thing, and everyone will be getting a bargain on the prices. Hopefully, it will go over really well.

I think we're going to take a surprise trip back home next month to celebrate my and my mom's birthdays. I'm in the mood to have a good seafood dinner in San Francisco. I'm sure that Emma will enjoy the ride, too. She gets groomed tomorrow, so she'll be sweet-smelling and clean.

Knitting is going along really well. i have two socks on the needles - one pair for me, one pair for Hubster, His has a pretty pattern (stranded knitting), whereas mine is just plain and simple. I've decided to crank out a bunch of socks for both of us (well, some for him if I have enough yarn). I like doing stupid simple socks for me because they go fast; I can also talk and watch TV while I'm doing them.

I think that's all that's going on around here. I'll try to write another post next week; after all, I have to get in the habit for SP14. That's coming up next month, but I can't say anything more about it.

After all, I have that short-term memory loss thing going on.

I've Got a Ticket... and Not to a Ride at Disneyland, Either

Quite the provocative title, huh? Is it a speeding ticket? A lottery ticket? More to come in just a minute.

First of all, Sheryl arrived last Sunday after a horrendous 11-hour flight. It took her a few days to acclimate, but now she appears to be on our schedule. It's been difficult for me to get on a "normal" sleeping schedule, and since it's 5:10 a.m. (and I'm typing), it's obvious that I'm failing miserably. I've been getting up at a reasonable hour and going out to do some things with her, but it's been up to poor Hubster to take her into town and go shopping on those days when I've slept most of the daylight hours away. I feel terrible, but I'm doing the best I can. She's been a tremendous blessing - she got all the orders packed and sent out, is helping me go through the stash and sort it into piles (throw away, give away, sell, keep), and is helping me list new artists this week. She's also a lot of fun to just hang out with. I've yet to feed her a traditional breakfast, go to the day spa for a day of pampering, and do a bunch of other things - but she's going to be here all week (and maybe another week after that), so we've still got time. Unfortunately, we're about to undergo a big warmup - she doesn't do well with warmer weather- so there goes Disneyland. We've got a lot to do, though, so I doubt we'll even miss it.

Today, we decided to go to San Diego. After doing a bit of research, we found a yarn shop we wanted to go to. It was okay - kind of small - but we both found some things to buy. I wound up putting all my yarn back because I realized I had more than I would ever knit in a lifetime, so I just bought some books and patterns. The shop owner informed me that she was converting to all indie yarn and was quite pleased with herself... until I told her that's all I sell and wasn't doing well. I'll have to go back to see if she really does it. I saw several labels which I carry, so I know I've got some modicum of good taste.

Anyway, we went to Old Town afterward and found that a fiesta was still going on (I forgot that Cinco de Mayo is tomorrow), and a lot of street vendors were still open. I scored big at a pottery place, buying some new chimes, a hummingbird feeder, and a peacock for the front yard (don't ask). Hubster was less than pleased. Then we decided to head over to the main drag, where I found a Chuck Jones gallery. After seeing the prices on the cels, paintings, and sculptures, i found a little original drawing of Marc Antony and Pussy Cat (you remember that cartoon - Marc Antony the bulldog finds a stray kitten whom he adopts, only to get into a lot of trouble with both the kitten and his mistress) which I could afford. It now resides on an end table in my front room. Then Sheryl was hungry, so we grabbed some food at Pizza Hut and headed to our favorite beach to watch the sun set over the ocean and eat our dinner. That's when the trouble began.

After eating, I lit a smoke and sat there watching the waves. It was then that I noticed a truck driving across the sand. The truck stopped at the people next to us - they had a fire going in a pit - and then drove over to us. Huh? What did I do? It turns out that you can have a dog who shits on the sand, but smoking on a public beach is illegal. Instead of just warning me, the asshat wrote me a ticket for smoking. I couldn't believe it. So now we have to call the courthouse to find out what my fine is. Had I been thinking, I would have given him false information. So now I have a point on my record, got Hubster all pissed off, and had the perfect ending to a less than happy day. Sigh. I think today will be much happier, though - we're going to stay in and knit all day.

Speaking of knitting, we're both using these 9" circulars by HiyaHiya. I thought they were silly at first, but then I transferred my work to one of them. It's fantastic! Going round and round beats the hell out of dealing with the joins of each new DPN. I'm working with size 1 on this project (socks, of course, and basic ones at that), but I've got up to size 3. I was kind of leery of using them (that's the snob in me coming out - any needle which I didn't pay more than $20 for had to stink) - but I'm really happy with them. I got stainless steel instead of bamboo because I like the speed steel affords me... and I always seem to break bamboo or at least get them splintered. I bought a set for Sheryl and also got a set of Darn Pretty DPN's for other projects (from Grafton Fibers). I had to find a new DPN since Golding no longer makes them, and these are an acceptable substitute - they're strong, sharp, and... well... darn pretty. They're also inexpensive, which I know makes Hubster happy.

So that's it for now. I've just fallen asleep and slept for an hour, so I'm going to wrap this up and do some knitting before I fall asleep again. I have lots more to tell you all, but that will wait for my next post. My lovely disease is attacking my left knee, so I can barely walk without excruciating pain. A day in sounds like just the ticket.

And once I find out the fine for the ticket, I may just be knitting and not going out for some time to come.

Wow - I Never Expected This

I truly don't know what to say. It was just what I needed to bring me back to my normal, bitchy, fighting self.

What am I talking about?

The overwhelming love and support which was extended to me over this entire mess with the knitting group.

I have never received so many comments, nor have I gotten so many letters telling me that I was clearly in the right and to not let it bother me. Between the private emails and the public comments, there were close to 50 notes. To a person, nobody could believe that such a callous, rude, nasty letter was sent. I can't even begin to express the love and appreciation I feel for each and every one of you. I wrote to as many of you as I could, but those who left public comments didn't always have their email addys listed. I left comments for some of those, but if I didn't get a note of thanks to you, consider yourselves thanked.

Anyway, the saga continues. This woman wrote me another email telling me that she needed me to remove her letter from the blog. What the fuck? What good would that accomplish? I told her I wouldn't do that. She claims that her email was private and that I didn't have her permission to publish it. I begged to differ, and it went downhill from there. I think there were two more emails with her trying to argue and/or intimidate me, but I refuse to be pushed around by anybody, let alone somebody who caused so much grief. If she didn't want anybody to know about this, then she shouldn't have written the damned email to begin with. I also told her to leave me alone and, if she continued to bother me, I would publish those emails on the blog, too. The strange thing is that I received emails from other women in the group who were as shocked as I was about the letter; they wanted me to continue coming to the group or, lacking that, to knit with them privately. It just proved that she acted either alone or with just a few other people in the group. I'm definitely not going back; I have far better things to do than sit down with a bunch of women who really don't want me there. I've been looking at the list of cities on the sidebar and noticed that there were people from my town and the surrounding communities reading it. I don't know if she's one of them, but I'd be willing to bet that she is. I also think that my language is a bit rough for their fair virgin ears, and they also probably don't much care for how I look or the fact that I'm a smoker. Fuck 'em. The ladies who wanted to remain my friend are different; the ones who think I'm a freak can go play with themselves and an unlubricated dildo for all I care. Heh... the spell checker doesn't recognize either "unlubricated" or "dildo".

Now that that little drama seems to be behind me, I've been working on Hubster's socks. In fact, I just had to frog all the slip stitch work I did because it was too tight. Then I read the instructions a little more closely and found out that I was supposed to change to the next larger size of needle for that part of the sock. Live, rip, and learn.

I'm dead tired, so I'm going to go take a nap. Tomorrow should be a big day in the village, what with the gorgeous weather we're having. I have a three-hour reading tomorrow, so I need to prepare for that. Hopefully, I'll get a lot of clients this weekend. Then I have to really work hard on the house next week - Sheryl comes a week from Sunday!!!

Thank you all again for your support. It truly made me feel loved that you all came to the forefront and stood up for me. It really helped me feel better about myself - I was truly down in the dumps over this whole mess. I love you all; if you ever need me for anything, don't hesitate to call on me. Most of us may be miles apart, but that doesn't matter. Friendship and love make those miles disappear.

And on that note, I'm back to my chair to sleep. Have a lovely weekend!

Pissed Off? Hurt? You Bet Your Ass

I just received this letter from one of the women in what I thought was my SnB group:

Hi Pam:
I need to pass on to you that your presence is killing the local group, just like you suspected.

These women just want to get together, knit and talk. They feel and believe that your behavior has threatened their ability for several reasons.

1) Your statement that you are dying and your constant reference to your health issues. They're just regular people looking for a place to knit and talk about their lives. Hell, they live w/stress & guilt all day. This is their outlet for their stress & you're bringing more stress & guilt.

2. Drama. How can their lives compare to yours? You alienated them.

3. TB issue. Some of them have little kids, and your arguments haven't made them feel safe. In fact, it insulted them for being cautious, considering your argument on your blog that made them look stupid rather than cautious.

I don't blame any of them. It isn't your appearance; it's your behavior that affects them.

BC

Here is my response:

Hi Becky,

Well. How nice to know that I've been discussed, and behind my back, no less. Yet again. Just when I thought that I had found a group of women with whom to socialize, this happens. I know I had said that I would be happy to leave the group if it was my presence that was causing the lack of attendance. However, I never thought I would receive such an insensitive letter in my inbox. You have truly hurt me.

Allow me to address each of your comments.

1. I don't make constant references to my health issues. I was asked about it, so I told whoever asked what was wrong. It's not my fault that I'm the way I am. I feel sorry for anybody who is ill around the group. Are they also a threat, or is there faked sympathy, when all the while the group is threatened? And what do you mean by "regular people"? I thought this was an open town. I see now that the women here are no different than anywhere else - close-minded and narrow. How in the hell am I bringing them more stress - and guilt? What guilt? Have I blamed any of them for what ails me? Or do they feel guilty because they don't like to be around people with diseases, and having me there makes them realize that they're bigots?

2. It's also not my fault if they lead boring, mundane lives. They chose their lives, not me. If this is their outlet for excitement, then I feel sorry for them.

3. This comment is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. If these women can't research (and the Internet is a marvelous place to do research, since they must not have the time to go the library - they have those little kids underfoot, after all), then they are stupid. Cautious has nothing to do with it. If they don't believe articles written by doctors from such lousy, silly institutions as the Mayo Clinic, then there's nothing I can say that will convince them otherwise. Cautious my ass. They'll certainly feel and look stupid and ignorant when I write about this on my blog. I fully intend to publish this letter and the letter which caused it to be written on my blog as well.

I don't believe that my appearance has nothing to do with this. These women act like they're from the Midwest, not California. I'm being treated exactly the same way I've always been treated by women, which is exactly why I don't like women. They're catty, nasty, rude, and ostracize people who are different from them. Even though I don't like kids, I'm treated better by them than supposedly mature adults. I knew the drop in attendance was because of me; I'm not the stupid one. Fine.

You won't have to worry about me alienating your precious group. I don't go where I'm not wanted. You can all burn the things I gave away last week - just in case they're also infected with who knows what virus. I wouldn't want people to feel guilty for accepting things from a sick woman. Or maybe they can just wipe everything down with anti-bacterial wipes. That should kill any disease on them.

If I sound angry and bitter, it's because I am. It's always the same, no matter where I go or what I do or say. You can tell the group exactly what I said, because frankly, I don't care. Maybe they should put themselves in my place and try to see how it feels to be told that you're a walking death sentence to a group. All I wanted was to sit, knit, and visit. Shit... I hardly say anything to anybody and help where I can. If that's what scares them, so be it.

Have fun knitting. I'll be doing it alone at home where I can't infect anybody, including my granddaughters. How utterly pedestrian.

Pam

P.S. (from Mark) Unlike my wife, I'm at a loss for words in how to respond to such an ugly, small, and petty list of ignorant complaints. You have lost an opportunity to get to know and learn from someone who is incredibly interesting with more funny and true anecdotes than most best sellers on the bookshelf. I read your complaints below, and not one of them seems to have any substance whatsoever. If those items give any sense of the threshold of "other-ness" that your group is able to put up with, then you will always have a very boring, vanilla, and "stress-free" group. I suppose it would be best to end with a quote from the philosopher Judge Judy Sheindlin -- "Beauty fades... dumb is forever."

It would appear that Hubster is also pissed off, and rightly so. His wife has been violated.

You know, I've tried for years to belong to groups. In the past, these were quilting guilds. I was always somewhat forced to sit in the back of the room where the other members could pretend that I wasn't really there. Hubster would go with me so I wouldn't have to sit alone. Eventually, I just gave up trying to belong.

The reason I'm bringing this up is because I'm tired of trying to fit in. Shit... I've never really fit in anywhere. People are either afraid, cautious, worried, embarrassed, and any other number of labels concerning me. The end result is that I've had it. I'm done being nice and trying to be a part of the group. I guess I'm too flamboyant - or just too accepting- to be around such asinine people. What the fuck are they talking about with the guilt, my alienating them, stress, blah blah blah? Am I just too colorful to be around Puritans? What the hell is WRONG with these people? I haven't been this pissed off in a while, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get.

There was a comment above about the women feeling stupid rather than cautious. They should feel stupid. This is all about the TB shit. Had they bothered to read the articles which Google had on their home page - they had links, for chrissakes - they would have seen that exactly what I said was true. I'm less threatening to their or their precious children's health than the mosquitoes.

I need to stress that there are women in the group who aren't a part of this. I just received a lovely letter (which also made me cry - it seems to be my night for that) from one of them who apologized for what is going on. She isn't the only one. There are others who like me and enjoy my company. I'm not a fucking ogre - I'm just myself. I'm glad that some of the women have the good sense that Creator gave them, and I welcome them in my life.

That's really all I have to say tonight. I'm going to go sit in my chair and knit out my anger and sadness - that is, if Emma the Consoler peels herself away from me. She always knows when I'm upset and tries to cuddle against me to make me feel better. Or she'll lick away my tears. Anybody who says that animals are stupid and don't know your feelings don't know what they're talking about. They're more perceptive than a lot of people.

I think you know which people I'm talking about.

Snowed in on a Friday Night

Yep. You read that right. It's snowing, and I mean SNOWING. It began about four hours ago and doesn't show any signs of letting up. I'm ecstatic! And here I thought our rain/snow was over for the season. Heh. I love being wrong sometimes.

Before I go any further, let me warn you that there are some graphic paragraphs coming up. I know that will entice many of you to read faster so you can get to them; others will run away shrieking. You've been warned.

I hadn't realized that so much time had gone by between posts again. It seems like time just keeps going by faster and faster. At this rate, I'll be dead in a week or two.

ACK! Sorry about that. We're watching Antiques Roadshow, and this absolutely HIDEOUS clock with a picture of some old dude just came on the screen. When you have a 64" TV, everything is somewhat... uh... bigger. If I saw this dude in a dark alley - or anywhere, for that matter - I'd run screaming. OH SHIT! His eyes move as the clock ticks! NOOOO!!! It's worse than a clown!!!

Ahem.

Anyway, here I sit typing and eating a bowl of snow. Powder. Freshly fallen. Hubster has three bowls set out on the deck railing to catch it. I just uh... uh... well... OK, I'll say it - I just got my tongue pierced, and the cold is really good for shrinking the swelling. I'm just letting Mother Nature work her magic as it sits on the piercing, soothing the ache.

So why in the hell did I do such a thing, you might ask? Well, I don't really know. I had a tongue piercing many years ago and finally got tired of it, so I took it out. They heal over very quickly, and before a week was gone, it was like I never had one to begin with. Well, I got the urge again, and it just grew stronger and stronger. After we went to see my new pain doc (more on that fiasco in a minute), we drove to Palm Springs because Errant Daughter (ER) found a studio on one of her electronic gadgets (she was here for a few days - more on that later). When we found the place, it was in the old (now very trendy) part of town on a little side street. Very clean. Very new. I felt comfortable immediately, so ER and I walked inside.

The first thing I saw was a plastic male torso sitting on the floor with thong underwear and an enormous cock. Huh? What did enormous cocks have to do with piercings (unless you're a man and want your own enormous cock pierced)? For that matter, what did thong underwear and plastic male torsos have to do with it? Then I saw clothing hanging on the wall. Fetish clothing. Male fetish clothing. Hm. Next, I ventured over to the counter to check out their jewelry. Very large CBR's (captive bead rings, a type of ring that doesn't go all the way around - it has a bead in the opening which is held in place by pressure). Male fetish objects. Prince's Wands (men put them in their dicks - they have a post which you put through a piercing to hold it in place). It's a practice called sounding. I used to be really involved in the piercing world, which is how I know about this shit. Then it dawned on me. This was a studio for gay men, or at least run by gay men.

The man who would be my piercer was behind the counter doing some paperwork and was extremely friendly, telling me to browse all I wanted and to let him know when I was ready (I had already told him what I wanted). ED and I looked around a little more, and then it was time for the big moment.

He took me into the back (it was draped off for complete privacy), carefully marked my tongue, clamped it, told me to breathe deeply, and on about the third breath, he did the piercing. He spoke in a very soft, soothing, calming voice. While he got the jewelry ready for insertion, his partner came in and asked me if I wanted a hug. I grunted (it's a bit difficult to speak when your tongue is hanging out of your mouth with a clamp on it and a large needle through it), so he came over and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. Once the jewelry was in, he squeezed me tightly and kissed me on the nape of my neck. There was no pain; this man was the best piercer I've ever had, and I've had a lot of them. When we were all finished and I had received my care instructions, both men gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Should any of you be as stupid as me and want to get a piercing (and you live in the Los Angeles/Palm Springs/Idyllwild area), the name of the place is Palm Springs Piercing Company. I highly recommend it.

Since my foot and ankle are swollen to the size of a tree trunk (bigger than my tongue, even), I've been doing a lot of sitting with my foot elevated (well, at least as much as I can - I can't sit that way forever, and I like to sit with my legs crossed), and knitting, reading, and sleeping in front of the boob tube. It's been delightful tonight with the snow, although I think that by now, it's stopped snowing. The other thing I've noticed about sitting down here for so long is that something is living under the house. This room was built in a space under the house, so I seem to be sharing it with some creature who has come in out of the cold - maybe a raccoon, or a squirrel, or a possum - which I hear moving about until Hubster opens the door to take a look. Then, of course, it either vanishes or hunkers down. Great. Now Emma is going to go apeshit (if she ever wakes up long enough to investigate). Right now, she's curled around my hip and snoring. Anyway, I've been working on Hubster's socks. They're coming along great. I'm ready to insert the second color and begin the slip stitch design. They look huge on the needles, but then again, his feet are the size of surfboards.

Work on the never-ending house project continues. I had no idea I had accumulated so much shit over the course of my life. But then again, when you're half the age of an antique and are as materialistic as I used to be, you tend to attract objects. I've been very good - I've not bought much of anything, even for decorating the house. In fact, I have more than enough crap to put on the walls, tables, mantel, etc. I finally found the box which had my antique quilts in it, so I draped my favorite one over the upstairs railing (it hangs down into the front room so everybody can see it as soon as they walk in the front door). Some years ago, we had attended an auction to benefit breast cancer at the Sutter Cancer Center in Sacramento and won the bid on a batik quilt (it's sized for a king bed). Since it had a hanging sleeve already attached, we bought a pretty curtain rod (the kind with the fancy finials) and hung it on one of the hallway walls. Slow but sure, the house is turning into a home. Since my dear friend arrives in 16 days(!), I want as much of the house done by then as possible. Since ED was coming for a few days, we had to hurry and set up one of the guest bedrooms, which is where Sheryl will be sleeping. That's one important task out of the way.

Since I've blathered on enough for one night, I'll save the saga of the pain doctor for my next post. It's almost 10:00 p.m., and I need to feed the old man. I also need to pee. TMI? I think not. You can rely on me to report the facts.

To those of you who are of the Christian persuasion, Happy Easter! To those of you who are of other persuasions, Happy Ostara - or whatever it is you celebrate.

And to those of you who don't give a shit - have a lovely weekend.

I Need a Magic Wand...

to get all this shit done. Why is it that it takes so long to set up a new house? I honestly can't remember how long it took to set up my Sacramento home, but it seems like this one is taking forever. Maybe sleeping around the clock isn't such a good idea after all.

And for all you smart-asses, yes... I do have wands (some of them magic), but they're not geared to do Bewitched-type things.

Here's what things look like at Chez Goddess tonight (and most nights):





There's Hubster and Emma watching TV. Yeah, right. Hubster is watching the insides of his eyelids, and Emma... well, I don't have to say anything about that.





There's the fireplug. She long ago passed pot roast stage.

We just got notice that our daughter is planning on coming for a few days in two weeks. Deadlines. I work well with deadlines, but I don't know if I can pull this one off. Being out of remission sort of puts a dent in one's armor. We'll do the best we can, but I don't know. My foot and ankle are swollen up like a balloon - the skin is stretched so tight that I can barely flex the ankle, and it burns like a mofo when I do. I also can't walk very well. The last time this happened, the skin actually split because there was so much fluid in there. It's about to do that again, so I'm seeing the doctor in town (I think there's only one) tomorrow. I have to see him anyway to get my meds set up (not the pain meds, but the ones that keep my head from sprouting horns and spinning around). Maybe he'll have an idea of what to do. The man who gives me massages told me to drink a lot of water - he thinks that because we're essentially high desert and it's dry, my body is holding on to whatever moisture it can. That's a pretty good theory, except that my ankle split in Sacramento (close to sea level and humid because of all the rivers). This is also something that happens when my body decides to go apeshit on me. So I'll hobble around with a pressure bandage on (I look like a mummy in progress), swear as much as I can, and hope that this new doc will have an idea of what the hell is going on. Nobody else seems to.

I'm also cold - very, very cold. Right now, the house is up to almost 70, but I'm sitting here in sweats, shivering and having a hard time typing because my fingers are freezing. It does no good to bitch, but I do it anyway because... well, I don't know why. Oh well. That's what the blog is for.

My SnB meeting was cancelled tonight due to lack of participation. Last week, there were only three of us. I hope that I haven't scared the shit out of everybody with the TB thing. If so, I'll have to drop out. I don't want to fuck it up for the rest of them. We also found out that having a SnB group means you have to run it according to bylaws or some such shit. I say, drop the name and call it the Idyllwild Knitting Group. I don't think any of us do well with rules.

My readings are going really well. I guess the whole town read the ad in the local magazine and now knows who I am. We had dinner at a little pub the other night, and a waitress shook my hand and welcomed me to town. Wow. People want to meet me instead of running in the opposite direction. I've got posters up around town, too, and I think it's working. I had a lady frantically trying to contact me for a reading this past week. We finally hooked up today, and it turned into a two-hour session. The best part of doing this is that it allows me to help people. Weekends are fun - I sit on the front porch of the shop and knit or play my flute. Both activities draw a lot of attention. The knitters now know that I have a shop which is opening to the public (many happy people there), and the flute makes people stop, listen, ask questions, and possibly want a reading. It's all good.

As you know, my friend Sheryl is coming next month for a two-week (or longer) visit. I tried to get tickets to The Tonight Show so she could see a taping, but they're impossible to get because he's leaving. Oh well. I've got lots of other things planned, but I had wanted to see it, too. We'll have fun, even if we're just sitting on the couch in front of a fire (it still gets cold enough at night to have one) knitting and gossiping about everyone we know. Don't worry - your secrets are safe with me. It's all the other stuff...

Speaking of knitting, I have a pair of socks for me, a pair for Hubster, and a sweater on the needles. I'm going to knit tonight instead of work - I'm just too tired to do anything other than sit. My big chair should be in any day now, so Emma will be able to sleep with me again while I knit. I'm tired of cramming my big ass into the chair we have now, so that will be welcome. In the area of home improvement, I've hung baskets of flowers all along the walkway from the garage to the house. It's gorgeous, although one of them didn't fare well in the cold temps the other night. I might have to replace it, but I hope not. It was one of the prettiest ones, with the flowers hanging down over the edge of the pot. In any event, the colors brighten up the entire outside of the house.

I've decided that I'm just taking the bike out and riding it, class or no class. The damn class is $400; while worth it, I think I learned enough from the last one to stay upright on the iron horse. I'm going to try it as soon as my foot unswells, which means I may be waiting until Halloween. I'm just dying to ride it (and may die doing so); it sits in the garage twinkling at me. During the weekends, the town square is full of riders. My bike is the prettiest one I've seen (preening over here), other than the electric banana yellow trike I saw last weekend. That, and the all-black Corvette Z06 which made me cream my sweats.

Hubster finally told his boss that he's moved to SoCal. She wasn't happy. I told him he should have told her that it's closer than North Carolina, where she lives. He's come up with a plan, though, to keep him from having to fly back to San Jose for meetings. We're getting a note from the doctor saying that I can't be left alone and he has to stay here to keep an eye on me. Heh. We'll fix them.

They'll probably fix us at bonus time - and not in a good way.

The Secret Package is Here!

Two posts in one day from me. Unheard of.

Unless there's something really, really special I want to share with you.

I was a participant in Secret Pal 13, but I had to drop out due to all the shit going on in my life. Well, my spoiler wanted to keep me and talked the swap mom into letting her do so. She's been sending me a lot of fantastic packages along the way, but the last package - the one where she revealed her identity - was a huge secret and surprise. And indeed it was! There were two items in it - one for me and one for Emma - as well as a card revealing herself. Here's what she made for me:





That's right - a February Lady Sweater with yarn she dyed herself! I'm so excited that I can barely stand it! Her knitting is superb, and I'll be wearing it tonight!

She was also VERY thoughtful and included this for Emma:









Yep... a bone with a squeaky inside! Emma wore herself out throwing it in the air and catching it, then laying down, holding it between her paws like a cat, and munching on it. She's now snoring away with her Daddy.

Kim, my pal, knits for the Knit Picks catalog, as well as being published in a magazine. I'm truly honored to be wearing one of her creations, especially since she made it with yarn she dyed just for this project. I won't give out any more details about her - I don't want her privacy invaded - but I had to share at least this much.

And to Nic, my darling swap mom - thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing Kim to remain my spoiler. My entire weekend has been made a LOT happier by this act of kindness! She was absolutely the best pal that anybody could ever have!

Now I have to go make chocolate mousse - a little late (it has to set for four hours), but I figure that by the time we eat it, it will have chilled enough.

Thank you, Kim!!! Much love to you (and to Nic).

All is Well - Just Busy as Hell

Wow. I'm a poet and didn't know it.

Seriously, I've been so busy that I can't see straight. Take that, add to it my being out of remission again, and you have all the makings for a difficult time. I received a letter from a new artist (well, she's not new - she's been waiting for months) to the shop, and she listed all the excuses (read: reasons) I've given her as to why her work hasn't been listed. She's absolutely right on every single point she listed. I've been horribly remiss in listing several people, and it's just from all the things which have conspired to keep me from doing my job and doing it right. If you're an artist who is still waiting for your work to be listed, please forgive me and hang in there. We're almost there. I'm not going to continue listing reasons; I'm just going to do it.

On the brighter side of life, my knitting group is going really, really well. It varies from week to week how many people show up, but the ladies whom I've met are absolutely wonderful. I really enjoy going. It's the first time I've enjoyed being with a group of women and enjoying myself, as well as looking forward to the next meeting. I have nothing but terrific things to say about all of them.

To Polli, who left an absolutely hysterical comment to my last post, you made me snort coffee out my nose. Thank you for a much-needed laugh.

It looks like our Emma is going to be a TV star! During our last meeting, the owner of the place where we take her for grooming came in (our meetings are held in the local coffee shop). I introduced myself, and he told me about his wanting to make a video featuring Emma, Bella (another Bully), and a few other funny dogs as an advertisement for his business. I guess Emma runs around and shoves her way through the mad pack (he has a playground for the dogs where he puts them for boarding and/or after they've been groomed and are waiting to be picked up) in order to greet and play with the other dogs. I thought she would be shy around strange dogs, but she isn't. He says she's funny as hell. That big, hard head of hers comes in handy for banging open doors and getting to where she wants to go, including here at home. She's glued herself to Hubster when she wants to sleep and to me when I'm walking around the house. She's also gotten bigger and broader - quite large for a female. We absolutely adore her. I think she misses the snow, but it's supposed to snow on Sunday. It's soft on her big, webbed-toed feet.

I've been hobbling around the house for a week now. My right foot and ankle are blown up to the size of a balloon; it's painful to even flex my ankle or touch my foot. My left knee has also gone out, which tells me that the disease has landed there and is eating away. I've been remiss in finding a pain doctor and have a short time in which to do it now. My meds run out in a month, and I don't want to go into withdrawal. I also don't want to drive for 10 hours to go to my old doctor. Sigh. I hate having to find a new doctor, and I also don't have the time to fuck around with this. But do it I must.

I got notification in the mail today that my SP13 pal's package has arrived! It's something special, something she made for me, and I can't wait to get it, see it, and find out who she is. She's been the best pal and an absolute doll, and I can't thank her enough for everything she's done for me. I'll be posting pictures of what she sent. We got to the post office after it closed and found the notice in our box, so Hubster will be there when they open to pick it up. Yay!

I'm boring tonight - no funny stories, nothing interesting going on - just buying things for the house (I got a huge pot rack and a gorgeous antique - Art Deco from the late 40's - sideboard), so I apologize for that. I have two pairs of socks on the needles and a cabled Gansey sweater which I try to work on at night. My Tarot readings went really well this past weekend, and I even had one woman stop to ask me for my URL. She thought I was interesting and wanted to learn about me. That's a first. Usually, people run away from me shrieking loudly. The owner of the shop where I read and his partner have invited us to dinner tomorrow night, so we're happily going (his partner is an amazing cook, and I'm bringing dessert). It should be a fun evening and a wonderful break from unpacking.

I thought I was taking forever to unpack and put the house together until I heard from a lady who took over seven years to do it. Now I feel absolutely speedy. If I felt better, I could do more, but I don't, so I can't. Hubster has that pesky job he has to work at during the day, which sort of puts a crimp in my getting him to help me. Here it is, 11:00 p.m., and I haven't even cooked dinner or cleaned the kitchen. He's working in my studio right now. Shit.

So it's off to make dinner and then work on the room some more. Tomorrow is baking/photographing/listing day, as are the weekend nights (and probably Sunday, if it really snows - downtown tends to literally close down when it snows). I love it.

Maybe tonight, I won't run face-first into the pots hanging from the ceiling.

For My Idyllwild SnB Knitting Group

It has come to my attention that something I said in an earlier post has concerned some of the members of my knitting group. It was also suggested that I amend that post and link it to my group for them to read. I thought it was a good idea, so here it is.

When I said I had TB, some of the ladies in my knitting group became frightened and concerned. Rightly so. Even though I went on to explain it, I think it was sufficient to scare the shit out some of them. Here is another explanation, one that I hope will resonate with them.

When my TB test came back positive (this is the bubble the doctor injects into your forearm), I was immediately sent to the hospital for a lung X-ray. That X-ray showed I had been exposed to the disease, not that I had full-blown TB. I have these "things" in my lungs which indicate I've been around it. Since I'm already so sick with the auto-immune stuff, I think that compounded the problem. Anyway, I was then sent over for a blood test which showed I didn't have TB, wasn't active, and only had been exposed to it. That's it. I DO NOT have TB; I can't be active for something I don't have; I take very strong antibiotics every day to ensure I don't switch over and get the actual disease (and another pill to protect my liver from the antibiotics); I have to take the damn pills for six months; I have to get my blood tested regularly; and I would NEVER go around anybody if I had it.

In fact, should I ever show that I'm positive (or if I was positive in the first place), I would be thrown in the hospital for six months in an isolation ward. No argument. No excuses. It's a public health risk, and I wouldn't put anybody in harm's way. I have my grands to think of in addition to the rest of my family and the public at large. I may be a bitch, but I'm not a cunt.

I hope that explains everything. In any event, I'll be at the meeting tomorrow night to further explain things.

And to those of you who don't say words like the "C" word, that's just who I am. I try to be on my best behavior when I'm around those of you ladies who don't say bad words.

I'm just a pig.

I am Truly Tired

Boxes. Stock. Hanging pictures. Shopping. Studying tarot cards to refresh my failing memory. Knitting. I've never been so tired, and you all know how tired I can get. Throwing my back out didn't help matters any, either. I was confined to my chair for about three days, but it's much better now. At least I can climb the stairs without screaming.

I have to tell you that this is the town I was meant to live in. I'm accepted here. Nobody gives a shit that I'm bald and have tattoos. Everybody is excited to see the bike when I'm finally able to ride it (there's still too much gravel on the road and melting snow for it to be safe for a novice rider). My knitting group is a joy to attend - the ladies are simply delightful. My house is a dream come true. What more could I ask for?

I could think up some things, but I'm going to try and not be greedy.

Things are actually going quite well. Emma has turned a year old, but she's still very much a puppy. Right now, for instance, she was just running around with her branch; then she plopped down and began snoring. She's beginning to calm down, though, and takes great interest in both the computer and TV. Having a dog that heavy standing on your legs while you're trying to type is an adventure, but we wouldn't have it any other way.

SHOP ANNOUNCEMENT: 20% OFF SALE ON ALL MERCHANDISE, MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY NEXT WEEK.

The shop is coming along just fine. I've purchased new cubes for display and hope to open the house to the public in a couple of weeks. My knitting group is in a lather waiting for it to open so they can go shopping. I'll just be glad to get some things sold. I also am getting a sizable list of artists for Sock Summit, but I need a lot more. If you're one of my artists, please consider joining us. It's a remarkable opportunity to get your work noticed.

In addition to reading the tarot on weekends, I'm also going to be giving knitting classes in my home. I'm making a list of classes which I think might be interesting and showing them to my knitting group. We'll decide on what we think the residents would like, and I'll advertise in our local paper (it comes out once a week). The gals told me that a lady was giving beading and jewelry classes here about a year ago, and her classes were consistently full with waiting lists. I'm hoping that the knitting classes will be the same way. The gals seem to think they will be. As for the tarot readings, I'm really looking forward to those. We're expecting nice weather this weekend, which means a lot of tourists in town. I have to go to the shop today to see how my area is coming along. I also have to begin moving some of my things over there so I can set up.

I found the coolest pot rack (which we're picking up today) at our local antique emporium. It's huge and in perfect condition. The price was just too good to pass up on. I'm amazed at the prices of things up here, but I suppose coming from the capital of indulgence, the Bay Area, anything looks cheap (other than LA and/or Rodeo Drive; I'm going to take Sheryl, my friend from England, there when she's here). We're going to stroll Via Rodeo and pretend we're rich bitches. I think I'll also call LA Ink and see about getting some new ink while we're there.

Speaking of Sheryl, I've got lots of things planned while she's here for her two-week vacation. I can't mention them because they're surprises and I know she reads the blog, but Sheryl... you can rest assured that you'll have the time of your life. We'll have pictures to post because I want a lot of things for memories of places we went and things we did. You have no idea of how excited I am to have her. The shop will be open while she's here; I'm going to put her to work wrapping orders. It'll be wonderful having someone fun to work with.

Other than that, the usual is going on. I just wanted to leave a post to let you all know that I'm alive and busy. Oh... for some reason, my blog is going blank from time to time. I don't know why - a dear friend suggested it might be the Neo displays I have on the sidebar, but those have been there forever - so if you log on and get a blank page, just reload. I have to figure out what the hell is going on.

And for those of you to whom I owe emails, I'm working hard on catching up. So much to do, so little time.

I think I'll take a nap and dream about all the things that need taking care of.

March? Already?

Where did the winter go? I want more snow, more rain, more overcast and cloudy days. But here it is, the end of February, and the sun is shining brightly. There's still snow on the ground, but it's melting fast. At least it's windy, which means that I can hear the four chimes I have placed around the house and yard. But I know what this means. It means summer is on the way.

And with summer comes heat. I don't do heat. So where do I move to? The high desert, of all places. At least bike riding season is fast approaching. And I don't mean a Schwinn, either.

I lived in Phoenix for three years (Hubster is from Scottsdale and used to love the "dry" heat of the desert). I finally came home one day, told him that I was going home to the Bay Area and hoped he would follow, packed my clothes, and left. He stayed behind to sell our house and pack it up; then I drove back to help him with the final details and get the hell out of there. That was back in 1994, I think. Then we moved to Sacramento (with no pool for seven years), finally buying what I thought was our dream home. Back to the Bay Area after that for two years, and now we're here. Supposedly, it doesn't get much hotter than the 80's (with a few really hot days) during the summer, but we'll see. At least I have A/C, so if things get rough, I can hide indoors. Sigh. I miss my pool and swimming every day. Maybe again some day...

In the meantime, I'm continuing to work on the house. It's looking and feeling more like a home with each passing day. I bought the most beautiful painting of an old Indian warrior at a local antique store. The way our recessed lighting is placed makes it look like the painting is hanging in a gallery; the wall he rests on is directly under one of the lights, and it illuminates the painting perfectly. His face is weathered from many battles and living a hard life on the plains. He has on a buffalo horn headdress and is gazing majestically. It was a true find. I love it when things like that happen. I also made friends with the shop owners (they've declared that we have to have dinner at each others' houses), so that was a lovely surprise. On arriving home, there were two people walking their dogs in front of our house. We talked for a few minutes, and the lady expressed a desire to see our house (she's always wondered what's inside). So we dragged them inside. It's that type of community - you see someone on the street who has admired the outside of your home, and you invite them inside without knowing who they are. She loved the house - it's very Arts and Crafts style - so now we've made some more friends. I'm trying to be nice and friendly to everybody because I know that everything I say and do will be broadcast all over town. What's odd is that it doesn't bother me at all. In fact, I find it strangely comforting. I rarely lock any of our doors at night and feel perfectly safe. The newspaper lists the crimes every week, and they're usually car accidents or people going to the medical clinic for a cut. It's absolutely amazing.

I keep finding new surprises about this house every day. For example, I just discovered that we have a central vacuum system. Now to find the hoses... The man from whom we purchased this palace, his sister lives in town and owns a couple of inns. She's coming by on Monday to pick up the furniture we don't want (it was left in the house for us - we're keeping some of it, like the two couches), so I'll ask her if she has any idea where the hose and nozzle are. That would be too cool to use something like that. The canister is in our downstairs bathroom, so I know it really exists.

My tarot room is coming along beautifully, and the shop owner has made a huge poster (as well as a small flyer for the local shop owners to post in their windows) with my ugly mug front and center. He also put me on the back cover of the local magazine advertising the fact that he's now offering that service. I found out that the magazine isn't all that local - it's distributed from San Diego to Santa Monica to Palm Springs. Holy shit! We're opening for business the second weekend in March. I have to sew some panels for a privacy screen, which means I have to unearth my sewing machine and try to remember how the fucker works. I also have a serger, but forget that. There's no way in hell I can remember how to use it, especially with the short timeline I have to work with. It will all come together, and I'm really looking forward to this. Talk about making new friends (unless the cards have something bad to say)...

No pictures today - I've just been busy knitting and studying my readings. My sweater is just about done, and I'm ready with my comments for the lady I'm test knitting it for whenever she's ready. Then it's back to socks. I'll be glad to work on them again, but it's been fun working on the sweater. I went to our local SnB meeting last week, and the ladies there are absolute gems. I'll be a regular participant in the group from now on. I've also been asked to help with the local quilt show, and I'm taking part in the annual Haunted Town we put on every Halloween. Meetings for that are starting soon. I'm really looking forward to scaring all the kids (and the adults, too). Talk about getting involved in the community! I've turned into a nice person. Shit.

Orders for the shop are going out tomorrow. I had to find all my wrapping paper (and still haven't found it all), as well as finding the rest of my artists' goods. I found a nice bookcase thing from Ikea (and here I swore I would never shop at that place) to hold all my stock, so I might order that in the next day or two. The nearest store is Burbank, which is about two hours away. I'd rather pay the shipping charges than drive over there. We'll see. Hubster may put the kabosh on the plan, since I need 10 of the things to hold all the stock. I've got four new artists who have just signed on, so that brings my total to around 100. I still can't believe it. Once I'm organized, I can get things listed just about immediately instead of making people wait a couple of weeks to see their work in the shop. Things are moving along beautifully, and I couldn't be happier. Thank you to everybody who wrote me with such nice things to say about getting this house. I don't know that I deserve it, but I'm sure as hell not giving it back.

Monday was Hubster's 42nd birthday, so we went to a local casino for dinner and a little gambling. He never wants to celebrate his birthday (I love celebrating mine and do everything short of taking out an ad in the newspaper to announce when it is), but I wanted to do something for him. Unfortunately, we arrived too late to go to one of the nice restaurants, so I went into the gift shop and bought this really cool, funky clock for the kitchen (they have something like four gift shops with different stuff in each one), and we wound up eating in the coffee shop for dinner. The food was really good, and he got prime rib for half of what we would have paid in the steakhouse there. I would have liked to eaten in the steakhouse, though - the ambience is so much nicer. Then we gambled a little, lost all our money, and headed back home. It was a nice evening, although I still owe him a cake. I think that will be the weekend project. I've never done high altitude baking (being over a mile up qualifies me for high altitude, methinks), so it will be interesting to see how it comes out. Speaking of baking/cooking/eating, we went off the hill last night to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to get a new portable grill (one of those you use in the kitchen). He not only bought me the grill (it's Calphalon and makes all kinds of stuff - I love it), but surprised me with a Food Saver. I love those things - they make freezing food a breeze. Since I'm trying to be Suzie Homemaker and Betty Crocker and keep my larder stocked, it will definitely come in handy. We had the old model, but this one does everything short of sealing your snatch shut (if I could fit it in there, it probably would do that, too). He spoils me so.

For those of you who noticed the "Sock Summit 2009" button on the left sidebar, yes... Yarny Goodness is going on the road. In yet another attempt at advertising, we're driving to the event and setting up a booth. If any of my artists are reading this, please get ready - I'll be asking you to send me as much stock as you possibly can so the booth is full. I figured that since I carry mostly sock knitting stuff, this would be the ideal location to "come out" at. Besides, I want to meet some of the teachers they're having. Being a vendor means that I can't take any classes, but that's okay. The last time I tried was with a well-known teacher, and I kept falling asleep in her class. Fortunately, she was an absolute doll and took extra pains with me. However, I don't want to go through that embarrassment again.

I should be getting lots of fun stuff from UPS today, so I'm looking forward to that. I'll fill you in on all that crap after it comes.

Before I go, I want to tell you about two extraordinary people and the difference they've made in my life. First is my Secret Pal from the SP13 swap. I don't know who she is yet (I'll find out very soon, though), and even though I had to pull out of the swap, my swap mom was kind enough to let her keep me to spoil. This lady has gone above and beyond, sending me lots of little packages with fantastic goodies inside. I can't wait to meet her so I can thank her properly. She came into my life at a time when I thought I was going insane and saved me. She's become a cherished friend, and I love her with all my heart. That's the thing with swaps - they're a crap shoot. Either you get a really good partner or one who sucks the big pipe. She falls into the former category. I consider her a dear friend - a lifetime friend - and I'll always keep her close to my heart. I know she reads my blog, so thank you, dear WP. I love you.

The other person whom I want to mention is my other dear friend, Sheryl. Sheryl lives in England, but that didn't stop us from becoming the best of friends. In fact, we're so close (I swear she's my long-lost sister) that she's flying all the way across the Big Pond to come visit me at the end of April for two weeks. I can't wait! I've got all kinds of fun things planned, as well as getting a lot of quality knitting time in. We want to sit on the deck under the stars , drink tea, knit, and gossip - among other things. I want to make her stay with us as special as I can and can't wait to show her the wonders of Southern California. Since I can't show her San Francisco, I'll make sure to include as many things down here which I think she might like. The main thing, though, is just being together. I know she reads my blog, too, so Sheryl - I love you, too, and can't wait until you step off that plane. I'm so glad we have this house and are able to give her a bedroom and bathroom all to herself on a floor separate from our bedroom. It's going to be delightful.

And on that note, I'm off to knit. Hubster is getting ready to take a nap in preparation for his meetings today, so I'll have a few hours of peace and quiet. He'll take Emma off to bed with him, so I'll be saved from her snoring, too.

It's amazing how noisy fat gazelles/pot roasts can be.

Still Buried

You know, every time we move, it just gets worse.

Take the shop, for example. Sales have been really slow, so I shut it down while we were going through the move. Now I'm beginning to get a bunch of orders. That's great - don't get me wrong - and I'm thrilled for the people who work with me, but all my stock is packed in huge wardrobe boxes. I managed to find some of it, but there's a ton of it still packed away. I'm going to work on that tomorrow and get the shop back in shape, but my new studio is filled with a bunch of other very large (and very full) boxes. I guess we accumulated a bunch of shit while we lived in Sacramento, so now I have to pay the price and unpack it all. We seem to get more and more shit every time we move, which translates into having to find room for it in a new house. I'm going to simplify and get rid of a lot of things so I don't have to deal with this again. It's a good thing I sold the T-Bird because there's hardly room in the garage for the truck and my bike. We never would have gotten two cars in there.

I've got the living room pretty much put together; the kitchen is finished other than a few things which I want to hang on the walls; the dining room is a mess; the bedrooms aren't even started on; the bathrooms are finished. I guess I'm making progress, but it's slow. I could work on the house a lot more than I am, but I have other things which need to be done as well. I may have this thing put together by the time our first year here is completed. Sigh.

We're also expecting a huge storm beginning late tonight and lasting through Tuesday, so I'm prepared with food in the pantry (and food which I have to cook in a few hours). If we lose power, refrigeration isn't a problem - we just open the door in the kitchen which leads outside (if the snow hasn't piled against it), and stick everything in the snow. Our fireplace heats things up, so we can sit in the living room and read. We have candles for light. I'm learning how to live in the snow, and I'm loving it (although my fingers are cracked wide open from the lack of humidity and the cold). Here are some pictures of the storm we had last week to give you an idea of what this storm will look like.





This is a carved eagle (with a chainsaw) which sits on our lower deck. It's actually carved from the tree which comes up through a hole in the deck, so it's not just sitting on top of something - it's part of the tree. We have a deck which runs around the house from the kitchen to the back of the house; then you go down a set of stairs to the lower deck (which is where the eagle and our table sit); then you go down another set of stairs to get down into the backyard.





This is looking out over the deck into the backyard.





These are the stairs which lead from the upper deck to the lower deck where the eagle sits. It would make a good slide at this point.





This is looking out into the backyard from the small deck which is outside our lower story (it's the home theater). There are stairs which lead into the backyard from this deck, too.





These are our table and chairs on the lower deck.





These are our barbecues which are outside the kitchen. It looks like I've planted mutant mushrooms. There's an enormous tree stump which comes up through a hole in the deck next to one of the BBQ's which acts as a cutting block. Very cool (cold at the moment).





This the front of the house right outside the front door. As I said in an earlier post, everybody up here names their houses. We're special - we even have the elevation posted.





This is looking out into the front yard. The walkway to the right leads from the front door to the garage and also to the driveway. Not today, though.





And finally, these are backlit icicles hanging from the upper deck down to the bottom deck. I thought they were gorgeous, so I made Hubster take a picture of them. In the daytime, they sparkle with all the colors of the rainbow - sort of like a really good diamond.

Emma loves to run around in the snow. She looks like a pudgy gazelle as she plows through the powder. Hubster and I bought those snow dishes to go sliding in the backyard, but our fat asses sank down into the snow and we didn't go anywhere. I managed to make it to the back fence by paddling with Emma right next to me, but then I had to hike back up the grade to the house. She was jumping by my side; when I toppled over and fell into the snow, she climbed on my chest and stood there. I could barely breathe, let alone move. Then she began to lick all the snow off my face. Great.

I've had a couple of accidents while up here. I was getting out of the truck and my foot hit the snow. Unfortunately, it slid, and I went shooting out of the truck while hanging on to the door handle. My ass hit the pavement while my back hit the steel on the door frame of the truck. It hurt - a lot. Then I fell down one of the sets of stairs today (we have four staircases - one goes to the lower level, one goes from the second story to the stairs which go down, one goes down into the living room from the second story, and one goes upstairs to the third story). I went down to the first story to the theater room. I'm a little sore, but it could have been worse. The carpeting is slippery, and my foot hit the edge of the step. Emma went nuclear - she thought I was dead and was licking me like crazy and butting me with her head, trying to get me up off the floor.

Speaking of Emma, she's eaten the corners off two of the bottom stair rails. We have to keep an eye on her. She's still in her chewing mode, and this house is made entirely of wood. It must be like a giant chew toy to her. That shit you spray on things that's supposed to keep her from chewing something doesn't work with her. She seems to like the flavor.

As for my tarot readings, I went into the shop where I'll be working yesterday to see how things are coming along. Robert (the owner) is so excited about this whole project that he's gone nuts. We went upstairs to my room so he could show me his progress. He's painted it a light apricot and has a table he made in the corner to hold my crystals. He's also making me a reading table and putting up a bunch of shelves. The two windows are being changed over to stained glass, and there's a Persian carpet on the floor. I'm making screens for one of the "walls"; he's making the other into an etched glass screen. It's going to be gorgeous. There will be ferns and other plants, an area for my incense, and everything I could want, including an outdoor patio with a table and chairs. I can read out there in the spring and fall; it might be a little too warm in the summer. In any event, I can go outside and have a smoke. I'm also going to sit on the front porch and play my flute between appointments. We get a lot of visitors from Los Angeles and Palm Springs, and they tend to spend a lot of money. I'm hoping this will be a busy enterprise for both of us. In any event, it will be fun. I'll be riding the Harley to the shop (it takes five minutes to get anywhere in town) with my flutes strapped to my back. Hubster is even taking bike riding lessons, so be prepared to hear that we've purchased another bike.

I got the loveliest package from Laura Neal as an honorable mention prize for a contest which I entered. She not only sent a gorgeous skein of yarn (buy her yarn, peeps!), but some candy and a Valentine's Day heart box full of candy. She's such a doll - thanks, Laura!

I also got a package from Karen of KaratStix. She sent more stock for the store, as well as a housewarming gift which she made for me. I can't tell you what that gift is because I'm hoping to sell them in the shop soon (you promised, Karen - no pressure here), but I can tell you that you're all going to go apeshit when you see what it is. Heh. Karen actually rendered me speechless, which as you all know is a very difficult thing to do. I never expected to receive such a thing. Thank you so much, Karen - I'll be writing you a letter later tonight.

I think I've bored you all enough for one night. I'm off to the kitchen to begin cooking. The Bay Area is being smacked hard with rain right now; our part of the storm is expected right after midnight. That gives me time to get my cooking done and get everything else we need within easy reach. Those of you who live in the snow all winter are probably laughing at me, but you have to remember that I'm a weather weenie. I've lived in temperate climates all my life and have never seen the seasons, let alone snow. I'm enjoying the hell out of it.

But I need to put on my down robe. I'm cold.

Home Sweet Home or Box Hell?

Good God. I hadn't realized it's been so long since I last posted. We didn't get computer service until a week or so ago, and before that... well, suffice it to say that it's been sketchy. Hubster was able to rig up something so I could get email, but that was sporadic. I apologize to everyone who has written asking where the hell I've been. Under a mountain of boxes is where.

We are happily ensconced in our new home, although we're far from having it all put together. We can't work on it every day because Hubster does have a job which he needs in order for us to eat and pay the rent, and I'm working on a test project for someone, so that leaves the nights. By nighttime, we're both exhausted, so we don't work every night, either. However, we're devoting this weekend to getting as many boxes unpacked as possible so we can put everything together.

As for the shop, it remains closed. As usual, everything is taking a lot longer to do than what I had anticipated. We haven't even found the boxes full of inventory yet. They're buried in the really large boxes in our respective offices, which we hope to unearth tomorrow. I have some orders to fill, so I'll get those out ASAP. The guys who packed all our stuff when we left San Lorenzo didn't label the boxes, so we don't have a clue as to what is where. However, we've gotten several rooms unpacked (but not put away), so we're getting close.

As for the house itself, it holds a lot of surprises. In the main room, there are these doors built into the wall. We assumed it was a closet, albeit a weird place for one. The first night we got here, we opened them and discovered not a closet, but a bar - complete with refrigerator, glass-front cabinets (for glasses and booze), an ice bucket, a sink, a large counter, and everything you could possibly want to have a party in front of the fireplace. There's a funny little room under one of the staircases complete with a light. It's too small to be a closet, yet there it is. Maybe it's for Hubster to sit in when I get pissed off at him. We have air conditioning, which we were told wasn't a part of the house. I have no idea of what we'll find when we get the bedrooms cleared out. We have a trampoline in the backyard which I bounced on today (it was a blast, but I'm sure out of shape, and being at 6000 feet takes the air out of me fast). It's like Christmas.

The kitchen is put together, two of the bathrooms are done, the downstairs home theater is set up (but not really done yet), I've ordered some things for the house, we've got a guy who picks up our garbage every other week and takes it to the dump (we have no garbage service here), we've made friends with a lot of the shop owners in town, and... sit down and take a few deep breaths... I got a job. We were in a shop yesterday and were talking with the shop owners, and I wound up walking out with a gig playing the flute on the front porch (it's in a Victorian house - they sell art and locally made items such as lamps, candleholders, paintings, etc.) on the weekends, and also doing tarot and Medicine Card readings. We get a LOT of flatlanders (read: people from Los Angeles) on the weekends during the winter and just about every day during the nice weather, so that will bring in a lot of business. A lot of folks also have cabins here which they use as second or part-time homes. Anyway, I'm going to start in a few weeks. Next Friday, I'm going in to select whatever I want in the shop for my little area to make it "mine" (artwork, goddesses, etc.). The owners are painting a banner to hang on the front of the shop to announce the new service. I think it'll be a blast. As for riding my bike, no can do yet. It's snowed a couple of times (yay!), and there's a lot of gravel on the road (a real ass buster if you hit it sideways or wrong). I won't be riding until spring. Hubster and I are taking the motorcycle course together in a month or so (I need to take it again, and he's decided he wants to ride), and this area is primo for riding. I can see why so many bikers come up in the warmer weather. And get this - we have an ocean view. If the smog lifts just enough, we can see it when the sun is setting and the rays hit the water. It shimmers a fiery orange and is absolutely gorgeous. This is truly paradise.

What blows me away are the small things - having the bank president coming over to welcome us to town when we went in to open our accounts, having people on the street overhearing us talking to someone and coming up to welcome us, having the shop owners giving us a welcome discount on our purchases, having people just smiling and saying good morning... all the small things which don't always happen in larger towns or cities. Everybody is friendly and there is no fear of strangers. In fact, there are no strangers. Going to the post office is a social event. It far outweighs the minor headaches (like not having something I'm used to using in the grocery store). We can drive down the hill to a larger town if I need to go to a large store, but we're finding that we'd rather do without than leave our little hamlet. We're both so happy to be here - it's like Mayberry RFD or something. We're turning into nice people. Egads.

One incredible story (I have a bunch, but I'll save them for later). The shop owners for whom I'll be working were waiting in line at the local theater (yes, we have one, but you have to call to see which movie is playing) when they caught a man smiling at them. They smiled back, nodded, and said hello. One of them said to his partner, "That guy looks really familiar, but I can't place him". His partner told him to shut up. They saw this guy again at the snack bar and smiled again, but still couldn't place him. While they were waiting, this man took off his sunglasses, stuck them in his shirt, and took his popcorn into the theater. It wasn't until my friends got home that one of them said, "OH... MY... GOD... THAT WAS BRAD PITT!". This was right after Fight Club had finished filming and he had a goatee, so they didn't immediately place him. I think they're still kicking themselves that they didn't recognize him. There are a lot of stars/celebrities around here - they can walk the streets, go shopping, and just be people without crowds and cameras. The most that happens is that someone says good morning or tells them that they loved their last film. It must be really nice for them. Some of them own homes here, others just rent cabins when they want to come up and visit. Now I'm on celebrity alert.

So I'm fine - just really busy - but I wanted to leave a post so you all know I'm alive and well. I'll get caught up with my email during the week and will address shop problems as I can. For now, I'm going upstairs to make risotto on my kick-ass stove (it's even more powerful than the one I had in Sacto, and that one was a commercial beast) and enjoy my kitchen. I don't mind that the house isn't a home yet - at least not in the traditional sense. I don't care that there are boxes everywhere. It doesn't bother me that I don't have anything on the walls yet. It doesn't matter that we can't have company over yet. I've purchased some incredible antique goodies from the local emporium (and that's what it's called) which are laying all over the place (the Art Deco dresser with amber pulls is still in the back of the truck), and even though I'm looking forward to hanging or placing them, it doesn't make one whit of difference that they're on chairs. My soul is at peace, Hubster is so happy here that he could shit, and I can't believe that this is ours.

I'm finally - after all these years - at home.

TB and the Flu Do NOT Mix

Oh geez. I haven't been this sick in a long time - and I'm the queen of being sick.

It all started with the TB, of course. My chest hurt, my head hurt, everything hurt. Then we made the mistake of visiting those germ-infested midgets otherwise known as our grands. Daisy was okay; she had gotten over her cold the week before. Lily, though, was still sick, and that's all it took. Hubster got what she had and very kindly passed it to me. Since I catch everything under the sun anyway, I really got whacked with the flu. The doctor had warned me to avoid people with colds, the flu, or anything else contagious. Well... it didn't quite work out that way.





This is the disease-ridden little Smurf who gave us the death rattle.

You see, with TB, it's already in my lungs. Getting the flu (or any other thing which settles in your chest), makes things VERY painful. Now there's not a square inch of me (except for my snatch), which doesn't hurt, produce bloody phlegm, cause my head to feel like it's going to explode, or a bunch of other lovely things which seem to happen simultaneously. The big fear is pneumonia. If I get that, then it's time for the hospital. Just what I need, especially since this is moving week.

If there's one saving grace, it's that it didn't cost that much more to have the moving dudes pack everything for us. So all we have to do is sit back and direct them as to what we want packed. Every day this week (other than Monday), is like a horror show. We're actually leaving a week from Monday, so that will give us time to clean the house. I want my deposit back. We're also taking the car to Carmax to sell it on Tuesday. Since nobody is buying anything with this economy, we figured it would be the best way. Yes, we're losing money by doing it this way, but at least we'll get some money. We need to pay for the move, after all.









That's my hotrod. I sure hate to let it go, but I'm really trying to simplify my life. We don't need two cars; besides, I'll be riding the bike all year except for the winter. Those trees are sure going to smell great as I'm cruising along. True, the Bird is a convertible (that hardtop comes off), but it's not quite the same.

I still can't believe that we're moving so far away. It doesn't seem real. I don't think it will seem real until all the furniture and other stuff is gone. It's good, though - a whole new area, new friends, just me and Hubster - we really need this. I feel guilty for moving when Mom has the potential for being sick, but I can't stay until I'm sure everybody is well. Something is always going to come up, and I can always be back up here in about nine hours if I need to be.

A bit of good news came along late last week. Rachel (Yarn-a-Go-Go) was asking for a volunteer to knit a test sweater for her (I think for the book). I dropped her a note saying that I would love to do it and not thinking that she would chose me. I figured a bunch of other people would jump at the chance. I was wrong - I don't know how many other people volunteered, but she chose me! I just bought the yarn and only have to buy a circular needle which I don't have, and I'm in business. It's a Gansey-style with raglan sleeves; the pattern is a knit/purl diamond design on the center panel with cables on the two side panels, so I'm doing it in a light lavender, sort of heathered, color. I think it will be gorgeous. I'll post pictures when it's done. I'm quite honored to have been chosen for the job; it will be a nice change of pace from knitting socks.

Speaking of pictures, I know I've been light on them of late. I've been so sick for so long that I haven't been able to do anything. But here's a little something which may amuse you:





Emma has decided that it's comfy for her to lay on your chest and cuddle against you. This is what used to be that adorable little creature that fit on my chest. Now she's a giant 50-lb. sausage with legs that covers my entire torso. It's okay, though - she's nice and warm.





This is my 90-year old grandma at Christmas. She giggles (which I think is adorable), so Hubster caught her giggling. That fat hand pointing at her is mine.





This, of course, is the bad-ass bike. It's a shitty picture, but it was overcast outside and wasn't conducive to good picture-taking. Since our garage is so crowded, we couldn't get the whole thing in one picture, but at least you get to see the front of it. I'll get a better picture of it posted when I have it outside (hopefully I can at least polish it this week).

I think that's about all the news. Since I don't have to pack or do anything horrible, I'm going to sleep for a while and then try to work on the shop. My poor artists - they've been so patient with me while I've been going through all this. I'll try and make it up to you, I promise. Oh... speaking of the shop, if you order anything beginning this Wednesday, it won't go out for about two weeks. While I'm keeping the shop open, I won't be available to mail anything out. I have to put everything in place in my new studio. That's the fun part of moving - putting things in a new place and making your new house look like a home.

We're going home.