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.

To All of You

I just wanted to wish all of you the best and merriest of holidays - whichever form you choose to celebrate - and a new year filled with all the good things that were missing from the old. May you prosper, laugh, love, and grow; may your new year be free from whatever ills and woes befell you through the old; may the good far outweigh the bad.

And to all, a good night ...

Hey Baby, Let the Good Times Roll...

... but it doesn't look like they're going to roll any time soon.

As I type, there sits in my garage a brand-new, purple/blue Harley with gleaming chrome, a deep throaty engine, and a seat big enough to fit my big ass. But can I take it out and play with it? Can I practice on it, learning how to balance? Can I polish it with a diaper? Nope. Why? Because I have more news for you, really bad news... and this time, it's me.

We'll wait on that little tidbit, though. This house is so fucking small that I can't even go into the garage and walk around Buffalo Goddess (that's her name, the purple/blue shiny death machine). I had to tilt her up just to get by her and out of the garage. You try tilting up a 700-lb. bike by one handgrip and see how simple it is.

I can tell this is going to be a disjointed post, so please forgive me. I have a lot to say, so I'll try to say it as succinctly as possible. Please bear with me.

First of all, the answer to the SP13 questions are... no, I'm not doing any holiday knitting. That sort of takes care of the second part of the question. There just isn't anybody in my family who would like something like that other than Grandma, and I just don't have the energy or time. I am making a few things for two friends, but they'll be mailed after Christmas. WAY after Christmas.

Let's move on to news about Mom. The surgeon came out to talk to me and Hubster and told us that everything looked good, that he didn't see any errant cells, that he sent out 25 specimens just to be sure, and that he thinks Mom is out of the woods. We should find out the lab results next week, so that will finalize everything. We're all so relieved. This is the best Christmas gift we could have received. She isn't in any real pain - just some soreness - so she's out and about driving and doing stuff (no lifting, though). I have to take her to UCSF on the 9th, so our moving date will be pushed back a few days. Not a problem - we still haven't begun to pack.

Speaking of packing, we hired a mover who gave us a really good price. If our estimated weight goes over what he guessed, we don't pay any additional money. If it's below what he estimated, we get money back. We both liked him, and his bid came in $300 cheaper than the other estimate. Now I just have to call and get the bike scheduled for pick-up.

Right now, we're trying to work out all the logistics. The dates are funky, since the day we want to be there is on a Sunday. I think we're going to have to rent a cabin for two nights, dash to the realtors on Monday to get the key (that's the day the movers are coming), and go home (I love the sound of that) to await the arrival of our possessions. We're leaving the day after Mom goes to San Francisco, so that means a tiring weekend. A lot of stuff is going with us in the truck, things like pottery and anything else which is breakable. I'm not taking all the stuff which could break - there's far too much of that - but the antique stuff isn't going with anybody but us. I don't know what to do about Emma. We'll have to figure that one out. Then we turn around the following week and come back up here for two doctor appointments. That's the last time, though. Why two? In a minute, my dears.

My class for learning how to ride the bike was a huge flop in more ways than one. The first two class sessions went really well. My range riding on Saturday went pretty well (I was scared and tense, so that affected things... then I relaxed and it all fell into place) until we reached the last exercise of the day. I was in the lead and was told to do a California stop at two cones placed in the middle of the range; then I had to ride diagonally to the opposite corner, turn slowly in a tight little turn, and stop when my bike was facing forward in preparation for a fast run and even faster stop at the end of the line. No problem, right?

Big problem.

Everything went fine until I turned the bike around at the corner. Then I don't know what happened. I panicked and was suddenly flapping like a sheet drying in the breeze, hanging on to the handlebars for dear life. At some point, I must have opened the throttle because I was going about 40 mph when I finally went down. The bike fell on top of me (covering me from hip to toe), dragging me along the ground for about 30 feet, and my leg got tangled up in the rear wheel. What was even more unfortunate is that my upper body went in the opposite direction of my lower body, so I wrenched my back. When it was all over, I just laid there on the asphalt until the instructors came running. They wanted to call an ambulance (apparently, I flipped over the handlebars and made quite a spectacular scene), but I told them I was fine. My clothing wasn't even ripped (now I know why they're so damned expensive - they save your skin). The instructors asked me if I was done for the day (duh), so I limped over to a chair to watch everyone else do their exercises. One other gal dumped her bike earlier in the day, but she went on riding. She took a chunk out of her chin and had considerable road rash (she didn't have on riding gear), but she didn't hurt her back. Then they told me I couldn't ride on Sunday, so not to even bother showing up. I did, however, go to the classroom after the day's fun and games to finish up the classroom portion of the class. That way, I wouldn't have to repeat all that. However, I kept falling asleep in class (I finally had to take my meds around noon because I felt so lousy), and they had kicked in. I was taken out of class by the instructors and told that they wanted Hubster to come to the final class on Monday night because they were worried that something bad would happen to me (yeah, listening to what Hubster had to say about all that all the way home was the worst thing that would happen). I kept trying to tell them I was fine, but no go. So I pretty much said okey dokey and didn't go to class on Monday. It was too bad, too - one of the students was the West Coast rep for H-D (he was in town from Wisconsin) and was taking everyone out to dinner. I just couldn't sit there watching everyone else graduating and getting their certificates. It all turned out okay, though - I could barely move for a few days. So now I've got the Iron Horse in the box called a garage just waiting for me to play with it. Today is one of the few sunny days this week, so I was really hoping to take it out and begin playing with it. Oh well - everything happens for a reason.

Now for the bad stuff.

You all know that I've been really, really tired of late. I figured I was out of remission (which I may well be), but I wasn't quite prepared for what just happened. When I went to the prison last Monday, I was given the paper for my annual TB test (when you get your badge renewed, that's one of the things you have to submit). I called my doctor when we got home Monday afternoon and made an appointment for Tuesday. Carol (one of his nurses) shot me up with the stuff they use and told me to come back Friday morning. Around Wednesday night, I began looking at the thing. It was raised and hard, as well as bright red. Hubster did some research and found that the color has nothing to do with it - it was the raised and hard part they were concerned with. It didn't get any smaller on Thursday, but when I went in on Friday, I fully expected it to be okay. Wrong.

The diameter of the thing was way over acceptable guidelines.

The doctor immediately sent me over to the hospital for a chest X-ray (that's how they find out if you have it or not). After the X-ray, the technician told me to wait in the waiting room while the radiologist read the film. About five minutes later, he came back out and told me that the film was normal. Whew.

Uh...

"Normal" means that I don't have infectious TB. I can't make people sick by being around them. However (and make no mistake about this)...

I have TB.

Are you shitting me? Of all the stupid diseases I had to get next - that one?

The doctor figures I got it at the prison, and I think he's right. It's highly infectious, so all you have to do is walk through the air right after someone who's infected coughs. Normally, your immune system does it's thing and fights it off, but since we all know what kind of a dandy immune system I have... well... I didn't. Apparently, I have just enough of one left to keep me from becoming infectious - at the moment. The doctor told me that had I waited a couple of weeks, I would have been infectious. That would have meant I'd have been thrown into the hospital immediately, which would mean no move. Period. Hubster was joking and calling me Typhoid Pam. He found it funny. I didn't. This shit is in my lungs, and I'm beginning to cough. So get this: I have to take antibiotics for SIX months along with vitamin B-6 (the antibiotic wipes out all your B-6). Not only that, I have to have a blood test now and every three months after that. This is really serious. I'm really, really sick. Today, I can barely walk and everything is spinning around me. I'm supposed to rest as much as possible and not put myself in a stressful situation - things like that exacerbate the disease. I'm moving - that ranks right up there with death and divorce on the high stress meter. I also get sick from antibiotics, so I don't know how much of the shit I'm feeling today is from which corner. This could also be why I dumped the bike - it affects your balance. I asked the doc if I could still ride, and he told me yes - as long as I just practiced and made sure I rested well before I undertook any fun and games. (insert very heavy sigh here) I just looked at my arm, and the damn thing is still there, large and hard and telling me that I'm fucked. Merry Fucking Christmas. I don't even get to open anything from Hubster on Christmas Day because we're moving and I've got a new bike. Now I'm wondering if I should have waited on the bike. Probably. But it makes me happy just to see it, so maybe I'll be able to ride it soon. I hope so. Please realize that I'm NOT infectious - you can't get the disease from talking to me, or touching me, or even being around me if I cough. I don't need to be isolated from anybody. I can work on the shop. I can mail things to you. You are perfectly safe around me (unless you decide to ride on the bike with me). I'm NOT going to get you sick.

So there it is. That's all the fun stuff I can think of to tell you. After I proof and post this, it's back to the chair. I have a long list of things I can and can't eat, so we're having fish and chips tonight. I'm supposed to eat protein, but a portion no larger than a deck of cards. Are you shitting me? I can stick that much up my nose.

Sometimes, I hate being me.

I'm Totally Overwhelmed

I want to thank each and every one of you who left me comments and/or sent letters, both for my not being well and for sending prayers and hugs and good thoughts for Mom. I know that I'm remiss in answering all your emails, but I'm so overwhelmed with things that I can't get caught up. I'll get to them, but it may not be for a few days.

Anyway, I thought I'd let you all know what's going on.

Mom's doctor called and informed her that she's having surgery on Monday. Of course, I'll be at the prison, so we're leaving from there and hightailing it to the hospital. I want to talk to the doctor because I know that if it's bad news, she may not tell me the full extent. I also want to see her, to make sure that she's still with us. Because of the fast surgery time, I had to take her over to San Mateo (across San Francisco Bay) for an MRI. She saw her doctor again yesterday and will see her GP today. I tried to joke around with her, argue with her, anything to keep her mind off what's looming in the immediate future, but she's scared. It's the first time in my life that I've seen her frightened and vulnerable.

Of course, I'm not only contending with all that. I started my motorcycle class last night. Out of a class of 10, there are three women, none of us ever having ridden before. Trying to study the material is difficult. I ride all weekend, so I'm hoping there's some stress release there. On Monday, after going to the prison and the hospital, I go for my last class. Of course, that's the one where I'm tested for my driver's license. Could the timing be worse? Maybe it will take my mind off of things, but if the news isn't good, I'm going to be shattered. I guess I'll have to deal with that when I come to it.

I'm still not well, and Hubster sounds like he's coming down with something. On top of all that, today is our 17th wedding anniversary. We're both so bummed that we didn't even want to celebrate tonight. I guess we'll go out to dinner next week in San Francisco, but that's all we're doing for that.

We had a mover come over to the house and give us an estimate. It was nowhere as bad as I thought it would be, so I can have my bike shipped with no problem. We have one more estimate to go, and then I think we'll begin packing up all this shit. I can't even see daylight right now, let alone try to pack anything. It has to get done, though, so do it we will.

Sheryl, if you're reading this, I tried sending you two letters which bounced back. Please let me know how to get in touch with you.

Needless to say, all work on the shop has come to a grinding halt. It will resume next week after we hear what the doctor has to say. I apologize deeply to the artists who are waiting to have their work listed, but I can't right now. I'm so sorry.

All the love and support you've all shown to me and Hubster has been a true lifesaver. I really feel that if I fall, you'll be there to catch me. Right now, you're helping me to breathe. There's not much I can say except thank you. Thank you.

And on that note, I'm going to go to sleep. I'm tired, and being awake means I listen for the phone to ring. When it does, my heart stops. When it's not Mom, it starts beating again. So either I'm awake and doing that all day, or I sleep for a few hours and have nightmares. What a choice.

If anybody needs me for anything, don't hesitate to drop me a note. As I said, it might take a few days to get back to you (I'm SO behind on my email), but I will.

One way or another ... I will.

There's Nothing Like Having all the Air Knocked Out of You

As you all know, I've been doing nothing but sleeping. That trend has been going on for the entire week, including today. However, I only had a few errands to run today and figured I'd work on the shop later tonight. The best laid plans ...

After reading this post, you'll probably think this is out of place, but I have to say it. Yarny Goodness is having a 15% off sale on everything beginning Monday and running through Wednesday. Okay ...

We went over to the Harley store this afternoon to pick up my goggles (I look too cool for words - read: like a fucking dork - in them), and then decided to go visit the grands at Mom's. We got there, went into the family room, sat down, and the kids began crawling all over Hubster. They do adore their Grandpa. I was busy chatting with Mom and Grandma when my mother looked at Hubster and said, "Now, I've got something to tell you.". Uh oh. When she utters those words (and especially when she can't look at me), someone has died or gotten into an accident. I immediately began running through my remaining family members to come up with who was dead and/or in an accident when she uttered the three words that have knocked all the air out of me:

"I've got cancer."

WHAT?

All I could do was stare at her while she explained. She had had a partial hysterectomy a few months ago, and everything appeared to be fine. For some reason, the tests on the tissue were run three times, and the third time came up with the cancer cells. The other two were false negatives. Now she has to have surgery again from a gynecological surgeon from UCSF; he wants to remove the tubes, ovaries, and a bunch of lymph nodes. First, though, she has to have an MRI to see if the cancer has spread.

WHAT??

At this point, I realized that my ciggie was no longer lit because the stream of tears flowing down my face had landed on it and extinguished it. Then I realized that I was angry. I don't react well to news like this (not that anybody else does, either); one of the things that happen is that I get really, really angry. I asked her how long she had known, and when she said three weeks, I came unglued. When she said that she had told Amber (my daughter) a few weeks ago, I went right over the edge and began yelling. Hubster told me to stop screaming, but I couldn't, so I did the only thing I could do.

I yelled at him to shut the fuck up.

The rest of the visit is a blur. I'm going to take her for her MRI, and then I'll come back up for her surgery in January. I wish we could have found a house here, but it just wasn't in the cards. Besides, I think I'm going to need a place to escape to. Hubster keeps telling me that everything will work out okay and she'll be fine. I'm not so sure. In fact, I'm not even remotely optimistic right now. All I am is tired, and defeated, and everything coming up - the bike, the move, Christmas - have suddenly lost all their luster and seem absolutely pointless. For the first time in my life, I'm staring at losing my mother right in the face.

I know that a lot of the women who write the blogs I read have recently (or within the past year) lost their mothers. I cried when I read those posts and felt horrible for them and their families. But now that it might be my turn, I'm numb. I'm in a vacuum. It's like everything is underwater and I'm trying to hear what's being said. It's too surreal.

IT CAN'T BE HAPPENING.

But it is. And I literally have to think to take a breath. The tears roll without warning. We went out to dinner afterwards, and I sat at the table eating a breadstick and crying while I was talking to Hubster. He keeps saying she'll be fine, that the cancer hasn't spread, blah blah blah. I can't hear him. I can't hear anything.

I'm gong to curl up and pretend that this isn't real. Maybe, if I fall asleep, I won't have nightmares.

But I know I will.

Still Alive ...

... but I sure as shit don't feel like it. Think I was kidding about sleeping? Here's proof - and proof that friends don't let friends sleep alone.





Yes, those are all ciggie holes. This is why the Monster isn't coming with us - that and the fact that the armrest is shot. This is the last time I buy furniture from Laz-E-Boy (or however the hell you spell it). The last couch we bought from them? It took six months to arrive and broke down in a couple of years. They make lovely recliners, but even they get shot pretty quickly. Don't you also love what a classy broad I am? That is the best duct tape money can buy on my ultra-expensive Scandia Down pillow. Hey... I paid a fortune for that thing. I'm not going to trash it after all these years when duct tape fixes little holes that let the down go floating out (especially when you lay your head on it and the pillow goes "POOF!").

That is the position I've been in of late, both with and without Emma. She loves to sleep with one or both of us. I think it makes her feel secure, although there are days I would like to strangle her (like when she eats my DPN's). I did, however, order some square DPN's from the Knitting Software people, as well as a set of Signature (I think that's who it is) 6", stiletto-tipped beasts. I don't usually like to knit with metal, but I saw them at Stitches last year and thought the straights were kind of neat. I'm sure Emma can still crush them with her mammoth jaws, though.

Here's another shot of the "M" alone, basking in her queenly glory.





That should also give you a close-up of the results of my trying to set myself and the house on fire.

I want to thank everybody who sent me well-wishes for a speedy recovery. I'm so very blessed to have you all as my family, whether you're a customer, a friend, an artist I represent ... it doesn't matter. I've received letters from all of you, and I'll be answering each one as soon as I can. Tonight, though, I'm sleeping again. This is just another symptom of the lovely disease I have and shows that I am, indeed, out of remission. With any luck, the blood work will show something simple can be done to make me stop sleeping so much and begin functioning like a real person, like my meds needing to be adjusted (especially for the thyroid). With any luck.

We have movers invading our house tomorrow to give us estimates on how much scratch it will cost to move our boxes and what little furniture we have left. As usual, I've procrastinated and still don't have anything done in the way of packing. Since I've been sleeping, Hubster has been working on either the shop or his real job. We're just going to have to white-knuckle it and begin stuffing shit in boxes. God, I hate moving. It's worse than divorce. At least with divorce, you get money to go along with your loneliness. With moving, you just get a lot of work to do on both ends.

What else is going on? Not much, really. I start my motorcycle classes next Thursday, so my theory is that if I sleep a lot now, then I can stay awake in class and during a 10-hour day (both on Saturday and Sunday) on the back of a bike. At least we'll be outdoors, so I can probably smoke during class if I'm not on the bike. Smoking on the back of a moving bike is worse than trying to smoke in the T-Bird with the top down. I still haven't listed the car, nor have we taken pictures of the thing. With this economy, though, I don't hold out a lot of hope for a quick sale. It would be nice, but you know how these things go. I would like to get it listed before Christmas so people still have some money left.

I have to tell you that I have the most incredible pal for SP13. She sent me a box chock-full of goodies the other day (pictures to follow as soon as Hubster gets the camera out). Included were a lavender-scented candle which is going in one of my new bathrooms, some yarn she dyed herself (blue and black - I think she might have been matching colors to my bike), a purple tote bag, a stuffie for Emma, some yummy treats for Emma, a bottle of patchouli essential oil - just incredible things. I can't remember if I'm missing something (I'm sorry, WK!), but you'll see it all for yourselves when I get a picture up on the blog.

I guess I really don't have a lot to say tonight. I'm just tired and want to curl up on the chair, watch some gory movie on TV, and knit. That new sock is coming along great, and I'm really happy with both the yarn and pattern. I might actually get a pair done. I'm so overwhelmed by the move and all the work we have to do that I'm sort of paralyzed. I get that way - instead of just attacking the problem, I tend to hide and pretend that we have lots of time to do whatever it is. What's going to happen is the same thing that happens whenever we have something large to do. We'll do it at the last minute, and I won't get everything done which I wanted to do. I desperately want (well, need ... who in the hell wants to go through all the hassle) to have a garage sale so we can make some extra dough and get rid of a lot of shit which we won't be taking with us. As for the stash, it remains to be photographed. Will we get it done before we leave? I'd like to think so, but I don't hold out much hope. At least we have until January 10th to get out of this shithole, but I want to be gone before then and in our new house. So many things I want to do ... so many things which I won't have time for. I want to go to San Francisco and have a last, glorious, seafood dinner on the Bay. I want to spend a lot of time with my grandma, but when I'm over there, I can't wait to leave. I know that Hubster wants to spend time with the grands (as do I, but they only have eyes for him if he's within 50 miles of them), so maybe we can do that this coming weekend. Sigh.

Time to go doze. I can work on everything tomorrow.