Yesterday

This is what I did yesterday, set in the sleeves in a red toddlers sweater.

The wool is a squishy hand spun I purchased from Miriam of Olde Angora on Etsy. It is wonderful stuff. I dyed it a nice vibrant red. There is no pattern for this, I just cast on 115 stitches and started knitting.

It needs buttons though. Simple, super squishy wool, warm and cozy little sweater for a possible grandkid. That is years away but we can hope.

Friends

another chicken drawing

Rise and Shine

Personally, I can think of nothing good about mornings, unless I can sleep through them.

Spring?

The hens are laying!!!!!!

remembering

I just took an Ambien, then had this idea to post, therefore the post may not make any sense at all, be maudlin or perhaps soporific.

Today is my son's birthday, my first born. Other then Mother Mary I cannot think of another mother more blessed than I am. I have three grand and marvelous sons of whom I am very proud.

My oldest son, he won't even read this, he says he already lives with me so why read what I have to say, he makes me laugh, but knowing he won't read it I can write without repercussions from an embarrassed kid.

There have been times when I have wept just looking at him, his great beauty as a child thrilled my soul. In particluar, I remember him playing in the sprinklers in the garden, covered in mud and the remains of plant rows, blonde curls springing up from the weight of the water as it poured down his beaming face, I stood with tears streaming down my face matching the water dripping down his. He was so golden, so beautiful, so angelic, so beloved, so very very muddy.

He did not sleep through the night until he was over two years, dad would fuss about how he needed sleep so he could work in the morning, my darling boy and I would try several times a night six, seven and eight times, until we ended up on the couch. I would roll the blankest around us, with him on my chest and tuck the corner of the blanket under us so he could not fall off, I was always so exhausted. He insisted on sleeping on my chest, or being held closely and rocked. We sang the moon song over and over, a thousand times over. I thought I was going to die from fatigue but we managed my son and I.

We went everywhere together, inseparable. I never wanted to be away from him, not from any of them. They rarely had a sitter, and if they did it was grandma, until she became too ill.

I have no regrets for anything we have given to the boys, time ,energy, money, things....I regret not having more to give. When I was first diagnosed with fibromyalgia, my mother would say she wished she could take it for me, she being so ill already felt useless, "at least I could do that for you" she would say, if the Lord was willing. He was not.

Nevermind though, I understand what my mother meant, I would take and bear all things for my sons so they would not have to struggle or suffer in any way. Yet it is the very struggles and sufferings we experience that refine us, depending of course on how we use them. But I would bear them for my sons if I could.

When they suffer, I weep, when they are discouraged I worry, when they laughing, I rejoice, even if they happen to be laughing at me, and they often are. When they struggle, I pray, when they are hurting, I pray, when they are happy, I pray. Always for them I pray.

Alex, my first born, my golden child, for nine months you were safe just under my heart, for more than two years you slept just over my heart, now you are my heart, my life, and you always will be.

I am so proud of you, your unflinching kindness to the underdog, your generosity, your laugh and ever so slightly snarky humor, your intellect, your desire to achieve, your talent, your gift with the flute, your wisdom, your desire and completion of a two year mission serving the most impoverished in Brazil, the list goes on my son, I adore you.

All those years ago, I saw a baby laid on my chest, from an emergency c-section, a round headed chubby cheeked marvel, perfect in every way, ten pounds of gorgeous baby boy, and I was complete, because you were mine.

I love you Alex T, for time and all eternity.

Cozy

Can you see why we call her Piggy? and yes her blankies are dirty, oddly she licks them and they soil quickly, I'm having a hard time getting downstairs to the laundry room, and the blankies will have to wait.

The other day I pulled a basket from the cupboard, I was looking for a particular length of fabric, even though it was pretty much emptied of soft stuff, Tigger thought it would make a lovely bed and took it over.

Sunshine, delicious....

and when you are laying on the heating pad you took over so your mom can't sit on it for the sciatica in her butt, then its even better, sunshine AND a heating pad? just doesn't get much better for a cat.

Feb. and its the normal blah

Snowed last night. One of the turkeys refused to go in the hen house, she sat on the fence with a layer of snow on her insulating back feathers and her naked head tucked into her breast feathers, she looked like a hummock balanced on the fence rail. Stupid bird.

They are great birds and make lovely pets when raised right, but they truly are not genius's and will never be doing any higher math problems but then quite frankly neither will I.

February is usually pretty blah around here, mud season for sure, and this year has been oddly warm without much precipitation, so the normal grey has not been broken much by new layers of white. Of course I have barely left the house in the last two months, but from my office window today, the white snow and dark blue pines make a beautiful and striking pattern in the sunshine breaking through the cloud cover. The mountains are so close in the clear air, almost touchable, I can see the dusting of last nights snow on the the pines.

I wonder if I will ever walk the mountains again. Before the knee replacement, I could barely walk around a grocery store, the weakness, pain and muscle atrophy, made it difficult though much better than just a few months ago when I was struggling with nerve damage and the bone breaks from the dog incident. There is still nerve damage, the foot will probably always be weak and since the surgery the quad muscles have shut down, the atrophy is quite extraordinary on that leg. It will get better as I heal, I'm sure, this is the eight week since surgery and the difference is profound from even a month ago.

My doctor says I have to be very careful about this knee, he says I am too young for a knee replacement and I want to do things I should not do, things the "normal" replacement recipient at seventy years would not want to do or could not do anyway. The Dr., when I speak of walking with the dogs for a mile a day again, flinches and says it is not a good idea. It seems there is a certain mileage built into these knees and he is concerned about me wearing it out. That is a concern of course, I cannot even wrap my head around having this surgery done again. It was such a beast.

My husband and sons enjoy camping and backpacking, I do not. Camping is doing the very same thing I do at home, preparing meals etc., but in primitive conditions. Tim did mention a few times getting pack goats or llamas to carry packs but that went by the wayside, he is too absorbed in work, it is his obsession and everything else is far down the list of his priorities. I would have loved having goats again. They are great animals. My goats, The Lily and The Rose were pretty useless and could not have carried anything other then a few chickens on their backs, which they did, but they were good for a grand laugh every day.

My ADD addled brain does not enjoy doing nothing. It is not "relaxing" but nearly painful for me. Camping is not fun for me, but I do love going to the mountains with the boys and the dogs for a walk and a romp in the river. This is the very situation when the very large dog knocked me over this last summer and broke my leg. We had the dogs up the canyon playing in the river. we should be able to do that again but not for a while and I certainly will stay away from other's dogs and use my cane to keep them at arms length.
The family loves the mountains and wandering about but I must be doing something, making messes, using my hands, something! It might be ADD and it might be my Yankee upbringing, my parents believed in a work ethic and work and contribution was what gave value to a life. These last two months have been difficult because I have not known what to do with myself. It is getting better. Every day it gets better.

I no longer need pain meds, they befuddled my brain anyway, and the back to back exercises, well I have gotten bored with them and am not doing them anymore, I have a great deal of motion in my leg when it is not utterly swollen stiff. I am very pleased with the movement I have.

What a self absorbed post. Hmmm, I guess I am really just thinking out loud so to speak.
I am so grateful for the extraordinary blessings I have received. So very blessed.

We all must take our life changes with grace, we should at least, but some of us, me included want to go kicking and swearing. I do not like the changes in my body, I do not like the way I cannot even do a simple leg lift because of quad muscle shut down, I do not like the thought of a piece of titanium where my knee used to be, it is strange and touches on the belief of who and what we are, something we never think about until forced to do so. We take for granted the way our bodies move so easily without effort until they cease the normal fluid action. Without much thought we move through time and space doing our "thing" our bodies and our thoughts are our own, we are in charge, until age sickness or disability changes our paradiem. To have something that is not my own, that is not "me" is a very weird thought. I can only imagine how terrible and odd it is for a transplant recipient. To have a heart or liver that is not your own? very very weird to say the least. How does one convert someone else's cell memories to your own? At least mine is metal and has no life, it is part of me now and I will make it perform as I insist.

There is a great mental adjustment to the word and the condition "dis-abled". For me hopefully I will regain full strength and movement but in the meantime, the cane or the walker, the gimpy walk, the pain and fatigue is a challenge and a complete and utter change of self perception.

What a bizarre post. I had not intended to blather on like this. back to the turkeys..... spring is coming, regardless of the weather, the hens are laying again and the turkeys have nests which they fill regularly with large lightly speckled eggs. Huge eggs perfect for baking.

Speaking of baking, one of the boys said how much he was missing the extra cooking I used to do, it has been a bit difficult to stand for very long, painful, and then the swelling is worse. It seems I need to get back to the routine and feed the boys a bit better, standing in the kitchen has not been something I have wanted to do much.

Tonight for supper we are having roast chicken, carrots and potatoes roasted along with the chicken and I think I will use those huge turkey eggs and make molten chocolate lava cakes. Jacob, the youngest son has been begging for something chocolate-y, although he probably doesn't deserve it since he ate the last of my powdered sugar donuts this morning, and I thought I had hidden them well!

Last weeks obsession

A week ago, last Sunday, I was trying to clean my office, which usually means I re-package and re-box all my stuff and move it around, there is never enough space for all the supplies I accumulate. I was putting away some extra yarns that had no specific purpose when I decided to knit them up. I cast on a small sweater instead of cleaning.

The colors are a bit odd in the photo, the blue is a rich dark navy, the brown is a russett, sienna type brown, gold and a great coral, melon color, the colors are much nicer than the photo shows, darn.

There is no pattern, I just knit and changed colors at will.

Here is the inside, the technique is sometimes called 'Norwegian stranded knitting" the colors of yarn are carried across the back of the work, it actually creates a double layer of wool making this type of knitting decorative and very warm.

My mother was taught by a Danish woman who called it double knitting. Anna was a prodigious knitter, always turning out amazing creations, I am fortunate to have one of her Scandinavian style sweaters.

Anyway I will order clasps/closures for the front of this little sweater and put it away in case I ever have a grand-kid!

my mother used to tell me I sighed a lot.

Sigh. Again.
Today I graduated from a walker to a cane. Neither thrills me or goes with my self image of still being hot and young.

The stupid knee is still swelling up like a melon, the swelling causes increased muscle weakness and my knee will buckle out from underneath me with no warning therefore still the need for extra support.

Amazing how physicians can literally amputate a leg and put it back together again. Totally cool. Really wish I could have watched it.

staring.

Oh. My. Heck.

Just opened a can of cat food. Cats came running, like rats from the woodwork, the dogs are staring at me, I am surrounded.

Twenty-two eyes, staring......

I will put the food down and back away slowly. If you don 't hear from me soon, send help.

a couple of things.

Sitting around with my leg elevated has bored the living snot out of me. If I don't keep the dang thing up my knee swells to the size of a hefty cantaloupe, but I have managed to get a couple of projects finished....a heavy wool sweater/coat and a lace scarf.

The lace is the softest froth of hand-spun merino wool, so soft and squishy, I love it. The wool coat is a heavy sort of itchy wool from Rowan, I would not have bought the stuff but it was on a huge clearance and I cannot say no to a massive yarn sale. Just could not pass it up, it was so wicked cheap and Rowan yarns are usually very expensive.

The soft merino hand-spun is simply delicious, its natural color and texture is a delight to wear.

For several years I have planned to have sheep again, I adored my Babydoll Southdown sheep, but I am afraid now with an implant knee...well the thought of being tossed by a ram or knocked over by a nervous ewe, it's rather frightening. I know first hand they damage they can cause. My sheep were very sweet and tame and even then the ram, Robert, could not be trusted, you never wanted to turn your back on him. He tossed me once, head over heels and I landed flat in a mud puddle. My son laughed his ass off. As I laid there trying to re-gain my senses I said to him, "Hey when you can stop laughing come pick your mother out of the mud". I have to admit it must have been hysterically funny.

Robert was an unusual ram, he loved to be cuddled and have his chest scratched, he must have weighed in around 250 lbs, so when he did not get his lovins when he wanted he would insist and 250 pounds of determined ram is nearly unstoppable. He would lean against my thigh and follow me everywhere though I always kept a hand on his head so he could not get a run-up, as loving as he was he could still be dangerous.

There are a lot of things I have dreamed of, a farm, a lilac forest with little grazing sheep, to have goats again, a little Jersey cow, a pig named Booger who drinks beer....I guess they will never happen, that's why they are dreams, right?