Someone in my house has been giving my plants special treatments that make the leaves look like this

so my parents have taken them to the land of safety, far away from tiny teeth.

Now, do you mind terribly if I do a group thank you?

I have gotten so many flowers and notes and gifts and yarn

and stitch markers and patterns and mail

all wishing me good health and speedy recovery and each one brightens my day so much I'm practically glowing (and I haven't had any radiation yet), and they mean the world to me, and I'm trying so hard to be organized, but the percoset gives me the memory of a goldfish, and it's all been SO much I've been the world's worst person at saying "thank you" lately...

So really, if you're one of the many - THANK YOU. It made my day, and eventually I hope to be able to getting to thanking you personally with something more tangible, but in the meantime I sent a prayer of thanks in your direction, and you have definitely helped make this into something far more tolerable than it could have been. THANK YOU.

Yesterday the doctor told me that Advil would probably be better for a faster recovery of my voice than the Percoset. There aren't any anti-inflametory things in the Percoset, just pain killers. Advil obviously isn't as strong in the pain killing department, but could help reduce the swelling which is still very prevalant in my neck, and is what's keeping my voice from coming back all the way. So, thinking that pain really wasn't that much of a problem, I decided I was going to give it a shot, and took a few Advil. I clearly underestimated the Power of Percoset. Pain was a problem, swelling schmelling. Four hours later, I would have walked on glass to get Percoset (hey, once I got it, my feet wouldn't have hurt either!) So back on the Percoset I am.

In other breaking news, ALERT THE MEDIA!!!!

I SLEPT ON MY STOMACH!!!!

I am a big time stomach sleeper, and making me sleep on my back could be used as a mild form of torture if you were looking for some way to do that to me (but don't, cuz I'm turning into a real whiner). But sleeping on one's stomach also means sleeping on the front of one's neck and there are pretty obvious reasons why that hasn't been extremely possible. (Seriously gross picture here if hinting about the obvious isn't enough)

Today, though, I threw caution to the wind. I had taken a percoset, was watching the director commentary of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events and started gettin' that special feeling... that's right... that special "I'm gonna sleep on my stomach and I don't care if you like it or not" feeling. (okay, so I might be getting a little bit stir crazy)

I called Aslan and Trevor, and the three of us went back to the bedroom to do what two cats and a drugged woman do best. It was wild, it was emotional, it was crazy. And all three of us slept on our stomachs. For FOUR STRAIGHT HOURS.

I know. You're jealous.

We worked so hard at that nap, that this evening, my littlest nurse needs time to recover


But it's been a while, and we've over exerted ourselves so much today, I'm thinking it's about time to take another Percoset (as a chaser for the 3000 mg of Calcium I had to take today) and follow Aslan's example.

Thanks again to all of you...

So you know that I took this

to the hospital (among other things) to work on a Shapely Tank. The pain killers I've been on have made it difficult to knit, although with each day I can do a little more without getting dizzy.

But this yarn hasn't helped at all.

It looks innocent, doesn't it?


But look closer.

Do you see it? It's like knitting with I-cord.

Each little segment of yarn just begs to be snagged. If one weren't so giddy with drugs, one could get quite frustrated.

But when it's knit up, it's like the lightest, most fluid metal you could imagine. Gorgeous.


As seems to be this doctor's M.O. we got a call asking if we could come in and get my stitches out one day early. They did that, so I now look like the victim of an attempted garroting (which, really, isn't that how all knitters with pets and frustrated spouses think they'll end up going anyway?) They also said that I'll go in for radiation in two or three weeks, but that they think they got all of the tumor before it spread. The operation took longer than neccessary, partly because the tumor was so huge (a whopping 4.5 cm) and partly because my surgeon, who I seriously adore, wanted to be extra careful because of my voice. When we left his office, he leaned over, gave me a big hug and said "you're going to be fine" and he wouldn't lie to me.

And then there was a note on the door when we got home that these had been left at the neighbors for me -

from my work.

So we have to forgive them for at least that.

Just for SallyJo

I now live in fear that Stacy and Clinton are just around the corner, ready to give me rules for appropriate, sexy clothing and make-up that one should wear when recovering from surgery. I'm actually having nightmares about them.

And I'm only confessing that to you, SallyJo...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My brother had these flowers sent to my hospital room. (they're wilted in this shot, but they were really, really beautiful)


GBs bosses hand delivered these plants (hard to tell from the picture, but this is really quite a large display)


My work? This is what they sent


Yeah. Can't wait to rush back to them.

In the meantime, I am still taking my percoset, but I discovered that rather than take the full amount that I'm allowed, and then be in massive pain by the time I'm allowed it again, if I break the pills up and take them at regular intervals throughout the day, I can stay in a lovely drug-induced haze without ever going over my max. My body temperature isn't doing so great with regulating, causing either hot flashes or cold sweats, and because they had to do stuff to my parathyroids my calcium levels are off, so my legs, arms, and lips are all falling asleep at random intervals.

Aslan is glued to my side, and Oscar won't let anyone near me, and my voice is still very weak. I look very much like something the cat dragged in, ate, hair-balled back up, then tried to cover up (hence the Stacey and Clinton nightmares) and when we went in this morning to get more bloodwork done (to keep an eye on the narcaleptic limbs) the nurse said "So, did you have a good weekend?"

Hm... A good weekend?

I said "well, I might have, but I've been on percoset the whole time so I don't remember."

What a stupid question.

For my part, I am being an excellent patient and haven't complained about the channel flipping that is going on when GB has the remote that makes me carsick, and I didn't even remind him that he shouldn't feel obligated to hit each and every pothole in Baltimore at full speed when he's driving me to doctor's appointments.

I know. I'm even more saintly than you realized.

I can only knit about two rows at a time before it makes me dizzy, and spinning is pretty much out of the question with that kind of mental state, so I've got my Colin Firth DVD of Pride and Prejudice to settle down with that my lovely nurse/husband bought for me to recover with while he goes off to work for part of the day.

And so, until I can prop myself up again, I leave you with a picture of the tiny friends that were held, one in each hand, through the surgery. Marfa sent them to me, and Trevor and Aslan each agreed that they were reasonable understudies.

Look Who's Upright!

I'm in a lot of pain, but my new best friend is Percoset. I'm not taking as much as they say I can, but I'll load up on the dose tonight before I attempt to go to sleep for the night. After an hour or so of not speaking to me, Aslan has forgiven me for not coming home last night, and I've spent most of the day sleeping surrounded by two cats and a dog, all being unusually quiet and tender. I would have dared anyone to try to get to their mommy with those little guards setting up shops.

We got to the hospital and it felt likethings were taking forever, but they ran pretty much on time. Once they put the anesthesia in, I remember them saying "okay, you're going to start feeling groggy now" and then they wheeled me around acorner and I was out. I think I woke up on the table, because I have a vague memory of panicking, and having lots of people yelling "Amie, stop fighting us,it's okay, Amie, calm down" but I couldn't see anything, and I couldn't breathe.

Obviously they got things worked out, and I'm home now, and none of the mishaps happened that should have done any damage to my voice (thank GOD!) so even though I'm very tired and hoarse right now, I should be on my way to complete recovery, driving everyone nuts with my chattering very soon.

Thanks for all the prayers! I'm going back to sleep now...

First, pictures from my "lunch" yesterday -

Five balls (totalling 1200 yards) of Crystal Palace Kid Merino... I don't know if you can pick up the color real well in that shot - I hope the off-white pillow and bright scarf give some contrast - but it's the most delicate pale sage green... really lovely. I've already cast on and done the first row of a shawl I'm designing. It'll be a dickens if I have to rip it, so my usual design-on-the-fly method is going to be interesting!

I've started packing up my bag to bring to the hospital, and it's loaded up with the important things

You can see the Kid Merino, there's a copy of Knitting on the Edge, some orange-y ribbon yarn and a copy of the Shapely Tank pattern. You can't see the psychadelic lace, or the (finished) angel scarf beneath.

What? I'll need to bring clothes? Hmm... well, I'll have to stuff something in there somewhere. Eh.

In my concern with other things, I neglected to keep a proper eye on my fuel gauge. I'm normally very good about this. But as I was leaving work last night I noticed the idiot light flashing. Now, I have an Echo. I can easily get all the way home from work (30 miles one way) without concern about running out of gas, and the stations by me are significantly cheaper than in Annapolis, so it's a reasonable attempt. But as I was careening down (up?) 97 to meet GB for dinner, all of a sudden sweet Norman lost power and I managed to pull over just before he passed out completely. After many calls to GB's cell phone (tell me why he has to have two and can't answer either???) he did the exact right thing and said nothing more than "I'll be there in 20 minutes" when I told him where I was. And 20 minutes later, like a white knight, he came riding up, lights flashing in the government van, and rescued me...

Yup... This is a guy I'm looking forward to coming home to Saturday...

(and a side note - I'm really glad Rachel got eliminated last night. It was a shame that any of them had to go, but she was absolutely my least favorite, and the way the two (ahem MALE) judges fawned over her I thought for sure she'd stick around...)

Okay, I am breathing again. It took a few mental breakdowns involving many bad words said in my husband's general direction (he didn't hear them, but I apologized anyway) when he didn't answer his cell phone right away. But I figure it's far better to panic for 48 hours than five weeks. And the nurses I'm dealing with are SO nice and comforting and friendly. I had to go get blood taken this morning for some last minute tests, and had three separate nurses say "it's okay to be scared but you're really going to be just fine" very sweetly. (I found out I'll be getting general anesthesia. My father and brother, both being far more mentally deranged than I - which is saying something - would choose local if given the chance. My father would choose to be awake, and would likely ask for strategically placed mirrors so he could watch. Myself, I was all for them holding a pretty ball of yarn in front of me to distract me and then thwacking me with a baseball bat, but general anesthesia is good too. I don't want to know anything.)

I then wandered into work a little late because of that, sat and worked frantically for a solid hour, then left for a two and a half hour lunch break. Sometimes being supervisor is nice. I rarely take lunch at all, but it turns out a knitting friend was coming into town for a family reunion, so we met for a relaxing trip to the Yarn Garden, five minutes down the road from me (where I got some lovely Kid Merino for a shawl for me, and also Berroco Suede for a gift) and then to lunch. She got to see why I said that they Yarn Garden has a nice selection but isn't the preferred shop at all, when they had something clearly labeled as being one price and then didn't give it to her for that, trying to charge her nearly double because they'd mislabeled it. Both of us said later that if it was their fault they should have sucked it up and changed the label immediately, but the customer is not in fact always right at the Yarn Garden. My guild almost never shops there at all.

I'm feeling better over all, I think in no small part because I've got so much to do before I take a week and a half off that I can't really think about things too much, but also because of the love that's coming in from all corners of the world.

I am most upset at this point in time that I won't be able to wear my wedding or engagement rings - they'll stay at home. But I asked, and I will be able to have knitting needles, and I already know just the shawl I'll make with the Kid Merino I bought today, and three days from now I'll be back at home with my cats by my side feeling extremely groggy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours Spent Knitting: 16
Rows Completed (of 222): 32
Estimated Time of Completion: 111 hours

They just called. The surgery is Friday morning.

I can't breathe.

Rode Hard, Put Away Wet

Well, I'm not feeling any better today. Worse if anything. Does this mean that my weekends must now consist of nothing but extreme vegetation if I am to be able to get up for work Monday? I didn't even stay up late, or do anything that "normal" people would consider strenuous. But it kicked my butt, and now I'm down for the count.

Relatively speaking, of course, because I am at work. I'm just miserable and cranky and dealing with hair trigger emotions.

I got up this morning, dragged myself into the store to teach, and had one student who may have Parkinson's (this is not me joking, this is me trying to describe a student whose hands were shaking inexplicably). She had very little control over her hands and I did not enjoy the class at all. She was very nice, but I was not in the mood, and I just found the whole experience very frustrating. I nearly kissed her when she said the chairs were uncomfortable and could we call it a day 15 minutes early.

I walked out from the class and pretty much burst into tears as soon as my butt hit the car seat.

But last night I did try a new recipe in the breadmachine. Pumpkin rolls. One of my all time favorite treat on the planet are the sweet potato bisquits that English's restaurants sell. I don't know where the chain of restaurants is other than the Eastern Shore of Maryland and Delaware, but if you're near one, the bisquits are $3 for a dozen, and they are heavenly rich little bits of yumminess. So I thought I'd give this recipe a try.

It worked out pretty well, except that I stupidly didn't measure the pumpkin until it was too late, which meant I had to add a lot of flower because the dough was so moist, and that meant we had a near overflow in the machine.

But next time I know one can is about two batches of rolls, and for breakfast this morning smothered in margerine, it was heavenly.

Super duper yummy. I'm already planning my next batches, which will include correct amounts of pumpkin, and a decrease on the cooking time so they're a smidge more moist.

All I have to do is live through work today.

Oh, and if you're the praying sort, Shea could probably use a few extra shout-outs. Thanks.

It was a lovely weekend, one that kept me going pretty much non-stop until about 5:30 yesterday evening. Holy canoli, am I ever feeling it now. I convinced myself that taking a nap while I was trying to drive into work was probably not the wisest choice I've made, but it was tempting. If AC didn't have the thermostat set at 60 I'd probably doze off right now (no exaggeration, it's COLD in here!). The way I feel right now is serving as an excellent reminder as to why I thought to tell the bosses that I would be going down to part time at the end of June, rather than waiting for the surgery. That puts me at full time still this week, training the folks that are taking over my shift two days a week next week, and then I won't be working here Fridays or Tuesdays anymore (which conveniently coincides with my knitting classes!) It means I'll spend this week really cleaning out everything from my desk that I don't want other folks going through, but that's fine.

But yesterday was Father's Day, and in honor, GB started his day by crawling down the hall and climbing onto the couch, while DSS made him coffee.

I did convince DSS to rinse out the coffee pot that gets put away into cabinets (we live with a cat that can open every cabinet in the house) to try to minimize the cat hair my husband ingested. If you look closely, you'll see "rinse it off" only counted for the inside, because the caraffe looks a bit... furry.... It was also wildly strong coffee, because DSS said he was using the full 12 cups of water, and actually only used about half that, so when I told him how much coffee to put in, and thoughtfully made it slightly strong, GB actually got more than double the dosage of coffee.... sort of like espresso, only not.

After his cup of espre coffee, Father's Day continued with Oscar getting to cuddle on the couch with Daddy.


After that, we had lunch at my parents' house with my brother, husband, step-son and (obviously) my parents. At GB's request, I made Jalapeno bread

(size 8 needle there for size comparison, it's a 2 pound loaf)

It was a lovely day, but the day before had also been busy (errand running, and we saw Batman Begins, which GB is very glad to note they left opened for a sequel) and when I finally got home at 5:30 I could barely move. Things haven't improved much since.

Do you think I could learn how to sleep with my eyes staring at audio files on the computer so no one would notice if I took a nap right now?

Met with the surgeon yesterday, and GB & I really liked him – he listened carefully to our concerns, and answered our questions patiently and clearly, and also with great sense of humor.

The problem that I’m dealing with is not immediately life threatening, and so finding an oncology surgeon who is available immediately will be nearly impossible. We were given the option of seeing someone else, but even someone else (who was not recommended as the best at this, and does not have a record of over 300 successful surgeries done without a single infection or vocal loss) would be a wait of three to four weeks. This surgeon will be available in about five weeks, and is working with us to try to get us in as soon as possible to work around some business trips GB is scheduled with. With the way I’m feeling in general, being more concerned about the side effects of the surgery (greatest risk is permanent voice diminishment/loss) than with the cancer in general, GB and I agree we would rather wait just a few extra weeks for a surgeon I can have full confidence in.

So that's the gist.

Other details of the story involve a frantic drive through lunchtime rush hour in Annapolis to get back up to Baltimore, a quick hair color and eyebrow tweeze (if you have to ask why one can't meet their future surgeon with roots, you aren't a woman) and nearly collapsing when I had to walk through the big doors that said "CANCER CENTER" and follow signs that say "Chemotherapy & Radiation Therapy this way"... I wouldn't have made it without GB holding my hand, I simply wouldn't have.

They took me in the back to do a quick exam, which of course started with me filling out paperwork. And there's that long checklist of medical history, and I had to laugh out loud when I came to this part:

Check if you have in the last 6 months:
_____ experienced shortness of breath (SOB)
_____ woken up with SOB


I looked over at my adoring husband, who had jumped through hoops to hold my hand, and thought "well, maybe not today...."

Of course, I get back to work, and that same jerk host who thinks I screwed everything up was whining about the girl who filled in for me last minute yesterday, and saying that AC never makes mistakes, and I'm trying to decide if I should call my boss and say "how many times have you been here when I've had to run down the hall and remind him to pay attention and put the report on because the music has been playing for 30 seconds and he was too busy writing "station property" on blank CDs?" but I've talked myself out of it (petty, finger-pointy, childish) everytime so far.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In other news, I'm throwing up the white flag.

I simply can't keep control of the Spinning Wheel single-handedly, and I'm in search of a deputy. It's not hard work at all, but I feel I'm not doing the job I once could, and I think with one or two special helpers (you can wear a badge if you want) I'll be more comfortable that we've got a handle on things.

If you're at all interested, it's just a few extra minutes a week, divided up however you like, contact me (e-mail me or leave your address in the comments and I'll get back to you). I'll talk to you about what I do (or did, before life became so overwhelming) and you can decide if you want to do it, and then I'll give you the password and you can start randomly screwing with people's code at will.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours Spent Knitting: 16
Rows Completed (of 222): 32
Estimated Time of Completion: 111 hours

Yesterday morning I was rinsing something in the bathroom sink, wandered into the other room to sit while it was soaking, intending on being there for just a few moments and feel asleep. Trevor did a Lassie impression and woke me up and led me to the bathroom half an hour later, where the item soaking had clogged the drain, causing the entire bathroom to flood.

When I got to work, I got an e-mail that a jackass host at the station, who adores AC and hates me, complained to my boss that when AC handles his feature, everything runs smoothly, but everytime I do, something gets messed up. That's not at all, even remotely, true. Another host is supposed to call in so I can interview him, and has twice now not called, so I got to send a nasty "I have done everything in my power to respect that your timeis valuable, I ask that you respect the same of mine now" letter. I then randomly scratched at an itch on my arm just before AC came into my office to ask a question, at which point he claimed I looked horribly upset and said my arm looked like someone had grabbed me.

I called GB at work, and he didn't answer his phone. When he called back an hour later, the day was just going worse and worse, and I broke into tears and was about to ask him if we could just rent a movie and sit on the couch so I could just cry in his arms, and before I could get that out he said "well, I gotta go do a search warrent so I won't be home tonight". Great.

I hung up, crying, went down the hall to my office and opened up an e-mail. One of those lovely e-mails from one of those lovely well-meaning people who said basically "all I know about you is what I've read on your blog, but I know someone who has nothing in common with you but X and even though everything else is different and even though she made completely different choices than you, this horrible thing happened and I don't think she made the right decisions so I just wanted you to know I was concerned about you." Thanks.

After the stream of profanity (that got sent in a letter to my benevolant benefactor who is not only a great gift giver but a truly good person and friend as well) I felt a little better and made it through the rest of the day.

When I got home, my first ever loaf of sourdough bread was done, and tasted great (even if it looked pretty bad - when they say "light" for crust control, they mean it! This was pasty and gross looking... but Sssssoooooooooooooooo yummy). As I fought with the damn Christmas stocking I'm working on (and my tension is drastically different on the foot that I'm doing now than on the leg) I flipped through the channels, I discovered probably the most depressing news to me all day.

I liked a reality television program.


I don't even know what it's called - is it "Shall We Dance"? That makes sense. It's the one where celebrities are paired with real ballroom dancers and compete, and I don't care that they're celebrities, but I like ballroom dancing and it's so neat to see people who can barely walk and chew gum (Evander freakin' Holyfield!!!) doing ballroom dancing and I hope the show does well, because it's about the only thing I smiled at all day.

Of course the fact that I loved it means it'll get cancelled right away. So my apologies now.

BUT I just this second got a call that the surgeon I was supposed to see tomorrow has been called into the OR, so can I go see him this afternoon instead? It means leaving work in a state of mass chaos, but to paraphrase Catherine, Fuck 'em.

The Postman only rings once

Well, less than that if you have a pitbull instead of a doorbell.

In any event, I got a great big package in the mail yesterday, and look what was inside!!!


No, silly, not an adorable yet rambunctious cat. That got put there as soon as I pulled this out

YAAAAYYYY!!!! A new breadmaker! Right now I'm borrowing my mother's to make bread with no eggs, dairy, or iodized salt, but when GB found out how good the bread is, he started suggesting we should get a maker of our own. When I reminded him that I had been asking for one for nearly a year, he sheepishly consented to starting a search. And just moments later I found this (which was one of the two I really wanted) on Amazon for 48% off!

So here it is in it's little corner in my ugly kitchen, and we've got one loaf of white bread done, and when I get home there will be a smaller loaf of sourdough (my favorite bread) just being finished - it's on the timer now!


While Trevor inspected the box sans maker, Aslan and Oscar looked on...

(if you look really closely, you'll see that's actually a picture of Aslan in front of a picture of Aslan on the computer)

As for the diet... it's not lack of salt that's driving me nuts - I can have salt, I just have to buy the plain stuff, which is fine. But I can't have any egg (yolks), dairy, soy, canned, or pre-made foods. It means I'm seasoning a lot with vinegar and lemon juice, and while those are two of my very favorite flavors, it doesn't have a lot of variety. I can have salads - but no dressings other than oil and vinegar. It's not that big a deal. I'm just whining. And a boring diet is far better than the alternative here, so feel free to ignore me.

disclaimer for a commenter who thinks he did so in annonymity: it does not count as snoring if one does it when one is sick. That is a temporary condition. It counts as snoring when one does it nearly every night, in sickness or health. Aslan, for example, snores. I do not. I know who you are, and I know where the couch is that you'll be sleeping on if you do not immediately retract any implications that I do. Thank you.

No Man Has Ever Been Shot While Vacuuming.

Of course, later, he couldn't do anymore because he was pinned down. "Kitty Amnesty" as Martha would say.


Later on there was a different kind of cuddle going on when Oscar, the 60 pound pitbull, tried to climb into the lap of his best friend Trevor, the 8 pound cat.

It didn't work. Notice the lack of joy and brotherhood on Trevor's face. The dog is okay.

Just for Vi, we also have pictures of snail nookie.

Something tells me we're going to be seeing a few more baby snails down the road (we already have 5). This is the farthest apart the snails got on Sunday, most of the day being one on top of the other, and when I leaned in, I would have sworn I heard Barry White bubbling up from the depths...

There, now is everyone distracted enough to forget that I made no mention of knitting?

I'm tired, and hungry, and cranky. And I could have sworn last night when I commented on that to my husband he said "I can tell" but when I shot him the evil glare of death, he said I misheard him and what he said was "I couldn't tell at all that you were feeling cranky, such a ray of sunshine you always are." Must be my ears, right?

This diet thing is a pain. No dairy, nothing pre-made because I can't tell if the salt in it is iodized or not, nothing from the sea, nothing canned, and no soy.

I've made several really nice loaves of bread this week, but other than that, things have been pretty boring and unsatisfying. Blech.

And I'm starting to have nightmares about the surgery, which isn't even scheduled yet (we'll find out Friday) and the nightmares are bad enough that it's harder to fall asleep, and my darling GB has developed this new method of breathing while he's alseep that sounds like he's about to snore, but is currently hyperventilating as preparation for that, but I only thought about smothering his head with a pillow for a few minutes before I got up and slept on the couch to remove the temptation of murder, justifiable though it may be.

Now, don't you wish I'd just talked about knitting??

This is what the psychadelic lace looked like Saturday morning.

Why, yes, that is eight needles in. Why, yes, I did actually knit several rounds using nine needles. Why, yes, I am crazy. The lower half of the needles that I wasn't using kept sticking their points into the lace and getting caught, and I finally switched to circular needles sometime Saturday afternoon.

It was at this point that I noticed I had a hippy jellyfish in my house.


Is it easier to tell how far I got using this?

I am a few (maybe three? five?) rows from starting the actual feather and fan section, which I will continue ad nauseum until I run out of yarn. The center flower is over, and I'm still really enjoying it. I find this method of knitting shawls feels like it goes faster for me than the TSC shawl seems to (which starts at the longest bottom edge and decreases down each row). It can only be mental, because I know the rows get longer each time this way, but here I've only knit for maybe three hours and I'm a solid 50-55 rows in. That shawl I've knit for fifteen hours and I'm 15 rows in. Feh.

In any event I did spin more of this and finished up the bobbin.

Now that I'm getting the hang of spinning woolen, I'll start the second bobbin tonight. When that's done, I'll ply them and knit them into a lovely blue/pink/lavendar elephant for the very same baby that's getting the psychadelic lace blanket.

And I fought and coddled and struggled and seduced and grumbled and got exactly this much spun on Loireag.

The tension is new to me and really tricky to figure out. The yarn keeps coming off the little hooks on her flyer, and the tension is either pretty much off or stops the flyer from spinning... She wants to spin really really fast, or to switch directions repeatedly. She'll take a little more learning from my part. Because even though I realized it was time to give her a little rest after producing that, the truth is, she did produce it. She can make yarn. And she will again. So there.

Time Travel: a love story

Yesterday we were waxing poetic about the Age of Aquarius.


Today....


Today we find we've got back in time over 150 years...

(notice Fiona watching with interest as her baby sister is delivered)

As our fairy sprite arrives at last!!!




She left a little mess on the floor, but I did manage to clean it up before playing with her for a little (no easy task with the air conditioner and two cats -
one of whom knocked over the box full of peanuts three times before I convinced him that wasn't conducive to his surviving the day)



But after a brief period of thinking I had a part leftover, I got her set up, and put together.
TA-DA!

It's definitely going to take some adapting to get her to spin well. I'm not used to the tensioning system at all, or to single-treadles, and her parts could use a little oiling and fiddling to get them set up right, but she'll get lots of tender loving care this weekend...

And I might take breaks of spinning on the ancient beauty to celebrate free love with some psychadelic lace, too.

OH! I almost forgot!!!


My very favorite stepson EVER turns 13 today!!!
(and happy millionth anniversary, Mom & Dad!)