It’s been hysterically active around here. Oldest child and I spent most of Thursday disassembling her giant bunk bed structure. Youngest has the same structure, only his set of drawers was broken, so once we freed it I dragged Oldest’s drawer set into Youngest’s room and removed his broken one. I humped Oldest’s now-yucky mattress down to the trash, got the boxspring out of the barn, and then we went mattress shopping. Dragged new mattress and frame and boxspring up to the third floor, where kid’s room is. Got bed set up. The martyr factor was very high. Oh, and then we got ready for middle kid birthday slumber party. Which went rather well, actually. I got out the good china for the gaggle of girls and their Chinese takeout, and they had a lovely time.
I realized while oldest and I were struggling with hex wrenches that if I found tools and put them someplace that I’d be able to remember, they would stay there. Dh used to have organizing sprees, which often resulted in my not being able to locate vital things, like the backup system disks for my laptop or the power cord for the sewing machine, or any screwdrivers at all. This was usually fine, often wonderful, and occasionally disastrous. Years later, we still have not recovered from his notion one day that all power cords for all appliances in the house should go in one place. He then forgot where he put them. I still don’t know where the charger for the cordless drill is, and it’s been at least five years. Small things. I’m inspired to clean out the basement this spring and organize things in the barn--of course I spent last night throwing up, so perhaps I should be taking it slowly and not push myself too hard. Yeah, maybe, ya think?
Inspired by Erica, I’ve begun a clapotis. This means that Lucia is now most likely the last knitter in the world not to have made one. I’m using some yarn I got at NH Sheep and Wool a few years ago, Decadent Fibers’ handpainted stuff that I think is a mix of alpaca and some merino and possibly silk, but because I wound it into center pull balls over a year ago and lost the labels, I really don’t know. Stuff actively on needles, then: poncho of doom, which is now back in progress after being rescued from the snow and sand and salt in the parking lot at SPA (thank you again, Jena and Lynne) – I must note here that the encrusted road grit does not markedly worsen the knitting experience with this stuff (Lion Brand Microsuede) (ack! Cough! Spit!); the clapotis; a commission in Very Very Big Yarn, which is just making me laugh; some sort of sweater in Malabrigo (swoon, thud) (dammit! Just once, mind you!); unending socks in that aloe stuff that Ruth is knitting, too (I’ve decided it’s time to do the heel, so they’re not entirely endless after all, merely absurd); need to sew up the base of the fingers on youngest child’s gloves; and the Charlotte’s Web lace shawl, which was a lot more delightful before I screwed up the count somehow and now I must sit down and pay attention and see where I lost one frickin’ stitch. Sigh. I’m not going to feel silly about starting so many projects. I will knit what I feel like knitting. Nyah.
My Christmas cactus is beginning to bud. We’ll have blossoms soon, a bit late, but nice. My little lime tree is also getting ready to bloom. The sun last longer each day, and we’ve turned the corner and are heading for spring. I’m slowly turning corners, too, I think. I still can’t wear my contacts because I keep crying so much, but some of the habits of mind are re-configuring themselves. I’ve finished reading C. S. Lewis’ A Grief Observed, which was less portentously insightful than I expected but also immediate and real and familiar-feeling. The big thing, that I’m not married anymore, is still impossible to absorb, but smaller things, I can handle once in a while. Working on it. Working on a lot. The main thing is that I can, and am.
See you again, all.