I don’t think I knitted a single thing for myself last year. It took an inordinate amount of time fix a sweater of Bob’s, as I learned only after I finished several years back that he doesn’t wear it because he likes his collars a bit more snug around the neck and I didn’t apply myself diligently because I don’t like knitting things twice.
I made an exception for jaunty berets for two-year-old twins — since they are twins, their hats match albeit in different colors.
I have been working on the world’s most hideous scarf for Bob. I hates it with the heat of a thousand suns, but he picked out pattern and yarns and I only work on it in waiting rooms — where to add to my misery, I get tons of compliments — so it, too is moving slowly.
A former student wanted a mermaid blanket and her mother came to me with the request, which is odd because I knit, she crochets, and the pattern is for crochet.
She has a lot going on just now, so I said, “Sure!” And had to relearn crochet.I had knit a granny square afghan many years ago, but since then, if I pick up a crochet hook, my brain says, “Put that down! We’re a Knitter.” However, I guess this one was met, because with a few bumps along the way, it went pretty smoothly.
I have finally finished the second of the two jaunty berets. This one in orange.
I was a bit worried about having enough yarn.
I was not wrong to worry.
It and its companion will go off in the mail tomorrow.
My mother-in-law is doing well. She came through the surgery with flying colors and is probably in better shape than she was before. She is certainly in better shape than I would be if I had spinal surgery.
However, not the sort of woman to take things lying down, she was trying to do something she shouldn’t and dislocated her shoulder. They popped it back into place (which makes me whimper to even think about) and she should be going home from rehab soon.
She will like being home. There is no one there to make her exercise for three hours a day. I have to say I’m with her on that one!
My mother-in-law lives three-quarters of the continent away and she will be 88 in early April. About a week and a half ago she slipped and fell. Nothing new. Old people slip and fall. I slip and fall. And I don’t like it one little bit. I slipped and fell on a rainy street corner in San Francisco six or seven years ago and when Mr. B and Miss B tried to help me up, I told them to leave me there to DIE.
I can’t even imagine what it feels like when you’re pushing 90.
It took them until the day before yesterday to realize that she’d broken a rib. Really? An 88-year-old woman slips and falls and it doesn’t occur to you to do an x-ray? Oh and she fractured a vertebra. I, too, have a fractured vertebra. It’s been fractured for a long time and I knew my back hurt — only now I know why. Oddly, knowing did not help.
Once again, I cannot imagine how that must hurt at 88, along with a broken rib.
They found the broken vertebra when they did an MRI yesterday (I guess the broken rib was enough to kick the level of care up another notch) and right there, putting pressure on the fractured vertebra is a meningioma, which they think is benign.
How do you tell by looking at an MRI whether a tumor is benign? Where were these people educated?
WERE these people educated?
Is it good that she slipped and fell so they found the tumor? Are the broken rib and fractured vertebra worth this new, possibly frightening, information?
Tonight she is being taken by ambulance to the Big City to see a neurosurgeon to see what they can see. I have a million questions, which I would not have had she fallen in California: Are they going to do a biopsy? Are they trying to manage her pain? Are they contemplating surgery? On her spinal cord? How dangerous is that? How dangerous is that for an 88-year-old woman?
She and I had an enormous falling out when Mr. B was going through cancer treatments, but we have done much to mend the fences in the five years since. We’re not the best of friends, but she deserves better care than she’s getting although, to be honest, she’s probably getting the best care available in her corner of the country.
Which frightens me.
We are all worried, but I am the DNA outsider here, so my role is only supportive and I am very careful with not letting my thoughts turn into words — words like, “This is the United States! We have health care here! What’s wrong with these people?”
And my questions have no answers.
And in as long as it takes to create an entire knitted coat, I have finished a small yellow hat.
Miss B has a friend with 18-month old fraternal twin girls. This is for one of them. The next one will be orange because those are the selected colors.
Daddy-Oh! by Gini Moreau with Lion Brand Modern Baby. It is 50% acrylic and 50% nylon because the mothers of 18-month-old twin girls don’t need to deal with wool.
Today did not go as planned. While there is nothing unusual in that, my planned posting is not what I have to show you.
I had hoped to start Daddy-Oh for Miss B’s friend’s fraternal twins, but I did not get head measurements until late afternoon while in the car.
I am remaking Kelly because it was supposed to be knit on size 6 needles only the pattern says size 8 and it was just sloppy.
But for the second time, my Lantern Moon needles have abandoned me in my hour of need.
I am feeling forlorn and will try again next week.