lifelong knitter

Pancho

I started Pancho the (de?) poncho. The neck is 3x3 rib in the yummalicious blue Kool Wool, and the body is k every row (I am NOT purling in the round, nosireebob) with inc every other row on each side of the markers. This is hard to keep track of as the yarn is oh so boucle.....and I can't SEE it very well. The shape may be very interesting. (giggle) I'm lovin' the fabric though...perfect perch for a parrot!
Here's one more thing I LOVE about my friends. In addition to loving ME, they are generous to a fault. I got a call last night from one of my artiste friends offering to make CUSTOM, comfortable eyepatches...wooohooo! Shiver me timbers maties, we be raising a tankard in yer general direction!
It be orange juice, dontcha know, for the vitamin C, and all.....

The secret is OUT

The secret hat has found its intended recipient (see maggi's blog)
and she looks MAHvelous in it!
Eye surgeon's office just called...NOVEMBER FIFTH
unless they have a cancellation....
don't even get me started on the worst case scenarios that might have THAT as an end result...sheesh!
The kids and I went to the FAIR today....
bluegrass music, ferris wheel ride,
fabulous fiber animals, gorgeous gardens....
wonderful quilts,
and my friend's afghan won a BLUE ribbon
wooohooo!
I'm supposed to be resting....
bye for now!

Pass the Blessing Along

One of the great Loves of my Daddy's life was Music. He could pick up any instrument and just play. One of my fondest (and most deeply imprinted) memories is of a deep dark night, snuggled under the covers, listening to the mournfull notes pouring from his saxaphone.
Nothing brought him greater joy than LIVE music. He was so proud of his collection of "direct to disk" vinyl recordings....but when he could, he went out to see live Jazz.
Several months before he went into the hospital, during our regular weekend phone call, he sounded different. I asked him what he had been up to. "Oh, Greta..." he sighed "do you remember Ken Brown?"
My heart nearly stopped. Remember him, oh my God, how do you forget the person who opened your soul to the sound of your own music, the person who resonated so strongly with the presence of the Divine....
"oh sure, Dad" I could barely hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart "why?"
He went on for a full twenty minutes. GUSHING with rapturous praise. My Daddy, the scientist, of the few and carefully chosen words was speaking in torrents without taking a breath. He had gone to see ken play and felt like he had a preview of the angelic chorus, that he had been somehow HEALED. A burden had been lifted from him and for an hour or so he had completely forgotten his difficulty breathing.
"Dad?" "Yes, liebchen?" "What can I do for you?" SILENCE. "Nothing, sweetheart, there's nothing anybody can do for me, but I think you ought to get in touch with him."
Oh sure. Just call my guitar teacher after all these years (more than 25) and say "well, hey, how's it going, you changed my life forever, what's new with you?" NOT A CHANCE, Daddy. Too scared of what he'd say to me, or worse yet that he'd say, "WHO?"
Several weeks later, another phone call with Daddy. "guess who I recorded today? You really need to hear this Greta..." I changed the subject. He sent me the tape. I listened. I was transported to a place and time when I knew I was an artist. When that was very,very dangerous. I wept for the musician of my heart who never touched another guitar without her hands cramping and her eyes filling with tears. "No," I'd tell people if they asked, I don't play anymore. I don't remember HOW." I sent the tape back and thanked my Dad. He repeated his request to PLEASE get in touch with ken.
NOPE. Not going there. Too much scar tissue covering that deep dark wound. I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.
Suffice to say, that yesterday I told somebody one of my Daddy stories and they said "What ever happened to your guitar?" For some reason I googled Ken Brown. Sent him an email, thanking him for the great joy he had brought to the last months of my Daddy's life, prefaced by the obligatory "You probably don't remember me....."
Last night my heart cracked open. I got an email which said "I knew the moment I met you that you were an artist. YOU COULD HAVE BEEN AN INCREDIBLE MUSICIAN."
Here he is.....KEN BROWN
If you are ever in the Bay Area do not pass up the chance to see him LIVE. It is truly a Divine experience to be in his presence. Tell him Greta sent you.
Pass it on.

Keep a Secret

Here's the secret Hat....and look what my son brought me home from work....CHOCOLATE EYEBALLS!

Danger Girl wants a PARROT

Okay, so I'm not being appropriately serious enough for the "Chicken Little was an Optimist" club members...but I woke up giggling about how cool I will look with an eye patch and a parrot. Maybe a penguin. I LOVE penguins. Penguins on telly visions...well, don't get me started. I went to fill out all of the pre surgical forms at the surgeons office and a blowfish disguised as a receptionist was so NOT amused when I said "Mother always warned me I'd go blind...I figured I'd stop just when I needed glasses...." Several other patients (one with a white cane) thought this was hilarious, so what does SHE know?
Here's the ironic thing (one of them, anyway) about this whole surreal episode. On the way out of the opthamologists office yesterday my darling daughter said braethlessly, "GOSH Mom, this is gonna be SO cool. I've read everybook about Anne SUllivan and now I'll get to BE her for two or three MONTHS!" DING, the elevator arrives and I marvel at how true this is. We get home and she fires up my computer and reads the screen so I can post to the blog. She offers to read me the mail. "Rememer Mom, I signed up for the program to go and read to the BLIND, but they wouldn't let me do it because I couldn't drive?"
Keep in mind, that yesterday I couldn't see because of the drops in my eyes to dilate them so the doc could make his diagnosis. It will be much different when I get out of surgery and am learning how to see again...because believe me, Danger Girl needs her vision back. We are going to be A+ students in vision rehabilitation class. Extra credit will be issued. GOld stars will be earned. You get the picture. I hope I get mine back....
Last night I LISTENED to the baseball game and finished the ribbed hat without ever opening my eyes. It is going to be a gift for somebody special, so I can't blab about it yet.
I love books on tape, and I've been wishing for an opportunity to actually take a NAP. I don't remember requesting scalpels and sutures and grafting of the conjunctiva, but hey, a NAP is a NAP. Bring on the anesthesia. I'm getting sleepy just thining about it.
YES, I am scared. Absolutely freakin' terrified. I am by nature a visual creature, and most everything I do requires sight. I hate more than anything to be dependent on anybody at anytime, so this will be an exercise in, um, what is that word.....oh yeah. PATIENCE.
When the kids were younger we were waiting (ever NOT so successfully) in line at the bank. I was trying to keep them reasonably quiet so we would not be forcibly ejected from the bank before we had cashed our checks and made out our deposit slips. I leaned over to my daughter and said in a "quiet voice"..."This is a good opportunity to learn something about patience." She replied in a loud voice, clearly annoyed, "Well, Mom, wouldn't you need to KNOW something about patience before you tried to teach it to ME?" Watch me turn fourteen shades of RED as everyone in line turns around to see who the idiot mother is....oh well hey, that would be ME! Thank GOD for drive throughs and ATMs!
Thanks ever so much for all of the good wishes....I am supposed to limit my "exposure" to the monitor, so I'll post again as soon as I have a definite surgery date.
In case you are wanting gory details, google pterygium and read the "rarely when it invades the cornea" part. Do not look at these pictures if you are squeamish. The Yentala rule about beverages applies.
Blessings to you this day and always....
Wear your sunglasses and always put on sunscreen (sigh) Who knew?

Can you SEE me now?

NO. I can't see. Literally. I am typing this by feel and have no idea how I'm doing. I went for my LONG overdue eye doctor appointment today and, well, the news is BAD.
I knew I was going to need surgery, but I thought it could wait until I had the kiddos situated in their new digs.
WRONG.
I will be on the phone this afternoon with my primary care physician, the insurance company, and a corneal surgery specialist.
About five years ago I was swimming with dolphins in the ocean off of Australia, frolicking and LOVING every blessed moment of it. I got "something" in my eye, and it itched and burned and generally drove me crazy. THEN, I spent two days covered in sunscreen of the 30plus variety, but neglected to wear strong sunglasses (as I was taking tons of PICTURES) as so I BURNED my cornea.
Now I need surgery asap or I will lose the sight in my left eye.
NO JOKE.
Wish me luck.
Now HERE's the JOKE...one of my Daddy's favorites....
"OH I SEE," said the blind man, as he picked up his hammer and SAW....

Up to my elbows in questions

Okey dokey bloggers...I'm on the last row of Sonnet, just about to do the buttonholes....and
because of the drapiness of Cotton-Ease, I'm leaning toward just ONE buttonhole at the very top. This way I can use a large ARTistic button and have that retro 50's jewelry look. Which begs the question....Do I then want Three Quarter Sleeves? (and some fabulous rhinestone glasses?)
ACK!
What is it about starting SLEEVES that always sends me into this Bermuda Triangle of Questions?
I had to have something to knit during the meetings today, something I could keep under the table and knit quietly away on while nodding and smiling and occasionally signing my name on yet ANOTHER form...so I'm about three inches into a ribbed hat made of the most fabulous chunky handspun...still full of delicious lanolin and a lovely green and purple colorway. SIGH.
I went overboard on my Morning pages today....held my breath for five whole pages and then wrote three more...so much coming to the surface now that this transition has actually begun...I am ever so glad that this has become a ritual for me now....

Peace and Pie

Here's the "before" picture of the pie....the recipe (and fabulous story) may be found at Marcia's.
There are no "after" photos, for reasons too obvious to mention ;)
Your support, prayers, recipes, emails, and phone calls were all critical to the peaceful outcome of this situation. May your blessings be returned one thousand fold.
Peace be with you,
This Day and Always!

Mom and Apple Pie

Apparently, both passed the test with flying colors. We are APPROVED. In Like Flint. Papers have been signed, paperwork has begun. Ten years of waiting, and twenty years of work....Let the Games Begin!
Here's the BEST part:
The interview lasted an hour and a half. The pie came out of the oven a mere five minutes before the scheduled start of the "home visit" and the case manager was ON TIME. Miracle Numero Uno.
She is pleasant, knowledgeable, and compassionate. Miracle Numero Dos.
The interview was blessedly SHORT and to the point. Miracle Numero Tres.
We signed the paperwork, she stood up to shake my hand and I offered her a piece of pie. She tried to politely decline. I refused to take NO for an answer, and wrapped up a big slice "to go"....and said "You really need to try this while it is still warm...." She took a forkfull. Rolled her eyes and sighed "OH, God, that is incredible..." Took the foil wrapped slice of Heaven.
And then....
as she was gathering up her things to leave she said:
"I hope you are writing a book."
"OH YES," I said...."I am!"
How 'bout THEM Apples, Avengers?