'Cause your eyes, they light the night

Phoebe Snow died this week. She was a singer, a unique, unpretentious, pure vocalist. Nobody sounded like her. Nobody could sound like her. Her voice could not be mistaken for anyone else, and the first note was recognizable as hers, every time.



Phoebe Snow got big on the radio when I was in that place in life between childhood and adulthood, a good kid who wanted to be bad, a bad kid who couldn't figure out how to be good. Finding and fighting the wild girl inside, sometimes letting her win. All these years later, I can't hear her voice without remembering the poignancy of those years, without feeling a little bit of that thrill and that sting again.



I had lost track of her. I knew, vaguely, that she was still around, still making music in small ways. Her life was all about her daughter Valerie, born severely brain damaged. Phoebe chose to care for her child at home and not put her in an institution. This made her career as a musician much less than it would have been, had she chosen another way. I doubt she regretted it. Valerie died in 2007.



From time to time I'd hear her voice in a commercial or in the background of a movie or television show and I'd get that chill and that memory of the potential of my life rolling out in front of me, the future bright and exciting and scary. A flash of the mistakes I made and regretted, and the mistakes I made but was never sorry for making.



There is no voice so evocative, so capable of bringing it all back like hers. Not for me. Her voice was like her, not beautiful, not flashy, not glamorous, but complicated and important and one of a kind and so, so, so much more than met the ear. Ever try to imitate her? It's nearly impossible.

Phoebe had a stroke last year, and had been in a coma since. It's nice to think that she's with her daughter again. And that she has, of course, no regrets.

Throw out the hardware, let's do it right.

Another week or so has come and gone here in Buttercupia. Things go on. Younger daughter will be making the trip in after all, arriving late Friday and leaving Sunday after family dinner. I'll take it, it's better than nothing. She's hoping to get here for a week or so sometime this year, hopefully while we have decent weather, though in Pittsburgh, you never know when that will be. We've been between snow and freezing temperatures and torrential rain and 80 degree heat this past week and a half.

Tiziana is starting another knit-a-long on Ravelry for a new shawl design. I have enough warning ahead that I'm spinning yarn for this one. Out of this fiber.



I'm doing a three ply fingering weight and since the pattern will require under 800 yards of yarn, I should have enough left over for a pair of socks.

Not sure if I ever posted this but I did get pictures of the last knit along shawl when I wore it to the opera.



The tickets were a gift from my mom to us and the opera was Turandot, my favorite opera, despite the many many wrongnesses of the story from a feminist viewpoint. The production from Pittsburgh opera was outstanding and the voices were excellent. As always, the show was a standout for the chorus, and our chorus did us proud. One of the sopranos is a woman I sang with in high school, every time I go to the opera and see her name in the program and see her on stage, I have another opportunity to browbeat myself for screwing up my future, back in my past. Just part of what makes my life fun.

I saw a nurse-practitioner at the Midwife center for a "menopausal issues" checkup earlier this week. It was about the best-case scenario for me for that sort of thing as I have not had my bits checked in over 15 years. They were very nice, listened, were gentle and explained everything. I felt very out of place but they put me at ease pretty much. I was only moderately panicked by the time the actual exam took place and it was over fast. I'm going for a mammogram and a Very Special Sonogram next week, to make sure there is nothing untoward going on before we decide what course of action to take regarding my hormonal dysfunction. I am also getting a blood test to make sure my thyroid is all there and working, since I have family history and symptoms.

We managed to keep the wolves from the door this week with my destash sale and juggling some bills. Bob has found a second job with one of those companies that does inventory in stores after they close, so once he starts getting paid for that, that should also help. I've also paid off two credit union loans in the past month, so my paycheck will get a small amount bigger. Not for long, if the governor has his way, he wants to take back our last raise. The wolves are away for now, at least, though the despair is never far.

Speaking of despair, still no word from daughter #1. I continue to have dreams about her. I really wish that would stop.

I've made a project of photographing old family photos to preserve them electronically. I have a huge bag of them from my mom's collection that I need to go through. I think it's better than scanning, because I can get a higher resolution with my camera, plus use the photo editing program on the high-res images to make them sharper and better. I have some doozies so far.



That's my grandmother, possibly at her wedding. She looks just like my mother, and just like my older daughter.



My favorite ever photo of the girls.



and the moment I knew my older daughter was an artist.

Quick Hit-A bit of a destash

Those of you who know me know that I regard my yarn and fiber stash as an investment against times I may not be able to buy yarn and fiber. That being said, sometimes, things get so lean you have make sacrifices. So I'm having a small destash. If you're on Ravelry, you can find it here.

I may add more to it in the coming days. There are some lovely yarns and fibers there, and all include US shipping.

Think twice, that's my only advice

I spent some time this weekend doing a cheater digital conversion of some of my old photos and I found some bittersweet gems, let me tell you. My kids were some cute little ones. (of course) Younger daughter asked me if I had any old photos of them I could email her, so that's where this all started. I have more, I just have to dig them out and have appropriate weather to take them outside and photograph them. Not today, today is apocalyptic rain and thunderstorms and fit for nothing but ducks and future gardens.

Speaking of future gardens, we went to the Phipps spring flower show this past weekend. Might as well use the membership because we're on a very tight budget from here on out.


As always, the orchids were some of my favorites. There weren't as many daffodils as I expected.

Here's a couple of favorites in case you don't want to sit through the whole slide show.


I really dig the Longfellows.



These colors, ahhh. So pretty.



LOVED these.



And of course, buttercups.

My leg was completely stiff by the time we got home, leaving me in misery and woe for the remainder of the evening. It's still not right, and no matter what I do it doesn't seem to get any better. Very, very frustrating. I feel like things ought to at least be getting somewhat easier but they're not and I'm still totally dead from mid-calf down or so at the end of a work day.

Every part of my life seems to be tinged with sadness any more. I don't know how to change that. I am not sure it can until the situation changes. Probably not a good idea but I did send my older daughter a text message over the weekend letting her know that I miss her and I hope she is well and that I love her. Of course there was no response.

Still knitting, I'm concentrating hard on a cardigan out of lace weight yarn. It's boring, miles and miles of stockinette, but should look good when it's done.



One spinning project I'm concentrating on right now-a BFL/silk blend on my favorite spindle.



It's also a gradient dye job so I carefully split the whole length of the roving in half so I can keep the change consistent, like I did before in the purple to yellow yarn.

One of the spinning groups on Ravelry is having a spin along in April and I want to spin some cashmere for that-I have a two ounce bag of cashmere roving and a two ounce bag of cashmere/silk roving. I thought one ply of each would make a nice yarn. So I'll probably do that too.

Mostly I feel like I'm in a holding pattern and waiting, waiting, waiting. I need to get past this and move along into life more but how. How. My thinking goes circular and I can't get answers to any of my questions, or I only get answers that are mine so are probably not true.

Yellow moon on the rise

Last night's supermoon, not a very good photo, but the best I could do with the sorry-ass tripod I have and not being so great on the manual settings on my camera.



I haven't blogged in almost a month. Where does the time go? Things have not changed much, other than the snow has mostly melted and the shy little flowers are starting to poke heads out of the ground.



There are buds everywhere on bushes and trees.



Spring seems poised just beneath the surface, ready to leap out.

I've finished a couple of knitting projects. First, the Blooming Garden shawl.


I really enjoyed the process of getting the clues week by week and watching the pattern unfold. It was quite challenging but quite rewarding as well.



The pattern, as I mentioned before, was brilliantly written and Tiziana was right there for support and encouragement the whole time, so to her I say Brava, and Grazie!



I also finished the Blue Skies pullover.



And I really, really like it.





I like it so much I'm willing to post a rare photo of myself wearing it because I think it's just that awesome.



I did make some modifications. I'm not sure the designer had actual test knitters in the largest sizes because if I'd done what the pattern said, it would have been open way, way, way lower than I wanted it to be. So I closed the front sooner than the pattern said. I also did the neckline edging as a seed stitch band that matched the edging on the sleeves and bottom. Much better. than the crocheted edging that, judging from what I read on several Ravelry projects, did not lay flat anyway.

So I started another sweater, this time a cardigan.



Doesn't look like much yet but it'll be awesome if it's big enough. It's laceweight yarn on larger needles so I'm hoping it'll be nice and light and floaty.

In spinning, I finished spinning the Corgi Hill Farm batts.



I ended up with a personal record, almost 800 yards of lace weight yarn. No idea what I'm going to do with it yet, for now I'm happy to have finished it. I did the singles on a spindle then plied on the wheel. Considering I started this project on christmas day, it's been rather long term.



The new spinning project is a BFL/tussah silk blend, also from Corgi Hill, on the same spindle, roughly the same weight. I have some of Cosymakes' falkland that I want to spin to a poofy bulky yarn soon too, though.



Won't that make something neat for a little boy?

Personally, things are pretty unchanged. I have new glasses coming. My leg is STILL not right from when I fell in December, and I'm doing battle with an ulcer on the back of it to boot. Not fun. If it doesn't heal soon I'm going to have to go to the doctor. I've been walking more as the weather improves, though, so hopefully the forced circulation from walking will help the healing process. I hate having this half-dead leg, making everything more complicated. Suppose it beats the alternative.

Still no word from my daughter. Every time I think the pain can't get any worse, it does. I thought I saw her driving down our road yesterday, when we were on our way home from dinner. I got almost happy because I thought maybe she came by and left a note, or called, or emailed, or something. But nothing. I continue to have dreams about her. The whole situation is very sad.

Lily is still adjusting well to being an only dog. It's fun watching her personality change as she gets used to her changed role.



Bob's been able to get her out more often so she's starting to lose her winter pudge.



Not her silly, though.

And while you're at it, take yourself back too.

One of the more unpleasant side effects of gall bladder removal is the abject refusal of your digestive system to behave in a normal and predictable fashion. I've managed to get to work one day out of four this week as a result.

Bob took me to the Melting Pot for a late Valentine's Day dinner on Sunday evening. It was nice, and we had a coupon. We're old people who use coupons to go out to dinner now. The cheese was amazingly good. I took this picture of Bob, which came out surprisingly well considering it was a cell phone picture in a very dark restaurant.



A friend said he looks like Marlon Brando at the end of Apocalypse Now. I said instead of "The Horror... The Horror..." it would be "The Gouda... The Gouda...." Bob loves it and says it's one of the best photos ever taken of him. I guess it just goes to show you. All the fussing I do with the digital SLR and I get a shot like this from my cell phone.

I finished the fruit slice shawl and I love it.


It's quite difficult to capture the whole thing in a photo when it's raining and sleeting outside so you'll just have to take my word that it's a big elongated semi-circle with a ruffle on the bottom. It drapes very nicely and is warm and soft.



As to how I made it, I started with a semi-circle shawl pattern, the Garden Pond shawl on Ravelry. I changed a few things to get the shape I wanted and to leave out the bigger lace mesh sections. I only did six rows of lace mesh each time, and I made the lace two rows sooner then four rows sooner on the last two lace sections. When I was as big as I wanted it, I KFB'd across the whole thing, did about six more rows in stockinette stitch to make a ruffle, then bound off on the wrong side using the purl two together, slip to left needle, purl two together etc. bindoff. I didn't block it hard, just soaked it, rinsed it, and hung it to dry from the middle. It didn't need much blocking.



I'm also working on a mystery shawl knitalong. It's a lot of fun, more than I expected. We're on the third clue. Each week, we get a new clue so we don't know what it's going to look like until it's done.



That's mine through the second clue. I didn't expect to enjoy this as much as I have, but the designer, Tiziana, is brilliant and her pattern makes a lot of sense. I'm given to understand that isn't always the case in these things. And it's a win-win. We get a great pattern for free, and she gets a metric crapload of test knitters. Her other designs are gorgeous, too. And challenging. I like challenging.

I'm still working on this sweater.

I am on the sleeves now, but unfortunately, I bound off the bottom too soon, so I'm going to have to pick out the bindoff and add another repeat of the edging to make it long enough. It's not bad as is, but it could be better, and I want it better. I am just distracted by the shiny lace and spinning and etc lately. And by my general dithering and scatterbrain.

Still no word from my daughter. I honestly try to avoid thinking about it too much but it's very difficult. Being a parent is hard. Apparently, so is being one of my children. I miss them both so much.

Lily is adjusting to being an only dog. She's a lot less nervous, strangely, but it does make sense considering the dog pack mentality-we had a sick pack member, and it caused her some stress. Now that pack member is gone, so she's a lot more relaxed. She's also learning to be more assertive about being taken out to pee. It's a learning curve for all of us.



She does have the cutest little butt ever.

You better know what you're fighting for

Bob and I went to Phipps Conservatory yesterday for Valentine's day. It was nice. He's being very patient and understanding while I negotiate this endless emotional labyrinth and remain trapped, disconsolate.

I continue to knit and spin. I made socks for our friend Dave, who fixed my computer not too long ago. I'm making a sweater and two shawls and another pair of socks. I recently spun some lovely bluefaced leicester.


Here's a circular shawl I'm working on in handspun BFL/silk. This yarn was spun on my Turkish spindle, and I like the way it's knitting up better than I liked it in the skein.


One of the other projects I'm working on is a mystery knit-a-long. This is what it looks like through the first clue.



Really, in a lot of ways I feel like I'm on hold, like I'm going through the motions. Bob says I'm probably depressed, and he's probably right. This winter has not been kind. My knee is still not right, either. The doctor said it would heal slowly because of the prior damage to that leg and I was prepared for that, but it's been almost two months since my fall and I'm still seriously not even close to being able to go back to dance class. It's frustrating. And it's just ugly outside today, raining, snow melting, revealing a huge amount of dog poo in the yard. And the mailbox fell off the post, and I can't figure out how to get it to stay on. And on and on and on.

My thoughts are disconnected and I am blogging in the same way. I'm sorry to inflict this on my small but mighty readership. I will endeavor to do better in the future.

Here is the best photo from yesterday.



And here's Bob coming across the street-he had to go investigate a nearby statue.



It was a clear, crisp day out. Great weather for an outing to the tropics.

A ladder to the stars

Dylan's story starts before we ever knew him.

When my kids were small but old enough to take some responsibility, we got a puppy. This puppy was Max, the World's Most Amazing Corgi. Max was intelligent, mannerly, eager to please, playful, and sweet. He would smother you with kisses and fetch a ball or frisbee or stick a hundred times. He would go out in the morning to pee and come right back in when he was done. He became my heart dog, my constant companion, and the thing that kept me from losing my mind a few times, if truth be told.


Max at around six months old

Max was with us only seven years. He died far too young and left a huge void, and that was when Dylan came into the picture.


Dylan the day we brought him home.

Dylan was found roaming the streets in Eastlake, Ohio. He was of unknown origin, untrained, about eleven pounds overweight, non-affectionate, constantly ravenous, and quite ill-behaved. We had to search him down several times before we got on the learning curve that he needed to be taken out on a leash, not just let out to pee. He roamed the neighborhood and it's a wonder he didn't get run over before we figured it out, even though it only took us a couple of days to get with the program.

We could not leave anything out. No food. No cat food. No cat litter. He would eat it. Dylan once ate a five pound bag of science diet cat food that belonged to a pair of cats we were fostering. He got sick. Sick as a dog, proverbially, to the point I wondered if we were going to lose him from the diarrhea, but he recovered in time and did not learn his lesson. He ate a whole loaf of bread. Pizza out of people's plates placed inadvisedly on laps. Bob's coat. The couch, before we figured out he needed to be in a crate when nobody was home with him. My change purse, including some of the money that was in it. Bob's wallet. Several bras.

Dylan was not playful. We bought him toys over and over but he had no interest. He did enjoy going for walks and when we went to the dog park, he adored playing with other dogs, especially big black dogs for some reason.



With sufficient exercise and by controlling his access to food, we got Dylan down to a reasonable weight for a corgi, though he was still far bigger than most at 33-34 pounds. He always had a strange gait, and I often wondered about his breeding or background. There was never a way to find out, though. He was a beautiful dog, with a tremendous outer coat and absolutely beautiful corgi eyes.



He could melt you with a look, but I had corgi experience, my heart was hardened to him. Well, mostly.


Dylan copies an internet meme

When Bob moved in with us, Dylan adopted him. One night, we were laying in bed talking, and Dylan (who usually slept on the bed until we got wise and forbade it) crawled up between us and put his chin on Bob's chest, and gave me such a look, a look that seemed to say "thank you for getting me a man! I've always wanted one!"



Bob was devoted to Dylan. He cleaned up after his accidents, forgave him for eating his clothing and wallet and coat and food, and took him out for walks. He made excuses for him, brushed him, and had more patience with him than most people would. Dylan was absolutely loyal to Bob and loved him completely.

From 20070722194921

When we bought our house in 2004, we loved sitting under the apple tree out back. It quickly became one of Dylan's favorite places too, especially once he figured out he could eat the apples that fell to the ground.



Dr Bob, our vet, said they wouldn't hurt him as long as he didn't have any digestive upset from them, and if there's one thing this dog seldom had, it was digestive upset. Other than the cat food incident, he had an ironclad stomach.

Not long after we bought the house, we got a foster dog in, Miss Lily. Lily was a tiny corgi girl who had a hard life as a brood bitch in a puppy mill. Dylan fell in love with her, as did we, and they became great friends and close companions and playmates.



Needless to say, she did not remain a foster dog for long, and we have not tried the foster parent thing since, because we know how it will go!





About a year and a half ago, we noticed his strange gait getting worse. At times he would trip over his back feet. We took him to the vet, who did x-rays. They were negative, and further testing would most likely not shown anything treatable, as to the best of my knowledge, he was at least 11 years old. Operating on him would have been risky and probably non-productive, and we did not have thousands of dollars to spend on MRIs and CAT scans when it probably would not have told us anything we could do anything about. Our vet recommended rest and a course of steroids, in case it was something simple and possibly treatable. There was no result from that course. We took a planned vacation to Pigeon Forge TN to see my daughter who lives in that area, taking the dogs with us. It was testament to Bob's devotion that he carried Dylan up and down the stairs of our cabin, every time he had to go out, and there were a lot of stairs.



We got a wheelchair courtesy of CorgiAid's excellent loaner program. Dylan enjoyed it during the warmer weather, as it gave him a chance to exercise more and also get around the house to his apples again.



It was very much a short-term solution, though. We knew that all along.

The last couple of weeks, we had some snow and the weather has gotten very cold. Dylan had become increasingly incontinent, and was starting to fall over with some regularity, as well as having some mental confusion. He would bark, high pitched, over and over again, to go out, then do nothing when he was taken out. He would start barking for no reason and with no resolution that could be found. His eyes took on a glazed, checked-out look. We knew it was time.

He left us very peacefully and very calmly. We imagine he is free of his confusion and pain, and chasing some big black dogs in an apple orchard somewhere.



We'll miss you, buddy. Say Hi to Max for me, ok?