I hate saying Goodbye

 

It's been a very stressful weekend for me. I really hate saying "goodbye" to the people I love.

The first "goodbye" was not a goodbye in the regular sense. A good friend, one of my church ladies that I had gotten close to, has Alzheimer's and is now in an assisted living facility. I'm lucky enough to be included on her visitor list (which is very limited, since she is easily agitated and gets very upset -- apparently a common reaction when you know you should recognize people and places but can't). When I first arrived, she didn't know who I was. But I was able to gently remind her of some of our fun times together, and we ended up having a great time together.

And it really was a great time together. We chatted about the things she remembered. We giggled over things we had done in the past. We made plans for future visits. And if some of the things that she remembered weren't quite right, if she mixed up people, or if there were moments that confused her -- we were able to find a way to accept it and laugh together about it.

It wasn't until I got home, after telling her goodbye and promising to come visit her again soon, that I cried. Because even though my friend is still there, and we can still laugh and have fun together, I can see that she is quickly leaving us (both mentally and physically) and the day is coming when "goodbye" really is "goodbye."

While I was still trying to accept my friend's condition, I received a message from an old friend and ex-sister-in-law. Sharon was letting me know that our very good friend had unexpectedly passed away on Saturday.

I still don't know what to say about this. It's been a while since I've talked with Pats, and even longer since I've seen her. But we had a friendship that time and distance didn't affect. I always knew she was there, and either one of us could pick up the phone and we'd start in the middle of the conversation just as if we had talked every day. I'm feeling very lost knowing that I don't have that safety net anymore.

Pats was my college roommate. She was the maid of honor when I got married. She was godmother to my firstborn. She was there when my marriage fell apart, helping to put me back together when I thought the world was ending. She was there to kick my butt when I was being an idiot, and to give me high-fives when I was celebrating. She was my best friend, even if time and distance kept us apart.

I hate having to say "goodbye."

It could be worse.

For $400 I got an afternoon of knitting by myself, a cup of bad coffee, and the check engine light to turn off.

A Flower grows on YouTube

I picked up a grapevine wreath on sale at Michael's, and now there's one more project on my needles. 

Originally I had thought to add some of my crocheted hearts. I think that would have been very pretty.

But then I found a couple of videos on YouTube showing how to crochet multilayered flowers. And of course I had to try that out.

I ended up spending the afternoon making flowers. I probably could have finished the wreath as obsessed as I was. Only somebody is not house trained yet, and peed all over my yarn--which was in my lap at the time.

Surprisingly, no animals were harmed in the making of my wreath. 

Knitters are the best!

 

Recently someone close to me was diagnosed with cancer. I don't have permission (yet) to share her story, so that's all I am going to say about her. What has been remarkable about this situation is the way the fiber community has reached out to help. From the very first doctor's appointment, the knitters have offered their knowledge, assistance, and shoulders to lean on.

A knitting group is so much more than the media's stereotype of a bunch of old ladies sitting and knitting. First of all, we're not old ladies. Well, a few of us might be able to sneak into that description. But our knitting group ranges in age from 20-something to 60-somethingish. We are guys as well as gals. We have children and grandchildren and grown children and no children. We have husbands and wives, ex's, and significant others. We might be stay-at-home moms, students, teachers, professionals, construction workers, sales clerks or retirees. We don't even all knit -- some of us prefer to crochet, or spin, or weave. Really, the only thing we have in common, at first glance, is that we all have a love of fiber.

But over the years we've learn to look deeper, and to see the people we really are. We've developed friendships as we've shared our experiences knitting together every week.  I'm very glad and thankful to have such wonderful friends, and very proud to be part of such a wonderful community.

I lost my Focus

By now, you've probably noticed that I've changed the name of the blog. The title has been bothering me for a while. I started this blog in 2005 as a place where I could play creatively. Originally, I was going to take and post a photo each day, with minimal written description since the picture would be worth a thousand words. That didn't last long.

In the past eight years, this blog has undergone quite a number of changes as my interest have evolved and my life has changed. Instead of Staying Focused, I have created a gallimaufry of my interests, thoughts, ideas, pictures, and life in general. (A gallimaufry is a random collection, or hodge podge, of items.) The new title is a better representation of what I'm doing with this blog. In other words, I'm giving in and just accepting that my interests and discussions are far from focused.

I still think that my original idea for the blog was a good one. Luckily, thanks to modern technology, and my children's insistence that I would love an iphone, I now have the Instagram app. So I can summarize the day with a photo over there. You can follow me, if you would like; I'm agallimaufrygal.

Two closets -- and they're both mine!

My youngest child moved into her own apartment Sunday. It's the first time I've ever had to live alone. (I've stayed alone quite a lot, but it's never been on a "forever" or even "a-really-long-time" basis before.) It's going to take some getting used to. I'm going to enjoy cleaning up after myself, and getting home from work to find that no one has messed anything up. I'm going to enjoy having the bathroom to myself again, without anyone else's towels or makeup or hair in the tub. I don't have to take anyone else into consideration; it's just my fleeting desires that matter in my own apartment. On the other hand, there's no one to share the silliness of the day, or to complain to when I come home from work. (The cat just doesn't care, and doesn't even pretend to listen like my teenager does.) There's no excuse to cook, since it's just me. There's no one to watch Glee with, or to take a walk with. And there's no one to blame when the dishes aren't washed. (I considered the cat, but even as smart as she is there is no way she's taken anything out of the cupboards.)

I am proud of my daughter. She's been wanting to get her own apartment for a while now, but she was smart enough to wait until she knew she could afford to live on her own. I'm also very proud of her organizational skills, which she obviously gets from me. The child packed her boxes by room, and clearly labeled each one with its contents. Of course, the wording of each label made it clear that even with my orderly influence, she is her own person:

• Bedroom: clothing - time to dress up and look pretty!
• Kitchen: plates - to be civilized for mommy
• Kitchen: paper stuff - everyday use

I've been promised an invitation to dinner as soon as she gets settled in. And I'm thinking of making Sunday dinners at my place mandatory for ALL my children. Because while I plan on enjoying my clean house, I'd rather have the kids around.

It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life. (P.D. James)

 

I spent new year's day with my mom, and one of the things that we did (along with all the talking, laughing, eating, and knitting) was to take a stroll along River Walk on the St. Lucie River. It was the perfect day for a walk on the boardwalk. The cold front has moved on, leaving just enough brisk in the air to make it comfortable to be outside without forcing us warm-blooded Floridians into our heavy sweaters.

A pleasant side-effect of the recent cold front was our discovery of fall foliage. We don't often get to see the leaves turn pretty colors - they are usually either green, or brown and on the ground. As a result, we tend to romanticize the fall colors. Some of my best memories are riding with my grandmother into northern Jersey to see the leaves. But while I'm sure that the leaves were well-worth the long car ride, I also know that my grandmother would use any excuse to go exploring. As an adult, seeing the mountains of Kentucky turn colors in the fall was rivaled in beauty only by watching them brighten back up with flowers and greens in the spring. While I don't miss the winters (especially after the past several days of adding wool socks and heavy sweaters to my early morning/evening wear), I wouldn't mind taking a long car ride to see the trees dressed in reds and oranges -- and then stopping for some hot spiced apple cider at a roadside stand.

Anyway, mom and I were overly excited yesterday afternoon to see a couple of trees sporting colorful leaves.

Just for the record -- although the leaves were beautiful and we had a nice discussion regarding our shared fall memories, I see no need for Mother Nature to take the matter any further by bringing us winter weather. I am quite content to simply talk about snow, without any snowflake prompts.

Happy New Year!

It's been a wonderful celebration, of both last year (2012) and the possibilities of this new year. I think my countdown was extremely appropriate:

I went from from Kenmore County

to Margaritaville.

 

So let's toast 2013 -- may it be happy, healthy, and filled with love for all my family and friends!

I'm back. Did you miss me?

 

Since my last post, I have gotten old and depressed. (There is, by the way, a definite a link between those two items.) I received two really amazing and unexpected birthday gifts, but overall the experience was horrendous. Since my last post, I have learned a new skill - tatting - and have become obsessed. I have started a group to deal with another obsession of mine, spinning. I've done a lot of reading, not surprisingly.  I have gone in - and out - of business. I had my first childless Thanksgiving in over 25 years, which made it difficult to give thanks. (Although I did enjoy not spending days in the kitchen cooking and cleaning.) I took a few sick days, and had my vacation time misplaced by a committee. I've baked cakes, cookies and cupcakes, all of which were greatly enjoyed by myself and others. I've finished several projects on the long, long, WIP list; but I've also added to it - without any expected feelings of guilt. I found, and was found, by long-lost family members.

And yet, I've had nothing worth writing about. Sorry. I'll try to do better.

True love by page 123, and all of life's problems solved by page 217.

I've managed to have a quiet weekend. I really needed a couple of quiet days, after just finishing an extremely stressful week, with another stressful week to look forward to. I did manage to do a little bit of housework and I completed some training for my new business, but mostly I just relaxed and escaped into the world of junk romances.

He was just a boy.

Yesterday I was asked when I was going to start updating my blog again. Today was probably not a good day to come back.

Today, I helped bury an 18-year old boy. He was loved by his mother and father, adored by his brother and sister, admired by his friends, and liked by just about everyone. There were over 400 people at the service. For many of them, the teenagers, this was the first time death was personal and real.

It was a senseless, unnecessary death. (And yes, any death of a child is senseless and unnecessary.) He was a good boy. He attended church with his family (most of the time). He even volunteered at the church on occasion. When his family needed him, he helped out. (And there were many times this past year that the family needed help - it's been a really rough year for them.)  He was also a normal teenager. He had fights with his mother and father, and with his siblings. He stayed out late with his friends. He drove fast. But he always came home.

Until this past weekend, when he couldn't come home anymore. He couldn't come home because he was riding too fast on his motorcycle and didn't survive the crash. And his mother will never be able to hug him, or tell him that it's going to be alright because it won't ever be alright again.

I had to help his mother plan the funeral service. I organized the music, and the scriptures, and helped sort out which photos to include on the service bulletin. I typed the sermon for the pastor. I coordinated the donations that their friends and neighbors gave to help pay for the expenses. And I held his mother's hand and cried with her.

The entire week, as I tried to do my job with love and compassion for the mother and father, all that kept running through my mind was thank God I never had to face this. Pray God that I never have to suffer this.

The funeral was today. I stayed late, finished up the paperwork and helped clean up the sanctuary. Tomorrow, my life will go back to it's regular routine. I'll probably sleep late, meet some friends at Starbucks, maybe complain about how unfair life is. His mom will wake up, only to remember that her son is dead. She'll know how unfair life is.

It's easy being green!

Today did not go the way I planned. It's the first day of the great KIP Hunt, and I was not able to get out to knit anywhere. I should be very disappointed.

Instead, I'm excited. I learned about a great line of natural products for my home and my health. They don't use any harsh chemicals, including sulphates, which means a healthier home with less stress on my fibromyalgia. Of course, they're also better for the environment in general.

If you're looking for a way to "go green" (both environmentally and financially), let me know and I'll be glad to give you more details.

Sometimes you have to be careful what you ask for

Thanks to my wonderful daughter, I have a dining room table. I'm very excited. When we moved into the new apartment, I had to give up my big kitchen table. There just wasn't room for it, after I put the floor loom and my daughter's desk in the dining nook. And originally I thought I wouldn't miss having the table, since we did have a breakfast bar.

But I've found that I really do need a dining room table. It's very difficult to use my sewing machine sitting on the floor. Standing up at the kitchen counters makes rubber stamping cards and letters uncomfortable, and takes the fun out of it. Most of all, I miss sitting down to eat dinner with my daughter across from me. Balancing our plates on our laps in the living room in front of the (until recently, blank) television was awkward and uncomfortable.

So for the past month or so, my constant whine has been that I want a dining room table. Just a little one, nothing fancy or expensive. I'm not sure whether my daughter agreed with me or if she just wanted to shut me up, or perhaps (most likely) she really loves me and wanted to make me happy - but she bought us a dining room table. A friend  was getting new furniture, and Becka arranged to buy the table from her.

I love it! It's old. Really old. And it's been well loved, which makes it all the more special in my mind. It's very obvious to me that this table holds a lot of memories in it's bumps and scratches. It's just big enough for the two of us, and it fits perfectly into the little bit of space left over in the dining room nook. There is even a leaf, just in case I talk someone into coming over for dinner. (I'm making lasagna, any takers?)

There's only one, tiny little problem. She didn't get any chairs with the table. "But mom, you said you wanted a table. You never mentioned anything about chairs."

I told my mom this story, that my daughter bought me a table but no chairs. Before I could get any further, mom interrupted me with, "But Sandi, did you ever say you wanted chairs? All you've been saying is that you wanted a table." And this is why my daughter and my mother are best friends.

(Just to clarify --  my mother knew that, just like any sane adult, I wanted chairs to go with the table. Her response was an acknowledgement of the way my daughter thinks, and surprise at the fact that I didn't take that into consideration. If someone my daughter loves asks for something, she'll get it for them. And she'll get them exactly what they ask for.)

Ninja Spider

I may have to move.

Seriously. I won't ever be able to sleep in the apartment again. And I can't go into the bathroom without someone accompanying me, which really isn't at all practical. So the only sensible thing to do is to move.

The whole thing started a couple of days ago. I was in the bathroom, never mind what I was doing in there but I was minding to my own business, when I looked up and saw a huge spider on the shower curtain. He looked right at me, and shook one of his long, hairy legs. No really, he did. I ran out of the room, ran back in and grabbed my clothes, then ran back out again. By the time I convinced my daughter to go in after him, he was gone.

Yesterday, I saw him again. And once again, he gestured at me. My daughter tried to convince me that he was just waving "hello." But in my heart I knew that he was not being friendly.

This morning, he made his move. He jumped me! He literally jumped on top of me. It's a good thing that the bolt was still on the front door, because otherwise I would have made it out into the parking lot before I stopped screaming. My daughter went back into the bathroom for a towel and my clothes, which she thought was more important than killing that spider. I really wish she had gone for the spider first, since it was gone by the time she got back in there.

As far as I'm concerned, the spider has won. The bathroom is all his. I'll be joining a gym and showering there until I can find a new apartment.

Real Life Sucks.

I liked it a lot better when my daughter was here, and I could stay home from work and just do fun things with her. Unfortunately, I had to take her to the airport early this morning (and I do mean early - we left my house at 5:30 am!) and then it was back to work and real life for me.

I miss her so much already!

Food, friends, family.

Before my daughter moved to NYC, she met - and impressed - Lillian. At the time Lillian owned our favorite Cuban restaurant - which impressed my daughter. So when Lillian found out Cari was coming home for a visit, she asked if we could all get together for dinner.

The dinner was marvelous! Cuban pork, wonderfully seasoned, with rice and beans. I provided the dessert - Cherry Rose Cupcakes: chocolate cupcakes with dried cherries that had been soaked in Four Roses Bourbon, with a little more bourbon added to my Buttercream Frosting.

Even better than the food was the company. We laughed, we cried, we laughed a lot more. And everyone had a wonderful time.

Happy Easter!

Normally, I think of family, church and chocolate for Easter. This year was a little different. The emphasis was church, bells and butterflies.

We didn't have our usual family egg hunt. The family egg hunt has been carried on since the early 1920's. (Okay, I might possibly be exaggerating, but not by much.) It started when my grandmother was a little girl, and this is the first time in the history of the family egg hunt that the tradition has been broken. (Okay, I'm exaggerating again. I happen to know that my cousin held a family egg hunt up in New Jersey, so the tradition is still intact.) But this is the first year that I couldn't coordinate my children's work/school schedules.

Besides being disappointed that none of my kids had time to find plastic eggs with me, I was also upset that none of them went to church with me. Okay, I understand that getting up and leaving the house at 5 am in order to attend sunrise service is a hard sell. I honestly expected to go to that service alone. (I hadn't expected to find the church standing room only, though. This new church has a lot of really die-hard Episcopalians. I love it!) I did think that at least one of them (probably not the one living in NYC) would make it to the CCBR service with me. It was the last bell choir performance of the year, and I thought I dropped enough hints ("I really think you should come hear me play the bells, considering all the school/sport/band events I attended over the years to watch you"). All I can say is that they missed an amazing performance, the likes of which will never be matched. (At least, it won't be if we start practicing a little earlier in the season.) Since I was the only ringer (hey, it's not my fault that's what we're called) smiling, I managed to garner enough compliments to enable me to forget my children stood me up.

Although I didn't get to have the family egg hunt, I did get to participate in another wonderful Easter tradition. CCBR does a butterfly release every year. It was beautiful! And then I remembered to pull out my camera. Sigh. Luckily one of my favorite kids agreed to model for me. (Don't you love her nail polish?) 

I didn't get a picture of the butterfly actually flying away. We coaxed prodded, but the butterfly just sat in the envelope. I finally turned to see if anyone had any ideas on how to get it out of the envelope, and the darn thing took off as soon as my back was turned.

Despite the lack of pictures, chocolate, children and plastic eggs, it was still a pretty nice day. After all...

Alleluia, Christ is risen.He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Pinned to the Internet

It might seem like it, but I'm not spending all of my time on Pinterest. I had a mini Glee marathon this afternoon. And I uploaded a bunch of podcasts to listen to on my commute to and from work this week.

I also knit this adorable bunny rabbit, using a pattern I found online -- thanks to Pinterest! I couldn't believe how quickly it knit up. I spent less than an hour on it, using some Caron Dazzleaire yarn I had in my stash, and that includes the finishing. Of course, I did modify the pattern to knit the body in the round (eliminating the seaming up the back) and I knit i-cords for the arms and legs (again, eliminating the seaming). I love how easily this pattern can be adapted to make different animals and people.


The pan behind my bunny is a Sopapilla Cheesecake. I found the recipe on Pinterest, and decided it would be perfect for Easter brunch. Although when I'll have time for brunch, I'm not sure. There's 6:30 am service at my church, followed by a trip south to Boca for 9:00 am bell rehearsal and 10 am service. After that I'm heading north to mom's for Easter dinner. I think I'll have to take a slice with me to eat in the car.

That is, if I don't eat it as a late night snack.

Did I say Monday? I meant Thursday.

I didn't get the artist's name,
but I thought this puzzle picture was amazing.

Just in case it wasn't obvious, I didn't get online Monday as planned. I won't go into the full story, but basically the cable guy was a "no show, no call." I was very upset. It's probably a good thing that I couldn't get online to tell the world how I felt.

The appointment was rescheduled, and I finally have internet service at home. It's very exciting. I've been jumping from website to website, getting absolutely nothing done. I think I could stay online all night, except that my daughter just offered to take me to the movies. We're off to see The Hunger Games, which totally eclipses peopleofwalmart.com.

I"m making a come-back. Finally!

Today, hopefully, is the last time I'll have to go out to access the internet. Don't get me wrong. I love spending time in the library, and having an excuse to get a latte from Starbucks. But there is only so much you can get done while sitting out in public. Especially since my wallet and my bladder will only allow so much coffee before I have to call it quits and go home. Add to that slow connections (both the library and Barnes & Noble tend to get a little crowded in the afternoon), and it's enough to make the most dedicated Geek pick up an old-fashioned pen and paper.

Tomorrow the cable guy is scheduled to come out to install the internet service in my apartment. If all goes well, by tomorrow evening I will be back to spending hours online in the comfort, and solitude, of my home. Theoretically, I should be able to sleep better since there won't be a need to consume endless lattes in order to catch up with friends and family. In reality, though, I know I'll be compulsively checking facebook and ravelry late into the night. I'm looking forward to seeing episodes of my favorite TV shows on Hulu and maybe even netflix -- something that's been missing in my cable-free apartment. I'll also get to see my of my daughter. We probably won't increase our interaction, since we'll both be caught up in the 'net, but at least I'll get to look over the top of my laptop and see her face as she stares into her computer screen across the table. (She's been hanging with the cool Starbucks nerds while I tend to sit with the bookish crowd at B&N).

I wish I could say that giving up cable and internet for six months taught me a wonderful life lesson, or allowed me to grow in wonderful ways. But it didn't. I thought I would get out and exercise more. I thought I would spend my time constructively and creatively, spinning and weaving and writing wonderfully long letters to my friends and family. At the very least, I thought I would be driven to fill the silence in the house with the sounds of cleaning and that excessive vacuuming, dusting, and washing would lead to an such an immaculate house that everyone who visited would be envious of our electronics-free status. Yeah, none of that happened.

I have a feeling that getting a home connection to the internet probably isn't going to make me an amazingly interesting and prolific blogger, or help me to improve my social life (unless having online friends is considered a social life by anyone other than the most dedicated geeky-nerds), and it almost certainly won't mean that I'll be exercising more. But maybe I'll clean the house more often, since spending more time at home will give ma chance to notice the dirt.