What Do Lawyers, Seizures, and Streakers Have in Common?

They've all been part of my summer so far.

"Do you think they missed us?"

WOW. Where to start?

Lawyers. Or, lawyer, to be precise.

Here's a rundown of what's been going on. I think most of you are aware of the condition of my right knee - extensive arthritis, and needing a knee replacement. Sometime in late April, I went to my doctor for my yearly checkup, and she was a tad concerned. My blood pressure was very high, I was in a lot of pain, I'd gained a lot of weight from the previous year; really, I wasn't doing too well. I had just started going into the office 3 days a week per my manager's request, and it was taking a toll on me (normally I work full-time at home). Because of the location of my arthritis, I have a hard time sitting for any length of time with my knee bent. So, the simple act of sitting on the streetcar to go into the office was difficult. Then add in sitting at a desk with my knee bent (I have a pretty sweet setup here at home to elevate my knee), coming home on the streetcar, and then having to do it all over again the next day? It wasn't long before I was exhausted, in constant pain, and stressed beyond normal limits.

So, my doctor sent me home, armed with a prescription for Naproxen (an anti-inflammatory), a referral for physiotherapy and a strict warning about my blood pressure.

"Should we wake him up and tell him he looks like an upside down pineapple cake lying like that? And that Mom's taking his picture??"

"Shhh Mae! Why?"

I booked my first appointment for physiotherapy, and started taking the Naproxen (an anti-inflammatory) to help with my arthritis pain. And I still continued going into the office downtown 3 days a week. And finding it very hard.

At what point did this all go down the toilet? Around this time. I developed an allergy to the Naproxen, leaving me with no form of pain control for my arthritis. I'd started the physio (which was a good thing), but found it very hard coupled with work. So I made the decision to take a Short Term Disability leave of absence from work. That way I could concentrate on my health for a bit, and try to at least learn how to better live with my arthritis through the physio. Doing both (work and physio) was almost counter-productive.

To say my manager was none too pleased about me going off for 4 months is an understatement. Once he'd found out, he made it his mission in life to make my life miserable. In the space of 5 days, he made things so difficult for me that I had to go on my short-term disability 2 weeks early.

I was a mess.

Things didn't go quite as planned with the short-term disability; I'll spare you the details. Once I'd decided to come back, I figured I'd be able to at least return back to the way things were - working full-time at home. I would not be able to continue physiotherapy, but at least working at home would save me from the pain of having to commute. I could still do some physio exercises at home. But, my manager had other ideas.

He decided that nope, he would not honour my Teleworking Agreement. He still insisted that once I returned to work, I should come into the office 3 days a week. I reached out to our Human Resources department to have them intervene and help out with this, but. They were no help at all. Despite knowing my history, and the fact I had a signed agreement to work at home, they still sided with my manager. I felt backed into a corner. How could I possibly go back to working downtown for 3 days a week, when doing so previously made me sicker than ever?? I would not be able to work at that pace, and I'd probably end up having to quit. I had no one on my side.

So, I hired someone. I decided to engage a lawyer. I explained the situation, and that I felt I was being forced out of a job because I had a disability. And he agreed. For once, I didn't feel like an idiot, wondering if it was just me who was feeling as though I was being singled out, or even if I was overblowing the whole situation. Not only was he on my side, so was the law.

I do have to mention one thing here. Did my manager do everything he could to wield his over-blown sense of power over me, and make my life miserable? Well. I couldn't help but wonder why, of the 4 or so other Teleworkers that report to him, he chose to single me out for this treatment. I was the only one who had a medical reason for teleworking. I do believe he relished kicking me when I was down. I guess he never expected me to kick back.

I have to skip through the details, but what I can say is that my company will need to agree to terms of my employment severance, or we will commence litigation in the courts against them.

To say it's been a difficult summer for me... I'm constantly stressed, I had to quit physiotherapy, I'm not sleeping well, and I'm broke. And I cannot wrap my head around how a loyal employee of 18 years with an excellent work record can be so backed into a corner and forced out of her job by a new manager who'd not even been with the company 5 minutes. How does that happen? I still can't fully grasp that one. Call me naive. But I really thought loyalty counted for something.

"I for one love that Mom's here ALL THE TIME!! (Oh, and am I pretty, or what?!)"

All I can do is take it one day at a time. Some days are good, others not so much. I still wonder at how things can go from bad, to worse, to the shit-pile (pardon my french) in such a short period of time. I'm fortunate to have good friends who are there for me, help however they can, and listen to me yammer on about the good, and the bad. And that will help see me through this, right to the end and after. The end is in site - the deadline for my company's final offer is this week. If they miss the deadline, or if it's not acceptable, then we proceed with litigation.

Oy. My head hurts.

And as if that weren't enough stress and drama.

A month or so ago, I was in the kitchen when I heard someone heaving in the living room. I went to have a look at who it was, and thought - I'll let them finish, then clean up the inevitable mess. It was Gandalf. I went back into the kitchen, and heard a bang as he somehow rammed himself into the bathroom door (scaring the bejeesus out of poor Malcolm). Just as I went over to see what was going on, he got up, stumbled a few feet, and fell onto his side.

He then lay there for at least 30 seconds - his head bobbing, his legs flopping around, and drooling. Before I could react, he got up, and somehow managed to make his way through the kitchen, to the back door. I say "somehow" because he could barely walk - his back legs were giving out, and he was wobbly. Once there, he plopped down next to the door, drooling and hissing and growling.

Gandalf. Growling.

I knew something was seriously wrong. I had to close the kitchen door leading to the back door entrance; I was afraid he'd lash out at one of the Mr. Curious' that were hanging around, or me. I checked on him every minute or so, and each time I did he'd hiss and growl, and he was still puffed up and drooling. This went on for about 10 minutes. I was about to look up what to do in this situation when I peeked in again, and saw a perfectly normal, laid back Gandalf, looking a me and meowing. I cleaned him up, gave him a drink of water, and he went on his merry way as though nothing had just happened.

I spoke to the Emergency Veterinary Clinic (this happened on Sunday), and they told me that it sounded like Gandalf had had a seizure. I took him to see his vet the next week, and she said the same thing. Without further testing (which I couldn't afford due to this whole legal mess with my workplace), she couldn't tell if there was anything physically causing the epilepsy. They did take blood and urine (he LOVED that, let me tell you), both of which came back normal, and her physical exam didn't reveal anything. If he should have another grand mal episode, to just let him be, keep the other guys away from him, and monitor him afterwards. Fortunately, there hasn't been another one.

Gandalf is the most laid-back and loving of all the guys. And to see this happen to him was heart-breaking and very scary. Poor little man...

"My brain misfired."

"...there's an understatement..."

"What was that, Atticus?"

"Nothin', nothin'. Just saying that yeah, it was your brain. Overloaded. Like Malcolm gets when he sees too many squirrels at once outside the window."

"No! It wasn't like that! Malcolm's a weenie. I am NOT a weenie. I have a condition. So you must be nice to me at all times. Or I'll tell Mom."

"Uh huh. I see your mouth move but I'll I'm hearing is wah wah wah. Let me sleep."

"I am not a weenie! MOM!!"

Enough with the drama! All I want is a calm, peaceful day without the burden of the looming possibility of a long, drawn out court case, or worrying about not having any money coming in, or sick cats, or the ever-present pain of arthritis, and the lying awake at night thinking about my future. How 18 years with a company has been flushed down the toilet.

I would say to myself - you know, things could be much worse. And there are people who have to deal with a day to day reality that sucks even more than yours does right now. But you know what? This is my reality. And it's the only one I have to deal with. And it does suck.

Let me end on a lighter note.

A couple of weeks ago, I went out onto my deck to check on my laundry drying, when I heard a bit of shouting in the distance. I looked over, just in time to see a guy running through our backyard - naked. I watched as he sprinted across the yard, hop the fence to my neighbour's backyard, run through theirs, hop the next fence, and so on. My neighbour Rhonda, who had just come home from work, was standing by her car with the same confused look on her face that I must have had. (She would have been about 2 minutes away from letting Leika, their German Shepherd, outside. Had she been in the yard, it would have been game over for this guy. In so.many.ways.). I went down to ask her if she'd just seen what I'd seen, and as we were talking, 2 police officers and a man came running up the drive asking if we'd seen the naked runner. We pointed them off in his direction.

We later heard what had happened. Apparently, this guy broke into his girlfriend's house, to uh, wait for her to come home. Only the father came home first. They eventually caught up with him an hour or so later.

Whoops. Now there's someone you want to bring home to meet Mom and Dad.

Believe me when I tell you that this summer? Less than stellar for me.

Before I go, I'd like to introduce you to someone.

This is Minou (which is french for "Kitty"). She's my neighbour Diane's cat (Diane moved into my old apartment). Minou, an indoor cat, had the bad habit of bolting out the door every time it opened, and roaming the backyard. She'd put up such a fuss about wanting to be outside (she has the cutest little mew!), that Diane decided to buy her a little harness, and a leash.

And she's as happy as a clam. She's so funny, batting at the bugs, sniffing everything, and whacking Sasha on the nose if she gets to close.

I try to imagine trying to put any of my guys in a harness and on a leash. I doubt it would end well for me. They're content to be out on the deck with me when I brush them, and that's about it.

So my friends, there you have it. A long post explaining what I did with my summer vacation. I've learned that I'm much more resilient and stronger than I ever thought I was. And that counts for something.

Unfortunately, my knitting has taken a bit of a hit during all of this. My concentration has been lacking, and I haven't managed as much as you'd think. But! There are things to show, and I will get back to showing it off next time around.

In the meantime - thanks for reading!

It's The Little Things

Has it been that long? I hadn't thought so. It seems at times that the weeks just zip by, and at other times the days drag. Remember when you were a kid, and the time between now and Christmas, or your birthday seemed to take forever?

I've been keeping a low profile of late mainly because I just haven't been feeling that great. I haven't had a reoccurance of the gout (thankfully, oy), but the fatigue is taking it's toll. Plus, it seems my liver is now causing me problems, so it's been an endless round of biopsies, blood tests, doctor visits and the inevitable stress that I really can't afford to allow myself to be under. It's all just a bit overwhelming at times. I'm rarely able to handle a full day without going through a lot of fatigue, usually I have to have a nap at least every 6 hours or so. Some days are better than others; and I'm really hoping that they can figure out how to treat this now that I'm having liver problems. Because I can't imagine that at 42, this is going to be the rest of my life. Work is also a huge stress, due to the push to get things done by the end of the calendar year. Which is nothing new - I've been doing IT stuff for years now - the work stress is a good 90% generated from my wingnut boss, who's trying to change the world by alienating everyone in the process. But - fortunately for me, I work at home 4 days out of 5, and she's easy enough to avoid.

So - one day at a time. I remember all the good in my life, and remind myself that I do have so much to be thankful for. I just need to be patient (not my strongest asset).

Hey! Speaking of kids. For the first time, Malcolm got a reminder in the mail for his annual checkup. I guess that means he's somewhere in the kitty teenaged years now.

"Go 'way, I'm EMO today...my life sucks...hate school...just gonna lie here, and listen to EMO music and read EMO books about vampires. At least they understand me."

Who needs PetSmart when you have really cool boxes to lie around in. The highly coveted item made its debut when I decided to work on this -

That somewhat blurry picture is Donegal. (I'm not one to deny myself the pleasure of something new.) Before I finally settled on this project, I'd gone through a yarn shop's worth of startitis, abandoning projects sometimes after just one evening. *sigh* When I did find something I liked, I'd end up not having enough yarn, or not liking the colours, etc. Or, being disheartened because I'd made a mistake, and just not liking it enough to rip back. I even messed up a pair of Noro Kureyon socks because it seems that a) I forget at times how to read, and b) I'm a weenie. *sigh*

So, Donegal it is. And I'm happy! Happy enough that I picked out/ripped back 8 rounds when I noticed I'd messed up the pattern in the ribbing section. I'm also working on "Stornoway", from Fisherman's Sweaters. There's not much to show for that right now, I'm still working on 3" of ribbing on 2.75mm needles. It could be awhile. But, at least it keeps me happy. And when I'm too tired or feeling clumsy, I just work on socks. I have enough of that kind of yarn to last me a few life times...

And! Just because -

I'm making a pair of those flappy top mittens for my friend Brian (Sasha's Dad). He works outside a lot, and he'd mentioned awhile back that he used to have a pair that he loved. Plus he uh, plays for the other team, so he'll actually notice the quality of the yarn (I'm using leftover 3-ply Hebridean from VY), the variations in colour, will hand wash them when I tell him too, AND make me a cup of tea when I bring them over to him. Can't go wrong there.

Sasha often creeps at my door, wanting to come in for a visit.

"Cats aren't so bad! They sniff butt just like dogs do."

"Don't appreciate you gettin' fresh, Sasha, you're taking liberties and it's not cool!"

The guys are getting used to it. They're not too sure about Sasha's sister Roxy though.

"I smell kitties! I wanna play with the kitties! Kitties kitties kitties!!! KITTIES!!"

They're really not impressed with Roxy scarfing back they're food.

"Talk about bad manners..."

And as if having 2 dogs invade their space wasn't enough.

"Who the hell are you?"

That would be Mimi. Well, that's what I've christened her anyway. No, I haven't gone and adopted a 5th cat. One night, I was getting ready for bed, and I opened the back door to go and unplug my outside string of lights. As soon as I opened the door, this little grey cat came tearing into the house before I even realized she was there (note to self - may be a good idea to look before opening door). She must belong to someone, as she was perfectly comfortable around me, and the guys. She headed straight for their bedtime snack, much to Malcolm's dismay.

"Who the hell are you?"

She then eyed "the box".

"Whoa, whoa there missy. You just keep on eating over there...just keep on eating."

And when I opened the door, she walked out. I've seen her a few more times at the back door. She wasn't scruffy or wild looking at all, which leads me to believe she belongs to someone.

"We shouldn't have let her leave, Malcolm."

"Well, she was eating our food and stuff."

"Yeah well, what do you think's gonna happen now, huh? She's gonna tell all the outdoor cats that some Crazy Cat Lady lives here, and that she's a sucker for any hungry outdoor kitty with a hard luck story. Man, now they're all gonna show up at the door. If it's not dogs, it's cats. What's next? Elephants escape from the zoo and show up here? Geez..."

"That'd be awesome!"

So, despite everything else, things always do manage to remain interesting around here. I will get a picture of Brian's mittens before I pass them on to him, and who knows - by next week, I may have progress to show you. I'm crossing my fingers that the progress I do end up showing you is of the WIPs I've mentioned today. You never know (neither do I, for that matter).

The Insanity!

Before I took Malcolm in to the vet because of his vomiting, I really had no indication he was sick. Or did I...? Now that I think back, he thought he was a pretty calm kitten.

In the last week or so, he's been on a path to recovery, AND discovery.

I walked into the kitchen last week, and I *thought* I saw from the corner of my eye, a little orange blur jump off of the kitchen counter. But, I wasn't sure, and didn't pay much attention to it.

Then.

"HEY!!"

"Hay is for horses, Mom! Oh. Am I not supposed to be up here...?"

"Just a quick jump from the top of the stereo, to the counter, and here I am! At the sink, and oooo! I bet if I knock this fork around the sink it'll be really annoying! Yay!"

Not Atticus, not Mae, and not even goofball Gandalf ever jumped and climbed like this guy can.

"I'm a Mountain Lion! Aren't I fierce?!"

He gets into EVERYTHING that he shouldn't.

"...Who's that Kitty?...Sexy Kitty... Who's that Kitty?...*"

*with apologies to the Swiffer people and the Isley Brothers!*

"Man, why didn't I ever think of doing that..."

"I just can't keep up with him. Hey...I wonder if I could jump up there...?"

See the Mountain Lion at rest, his prey discarded.

And let's watch him as he approaches the watering hole.

"Enough with the lame and annoying commentary. Sheesh..."

He did stop long enough to wish his big sister Mae a happy 11th birthday on March 24th.

"Happy Birthday Big Sister Mae!!!!"

"Oh. He's still here. Didn't get my wish."

I still remember Mae's first day here. She jumped on my shoulder while I was sitting down by crawling on my back. And she bonded with Atticus almost immediately, and he is still the only cat in the house she'll differ to. She was just the sweetest little fluff ball. And she still is! Happy Birthday, Baby Mae!

"What?? She never bonded with me like that! Well, at least not right away. Fine then."

So. What else besides Malcolm doing taibo?

Well... I was kind of hesitant to mention this. But, seeing how I'm fine - I will.

I was coming home from work last week, and I got dinged by a car walking through the intersection. Nothing major, just enough to knock me over. I was crossing on a green light, and a lady made a right in front of me, and didn't stop. Oh! Did I mention she was on her cellphone?? Once she saw me, it was too late, and she didn't put on her brakes quickly enough. So, she hit me. Luckily, I fell on my butt, leaning towards my left side. I didn't hit my head, and right now I'm bruised (am I!) and very, very sore. And feeling better today than yesterday. My friend Dave came over yesterday, and helped me with my shopping. It took less than 2 hours, and tired me out for the rest of the day!

As this was rush hour, and at a modestly busy intersection in my neighbourhood, there were a lot of witnesses, including a streetcar full of people, cars waiting at the light, and another person crossing the street behind me. It's not like she could deny it. I was really quite gratifying to see how many people came out to help me, including the streetcar driver. The police arrived, and she was very cooperative with them and me, and didn't deny anything.

Good times.

Oh! I just realized I didn't take any knitting pictures. Not that I have a whole lot to show for myself.

Anyway - that's it for me. I'm tired just reading this! Have a great, and SAFE, week!

Just Stuff

I've decided I need a break. From Sapporo, that is. Although I don't think I'll end up quite as nauseated with my Dale as Lorraine was with hers, I do feel that if I don't take a break from Sapporo, I will end up beating myself about the head.

I'm not sure why. And no, this doesn't apply to Princess Line. It'll just take me...longer...to finish it up.

So, in need of something to keep me interested, and that will not keep me glued to a chart, I decided to give in, and start working on something new.

Behold a crappy picture...
...of a very lovely "Dorset Down". This is Lorraine's latest Twisted Traditions offering (although I don't see it up on her site)! I'm using Kilcarra of Donegal "Aran Tweed" in Purple. It doesn't look like much now, but it will. It's a thoroughly enjoyable pattern, and just what I need right now. Maximum results with minimum effort!

OK.

How long have I lived in this neighbourhood?? 12 years. And you know what? I never noticed (EVER) the shop in the middle in the picture above (that's from my camera phone, not bad...). Anyway. I was walking to the vet's office to pick up some meds for Malcolm (more on that later), in what had to be the worst weather so far this year (for me anyway - wind, cold and rain all mixed together. Fun!), when I happened to glance across the street. It's a yarn shop. Yes. A yarn shop. In my area. That I didn't know about - "The Wool Mill". And it's probably closer to me than "The Naked Sheep" is. Now, I don't think it's new, looked pretty established to me. But, how I didn't know it was there until now is beyond me. *hanging head in shame*

I didn't stop in because it was still early and closed. And the weather SUCKED. Walking home from the vet's office, I was walking into the wind, I was wet, cold, pissed off, and I had to pee. Therefore, I wasn't about to cross a busy street to find out it was still closed. Besides, I didn't have enough money on me. And usually "browsing" and "yarn shop" don't go together.

Anyhoo.

OK. So, the reason I was out on such an icky day.

"Geez, I'm really getting to know everyone at the vet's office by first name..."

Well, I probably wouldn't have ventured out otherwise.

I took Malcolm into the vet's office last week, because he'd been vomiting. Not such a big deal with cats normally, but he would vomit not once, but several times in a row. And it wasn't caused by hairballs either. It had happened before, and he had been sick 8 times in one evening. So, I packed him into the carrier, and had him checked out. The took some blood, amongst other things, and it came back that his white blood cell count was twice what it should be. They prescribed some antibiotics for him, so off I went to pick it up. It's in liquid form, and he's had 3 doses already. As have Atticus and Gandalf. I'm not sure how much is getting into him. I picked up some cat milk, so hopefully he'll take it that way, without getting too distracted by lint or poop.

You wouldn't know he was sick though. He's his usual kitten self - giving Gandalf his regular morning/afternoon/evening smack down, power-napping, and whining for his mid-morning snack.

"...lalalala...I'msocute...lalalalala...I'msocute..."

"...he never shuts up..."

It's been another one of those weeks at the gulag...I mean work. Whoops. I don't know what it is, but everyone seems to believe that their project is the most important one EVER EVER EVER! And they want it NOW NOW NOW! And it's not just me; there are 3 of us in my work group, and we're all working on saving the world as the Project Managers we're working with believe they are doing.

OK, I need some distraction.

Bridget tagged me! So here goes:

1. Where is your cell phone? Kitchen. I think...

2. Your hair? Curly
3. Your mother? Dead.
4. Your father? Yeah, don't ask.
5. Your favourite food? Potatoes (which is what Bridget said as well)
6. Your dream last night? Watched a Band of Brothers marathon on TV yesterday, so dreamed I was in the Ardennes forest. Uh huh...

7. Your favourite drink? Mmmm...coffee...

8. Your dream/goal? To have a home in the country.
9. What room are you in? Spare /computer/yarn room

10. Your hobby? Knitting and reading.

11. Your fear? Snakes

12. Where do you want to be in six years? See #8

13. Where were you last night? Home.

14. Something that you aren’t? Rich.

15. Muffins? No thank you, I'm good.

16. Wish list item? Dyson vacuum cleaner. I know. I aim high.
17. Where did you grow up? Mainly in Ottawa, Ontario, but I was born in Montreal.
18. Last thing you did? Tried to force feed Malcolm some antibiotics while trying to keep the vultures at bay.

19. What are you wearing? Jam jams.

20. Your TV? I love you, man.

21. Your pets? The Little Dudes - Atticus, 11; Mae, 10; Gandalf, 3; and Malcolm, 7 months.

22. Friends? Not a whole lot, but they are the best of the best.
23. Your life? Rocks.

24. Your mood? Pretty good. Thanks for asking.

25. Missing someone? Sure.

26, Vehicle? Um, does my Trek 7100 bike count?
27. Something you’re not wearing? Um...oh, socks!

28. Your favourite store? I don't really have one...oh wait! Canadian Tire! I love that place!

29. Your favourite colour? Blue

30. When was the last time you laughed? This morning, as Atticus whacked Malcolm on the tusch.
31. Last time you cried? Hmmm. Oh! Last week, watching a particularly sad episode of "Cold Case".
32. Your best friend? Joanne, for over 30 years.

33. One place that I go to over and over? The bathroom. Damn bladder...

34. One person who emails me regularly? Pfizer Sales Reps with AWESOME deals on ED drugs.

35. Favourite place to eat? In front of the TV. (What??! My house, my rules.)

"Why does it keep staring at me! It's creepy..."

The Things I Do.

Like try something new. Well, sort of.

I've done a Norwegian design before, but I've never done a Dale of Norway design before. Above is my Sapporo (if you click on the link - I'm making the same design as shown in the last picture)! I've only been labouring on the black stocking stitch part for 2 years (ok, to be fair to me, I did go months without even thinking about it, let alone work on it), but I brushed off my Continental knitting skills, and zipped through the last 4" or so, and *finally* reached the chart. Yay...! At first, I wasn't too sure if I like how it was looking. Probably because the colours of the lice design at the start of the chart looked a bit too confetti-ish to me. I like all of the colours - deep red, burnt orange and yellow, but together, they just looked...funny (and not ha ha either)... against the black. But, now that I'm working the chart, and the snowflake design is starting to show up, I'm liking it much more. And you know what? I guess I'm used to the very symmetrical motifs of Fair Isle, where it begins and ends quite sensibly. Norwegian designs? Free for all. The front ends where it ends, and the back starts where it starts. And if it doesn't match up at the sides? Oh well. I have my magic centre stitches marked, and that is apparently as important as your future retirement plan.

Oh. And the yarn I'm using (Dalegarn "Falk")? All I can say is that this sucker better block out and nicely. If not (to quote Lorraine), you may just read about a giant fireball seen in the east end of Toronto.

Look what I've got goin' on this morning!

No. Not cooking with chocolate. That ain't chocolate, let me tell you. It's a big hunk of henna for my hair. I haven't henna'ed my hair in years; I've been a slave to the caustic chemical stuff for awhile now. Lorraine told me about the Herbatint she started using, and that started me thinking on using something different to cover my greys. My many, many greys.

So, auburn henna it is.

"Oy, that stuff smells funky..."

She's got that right. I have another hour and a half to go with this stuff on my head. And it is no exaggeration when I say that I smell like a latrine.

The things I do to cover those greys...

"Why do you have cling film on your head? You'd better not be going outside like that."

"So anyway, I told Guido that no way was I going out with him if he didn't at least brush himself and that he'd better not be thinking of getting fresh with me because I have 3 brothers who would not hesitate to give him the beat down of all beat downs if he even tried getting frisky with me and even though there are times when it seems that I don't like being around Gandalf and Malcolm I really do it's just that you know. They annoy me."

"...uh huh..."

And in other knitting news. The things you go through to give an Aran the justice it deserves.

I was so happy, and all ready and psyched to report on a finished back, but when I put Fulmar down on Friday night, I saw that a couple repeats down - I'd messed up the centre cable. I might have vomited just a tiny bit. You can see it, on the left side of the middle portion of the centre panel. *sigh* So. Looks like it's one step forward and two steps back for Fulmar, as I remove the needle and painfully frog until I reach that row (should be oh, about 25 rows, but really, who's counting). And it's not just the centre panel. There are a total of 3 of those panels along the back, and I messed up all 3 of them on that row.

Ouch.

At least Malcolm isn't bothered by it.

"What is this "Fulmar"? Do I know this project? OK, later. Sleepies now... *yawn*"

Sun Gods

Wow Kids, what day is it?! I myself am not sure... I've just come off working 17 hours of overtime this weekend, 11 of which happened between 11pm on Saturday and 10am on Sunday morning.

Long. Long. Weekend. And not of the good kind either. *sigh* I had high hopes of knitting a stitch or two in between testing the changes and other such delights, but no such luck. Funny what lack of sleep and headset pasted to your head can do to a person...

I don't handle lack of sleep well. Even though I had a snooze after the implementation yesterday morning, I still feel blah. And as though I've been hit over the head with a stupid stick. Oh well... I guess work does keep me in yarn... And other necessities like food and lodging. Heh.

The guys kept me company. A bit thrown off their schedules, but there nonetheless.

Mae would pop her head in the room once in a while, to make sure I remembered she existed. She was the only one who decided that while it was nice Mom was up and all, she'd be fine in her comfy spot, thank you very much.

"It's not that I'm indifferent to fatigue. I just don't get why anyone would resist it."

You know, that old... whatever it is... she's resting on? Destined for the garbage once the strike is over. I put it there temporarily while I wait out the garbage strike. Meanwhile, she's grown attached to it...

The boys of course, stuck to me like white on rice. They thought it was awfully cool that I would speak into this funny neat-o toy attached to my head. They tried to talk into it a few times too, at least so they could see what the big deal was all about. When they decided it was kind of lame, they tried to chomp on the microphone. OK. Only Gandalf did. Duh.

Today, all is (somewhat) back to normal...

They lounge in the sun...

"I love being me."

"I love being me too!"

Gandalf also posed for pictures. And he was kind enough to sit still.

"Oooo, for me?! Nice! I really like it! Might be a bit big though... Just sayin'."

I had hoped that I would have had the steeks cut, and the arm and V-neck bands completed and a finished Windsor Waistcoat to show off...but. As you can see.

(I really must be tired, I suddenly had a vision of Gandalf in a dapper Fair Isle vest! Hee hee...)

Nevertheless - the body is done, shoulders are grafted, and what the hell, I may even cut open the v-neck tonight. Maybe. I'm still a little tired... *yawn*.

I know it's summer, but so far, I haven't had much of a chance to enjoy it. This weekend - I really want to get out on my bike and ENJOY some of it. Provided the weather holds up. Although you know? Unless it rains, I'll probably got out for a ride anyway.

Well, the worst of this mega-huge honkin' project at work is over, just some clean-up stuff left to do. And it's history! I just hope I won't be too tired from it all to savour the end of it.

Have a WONDERFUL week everyone!

"You listening?? Have a good week, dammit!"

Full Moon and a Half Moon

Chris and I were discussing the effect of a full moon on cats.

"...lalalalalalalala..."

"...yawn..."

"...sigh...My stitches are out, by the way. Thanks Mom... *yawn*..."

Sure, they look content and calm now.

But for most of the week, it was more like this.

"...Gandalf/Atticus/Mae!...Get off the counter/table/your brother/your sister/my dresser/the computer ... Gandalf! I'm on the phone! No one cares that you pooped! ... Mae! Stop tearing down the stairs and making a mess of the litter box! ... Atticus! ATTICUS! Stop whacking Gandalf! GANDALF! Whatareyoudoing!?!! Stop chewing on the circular needle! Do you want to move off my lap???... *grumble* you guys are worse than kids!..."

Maybe it's a Mars retrograde thing or something, because this full moon? Even Mae *really* tried my patience.

But of course, it's all back to normal. No more dorkiness. Or more than usual anyway.

And when I wasn't at home trying to keep them from destroying the apartment? I was at work, enduring one of the busiest, and most frustrating, weeks in a very long time. I could go on about how people who make scads more money than I do seem to be experts at the Art of Menial Work, but hey. What do I know? I just clean up the mess. And my time? Just not as valuable. Did you know that?

Then, when the dust settled and things calmed down (Friday at 3pm, I kid you not...), I promised myself that I would never let myself become so "settled" in anything I chose to do. If it made me miserable? And it started to colour my attitude about my job and those around me? Time to go. Because I can't imagine getting up every day and subjecting those around me to the misery that I've allowed my life to become. And I can't imagine a point where I would choose to just settle, and give up. I suppose when you do get to that point, being miserable and a pill really doesn't matter - you've gone beyond the point of caring what others think of you.

And what of those I don't work with, who seem to invite discord and misery in their lives? Like my neighbours downstairs? Well, after a few mornings (we're talking 3:30 - 4am mornings) of being woken up by more screaming matches between Those-Who-Live-Downstairs, I received a call from her. Apologizing for all the noise and disruption. And to tell me that she's ended it... Wow, silly me! I thought "ended it" meant...buh-by... but, by the looks of it, it means - sure, stay a bit longer. Because he's still coming here after work. No fighting and screaming though since Friday morning though. Gotta be a record. The Captain said I should just call the cops the next time they start up again. I just might do that...

Oh, and she did mention that she'd be handing in her notice, because she wouldn't be able to handle the rent on her own once Stand-Up-Guy leaves. For good.

I'm not going to comment too much on that, for fear of jinxing it.

Anyway. That's more than enough drama for one week. Once again.

What's really important here? Huh? Why, knitting, of course!

Now that is a LOT of yarn. It's the skirt part of Isobel of Mar (have a peek at Marina's finished one - scroll down to the November 25th entry). I'm showing it off because I'm very happy to report that it is FINISHED. The skirt that is. I'm now up to point where I can cast off for the the underarms, and just work on the upper sections.

As Genevieve was drying - don't get excited, you need to block the front and back before picking up the stitches for the sleeves - I finished up the last of the repeats remaining on Isobel's skirt. I'd have to think long and hard to another project I've done that required so much yarn... Fingers crossed that I have enough to finish her! Otherwise there will be much weeping, and possibly screaming.

I should have enough...

As for Genevieve... You'll just have to wait until next week to see her in all her completed glory. One short sleeve and the collar to go. Yay!

Mysteries

Sometimes I think if it weren't for the guys, I'd have nothing much to report on. Well, almost nothing.

I know this much, if it weren't for them, I would probably not be able to say - I now can do this. Or that. Or the other thing.

The other thing being - what's that smell? Atticus, did you step in poop? Roll in it?

Not quite. If you've a weak stomach, by all means hit the next link on your page, or in your favourites. That's OK. I won't hold it against you.

Now, I know they say that animals, especially cats, won't really let on that they're in any discomfort until it becomes intolerable to them. So, when I noticed an icky smell coming from Atticus, I thought at first he had...stepped...in something. If that were the case, he wasn't trying to clean himself like cats do when they're dirty. At least my guys. I zoomed in for a closer look, and noticed a matted section on his back. And STINKY. I took out one of their brushes to get a closer look, and managed with ease to pull away the matted section. Only to reveal a puncture mark on his back, and some pretty vile stuff crusted around the top. And I noticed he had a raised bump around the area. I blotted it a bit, and ooooo the crap coming out of it.

I called my friend Raven, cat-lady and foster mom extraordinaire.

"RavenAtticushasgooponhisbackit'sgrossIcan'tfindanythingonitwhatisitOMGewewewcallme."

And through all of this, he didn't seem overly bothered. I got a clean towel, some paper towels, antibacterial soap, some antiseptic wipes, and um...vodka. Because I didn't have any iodine or rubbing alcohol. Not for me. Really.

I picked him up, stuffed him in the sink, and washed the area. It was mind-boggling the...stuff...coming out of the area. Like pouring out of it is more like it. Oy. Poor guy. You know, for a cat who normally does not like to be man-handled, he was pretty calm. Mind you, I did have him in a head-lock of sorts. Apart from his heart pounding, he didn't protest too much. So, I kept washing with soap, and draining it until it cleared up. I used a bit of the vodka to clean the area, and dried him off with the towel. Blotted with the antiseptic wipes, put him down, and off he went to finish eating. That's how much this whole thing bothered him. And I was very relieved to see that.

Nothing says lovin' like cleaning an abcess from a 20lbs cat on Valentine's Day. And nothing says lovin' like a 20lbs cat actually letting you do so.

"See? I told you I hadn't rolled around in poop."

Judging by the round hole of the wound, and the location, I know there is only one possible explanation as to how it got there.

"Dude, I am so sorry! I didn't realize I'd punctured your skin!"

"They thought I'd rolled around in my own crap."

"I'm sorry!! It's just well...like Auntie Raven said...you came back from "that place" smelling like you'd been clubbing all night, and some girl dropped her drink all over you! I thought you were somecat else! So...well..."

"Crap, Gandalf. My own crap. And when have you known me to go clubbing??? Seriously."

"I'm sorry..."

I know this much. When Atticus comes back from the vet after getting his teeth cleaned, I'm splitting those two up. I'm not going to risk it happening again.

The boys always "fight", but I've never known Gandalf to draw blood or be anything other than an annoyance. So, I hope this was more "accidental" then intentional.

It seems fine this morning. Nothing is running out of it, and the swelling has all but disappeared. And, he let me kneed the area a bit to make sure it wasn't bothering him, without trying to bite or whack me. I'll wash the area again, and comb it out a bit. I wonder if the hair will grow back?

I'll save you the graphic picture, but it's the area around the tuft of grayish hair towards the back.

"If I go bald...Gandalf, you'd better run."

Man...peace. And quiet. That's all I want today. No surprises. No noise. No smells.

I figured I would take out something I had started working on, and am almost finished, and tell you all about it, but. I decided not to! :D

I'll let it stay a mystery!

Somewhere in this picture is a WIP that I'm working on, much to the distress of the other WIP's. I started it because at the time, I just couldn't concentrate on the more complex things. And, it's going so quickly, I've decided to keep going until it's done. (Heh, how novel an idea is that!)

You'll see what it is soon enough.

Until then, fingers crossed that there are no more incidents, funny business, smelly cats, or bald spots that crop up. No more mysteries.