...yet another knitting blog
Teen Daughter, tooting flute
Just had to say, my camera KICKS BUTT.
I was sitting in the very back of our large community theater. My daughter, the one with the blue hair, was a small speck of a kid on the stage. And THIS, this photo? From my seat, all the way to her, with NO flash.
Not bad, eh?
Oh. And neither was the concert. Festival’s this Friday, and my fingers are crossed.
And so it begins… the 2010 Holiday Crunch.
Before it gets too crazy, or too weird, or too insane to enjoy it all, I’d like to take you back. Back to a time when for me, and my family? It was about enjoying the season for what it was. A time of peace, joy, and love… as seen through the eyes of a child.
When my daughter was not quite 3 years old, she asked for the first time for her Christmas wish: a pink, triangle napkin holder. A what, you ask? A napkin holder. Triangle shaped. For her play kitchen that she had received the previous year. The fact that such an object did not exist was of little consequence to her; Santa would make one, of course.
Hoping to catch that request on video, I’m sure, my husband broke out the camera. And, well, two-year-old girls are fickle. On this day, a pink present was just about good enough.
I submit the following for your enjoyment:
The napkin holder? Miracle of miracles, Santa came through. (You knew he would, didn’t you?)
There’s nothing that Santa can’t make out of wood, don’tcha know.
It was my favorite Christmas. Ever.
I have lots to say about my weekend. It was busy, and I have photos for at least part of my doings. However, I’m not going to talk about any of that just now, and instead, share a curiosity that has had our family chatting for most of the week.
My daughter participated in a fundraiser for her school band where they sold Florida citrus and other fruits for the holidays. I ordered a box of navel oranges, and all at once, when I saw the label, I thought, “should I laugh, or be afraid?” Look at the name of the inspector of my oranges:
Packing label on orange crate showing the name of the inspector
Just who is this Yolanda, and why is she Angry? All I can say is that I hope she’s happier than her name would suggest… who would want to eat fruit inspected by an angry inspector? Thoughts of poisonous spiders and unwanted sputum have crossed my mind, but, thankfully, the oranges are delicious!
I wish you every happiness, Yolanda, wherever you are.
It’s been a long couple of weeks at the Casa de Trish Knits.
Tegan
And yet, she was the true-bluest of friends, in every sense of the word. She rarely left my side, even in my most private of moments when I would have locked the door to keep the kids out, but not her. She gave freely of hugs, complained loudly, and often, and shared my interest in yarn and writing creative Facebook status updates (especially when I was on deadline and trying to code web pages instead).
She was a true lover of cheese and of warm, sunny spots on the rug. Empty boxes were a favorite distraction, and climbing. WAY high, to tallest place she could find, only to cry because she could not get down again. Very demanding of my full attention was she, and, at the same time, she asked nothing of me. Not much more than a safe home, good food (including the occasional steak!) and lots and lots of hugs. All were so easily given.
On the last morning of her life, when she was moving so slowly and refusing her breakfast, I took a brief nap before a noontime errand. Though she could barely move by that time, she climbed up, so she could whisper into my ear one last time.
She was begging me to let her go.
And so I did. With a heavy heart and many tears I held her as she breathed her last on this world. Knowing that the last touch she would feel was mine brings some comfort, but the hole left behind in my heart is enormous. I hope that someday soon I can speak her name with smiles and not tears .
Tegan Sleeping
I’ll miss you.
closeup of knitted cable patterns
Except that it was. Truly awful. Most nights I did not sleep at all, and no manner of allergy medicines or traditional cold elixers would do anything to put a dent in my misery. I was full-on sick by last Thursday a week ago, and am only just now coming up for air.
I haven’t knit a stitch in 10 days, despite all of my dreaming of a good lousy cold and a few sick days with endless knitting, just for myself. Ok, so that was the stupidest fantasy ever. Lesson learned.
I’m looking forward to knitting again. Looking forward to getting some cooking done again. Looking forward to sleeping without feeling as if I am going to drown just as I start to nod off. Looking around me, though, I see that there is a lot of digging out that I have to do first. I definitely can’t claim that I live in a clutter-free zone, but the clutter level is something far beyond whatever passes for usual. I think maybe tonight I’ll head to bed early for a change, to fortify myself for tomorrow, when I have to get up and start moving and restore some semblance of order to the chaos that is currently my home. Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
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