Saturday, January 31, 2009


You would think only so much can go wrong
Calamity only strikes once
And you assume that this one has suffered her share
Life will be kinder from here ...

How do we comprehend peace within pain
Our joy at a good man's wake
Walk a mile with a woman whose body is torn
With illness but she marches on

Sometimes the sun stays hidden for years
Sometimes the sky rains night after night
When will it clear?

But our hope endures the worst of conditions
It's more than our optimism
Let the earth quake
Our hope is unchanged

Emanuel, God is with us
El Shaddai, all sufficient ...

We never walk alone
This is our hope

Our hope endures, the worst of conditions
It's more than our optimism
let the earth quake
let the earth quake
let the earth quake
Our hope is unchanged

- Our Hope Endures, Natalie Grant


Mom has been throwing up since she returned to the nursing home. As the risk of dehydration is higher at her age, she is headed back to the hospital tonight.

God is still in charge.


Check it out!

I heart cables now.

Stuff on my dog

See? This isn't about knitting! It's about the dog! And piling stuff on her! That never gets old!

just in case you can't tell what she's wearing, it's a pair of socks:

If you live anywhere within 100 miles of my house, you will already know that I made these myself.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Right then

Mom - the "long hard recovery" in which she "might never leave the hospital" (unsaid: unless it's in a body bag) has changed to "you should be able to go in a few days." As her surgery was two weeks ago tomorrow, this is ...amazing. This is such a huge answer to prayer, I'm almost unable to process it.

In other news, a man named Trevor taught me how to kitchener the toe of my sock last night.

And that's not something just anyone can say.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

In which I drive all non-knitters away forever

Listen, I did mention I was a bit all-or-nothing-ish, yes? Someday soon my mother will leave the hospital (if by soon you mean "sometime maybe possibly, could be weeks, could be months, won't be days) and I will get an emotional grip and I will to back to writing a novel, if the people in it are even speaking to me by now, and the flow of Pictures of Knitwear will stop.

(Joanna, frogging is ripping it out - no clue where that came from)

Right then.

I finished a sock. I wasn't going to post pictures because a) how many of you actually care? and b) oh for heaven's sake, AP, it's a sock. Plenty of people have knit socks. However, I love it so much that it has to be here. B has tried it on and is pretty sure it fits him and he should have it. A has not tried it on but is pretty sure it fits and she should have it. A has that reaction to everything I have knit, with the possible exception of a dishcloth or two. I have taken to calling her a wool pig, which she cheerfully agrees with. (I sold a hat* to a friend the other day - a hat exactly like a hat A has already claimed, just a different colour, and A shook her head sadly. "There goes another one of my new favourites.")

Not that you care about this. Or the sock, but here's a picture of it.

Either I am going to have to figure out how to do something called "kitchener stitch" or I am going to have to go shoeless for the rest of my life. And buy another set of dpn's (double pointed needles) so I can make the other sock.

Also, I engaged in some more dog torture. But I needed the dog so I could show you how good this scarf looks with my black jacket. Because a dog and a jacket are exactly the same thing.

If you made it this far, or are simply scanning the entry looking for the word "mother", I'm not going to tell you how she is, because you know how right after you tell people the baby is sleeping through the night or your three year old seems to be in a sweet phase or it's been simply years since you had a car accident, you're up all night rocking your baby while your three year old throws toys at you and your husband wants to know where the running board from the passenger side of the van went?

I ain't jinxin' nothin', folks. Please continue to pray for no major complications, and that she would remain infection free. I haven't been up to see her for two full days because one of my children had a fever, and I was not willing to risk carrying anything to her.

*if by "sold", you mean "gave it to her for less than the cost of the wool"

Monday, January 19, 2009

More wee bits of wee bitsiness

1. My mother continues to recover. Please keep praying for a smooth road ahead.

2. I was home more today than I have been in recent weeks, and the dog is relieved to discover that she is welcome in my pack any time.

3. I have started knitting a sock. It's not like I made a New Year's resolution or anything, I just said "Next year I'm learning to knit socks" right around the end of last year. So far it seems to be working out terribly well, and I am ridiculously excited about it. Here it is last night:

and if that's not exciting enough for you, here it is about 2.6 minutes ago:

Coincidentally, that is also a picture of a dog who is thinking about searching for a pack that won't require her to have works-in-progress draped over her sleeping form.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Hi. Where were we?

All over the map, is the answer, and that's what this post will be.

- Reading to Mom on Thursday, I noticed that she kept closing her eyes. I kept asking her if she was falling asleep, and now and then I'd throw in a few nonsense lines like "and then the dolphin jumped up and bit him!" just so her eyes would fly open and she would ask "Where did the dolphin come from???" After a few too many questions about closed eyes, she grinned impishly at me and said "I'm just practicing for being dead."

If that made you laugh out loud? you and me both.

Also, I'm pleased to report that all that practicing did her no good, because she aten't dead. (Pratchett fans - how DOES Granny spell that?)

- I knit a whole hat as my brother, my nephew and I sat around waiting for Mom to be taken to surgery. My 20 year old nephew claimed it as his own, to my great delight, and A's great consternation. She needn't worry - I know where to find more yarn.

- I also knit an entire scarf while waiting for the surgeon to come and tell us how things went. Every hour or so, I would think "If she weren't still breathing, they would come and tell us."

- Enough about Friday. Specific prayer requests for Mom at the moment are may she please not throw up and dislodge any stitches. Please pleaseplease.

- The dog is pretty sure she's been kicked out of my pack, seeing as how I never let her come along on car rides any more, and I'm never home. She's a bit bewildered by it all, and is very happy when I happen to look in her direction, because that gives her hope that all is not lost.

- The dog is also carrying her food, piece by tiny piece, into the living room to eat, at the moment. Why she is doing this, I cannot say. Being kicked out of my pack is addling her brain.

- I am knitting a sock. This pleases me more than I suspect it should. I have time for four more rows before bed.

Friday, January 16, 2009


Surgery is over. So far, so good. More when I get home from the hospital.

Surgery at noon today

Mom's surgery is at noon today.

Last night as I went to bed I started praying for her to be able to sleep and then realized she was probably doing exactly the same thing for my brother and I.

Thursday, January 15, 2009


So, this is the guest blogger. Susan calls me from the road to tell me how tired she is of driving on slush and in Edmonton they plow the side streets and the only way she can drive is to floor it and B wonders if she's mad but she's not, it's just the only way she can get through. When the phone rings again in five minutes she asks me to post vicariously for her:

If one more person tells me to "Have a Nice Day," I may commit a random act of violence.

Apparently, as she approached the drive through window, she couldn't find her wallet. As she's starting to freak out looking for it (she also had large quantities of knitting with her), she explains to the woman that she's been going up to the hospital to be with her mother every day since December 13 and nothing better get in the way of her first cup of coffee. As she gives the woman her money, the woman says cheerily: "Have a great day!"

Then at the next window, the one who gives her the coffee also says, "Have a nice day."

And when you give the hospital parking toll station your ticket, Sue continues,
You'd think, going to a hospital, that the machine would not say "Have a nice day." Perhaps "The Lord be with you" or "The force be with you" or SOMETHING anything other than "Have a nice day."

So you've been duly warned.

Guest blogger over and out.


just quickly - it looks as though surgery will happen on Friday for my Mom.

the neighbour's baby is also awaiting surgery, sometime in the next day or so.

I have lots and lots of things roiling through my mind/heart right now, but the one that matters the most is that God is still in control. I trust that completely.

Prayers appreciated, for both these precious lives.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Rouse then, soldiers, rally round the banner ...

Mom has been moved to a different hospital, because the surgery she needs is not done at the hospital she was at.

Meeting with the surgeon today - should have a better idea what to expect when after that meeting.

"Gird your armour on/Stand firm everyone/rest your cause upon His holy word."

and in case that doesn't take you to your knees -

our neighbours across the street, parents of the unforgettable Zippy and the adorable three year old who shouts for joy when he sees me, are headed to another city this week, with their 17 day old baby, because she needs open heart surgery to correct three major problems with her heart. As I have not asked permission to ask for prayer for them, I'm not giving names, but God will know who you mean.

Christ is captain of the mighty throng.

Hymn lovers? What hymn am I quoting from? I can't pin it down.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

So ...

I earned $50 for a single poem in a magazine.

Couldn't think of a THING to spend it on.

That's Noro Blossom and Rowan something. I knit about a foot of a Noro Blossom scarf in mistake rib (I love that stitch - here! do it wrong! on purpose!) before realizing it was wider than the vision in my brain and all the denial in the world wouldn't make it narrower, like I wanted it to be, so I frogged it. Now have about two inches. Still love it.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009


Dear Winter:

Cute, but I'm done with you. Go back to that northern city you hang out in. I am so sick of driving on packed snow, you have no idea. And the Let's Stay Below -20 For Weeks On End schtick? What do you think this is, MANITOBA? Also, lovely of you to wait until I have to drive to a hospital every freaking day before you give us a winter like this.

Dear Irish Hiking Scarf
It's not that I don't love you, all twelve abandoned rows of you. I just love the hats more. Please don't sob when I frog you - you're on the wrong size needles. But I promise we'll get together again soon. Sometime. Soon-ish. Really.

Dear Hats:

Swoon. (pics some other time)

Dear Gina Brown's Wool Shop:

Could you perhaps hide the Point Five the next time I'm in? I can't seem to stop making hats out of it. I now have three times as many hats as I have heads ...

Dear Dog:

Wow, all those dark chocolate covered cherries will likely make you very sick and give you diarrhea. Although that was three days ago, and you're showing no signs of illness ...BAD DOG. I must say, however, that you displayed remarkable initiative climbing up on the table and chewing through that shopping bag. (you are SO grounded - er, crated the next time I go out.)

Dear City Health Care System:

Really? You're going to take a 71 year old woman on a stretcher, in her nightgown (well your nightgown, really, but there's no need to quibble), in an ambulance, halfway across the city on a day when the roads are pure ice, just so someone can come and talk to her? How remarkably efficient of you.

Dear Consulting Surgeon:

Thank you for complimenting my mother on her feistiness. I don't remember much else of what you said, frankly, because I was so delighted that you saw the WOMAN and not the numbers. And you'd only seen her for five minutes in your entire life. Would you like a wee gift? A handknit hat, perhaps?

Dear Other Surgeon:

Thank you for considering surgery. Hopefully that last test you'd like to run first tells you what you need to know.

Dear Older Brother:

Thank you so much for being at the hospital today, and for so consistently helping our little family of three to hand this problem back to God, over and over again. I love you and respect you, and I'm glad you're my brother.

Dear People Who Read This Drivel:

All of you, the people I've met, and the ones I haven't, thank you for caring about what's going on at our house these days. I wish I were coping better, but you all, you help. Please keep praying for my mother.