La Toussaints...All Saints Day

Today is La Toussaints. The origin of All Saints followed by All Souls Day is quite interesting. The pagan Celts celebrated Samhain on November 1, the beginning of the dark cycle, a day of the year when they believed the veil between the living and the dead was thinnest and communication was possible. The incoming Christians had finally been made aware that their heavyhanded tactics didn't work so well at eradicating the old beliefs, so they took this sacred festival time of the Celts and declared it All Saints Day, a time to honor all the Saints that didn't already have days of their own. In this way, they intended to obscure the original beliefs and dissolve them into their own more circumspect calendric celebration. Eventually, but only in the middle of the last century, the event became an occasion for children in princess and batman costumes to knock on doors and solicit candy on the Eve. The Mexican celebrations for the Day of the Dead perpetuate the rituals of communicating with those who have passed over. Legend has it that this was a ritual the indigenous people had been practicing at least 3,000 years. A ritual the Spaniards would try unsuccessfully to eradicate. Families move into the cemetaries for two or three days, groom the graves with fresh soil and elaborate flowers (cockscomb and marigolds), build an altar with the favorite things of the deceased, food, alcohol and cigarettes, light candles, and camp out with small children and infants sleeping propped against headstones. Sugar sculls with the names of the living and the dead are set out, a way of mocking the powers of the grim reaper.

Breaking the silence, I am beginning to force myself to live in this world again. Before we found that Steven's leukemia was coming back, I had signed up for a 2 day workshop with Sally Melville, along with Susan and Doreen. Thank goodness for that as it was not only good therapy, but an excellent and information filled week-end. Sally is charming and quite the taskmaster. Linda at Jennings Street Yarn organized the event most graciously.

We had homework:
That turned into bigger swatches (being supervised by Paprikas in lower right corner for scale): We learned clever edges and picking up formulas and lovely buttonholes and some colorwork. Along with how to recognize and rescue disasters. By the end of the second day, all of our heads were so stuffed that we couldn't absorb any more information.

For a few weeks there, it was impossible for me to knit...or blog. All of my current projects had hospital memories attached. So I dove in and started a very different new project, the Cables Sweater by Vivian Hoxbro.
The yarn is a DK weight Harrisville Tweed and it knits on sock needles. It might just be sufficiently lightweight to wear in our climate. If so, it is my new favorite yarn. The construction is so fascinating that I've been completely sucked into the project. You knit vertically, then horizontally, then vertically, etc. etc. Each section attaches the previous section and it's exciting to watch the sweater build. The righthand side in the photo is the center front panel and it's awaiting the neckline shaping.
Right after the Sally Melville week-end, several Sisters of the Wool made an excursion down to the Ranch to see Lorelei and Sue at Heritage Arts. We packed into my small car, which was the largest we had, and set off for adventure. That backseat looked like a sardine can and they were all knitting! A test drive for Kid n Ewe next week-end.
Taya, Micki, Susan and I were glad to return and to introduce Doreen to something new.

Doreen and Taya were looking at wheels and giving them a test whorl with Lorelei's input, although Taya isn't in this photo.
The Beaumont Ranch had taken down many of their famous and very non PC life sized pumpkin characters for a children's party the day before, but they were putting them back out before we left. You saw the pumpkin characters last year so I will spare you, but they did have the coffins in place.
All in all, a delightful day with friends. And I always love seeing Lorelei. Celtic Memory, she asked after you. Says you should come to see her in Boerne.

While furniture shopping for my father the other day, I bought a small cabinet/bookshelf for myself. It was desperately needed to get some of the books up off the floor. It is Indian. I love it.
Trust me, that photo was only day one. It is now quite full and organized. A close up here will show you some of the tea bowls I made way back in the Dark Ages when I was throwing pots.

So many of you have asked how I am getting along. There has been inertia for the most part, although I'm trying to kick myself in the pants and get going. During a time of grieving, when you sit quietly, your thoughts go back to the beautiful newborn they placed in your arms, the smiling infant, the happy little boy who loved anything mechanical, the bookworm adolescent who secretly took his pet mouse Arthur to school in his pocket, who wanted to ride horses despite his asthma, who loved animals (that loved him right back), who worked in the trade library in the summers as a kid to earn pocket money, who loved walking the streets of the French Quarter where he lived, who married his childhood sweetheart and much later had the children he had always wanted so much, whose childhood passion for computers never waned, who took care of everyone who needed him. Any mother knows that you worry about your children. You worry about their health and their school and their friends and their future. At a certain point, you take a deep breath and say to yourself they've made it, they're good, they've passed all the imaginable hurdles and they are going to be OK. You've raised a strong man with a good family that he loves, a good profession, good health, strong heart, low cholesterol and blood pressure, nothing to worry about, right? You've done your job and now, barring some random accident, you can watch him raise his family and live out his life. What a cruel joke! Or perhaps just downright silly arrogance. We have no crystal ball to predict something so unimaginable as leukemia in such a healthy man, before which we are utterly powerless despite all the wonders of modern science.

Thought I would share a portrait with Steven done when he was about ten. He's the kid with the aviator glasses. His brother wouldn't hold still so the artist, Jana Napoli, threatened and finally painted his bird in front of his nose. David protested and said he would hold still now. The response was, "Too late!"

This close-up is from the much larger painting. I'll show you. It was painted for New Orleans and European ceiling heights and is 115" tall. Larger than life-sized. Too tall to hang in any room of my current dwelling except sideways.

Many, many thank yous to all of you who wrote with kind and comforting words. Darn the luck, many of your e-mails came with no way to respond thanks to Blogger. Please know that each and every one meant so much. That total strangers the globe over would have compassion for a family going through such an ordeal ultimately says good things about the world we live in.

On a Beautiful Day in September

Friday was a beautiful crisp day of Indian Summer. Steven lost his courageous battle with leukemia.

My heart is breaking. My dear, sweet, loving Steven of the ready smile, my firstborn, is gone. I just want to lock myself in, pull the drapes and talk to no one for a few months/years. Maybe not bathe. We fought so hard. Steven was so incredibly brave and uncomplaining. He suffered everything for the hope of being a father to his children. He asked who would walk his daughter down the aisle? Who would teach his son to change the oil in the car? To be a man? I thought if I hung on tight enough I could pull him through this. The Fates laughed.

When Steven was first diagnosed and was sent to the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit at Baylor Medical Center in Dallas, it occured to me he was born there many years ago. A chill went through me. Though we have lived all over the world, it would be in that same place that he completed the circle of his given days.

The day last November when he was diagnosed, I set myself to know everything I could about the disease. When they told me which chromosone showed damage, I knew that it was one of the worst. I knew the statistics. I kept them to myself, not daring to whisper them out loud to anyone for fear of jinxing our meager chances. For two months after the transplant, things looked like maybe, could be, possibly we had a miracle. Finally I dared to breathe a little easier, to begin to hope. Then one week later, disaster struck. My worst nightmare. I had planned to bring him home with hospice care on this same Friday, to take good care of him, to find a way to continue transfusions and buy him a few more days, weeks, dare I say months? I negotiated with Hospice. I pulled some strings. You see, I would take such very good care of him. His brother is a doctor, he would help. I would get him to eat and drink. I would at least delay the inevitable. The rapidity of this ruthless disease's return robbed us of even that.

As hard as the last ten months have been, I had so much time with Steven and there are a lot of wonderful memories. That will be a comfort to me when I run out of tears, if ever I do. I just really enjoyed being with him. He was smart and quick and funny. We managed to laugh about the most dreadful things. The many, many, many nights alone at the various hospitals, just the two of us. The few weeks out of hospital he stayed here with me. The countless trips to the clinic in Dallas. No matter what indignity he was going through, we mocked it and laughed. He never complained about any of the horrors he was undergoing. That last trip to the hospital for still another chemo and hopefully a second transplant, knowing full well what was in store, the only complaint Steven had was that he just didn't know how he could take hospital food again.

I love that three of his friends came last Monday night to watch the Cowboys game with him at the hospital. They made quite a ruckus and a neighboring family member came to fuss at them and ask "Didn't they know, people are dying on this floor?" Steven found that totally hilarious. He was so exhilarated when I arrived for the night, just happy, giving me a blow by blow on the final winning touchdown. That was a scant four days ago.

My Hungarian step-daughters Lydia and Alexa flew in over the last couple of days and they were wonderful. The step-sisters were so good for Steven. Lydia took over and ran the show. Alexa was hit very hard, but we will try to comfort her. My other son David is being a rock for me, but he told his step-sister it feels as if someone amputated his right arm. As you know, there is no comfort really. Just the slow march of time to dull the edges.

One really funny scene today, if things can be funny with your beloved son growing cold on the bed next to you. A young man arrived and Lydia sort of "challenged" him at the door of Steven's hospital room. He said he was Steven's brother. Lydia was gobsmacked. She said she was Steven's sister and she'd never heard of him. Evidently he'd never heard of her either. It was Steven's half brother through his father. Alexa laughed at one point and said she had a totally step family. When she married and acquired a step-daughter, she called to apologize to me for how she had behaved many years before.

As you can see, it is my habit to handle grief and pain and troubles with wry humor. And scrubbing, lots of scrubbing. Somehow today, in addition to the painful time at the hospital, I've cleaned windows and pitched papers, sorted through Steven's belongings from the hospital and thrown out almost anything that reminded me of those terrible times, gone through mail that has piled up for months, cleaned litter pans, washed sheets and towels, mopped the kitchen floor and various other tasks. I'll keep this up for a while (poor cats, poor house). I may be begging my friends to let me scrub their houses, too.

No knitting content today. Knitting has been replaced with the above mentioned scrubbing. But I will add a photo of Steven and his proud mother the day he graduated from university...


And with his brother the Best Man on his wedding day...
Life was so full of promise then.

A Truly Horrible, Awful Day

You haven't heard from me in a while. I've been trying to keep up two blogs and Steven's was the more urgent. I've done some knitting.

Argosy Wrap is finished but not blocked. Noro Silk Garden, approximately 7 skeins on size 8 needles. Very happy with it, now waiting for a very cold day.

Kay, my writer friend of 39 years (OMG), has been sending me books and books and books to help me through the interminable waits at the clinic and late nights at the hospital. I started knitting a pair of socks for her before Christmas. But my mind and inability to count straight right now won't let me finish the complex pattern, or strangely any socks for the moment. First it was chemo hats, then shawls and scarves. Since I don't see those socks being finished any time soon, I started an Argosy for her since I'm "in the groove". Although the Argosy pattern is different from the shawl, I actually find it easier and more repetitive. Silk Garden again. Aren't Mr. Noro's color choices fascinating? You never know how they will knit up once you start.

The color sequence totally surprised me as I knit the first few repeats. Where is the rusty red, the browny green, the purple, the warm turquoise? But now that I'm twice as far, I'm actually quite fond of it. There is a Japanese expression for this sort of "let the surprise happen" (as in Raku) that escapes me right now (it's on the tip of my tongue), but I'm embracing it. Aha, it came to me...wabi-sabi (represents a comprehensive Japanese world view or aesthetic centered on the acceptance of transience).

So what is awful and horrible about this day? Steven's doctor called and asked me to arrange a meeting with the family. As some of you know, the leukemia came back three weeks ago and Steven has been fighting it with chemo and hopes of another bone marrow transplant. He is actually coming through the first chemo round surprisingly well considering, but a bone marrow test yesterday showed that it hadn't touched the leukemia, which is now 90% of his bone marrow. So no transplant, no more chemo, no options. Lots of tears. A lot of hard decisions must be made.

Here is a photo of my firstborn three or four years ago in healthy times. Kind, smart and funny.

Only fellow knitters will understand. All through the meeting with the doctor, I knitted ferociously, if not correctly, on Argosy. When I came home, I sterilized and refilled the hummingbird feeder at midnight, did some laundry, cleaned cat boxes, replenished the bird feeder, stared blankly at repetitive news of Hurricane Ike on CNN and I actually might run the vacuum before falling into bed, hopefully so exhausted that sleep will find me. It is very strange the things we do to cope. I should have continued knitting chemo hats. As long as I knit chemo hats, I kept Steven safe. He finally told me to stop. How many chemo hats did he need? I should have kept knitting those hats.

A Breath of Cool Air in God's Country

God's country...that would be Idaho. Four days of breezes and altitude and cool nights and no air conditioning necessary in Sun Valley visiting my friend Marge, the secret knitter. It was wonderful. Here is the view from Marge's terrace!

And for a bit of kitty content, here is 18 year old Spike being walked on his leash on that terrace.

The BF and I went for the opening of the spectacular new amphitheatre in Sun Valley, complete with an amazing performance by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and mezzo Denyce Graves. But we managed to catch the Sun Valley Arts Festival in Ketchum, too. 100 booths of carefully chosen artists from around the country.

How's that for scenic surroundings? It rained for the first time in quite a while that first morning, but the sun broke out just in time.

Booth after booth after booth of sculptures and glass and wooden carvings and pottery and paintings and jewelry. Strolling and perusing made for an interesting afternoon.

These overalls were actually a sculpture made from buttons and glitz. Oddly enough, there was little fiber related goodies, just one weaver. The BF snagged a bronze sculpture of two crows sitting on a pedestal. I fell hard for two of the jewelers there from California but didn't make the big purchase, although I'm still debating. Teri Pelio worked with Hill Tribe silver in stunning designs and Sally Bass with a lot of vintage bakelite. Here is one of Sally's necklaces done with shell, peridots set in silver and green pearls.The flowers in Ketchum are stunning everywhere. You really feel you are in a Swiss village. The food is wonderful. Jeff at Vintage is so creative, blueberry pancakes and celebrity spotting at Christina's bakery, dinner on the terrace at the Lodge.

Hemingway is buried in his beloved Ketchum next to Mary. I'm not sure what the tradition is for leaving coins on his grave, but there are plenty of them.

The gravestones are under this little bouquet of trees in a cemetery with headstones dating to the earliest settlers, or possibly passersby who didn't make it further.

One morning we headed out in the crisp of dawn, over the Galena Pass to Stanley just to have sourdough pancakes at the Baking Company. Definitely worth the early wake-up and the drive. For many years, Stanley had a national weather station which regularly posted the coldest temperatures in the country. The weather station has moved elsewhere and there is not much left in Stanley but a few hardy souls, including the two sisters who run the bakery and are renovating an old, old log built hotel there.

We continued up the road, following the Salmon River from it's modest headwaters into full blown raging rapids. Impressive. We stopped at the salmon hatchery project, which I thought would be boring but was anything but. They've been working at it for years, trying to reintroduce sockeye back into the streams and had almost given up. Last year only 4 or 5 made it upriver, the year before 2. This year to date...111 and it's only mid season!!! No one knows why they are suddenly showing up but it is causing a lot of excitement. It was fascinated to watch these big fish, some spotted and some very red, leaping up the series of ladders. We also visited Redfish Lake, high in the mountains, which got its name from the fact that there were so many salmon in it that it looked solid red. No more. Knitters, Nancy Bush is teaching at a retreat there in September at the Lodge. I would soooo love to be there.

You may note in both the above photos that the clouds are hanging almost below us in the valleys. Mysterious. A bedraggled group of hikers arrived while we were there. Said they had been pelted during the night by hail for a couple of hours, ripping all their tents to shreds. There is a lot of hiking done in Idaho. As lush as all these photos look, there is a lot of parched, desolate and empty land between Salt Lake City and Sun Valley.

You ask, was there any knitting involved on this trip? Well yes, some. I took two projects, one was Rivolo, a Little Nothing Scarf from Anne Hanson of Knitspot, supposed to be an easy travel project. Well, I think my knitting was negative on that one. Although certainly not a difficult pattern, I couldn't keep track of it when with people. Think I knitted it back to break even, or perhaps a couple of repeats more on the plane ride home. But the Blue Moon Fiber Arts Seduction in Rooster Rock is beyond beautiful. Love working with it.
And then there was a bit of progress on Argosy. I had hoped to find a skein or two of different colors of Noro Silk Garden to add in, but Isabel's in Ketchum has stopped carrying Noro. Darn. Here is the Argosy Wrap with five different colored skeins knitted in, definitely the shawl that will go with everything in the closet.

Marge hadn't been into the knit shop all summer, waiting for my visit. We went together and I did allow myself one purchase at Isabel's. A glorious skein of Blue Heron Mercerized Cotton Lace. There is 1000 yards in the skein, enough for Hanami or possibly Muir. We shall see what it wants to be when it has time to mature in the stash awhile. Marge bought several colors of Koigu to use in a pair of stranded mittens.

On the personal front, Steven is hanging in there, although there is some concern that the leukemia is trying to come back. They are taking him off all the anti rejection drugs to let his donor's system fight it full out. We shall see. There is finally some hair starting to grow on the back of his head. We are so accustomed to "bald is beautiful" that we will have to readjust. And 89 year old Dear Dad is being basically thrown out by Stepmother so I've put down a deposit on an assisted living apartment for him and am scrambling to set everything up and buy an apartment's worth of smaller scale furniture to move in when the current tenant decamps. Fun, fun, fun. I am so not a shopper.

Sadly, CairoKate's brother Robbie lost his battle with leukemia today. My heart goes out to her and her family. I noticed at the Baylor Bone Marrow Transplant Clinic today that they are having a bone marrow donor drive this Sunday at the Highland Park Methodist Church on the SMU campus from 10 to 2:30. It is free and only involves a cheek swab, no blood donation necessary. If any of you have been meaning to sign up, this is an excellent opportunity. We bless Steven's donor every day.

Did I mention it rained yesterday? Totally wonderful glorious rain. I went out in the garden and stood in the rain in the middle of the night. The temps have been down for a few days, although it hit 100F on Thursday. This morning is a frigid 71F with a high of only 88F expected. Just a hint that the heat will be over before too long.

A Shawl of Many, Many Colors...Noro of Course

How are all of your summers coming along? Not as miserably hot as ours in Texas I hope. Several days in a row of 100F plus temperatures have reduced me to a quivering lump of humanity, emptied my brain and drained my energy. One day my garden thermometer said 108F. The air was so dry you couldn't suck it into your lungs. Then after a couple of rumbling thunderstorms accompanied by a pathetic few raindrops, the heaviness of the humidity made it feel you could drown in plain air. Yes, it's true, I'm not a devoted fan of high temperatures.

Still managing to knit a tiny bit, although holding a lapful of wool is not the most pleasant sensation in stifling heat. But having been totally inspired by a wonderful Argosy Wrap (from In a Happy Camper) done in Noro Silk Garden draped over a rack at The Shabby Sheep, I came home and tossed out some stash and dove in. I'd been meaning to make this for years, in fact had challenged CelticMemory to join in with me last year. Of course, the colors I had in stash didn't work so well together, so I've actually frogged a couple of skeins back out of it. And since you probably know of my aversion to blue, you won't be surprised that I have removed whole sections of it from the skeins as I knit. In the photo, you see a little ball of extracted blue which is going to BookGrump, a worthy cause. It will end up decorating an Amigurumi of some sort, I'm sure.

Here is an early photo. I'm double this by now as it is a very addictive knit. I originally intended to use eight skeins, all different. But I couldn't begin to find eight skeins that would work together even after hitting two LYS. Argosy may have to marinate a bit until I can locate another skein or two without blue in them. Or much red. One of the skeins I frogged out was the most beautiful red but it totally clashed with the other colors and finally just had to come out. Stupidly, I forgot to take a photo before frogging all those skeins. It would have made an interesting study. My knitting group was pretty much laughing at me, but I knew it would always bother me, so out it came.

I thought this would be perfect travel knitting for an upcoming jaunt, but it seems not so much. It's getting heavy and a bit bulky, so I need to search for something else to take along. Not boring but not so complex I can't talk and knit. Not heavy for sure (thank you airlines). Seems that all my WIPs are at the wrong point of development to travel. Perhaps one of Knitspot's Little Nothings in a sock yarn would do the trick (how much do we love instant downloads?). Goodness knows I have the sock yarn for it.

There will be a follow-up report with my final decision, although around here a decision is never final.

Another Year has Passed! Not possible!

Where does Time go? Another year has passed and another birthday come and gone. Being born on the Fourth of July has advantages...and disadvantages. First, no one forgets your birthday! And on the other hand...no one forgets your birthday! And for some reason, they want to add up the years and remind me of fleeting time. Good grief, I have to hang around long enough to knit up my stash, OK?

Back to the Fourth, I always think of my poor mother having her very overdue first baby on Independence Day, July in a hot climate in a hospital with no air conditioning. Most miserable I am sure. As children, of course those of us born to firecrackers are told all the foll-de-roll is just for us. And I do have great fondness for and fascination with those pyrotechnic displays. Living in Europe for many years, my birthday wasn't "special" in the sense of a holiday. Usually we were already in Monte Carlo for the summer so every day was vacation in good European custom. Someone always gave a dinner outdoors near the sea. We could watch the fireworks competition over the harbor. It was quite different from sweltering in the Texas heat where even tissue thin clothing is too much. Yes, I had a HOT outdoor dinner in my honor this year before going for the fireworks display.

My mailbox was overstuffed with birthday goodies. I will stick to reporting only the knitterly ones. Dear thoughtful Proseknitic sent Socks 2 at a Time (which I have been meaning to tackle) and a positively charming little book, The Radiation Sonnets (a loving and humorous look at a cancer patient's ordeal), which I read each night before falling asleep. CelticMemory Jo sent a huge skein of undyed "Stinky" (silk & cashmere???) which is named for its pungent fragrance when damp. Mmmmm, perhaps you shouldn't wear it for walks in the rain? This woman knows how to make me smile. Gorgeous lovely stuff, it arrived with its own delightful clear plastic project bag bearing an impressionistic Parthenon on the front, booty from a recent trip to Greece.

My dear "old" friend Kay from New Orleans (now Vermont) sent a dreamy skein of QUIVIUT, hand dyed by Mountain Colors!!! Delicious stuff. Kay wanted something special and hunted this down. A Knitspot "little nothing" scarf should be perfect for this treasure. And it will be so much fun to go around saying quiviut, quiviut, quiviut...don't you think?

And this lovely wonderful exciting skein is from Micki's wheel. I'm sure you could hear me squealing for miles when she gave me this. How sentimental to knit with yarn a friend (and a very talented friend at that) has spun with her own little hands. I've had so many ideas for this. It's just too special for socks so I'm sifting through ideas for shawls or scarves. As the knitters know, this plotting and planning is a huge part of the pleasure of the craft.Second son David presented me with an elegant project bag and a sweater's worth of gift certificate from Yarns Ewenique. When I expressed pleasure with his choice of shop, he was quite surprised as he thought I didn't know about it. Now stop laughing. Tried to explain to him that there wasn't a LYS in a hundred mile radius that I (or any knitter worth their needles) didn't know and that his inheritence was going to be yarn so he had better learn to knit or marry someone who does.

OK, just one non-knitterly gift will show up here, and this because the picture is just so gorgeous I can't resist. My Hungarian Ex and his current wife Betsy sent the most beautiful bouquet of roses. Can't you just smell them?

Many, many thanks to all my dear friends who went out of their way to make me feel special knowing how difficult this year has been. I love and treasure all of you. I owe so many proper hand written thank you notes and just don't seem to get there these days. Please forgive me, I shall return to normal soon.

And now for the obligatory knitting content after all that yarn pron, here is the front and back of The Blues. This has been frogged and tinked as much as it was knit for one reason or another, usually having fallen asleep on it mid row and doing very creative knitting when I came to consciousness again. It is finally to the point of joining the shoulders, basting the sides, and trying on, hopefully to find a perfect fit. The pattern called for knitting everything in pieces then joining. But I like to use a 3 needle bind-off on the shoulders for neatness and stability. Then I think I will just pick up stitches around the armholes and knit the sleeves down instead of cuff up. For now this will not be a mindless project and it will become bulky and cumbersome, so I shall have to find something else (a new project?) that is simple enough to take on clinic days for the long waits.

Steven ended up back in the ICU for eight days with a couple of infections. He got out of the hospital again last week and came here since Lisa had surgery on Thursday. He did well for three days, then had a 48 hour stretch of non-stop puking over the week-end. I thought I would have to take him back to the clinic a day early on Monday, but finally the meds kicked in and he was able to eat and keep fluids and pills down, so we waited until today's appointment. It was a tough call to make. He goes from OK to very sick so fast. The good news is that no leukemia has shown up yet in his labs. He is still not producing red blood or platelets, very slow on that and they aren't sure why. Nothing transfusions can't fix for the meanwhile. No leukemic cells...Life is good!

All the News That's Fit to Print, and Then Some

Where have I been the last month you might ask. On an emotional roller coaster would be the answer.

First the good news. Steven received an amazingly good report on his first bone marrow biopsy. Donor system 100% of marrow and they don't see any leukemia cells for now. His doctor said it is a miracle. He has put on some few pounds and gone out in public. After seven and a half months in the hospital, a trip to Sam's Club is totally exciting. He is still dealing with extreme fatigue, tremors and unbelievably bad mouth and throat ulcers, but that is a small price for what he has been through.

And yes, I am still knitting, sort of. It is more knit one row, tink half a row for the moment, when I can keep my eyes open long enough to do so. I started a Manos pattern, The Blues, in their Stria cotton. It is a lacy wide cropped top which I am hopeful can be worn in Texas in some season. Here is the pattern:

And here is the back:

And here is a close-up of the lace:

And here is what a skein of Stria looks like when you break it at each knot and hand wind it. Six knots in one 116 yard skein is bloody annoying. Look at that little piece that is not much more than a yard long. Working in all those ends on a lace pattern will not be what I would call amusing. These darn knots, which they cut very short, are the main reason for all the tinking I've done while knitting this.

The Manos pattern is cryptically written. A newbie knitter would be very frustrated. I seriously scratched my head at one point, but after knitting and frogging a couple of times, I came up with a solution. Unfortunately at my current slow pace, a sweater which should take only a couple of weeks has required almost a month just for the back. Oh well. I've got to pick up some speed if I'm ever going to use up my stash.

What I am really being tempted to do at the moment is make jewelry. Some of you may not know, but I have a background in precious jewelry design in France and Italy. Of course at the moment I'm dreaming more of stringing seeds and glass rather than setting rubies and diamonds. I could make a hundred parures in the time it takes me to knit a sweater, or a pair of socks for that matter. Think I might set aside the knitting for a week-end and see what happens. Of course, I should also be painting the entry hall and the guest bathroom and the cabinetry that was eaten by the Irish Wolfhound Katrina refugee. Though putting my office back in shape should be the priority at the moment. Decisions, decisions, decisions.

The Leukemia Society is collecting donations today. I should have taken a photo of the piles of bags on my front porch waiting for pick-up. All I can say is I wish I had managed at least twice as many.

Now for the sad news. This week I lost my adored cat Tujagues. He was an Exotic (short-haired Persian) only barely four years old and totally healthy. My friend Doreen, an emergency room doctor, had just come in the house. Tujagues came up to be petted, then walked away a few feet and had a seizure of some sort and was gone instantly. Thank goodness Doreen was with me and she really took care of me as I was simply in shock. And thank goodness we had just gotten the good news about Steven. I wanted to mention this here because of how important Tujagues was in keeping my spirits up these last difficult months. He could put a smile on my face no matter what was going on. Here is the little guy's baby picture and yes, he had attitude with a capital A.

Jo called him the Beautiful Bowl Cat. His absolute favorite place was in this Mexican bowl. He was a splendid little representive of his species. It is way too quiet around here without him.

There is still a report to be given on WWKIPDay, but that shall come next time.

Transplant Day!!!!!!!

It's Transplant Day! My son is receiving his bone marrow transplant today, which is exhilarating and terrifying. I couldn't sleep. I won't go into details here, but it is all on Steve's Blog.

Knitting has been sporadic lately. Basically I fall asleep on the first row I try to knit. I've even bungled Clapotis, which is very, very hard to do.

I did finish another chemo cap, in a cheerier color of dark red Rowan's Calmer this time. Shedir again, but with a cuff which Steven likes. He's still bald as a billiard, and perhaps this will comfort him through the fevers.

And then there is the anticipation of the next pattern in Sock Madness II. My cousin MtMom has designed one of these last two patterns. Is this THE ONE? We'll know shortly. I just checked her blog and this one is hers. Way to go, Cousin!