latest craftiness

The weather turns cooler & I pull my crochet stuff out again. Study through my crochet books and magazines - play through my stash of yarns. I found this pattern for a hotpad holder and thought it was lovely. Mine? Not so much, and I doubt I'll make it again.
http://www.crochetmemories.com/archive/lorettasstarbursthotpad.html


And I made several more of the double sided scrubbies/potholders to use as coasters on my new living room furniture. I just can't decide what I should do next? I've got a baby blanket hibernating quietly in the corner - nobody's pregnant right now (I think that's a good thing). Oh well, it's definitely one of those things where the journey is the fun part - and deciding where/how to start the journey is where I am now...

Rainy day musings

I love not having to go to work. There's something absolutely WONDERFUL about waking up knowing the day belongs to YOU.

I spent part of it driving Miss Jessica which was a wonderful way to get to spend time with her. I've thought about it a lot, that I don't know how to have a relationship with my grown-up daughter. While I love my mom dearly, ours is not the relationship I'd choose to have with Jes. I struggle between wanting to participate so much more in her life, to wanting her to experience her independence, to just feeling like a 3rd wheel being in the way. So I throw up my hands and try to answer "YES" whenever she calls or asks for my help or opinion or whatever I can offer. When I think about how I love her, the answer comes back, "Fiercely." I know that I will do whatever I can, whatever she needs unquestioningly. Kinda like a backup quarterback ready to step in at a moment's notice to run the show. I'm usually happy with the situation, and hope she is too.

I finished up "The Hour That I First Believed" by Wally Lamb today. I started it back at the beach, and it's quite the heavyweight read -- very dense, filled with history and characters and mental illness and ups and downs and on and on and on. I think the book could've used a better editor - so much is included that neither informs the reader or characters nor advances the plot. In places, hundreds of pages could've been summed up in a paragraph. Which is probably why it took me so long to slog through to the finish. It was not as good as either of Lamb's either two weighty books. I remember loving every twist and turn of "She's Come Undone." Not this one - although it combines Civil War nursing with the Columbine massacre. I'm glad I finished and looking forward to the next read I pick up. Maybe it will be Steig Larrson's next one. Or the Philip K. Dick reader (birthday g/c booty). The only guarantee is that it will not be another doorstopper like this one.

Beach Vacation Pics

When I win the lottery, I'm gonna be a beach bum. I will be brown and not care that my skin looks like leather. I will read ALL the books I want to read. I will listen to the ocean as I read and turn brown. I will play in the ocean with the fishes. I will be calm and peaceful every day.

I will share my sunshine-filled days with my sweetie. I will master the ability to take a picture of both of us by sticking out my arm with my camera.

I will wear my "I'm Grumpy Because You're Dopey" hat.

I will have great birthday fun. I will get presents (like my DelSol earrings and necklace).
I will have great fun. Just like we did on our vacation!

Vacating

Why is it that wherever I go, I always see Anna? I don't see my parents, or my sister, or Jessica or Elisha. Occasionally I will see an Ashley - the hair, I suppose, is so striking.

But there I was relaxing on the beach, trying to decide whether to pick my book up again (finished "Lush Life" by Richard Price today - very good... started Wally Lamb's "The Hour I First Believed" doorstop giant of a book, already loving it) - okay - should I read? or go stand in the surf? or take a nap? or take a stroll? or go play in the choppy waves? When there she was. Anna. Pre-puberty Anna. She was enjoying herself, going between looking for shells, skipping through the surf, and generally being lovely.

Is it that I'm always looking for Anna? I don't think so. I just see her everywhere. My heart stops beating when I see her, then starts up again when I see whatever it is that reassures me that, "No, that's not Anna." I see her walk. I see her hair. I see her lanky body going from little girl to young woman.

Today's Anna was with her family - mom, pop, and a sister/friend. They looked so happy together. I remember how easy it was - whatcha gonna do next? I found myself having to stop myself from going up to the mom to say, "Is this your daughter? Do you know what a treasure you have? Why aren't you holding her right this minute? Hug her!! Hold her safe - right NOW! Do you appreciate every minute you have with her? Do you know how fast this family you have could be gone? DO YOU KNOW!??? " But I figured I didn't want the lifeguards to call the cops on the crazy lady on the beach. So I just sent the mom my message by ESP.

I wanted to hear the Anna's voice too. But I was too far away - and didn't trust myself to get any closer. I wondered if she sounded like Anna too. I wanted to talk to her. And say... what? "Hi there! I'm a crazy woman on the beach. You look just like my daughter, Anna. My beautiful Anna. That I don't have anymore. Can I hug you and see if it feels like hugging her did? See if you smell like she did?"

But I didn't do any of those outwardly looney things. I just sat there on my blanket being insane in my head. It's a lot safer that way. Angry at myself for still being like this. Every where I go. So I wonder, would it be better or worse if I didn't see these phantom Annas? Probably worse not to see her. Because in some small way, even though it stirs up all my sadness and grief and loss, I did connect with her today. Somehow, for a very short while, I was as close as I will ever get to my Anna again. {Please keep you 'wait til heaven' bullshit comments to yourself.} Even though this wasn't MY Anna, she was today's Anna. And I suppose I'm grateful for that after all.

Beachbummin`

Hello from Myrtle Beach! Geez, it's been about 12 years since I was down here & it has changed. We're in South Myrtle - below where the pavilion used to be (it's gone!). We're on the 16th floor of our hotel (Compass Cove) - the place boasts something like "26 water features!" -- there are 2 lazy rivers (which Chuck calls "Geezer River" because I like to get in and just float around with all the other 'seniors') plus there's a big kiddie pool, two outdoor pools, an indoor pool and the rest of the "water features" are hot tubs. But it is a nice place.

Played in the ocean today. Every time I'm floating over waves, I remember playing with Sherry down here when we were kids - fishes swimming between us on the float. I think one of my happiest childhood memories is of the long afternoon we had down here when it was barely raining, and Sherry & I and a bunch of other kids made dams and lakes for the tiny fish. That was such a perfect day. Water was calm this morning, then got choppier this afternoon - was fun playing. I did the "geezer river" after I figured I'd gotten enough sun for the day. Not burned tonight anyway.

We did the jumbo seafood buffet last night (burp!)... just a burger tonight. Tomorrow being Saturday, we're having spaghetti in the room - figured all the restaurants will be packed. I think we'll go to Olive Garden Sunday for my birthday... unless something else changes my mind, which is a distinct possibility.

I love vacation. I hate working. It truly sucks to work 50 weeks a years just to have two measly weeks free. But I'll take what I can get right now.

I had a dream...

Last night I dreamed I had a baby boy. He looked just like my girls looked at about six months. That was no big deal - In My Dream - It was all about getting up a wacky uneven set of stairs where each stair-riser was different, from really short to five feet high, and I had to climb with the baby (in a baby backpack thing) up the stairs for the pediatricians visit. In the dream, I was thinking, "Man, why did they have to make this so freakin difficult?"

So the moral of the story may be the uphill climb this week to my vacation. For a change, I'm having NO problem with reaching Escape Velocity - I'm there, I'm ready..... only 9-1/2 hours left to work before I go (not that I'm counting)

The Wire

My sister knows me. She knows me very well even though we're not as close as we used to be. She told me I had to watch "THE WIRE" - HBO's cop show. Eh... I thought - another 'Hill Street Blues' or CSI or Law & Order or The Shield --- I wasn't that enthused. She insisted.
So I started with the first episodes from Netflix. That was months ago.

Tonight I watched the last episode. I watched the 'extra behind the scenes' stuff on the DVD too. I thought about watching the last episode again. There were five seasons of the show, and I watched them all (in chronological order, of course - because I'm obsessive about stuff like that). I laughed out loud. I shed a few tears. I felt outrage, shame, empathy, shock, sadness, loss, and I came to care about the characters. The 'good guys' (?) were the cops, usually, or sometimes. There were good cops, teachers, newspaper people, social services, soup kitchen, AA leaders, just ordinary everyday people trying to be 'good' more than they were 'bad.' And the bad guys. I cared just as much for them - their damaged souls - some unrepentently bad to the core, but most just trying to survive in their world.

The one constant, ever-changing character was Baltimore. The show made me want to move to the city. A big-city, small town. THE WIRE went to the `hoods, to city hall, to the blue-collar docks and union halls, to newspaper rooms, classrooms, churches, jails, barely habitable slums and tenements stealing electricity from another building through an extension cord hanging across an alley.

I think the brilliance of the show was in the writing and characters. The characters all had redeeming traits. The cold-blooded killer reserved his most fierce murder on a child molester. I really rooted for the addict trying to stay clean. I cheered when the lone wolf gunman stole from the cruel drug dealer. I shook my head at the cops doing the wrong thing to achieve the right results. I laughed at the small-time hood glad to go to jail to get away from his nagging girlfriend. I gasped in shock when a main character was gunned down - drug deal gone bad, I thought. One night I shouted at the TV: "NO! You can't kill him!" But they did. Never a dull moment. You're never able to walk away from the show - you WILL miss something.

If you haven't seen THE WIRE, there is nothing better out there. I doubt there will ever be a television program that combined gritty truth of life with outstanding performances and the best writing ever. I know it took me a long time to watch, but I always knew there was more WIRE coming. Something to look forward to. Now what?

Thanks to HBO for allowing the show to go the places it went to - good, bad and often very ugly. Thanks to THE WIRE people for doing such a great job. Thanks to my sister for insisting. She was right.