Last of the Summer Sun

We're expecting rain this weekend. The cool mornings have been quickly eclipsed by scorching afternoons and sultry evenings. The lack of rain is starting to get eerie. I live in a temperate rainforest, and I'm gradually replanting with more drought-tolerant plants. A bit step away from my indigenous border.
I'm relieved that I can maybe wear some of my knits. I have a reason to finish that same pair of first toe-up socks. I turned the last heel the other night and I'm redoing the top of the first in a 3 and 1 rib. I knit them too densely. Not a tragedy. I have some more yummy yarn to make another pair. I really like this Socks that Rock. I know, the last on the planet.

That's a typical thing for me in knitting. Oh look! I just discovered short rows. Oh look. Everyone is already designing with them and way ahead. At least the knitting community is nurturing and not judgemental. Except for that one young nurse I worked with. But she would never show us her work. My friend Annie says the small mistakes are like Japanese pottery that separate the handmade from the factory.

I tried my hand at the Fetching and loved how the cashmerino felt. I bought two skeins but truly only needed one. What to do with the other skein? I'm going to try and find more to make Karen's Sugar-Free Diabetes Walk Socks (www.GardinerYarnWorks.com). This is a great pattern for a great cause.

To have time to make a post is a blessing. I won't read my favourite blogs until this evening, though, because my daughter is home with a cold (missing activity day) and my husband is still healing from the back surgery. He's up and about and is going to drive to the office today. But no cows. The good news is we can only pop into the three parties we're going to this weekend. We need to cuddle at home.

Red Thread

The thread of thoughts. The thread that holds lovers together. The red thread that Ariadne summoned to save Theseus and lead him out of the Labyrinth.

This Pandora yarn was a delightful gift from my outrageous flute teacher. What a lovely surprise. She thought of me while shopping at Hilltop in Seattle.

This crazy yarn changes itself as you knit. Like my thoughts that need to be wrangled in to get on with the activities of daily living while our lives are topsy turvy. Post-op D. is doing well. Tomorrow we go to the surgeon's office for an update. I miss two important meetings for which I will have to solely gather the missed information and then head to meet the teacher night at the middle school. I'm still tired from last week and I'm getting tired in anticipation.

Still, I can walk the dog in the warm summer-like sunshine. I can study my interesting papers for this (poorly executed) library course and I can study with red wine and good chocolate. Nothing like my pauper Nursing school days.

Dashed by the Dashboard

My post didn't take. They decided to overhaul as I pressed Post. They? They who are better at computers than I. They who may soon see my blog switched to another channel.

For those of you who missed it, I very cleverly showed you a Mason-Dixon log cabin baby blanket which I am knitting in the wedding colours of the mom-to-be. I remember her exclaiming how much she loved the green of the bridesmaids' dresses, the ribbons, invitations, all of that. It was very cute. They have been happily married for two years now and we are excited to have another baby in the family.
But these parents-to-be are very cool. Always were. I had to stretch to find something that was hip enough for them, so I decided it was hip to be square. (They would not recognize the reference to the wonderful Huey Lewis).

My husband knit a blanket for the dad-to-be (his cousin) when that young man was born. D. was about 12, I think. It was the favourite item. They had threatened to make a suit of it for his wedding. His mom did bring it out at the wedding, too. So I thought it suitable to make a baby blanket to match said wedding.


Hope this post finds its way to the right ether path in the net.

Bobbing in the Autumn Swell

I'm still here. But I am more tentative, more rushed and under more stress.
When we got back from our trip, I had only two weeks of freedom before beginning another library course.
I had wanted to walk and take pictures and maybe take the kids to the lake.
Instead I got a dreadful respiratory infection that left me asleep on the deck with a full pot of tea going cold. So pathetic.
I did read Joyce's Ulysses. I had only intended to start A Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man. But one thing led to another, and in a fever crazed marathon, I read them both in a week.
I get what he meant about excess.
Some of the parts were the best I ever read. A lot of it was lists and repetition to underline the mood, setting, event. Some of it was still gobbledygook to me. But if you just relax your mind, you can absorb most of it.
Now I am free to read my book club choice, the lyrical "Suite Francaise" and any mystery I wish. Last year I finished reading all of Dickens. Next will be my lovely collection of Proust.
So I got the kids back to school, D. back from highland games, skating club started, Sunday School begun. It has been heavy. With very light knitting.
The hats are on schedule. A scarf with the amazing Pandora yarn that my flute teacher bought me. A gift of fibre!!!
I started a log cabin blanket for a special cousin having a first child. I started a shawl of mohair and glitz. I started the Fetching fingerless gloves from the summer knitty. I 'll finish tonight so I can wear them at the FREEZING rink while I knit.
Our zamboni driver wants me to knit him something, so I thought the cool illusion scarf from MagKnits in our club colours.
The big thing right now is D. is going for back surgery tomorrow. Side-swiped by a cow in May. It has been a challenge.
The procedure is minimally invasive. The results are to be quick and complete. He's actually walking out of the clinic the next day. But I have nursed many a back patient in my day and they are difficult. I hurt. I want to move. You're a mean nurse. Why yes I am. Get back to bed. Or get back to walking. We'll see.
For tomorrow, it will be total disruption. We are blessed with support. Though both sets of grandparents are uncharacteristically away, the kids will be with their favourite cousins and I can knit and listen to knitting podcasts while I pretend to not be concerned.

Back Home Again

Travelling makes change. You see new things. You see old things in a new way. You, the traveller are changed.
We flew to Ontario and enjoyed being with friends in their hometowns. We became familiar with our nation's capital and the beautiful parliament buildings. We walked in the old roads of La Vielle Quebec. We drove a lot, but less than last year when we toured the prairies.
Our kids had some good times. We let them sleep in and eat some junk food. They saw Shakespeare in Stratford, the Museum of Civilization and Stomp in Montreal.
It was not a shopping holiday. Nary a wool shop. I worked on my first toe-up socks while we drove and in the plane. I did not feel much like a knitter. I met no other knitters. No Toronto shops at all.
But I read three books and I enjoyed walking and visiting. We were together a lot and putting forth our argument that D. doesn't get to pick everything. Not a real democracy, but the kids are getting older and should have some respect and voice.

So I'm back home. A lovely home with a loving dog. A greater chance of eating healthy food that does me good. A chance to go to sleep early. The three hours time change wasn't so bad, but the strenuous travel did a bit of a case on us anyway.
So I have most of two weeks before my next course starts. The kids are in music camp during the day so I have a wee bit of freedom. I got my poor flute back. More on that later. I'm getting ready to start the log cabin baby blanket.
Hope the summer is rich and deep for everyone as it starts to linger and fade.

The Corn Is As High

I'm packed and ready to fly out. But now I have to take a picture of the sunflower field before I go. And will the blackberries be finished? Isn't this light breeze temperate. I am ambivalent about leaving my beloved Fraser Valley. The corn in this field is edged with amazing sunflowers. Next year I'm growin me some. The food value is similar to our cattle corn silage, but the aesthetics surpass.
I wrote my final last night. Whew. That was scary saving it and emailing it to my instructor. It's the first test I didn't finish. Really. The first test ever. But I wrote the essay, did the research and all but two short answers. Citing websites. No confidence. Ran out of time. Then this morning I found I hadn't submitted a final Learning Assignment. Not good for the blood pressure. But I managed to pop it off before driving to Tswassen to pick up my son from the ferry. I can't abide holiday traffic!
With great nagging and threatening, I got the kids to pack and pack lightly. It was easier when I just did everything myself. D. still hasn't packed. No I didn't prepare your underwear. You are an adult. I am not your mother, and I am not YOUR mother. There may have been a time when I lumped him into the kids. But no longer. If they have to meet minimum standards of survival, he can suck it up, too. Did I mention I was writing a 3hour final?
So now we head off to Eastern Canada. I was born in Ontario, though I have no real memories before my 3 year old train trip to BC. My first ancestor came over from Ireland to fight on the Plains of Abraham. I think I'll get choked there.
This year we will be visiting friends, and I'll make D. let the kids sleep in a bit.
Now that my course is done, I have a month to catch up on writing and reading. A poem a day? I don't think I'll be so strict.
I'll still have 2 weeks after we come back. All the school supplies and clothes are bought. I even have my mother-in-law's September birthday gift.
Just relax and fly out over the beautiful valley.

Apologies

I just got carried away, I guess. Yesterday I was a bit impatient with this program and hit the button twice. Two-for-one blogging. Sorry.
Now is the crunch. I have piles of clothes for packing and I'm on the verge of diving into my last revision before my final exam tonight. I'm not worried like I used to be. I'm not afraid of failing, or even of getting a lower grade. I want to do well, sound intelligent and complete it in the time alotted. In nursing school, everything was so frantic and competitive. But the girls who did well on exams didn't necessarily make better care givers.
This librarian study has a lot of lateral thinking and making connections. I love that. It's like my poetry. Things just crop up and put themselves in the wrong place. Juxtaposition for a purpose.
So I'm going to start the bobsled.
I hope to post regularly as we travel to Ontario and Quebec. But if I don't, I aplogize.

High Season

These are the long, warm, drowsy days of summer. We walk in the early morning to avoid the worst of the heat. It is pleasant now, with a gentle breeze. Good for making hay.
When I was younger, my sister and I were the sons and we would help my Paw bring in the hay. Sometimes Mom would drive the tractor. I would throw the bales onto the wagon, my sister would pass them to Paw and he'd stack. The perfect, strong, never to fall stack of hay bales. She could throw a bale over her head, up three levels. Then I would unload the wagon, placing the bales on the greedy hay elevator for the poor guys in the hay mound, or loft. There was no air up there.
Now, I can barely stand to do my weeding in the heat. My kids don't go into the pool without sunscreen. We all have sunglasses. How strange. How civilized.
I do miss the long rambling horse rides through the hills. But I have my giant lab who walks with me and is very good company.
My birthday is the time of the tall corn, fresh berries and long days. I have to make sure I sit out in the shade on the deck and enjoy the outdoors today. And have a few blackberries. They are just coming ripe and the greatest indicator of the high summer.

High Season

These are the long, warm, drowsy days of summer. We walk in the early morning to avoid the worst of the heat. It is pleasant now, with a gentle breeze. Good for making hay.
When I was younger, my sister and I were the sons and we would help my Paw bring in the hay. Sometimes Mom would drive the tractor. I would throw the bales onto the wagon, my sister would pass them to Paw and he'd stack. The perfect, strong, never to fall stack of hay bales. She could throw a bale over her head, up three levels. Then I would unload the wagon, placing the bales on the greedy hay elevator for the poor guys in the hay mound, or loft. There was no air up there.
Now, I can barely stand to do my weeding in the heat. My kids don't go into the pool without sunscreen. We all have sunglasses. How strange. How civilized.
I do miss the long rambling horse rides through the hills. But I have my giant lab who walks with me and is very good company.
My birthday is the time of the tall corn, fresh berries and long days. I have to make sure I sit out in the shade on the deck and enjoy the outdoors today. And have a few blackberries. They are just coming ripe and the greatest indicator of the high summer.

Red Means Blessing

I finished the red alpaca kimono. By finished, I mean I'm ready to start the finishing. There were actually a lot of stitches in this sweetie because I chose such a fine gauge. But it is fine, and I am pleased. It will go together simply, when I fold it in half.

While it was blocking, I took my son to the ferry to walk on by himself. He's visiting an old friend just outside of Victoria. It's a blessing that he can travel safely on his own. Also that he has such a welcoming home to visit. This is his best friend from preschool who moved away when they were about seven. They are his other family. His friend is just as welcome here, but they both like it there better. I wish I was in Victoria- Beehive Wool Shop! The only Koigu I've ever seen.

I did a bit of shopping on the way home. I love Long and McQuade in Langley. I bought some flute music, but left them my flute to service. I feel a bit lost. I'd better break out the guitar tonight. I also bought some gifts-that-I'd-like-to-keep at Liberty's. What a blessing to have some time alone. My daughter was with her cousin.

My neice is here to placate the daughter and keep her out of my hair as I study for my imminent final. Give her mother a bit of a rest, too. I guess I'll be watching a movie on my laptop tonight as the girls will have the TV for videos. If I have time, I'll watch some of Ken Burns' Jazz. It'll be my third summer with that amazing series.

So... refreshed. Almost done one project. Ready to continue with the Socks That Rock in berry and the shawl I started, When? I meant to wear it to Scotland while I knit another, but that trip was postponed until we could get enough pipers. Next year? I'll pull it out to take on the plane.
It's a thistle pattern. And that, too is a blessing.

The Courage To Comment

Now that I have my own blog, eventhough I don't know if anyone reads it, I feel more part of the crowd to comment on my favourite blogs.
I don't comment to Yarn Harlot anymore, because I think the hundreds of comments are just overwhelming. If I read the notes, I usually find someone who has a similar idea to mine. It can't be that outrageously original.
But Life's A Stitch, and And She Knits Too! are some of the first ones I ever read.
The internet has opened up such a warn community of wonderful, funny, intelligent writers and knitters for me. Now I want to join in more.
Unfortunately, as for them, my life is so busy. Will I be designing much in the future? It was knitty and blogs that lifted that obligation for me. Now I can find amazing patterns. New! Stylish! Individual! Designing can cause its own heart aches. Right now I let Grumperina do the math.
I'm more into socks than I would have been. I'm more happy with my shawl interest. I'm not alone in the Alice Starmore, Elizabeth Zimmerman, Barbara Walker fan club.

So please give me a comment on how you differ with or agree with me. I'm ready to make some friends. Now that I have the courage.

No Comment

Today is my birthday. It is a hot, sunny July day as most of my birthdays are. I am going to lunch with my friends and then supper at my sister's with my family. This could be a good day. I already walked the dog, and I'll jump into the shower before heading out for a few errands.

I had a lousy anniversary (my husband away piping) and an absolutely dismal Mothers' Day. I ended up grocery shopping and cooking supper after singing and drumming in a concert. No support or interest from the nintendogs.

So I have decided to not rely on them. Next Mothers' Day I will be away enjoying myself. Possibly with a friend who is alone. Today I will not be disappointed if the very heavily supported kids and husband can't wrench themselves from their own navel gazing.

This university course is changing my work habits. I put it above a lot of their needs. They are capable. But there has been a lot of tantrums, bad behavior and backlash. I can reverse course to make them happy and comfortable, or I can let them learn to be self-sufficient and better people. This is not easy. Especially with D. who is moaning about his back and the pressures of competing in piping. Make your own decisions. I d0n't need to be a sherpa anymore.

But I still can't say this openly in a confrontaional manner. I am protecting myself from further anger and disappointment, even mean comments. What a suck.

I will go out and shine in the sun. Without comment.

Bored, Not Bored

The red kimono has tiny alpaca yarn and tiny needles and many stitches. This has led to boring knitting. I'm not bored by the first season of Six Feet Under. This is good TV knitting. But just as I was getting to my fill of stockinette stitch, it's time to decrease for the neck and... the pattern does not have variations for the different sizes. Bored and in a bit of a heat-induced, sitcom watching stupor, I was bolted from my relaxation to mild expletives. OK, math. Where's Lara?
It's simple proportions. But Debbie Bliss gets big bucks for her patterns, and I get nada for fixing them. I won't know for a few rows if I'm correct in my changes.

And this morning. The floor guys are coming back so I can confront them with the shoddy finishing they did or didn't do. I have my breakfast at the computer, a fresh cup of coffee, and the three stooges traipse in. This is where the floors are lifting, this is where the carpets are wrinkled. Do I dare show you where the baseboards are split and the wall needs filling and repainting, and did you realize I spent a whole day washing the walls and the appliances?
Damn.

They did the little jobs as quickly as possible and bugged out while I was on the phone to my just-returned best friend. Cowards. As am I.

So this lazy morning has been a zoo. Barking dogs, other dogs, not mine. My son took her for a walk and she came back covered in dog s**t. Quickly bath her on the deck. All 90 black pounds of her. Not boring.

I'm going to head out and get the blue paint for my daughter's room and the criminally expensive wallpaper. She did the second coat of primer by herself. We'll paint the blue today. The paper will come while we're on holiday, so we'll put it up when we get back. That will allow the paint to cure. A good set back. Bad, not bad.

Youthful Love and Energy

Yesterday afternoon I took my kids to the theatre. Our Music Academy has a summer school of Musical Theatre and they've performed really good and better and better theatre. I just want the kids to have the opportunity to see live performances. I want them to see the successes of their friends. I just want to go to the theatre myself. I studied theatre at UBC. Just first year. It was going to be my life. But it was a bit of a brutal reality for a farm girl to be around the "atristes". Not so many were interested in the allegory, the theme in Shakespeare.

I moved on to nursing. Purpose and action. I had a lot of youthful energy.

We saw West Side Story. Real young people playing young people. So exciting to see the flowing choreography in a brutal, clashing manner. The first love. The forbidden love. They danced and sang and acted. Such energy!

Beyond weird was realizing that my former fiance, whom I haven't seen in at least 20 years was sitting in the same row as me. I saw his mother. He had already passed by the time I figured it out. And I'm too Canadian to stick out my neck and get a good gander. From the impression I got, he looks the same. But I am fat and old, and he was very mean- hence the break up. I was not brave enough to say hello. Even in my own home theatre, among musicians and music students who are my friends. With my delightful almost grown up children on either side of me. I was too afraid. Of what? My own failure to meet potential? The fact that my life is still in potential energy?

We had a long, distant relationship. Why do I remember every mean thing he ever said? Were there no happy times? Mostly distance. He was handsome and funny. But didn't want me to succeed. He learned a lot of racial hate where he was working. Do you think he has changed as much as I have? I don't even want to know. What a waste.

I went back to my highschool sweetheart who is a deeply good man. I have such luxury to stay home with my kids, and now return to school. I did not waste my youthful love and energy.

Safe Delivery

We got our new washer and dryer this morning. D. installed it and sat in front of it for the entire first load. Fascinating? I'm just happy to get all the clothes clean and back in the drawers. In this heat, things are going off rather quickly.
We're in a bit of a heat wave. Last night at 9pm, a sign read 35 degrees. One of my nephews said it was over 40 yesterday (double it and add 30). But D. says they're both inaccurate. On what grounds?
I'm in the basement. I opted out of going up the hill to SIL's pool this time. I don't enjoy being splashed and dunked. When I swim, I do laps and slip into a zen-like space of good breathing. This is good for my asthma, but the chemicals in the pool are usually too harsh for my skin. I come out and feel like I'm being bitten by hundreds of ants. I used to get that just from a shower, but I've become an expert at products for sensitive skin. Say LUSH with me.
I spent four hours yesterday stripping wallpaper with my daughter in her room. Yes- masochistic. She really wasn't very horrible. Can it be the first time I've asked her to work hard? I think of all the things I did with my sisters when I was young. When I was her age, my sister and I painted the kitchen for Mom while she was at work. Too bad it turned out to be a pukey bright green and not at all what she wanted.
On Monday I will prime all four wall, the two plaster, the wood and the gyprock with a top Fresh start. First I'll sand and wipe. Then we can maybe paper two and paint two. Light aqua blue. That should be nice. I did my ensuite in robin's egg blue and it pleases me.
I'm still not sure if we shouldn't just relegate her to the basement and mock up a bedroom. Then I could have her sunny room as my office/guestroom. It seems too much to ask for a door.
I used to study in the basement. But I just wouldn't come down here to the dark and artificial light when we have a beautiful back garden. It was slowly taken over by musical instruments. It's hard to write when the pipers are practicing in your room. Priming the walls won't hurt in any case.
Tomorrow I give the message at church. I did the whole service from scratch and I'm doing a duet with a young clarinet player. I hope I don't look like too much of an amateur. Next week we do a special service with lots of readers and then I'm away for three Sundays. I'll try not to let the constant heat leave me, as Jane Austen said, in a constant state of inellegance. Wish me safe delivery.

You've Got Gauge

When I retreat into knitting to comfort me, distract me, energize me, I am rarely disappointed
Lastnight, on a second attempt, I got the right gauge. For some this would be no good, but I have really struggled with shape and size. I did my first swatch at the rink and was off quite a bit. I rarely use the needles called for, but I thought I'd try it. This can lead me on a trail of many tries and no hits. Then I have to pick another pattern or yarn.

Last fall, I was visiting a friend in Bellingham. She and her husband are both knitters. Liz and I went on a wonderful yarn crawl, and Frank was interested in the treasures I found. I was freshly burned from the cotton Mariah gauge crisis and was whining away.
Frank said, "You just pull the string with your finger. What's stopping you?"
Good advice from a no-nonsense man.
So my gauge is much better now. But no guarantees.
I had to use a 3mm instead of 4mm. But the conquest, the victory. I am in love with this red alpaca. I can see the garter-stitch border is going to be gorgeous. This very simple baby kimono- from Debbie Bliss- will have the elegance I am seeking.
When I was expecting my first, I unexpectedly received sweater from several friends who wrote to the baby that his mother had taught them to knit. I don't even remember teaching them all, but I was so touched. I'm a softy anyway.
Such a simple undertaking. I have achieved gauge. I'm O.K.

Carrying On

Things are better than I expected. The 13 year old is preparing a sleep-over extraordinaire if camp is a no-go. I finally took meds for my IBS. The sun is shining and I'm heading to the freezing rink for an hour of knitting.
The washer and dryer should arrive on Saturday. I hope we can get our amazing neighbour to help us install it.
The little sock is still a little sock. Instead of swatching the red alpaca Debbie Bliss baby kimono yesterday, I transposed the entire Sunday Service. Good to have it done.
My husband is taking me out for supper on Friday. This is good for many reasons. Come piping season, he is either at Highland Games or taking vet call to cover his weekends away. For many years I drummed in the band and even taught the youth band. But when the daughter was done, I needed to be available to parent her. And I was choked that I wasn't getting enough bass drum time. So now he pipes alone, or with our reluctant son who is doing his final gig at the end of the month.
Also, D's sciatica has been a real trouble since it first arrived May 24. It was 6 wks before any improvement. But I did use the frying pan to the head method to get him to protect it. At least don't work on any untied cows! So it still hurts, but he can drive now and the progress is miniscule but measurable.
I have my homework done for this week (almost) and I'll have my final written before we fly out on Aug 5th. This online course has been a lot of work. First learning the online practices and then doing all the research. Can I do this for three semesters a year? That would give me very little time off. Almost all of August. Hmm. But that's like a normal job.
Will I be able to join the community band in the fall, and continue my flute lessons? We're down soccer, Emily's piano, Scott's piping and the kids have been trained to walk to school. It's a slow path.
At this age they are being introduced to so much. I try to make it one or two things at a time. But they have achieved a lot. Cooking, cleaning, heading out on bike and walk adventures.
Right now it's laundry. And I'm so thankful they are helping with that. I ended up just bringing home wet laundry from the office. We have a perfectly good clothes line. But I had run out of time. They actually helped. Without grumbling. This is good. We're carrying on.

Just a bit shakey

I've just found out that D. didn't register our daughter for camp. Oh my goodness. It's marked full on the site. She's been looking forward to this since May Retreat. Oh no. I'm devastated. Imagine how the 13 year old will react?
I did fire off an email to the registrar and a phone message to put her on a waiting list. But this is our very own camp where I worked as a nurse for 10 years. They were babies and toddlers there. I've done a terrible thing to encourage her to look forward to it. What am I going to do?
Between a back-aching husband who can only say angry denials in response to this, and the girl who "never gets to go anywhere or do anything".
I can only pray that we'll get a response soon.
Help.

When In Doubt, Swatch

On Saturday night, when I finished the hat, I was unable to start a new project. My hand was aching from entering my homework into Word. I was stuck. With new wool, several potential projects, I was just unable to move forward. Not that I had nothing on the needles, but the thistle shawl is just as complicated as starting over.

On Sunday morning, I was cured. I picked up the instructions for my first toe-up sock and read Wendy's instructions. Make a swatch. Of course. The next time I'm unambitious or overloaded, I'll set up the next swatch. I don't even have to count it. Just put it with the plans.
I feel better.

I also did some sewing. Fun! Just a very little bit, and not clothes for me. Another bag. We are travelling in August and I wanted to have nice hostess gifts. It started with the Zelda knitting bag. I saw it on knitty and it wanted to spend time with me sooooo badly. I even emailed Lettuce Knit in Toronto. They were pleased to get it in for me - for $200.00. Do you know how much wool that is? So I sewed a little bag for a sock project or baby sweater in the same kink of light blue vintage fabric. Maybe $30.00, but that was enough to make a second, larger bag. Today's bag is patchwork oriental inspired fabric with some marvelous silk and linen for the handles.

I finished my homework on time, too. And my cyber instructor is going to let me write the final before we fly out. How nice. How much do I want to do this year round? I think I was just tired of being so focussed. I also am co-ordinating the service this Sunday. I enjoyed the quiet Saturday morning, after my walk, to write the message and prayers. More types of swatching.

The Big Project

Today I finished hat number 7. This year I am making one hat per month, so that in December, I can contribute to the men's shelter at First United Church in East Vancouver.

Now, I like to knit for babies. I put blessings into each stitch and visualize them squirming and crawling in the little sweaters and blankets I knit. Every one of the cousins gets a knit gift. My hairdresser got a blanket last year. I am passionate about babies, and I used to word as a pediatric nurse.
But I get angry about old, alcoholic men who make bad choices and drag down all those around them. Why? My father was an alcoholic and left my mother before I was born. I was the fourth girl, and he left a few times after I was born. When I was three, she packed us up from Ontario and we took a train ride to B.C. where his sister reluctantly helped us out. It was her husband who offered us sanctuary, but he died when I was about eight.
I did meet my father when I was 10. He was tall and charismatic and played jazz piano like an angel. He was also loud and impatient and still drank. He had married my mother's best friend and they had a daughter. Shaun. She was at my 10th birthday. She'd probably be 40 now. I hope she is strong and smart and funny, like she was then.

We kind of got on with out lives. Successes and marriages and children.

But last year, our biological father died in a home in East Van. The most poverty stricken area in North America. A contrast to our idyllic rural beauty in the valley, an hour away. I didn't know he was in the last stage of liver failure and in a wheelchair for years. I didn't know he was alive. I always hoped he'd dry up and clean up and wonder who I was.

So this year I am knitting my blessings into warm hats for other regretful men. Will it help? It makes me think about it. It makes me wonder about their families.
We were already involved with making donations to the mission there, but I felt it was too impersonal. I wanted to do something a bit more. I'll keep knitting.
Hopefully I can knit together my uncertainty.