Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Are we there yet?

We leave for CT on Thursday. Mentally I'm pretty much there already. I'm ready to see family and smell the difference in the air. CT is John's Best Pizza with meatballs, and maybe some Italian ice. It's Nanie and Silvermine, and Above All, where the corn's probably just starting to sprout. It's seeing my surrogate parents, Marnie and Bill, who helped us out so much 25 years ago when Dad had his aortic dissection. And it'll be placing my dad with his dad and brother. May the road rise up to meet you, Papa...

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Tired, sad, the usual for this May...

Seriously, where'd that 3-day weekend go? I think I mainly rested on Saturday; I honestly don't remember.

Sunday I pulled a big favor for Mom...she and Cyril were in Orlando this weekend helping Meara pack up her place because the poor kid moves into her new apartment down there the weekend after we get back, and naturally hasn't had a lot of time to prepare this month. So I offered to go over to the house Sunday and clean out Dad's dresser, medicine cabinet, and his half of the closet. It was a fairly cathartic experience at first; I was talking to him as I was folding clothes and putting them into boxes, and that made for some good cries. I'm very glad I did it though, for me and for Mom; it appears that Cyril and Mom are having a harder time with the grief because they're living in that house surrounded by memories. Only problem was I overexerted myself; I'm learning how my body's reacting to the new water pill the doc put me on, and boy, did it shred me physically that evening and Monday. I didn't do much more than nap and knit besides that this weekend, but Les was pretty adamant that I do just that, and I snuck in a little cleaning late Monday night, so I'm ok with it too. >:)

Point of clarification: it's not that I don't think I need counseling; it's that I can't even think about trying to schedule it until I get back from CT. One thing at a time. We leave Thursday night from Orlando and will be there til Monday. Meara's stuck at work til at least midday on Thursday, so we're taking off and landing there instead of Jax. The memorial and interment are Saturday, followed by a get-together at my Uncle Dan's. Friday, we're visiting Warren, the town that meant the most to us up there, where I lived from age 11 to 15. It's going to be a good trip, in spite of the occasion, but I wish we could've afforded to bring Les too. I know there'll be times when it feels good that it's just immediate fam., but I also know I'm going to ache for him the whole time I'm gone.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Grief and PMS don't mix

Was in a really lousy place this morning...things improving slowly. Counseling more trouble than it's worth right now; doc gave me the info for Ten Brouck but they don't even do individual thing for me would be these 3-hour group sessions. NOT! So I called around to one or two places in my network but between the waiting lists, the insurance pre-approval, and the distance of their offices from my work, I just can't handle the concept right now. Never mind $15 a session for some guy to listen to me spout...I know I'm being obstinate, but I pulled half a dozen books out of the library yesterday on grief (and a particularly decent-looking one by Dr. Dyer) and I'm going to work through those first, as well as start the physical changes that need to occur.

That's the other bomb that was dropped on me yesterday, that I was just livid about...I went to the doc, my primary, to make sure I was doing right by my meds during this time and maybe see about counseling. I weaned off my lithium in the last month because I'm hoping to start on fertility meds soon with my OB-GYN, and were it not for this little issue of Dad dying, I'd be doing ok...I was feeling more energetic off the lithium, my mood swings weren't nuts, and more to the point, I'm able to separate the grief part of Melanie from the chemically imbalanced part of Melanie...I can tell that what I'm experiencing really is just grief and not me downsliding inordinately. And it wasn't like I cold-turkeyed the lithium; I finally know better than that. But when you've been on a med for 5+ years, you don't always clue into how it's going to affect your body when it leaves. So I get to the doc and discover my blood pressure's crept up to pre-hypertensive levels. What the hell? Plus, it was doing that 2 months ago when I went in for my foot pain, but do they bother to tell me then? I am completely freaked, and it, combined with Dad's death, is the wake-up call my body's been aching for. I'm going on Dr. Dean Ornish's diet to the best of my ability, exercising everyday somehow, and getting this goddamn weight off. This WILL not be my midlife crisis! I've got 60 more years in me easy, dammit!!

God, she pissed me off yesterday! Put me on a water pill to lower the BP and gave me 6 refills right outta the gate. I wasn't going to fill the Rx at all, but like a good girl I went online last night and read a bit about the work I've got cut out for me in the coming months to get back on track, and I relented a bit. I'm already drinking more water, 86ing all sodas, lowering my salt intake, and luckily I already own Eat More, Weigh Less and 150 Heart-Healthy Recipes by Dr. Ornish, so it's enough for a really good start. Problem is, our fridge and cabinets ain't exactly heart-healthy and we're low on dough as usual, so it's going to require some creative meals and food snitching from Mom I think, in the early weeks here.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

The gallows humor creeps in...

So apparently they don't seal Dad's box (with his ashes) when they give it to I'm thinking before we head up to CT, we rig a little playback unit to the lid...anybody cracks him open and hears:
"This is what happens when you lay out in the sun..."
"Hey, turn out the light!"
"Please don't sneeze!"
"Yeah, well, let's see what you look like after a trip through an oven..."
"You should've seen the other vampire..."

I really shouldn't be allowed around people until this gets less raw. I swear I can see myself talking to the box as we're going through security at the airport..."Yes, I know I should've left the knitting needles at home, but it's either sticks and string or I remain under the influence of recreational substances for the duration of the trip...your choice, fella!"

Monday, May 21, 2007

Life goes on...

I'm back at work. Got a question though...just exactly how am I supposed to perform as a contributing member of society when it feels as though someone sliced up my heart with dull razor blades and dunked it in a vat of iodine? And then lit it on fire? And then scooped out my insides and left this big gaping hole?

Just curious...

There's a physical twinge in my belly from the ache. I'm moving in slo-mo again, and I'm still exhausted. I walked around my building on my morning break, and it was plenty; I can't wait to go home and nap.

Took pleasure in how pretty the weather was and how everything's in bloom; there's the most pristine leaves on the trees. Grabbed a burger at lunch and enjoyed its flavor, made a point not to wolf it down or read or knit; who needs those distractions during a meal? Besides it's supposed to keep you from overeating, that level of cognizance. Didn't keep me from eating a sleepy amount of fries today, but everything in baby steps...

Started Jaywalker sock over (had to decrease, because I'm using 3s instead of 1s) and the new Kingsolver book. Lace projects are absolutely getting tucked away until further notice; I have the attention span of a hummingbird on downers and would screw it up faster than you can say, oh shit, is that a run?!

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Timothy Michael Lyons

Tim was born on June 10, 1939, the third of four boys to Mildred Grace and Cornelius Joseph Lyons in Norwalk, CT. His childhood was interspersed with a strong work ethic at an early age, as all four boys found jobs in some capacity in the family restaurant, The Lyons Pier, in Norwalk, as they were growing up. Later, when his brothers Dan and Neil opened their first Mobil gas station together, Tim started work there tinkering with cars. He was very proud to have taken apart the engine of a '56 Chevy piece by piece and put her back together in working fashion. His father eventually sold the restaurant and went to work in the pulp and paper industry, the field in which Tim would also make his career.

He graduated high school in '57, did an extra year at a college prep school (Watkinson in Hartford, CT), and then tried his hand at college at Norwalk Technical Community College and WestConn in Danbury, but he was more of a hands-on smart than book smart, so decent grades eluded him. In 1963, he joined the Army and served at Fort Dix (NJ), Fort Devens (MA), and Herzo Base (Herzogenaurach, Germany). He came home after his three-year stint and began working, first for NASH and then for Clark & Vicario, in the pulp and paper industry as a sales engineer. He also began courting a sister of his buddy Moe's: Virginia Lane. They were married on January 21, 1967.

A daughter was born in September of 1969, a son in December of 1972. Tim worked out of the house and traveled frequently, while Virginia worked as his secretary and a stay-at-home mom. They had homes in South Norwalk, Norwalk, New Milford, and Warren, CT from '67 to '84, when Tim decided he'd had enough of traveling and wanted a change.

Changes had also been occurring prior to '84. On June 5, 1982, Tim was heading down to New Milford from Warren to run errands with his daughter, when he pulled over to the side of the road and had a seizure. After driving a little further, an ambulance was summoned and he was transported to New Milford Hospital, where they diagnosed him with some type of heart aneurysm and whisked him off to Yale-New Haven. It was actually a dissection of the ascending aorta, which even today has about a 90% mortality rate. The fact that the symptoms hit around noon Saturday and they weren't cutting into him until early Sunday morning is a testament to something miraculous. That was a long hard summer of recovery, but recover he did, and Meara, a third child was born in October of 1983.

The family moved to North Carolina for a year, then to Florida. Tim thrived in the easier lifestyle, tending to the lawn on the weekends, doing things around the house. But as he got older, it became apparent that his health was a tenuous proposition. His doctors, when repairing his heart, had stitched something a little too close, which when coupled with years of poor diet, smoking, etc., had caused a blockage in his carotid artery. This meant less oxygen-rich blood making it to his brain, which caused TIAs (transcient ischemic attacks, or mini-strokes), eye migraines, and blood pressure issues. His doctors in Florida were afraid to operate to repair anything though, because of the danger of losing him on the table.

Tim was a very unique man, held people at arm's length, all people, so when his love snuck out, it hit you like a truck, because he wasn't an emotionally demonstrative guy. He was quite funny, had a great sense of humor, but was also uptight, rigid, anal, with some OCD mixed in (is that redundant?), so we walked on eggshells quite a bit. He was a political conservative, a lapsed Catholic but a devout Christian, and a fiercely intelligent debater. He enjoyed music with a melody, was proud and patriotic. He gave out hugs and kisses with only a shade less awkwardness as he got older, but balked outright if someone bought him a gift for a holiday.

And yet you take life for granted, every day, so that when you're faced with someone pivotal to your existence no longer being there, it's so inconceivable a notion that you can't even cry or scream. We had been told in the later years, that he would likely go quickly, by a stroke, and we told ourselves that to try and prepare. It was a joke, trying to prepare. We weren't preparing for anything. I'm grateful everyday for the time we had communicating with him the day before he passed, but the gutteral, gasping, gaping loss I experienced when he did still leaves me stunned, numb, and aching. I know I should be thanking the Goddess that he's no longer tired, no longer in pain, but I'm obviously going to need a bit more time on that one.

As I write this, we still don't have a straight answer on what exactly took his life. But his legacy lives on strongly in we three kids, no matter how badly we may be hurting now. Cyril's life path today is a testament to Dad's love, his inability to give up on his son. Meara's always been our golden child, brightest in emotion and intelligence, and you can already see how this experience is changing her, making her more of her own woman. Mom is a tough read; it was a marriage based on love, but it was also painfully one-sided at times and deeply oppressive. You couldn't win an argument, a discussion, or a chat with Dad, so we became yes-men when it was easier than crossing him. Not the most honest life, but less roughness around the edges. She's already purging tiny parts of the house in these short bursts of energy. I told her I was only taking things off her hands with the understanding that if she calls me at 3 a.m. wanting something back, there'd be no questions asked.

Starting to ache, so closing this off...we all go back to work tomorrow, which completely sucks, most of all for Meara, who has to drive back to Orlando to her job at Universal. I'll be praying hard to the Goddess tonight for the strength to do what needs to be done to give us a decent next paycheck. We just got Internet back too, so Les has started looking for work. It's time to stop taking life for granted, time to start doing right by ourselves.

Friday, May 18, 2007


I'm ok.

Still can't imagine going to work Monday.

The docs threw words like septicemia and blood poisoning at us too, which just further underlines that they don't know what killed him yet. I'm holding onto the pneumonia explanation for now, because the alternatives would sending me out of my f*ing gourd. Denial has its perks.

Meara's a dream. She's helping Mom organize her finances by computer.

My recitation from the Book of Revelations was straight Dale Carnegie; I know Dad would've been proud. I had something written for the reception, but the mood had turned light, so I didn't read it. May still do it at CT in 2 weeks.

Cyril's eulogy was a thing of beauty, grateful, loving. Nothing written down either, so I was really impressed, because he didn't ramble like he has a tendency to. My cup runneth over as I listened; I bawled like a baby.

I'm not ok, who the hell am I kidding? I'm quieter still, and I feel older, but the crying is abating. Life is resuming a rhythm, which is infuriating, and will only feel worse next week when I'm back trapped in my cube, but it can't be helped. How I get paid for this past week will be, in part, dependent on how well I perform this coming week. Not exactly fair, but I have to make the best of it.

The good news is we'll have fresh phone, Internet, and cable installed on Sunday, so Les will be able to look for work much easier now.

His birthday's tomorrow. It'll be nice to shower him with love and devote my attention to someone besides myself and my immediate fam.

Still tired a lot, but hoping to start walking once life gets feeling even more normal...figure it'll keep the white coats away. Also starting a journal, maybe to Papa. Christ, when I remember what's happened, I actually breathe's not like hyperventilating or like my wind's knocked out, just heavier. It's absolutely f*ing inconceivable to me that he's not on a trip and due home soon. F*ck that he was living on borrowed time, a walking time bomb. He was only 67! I feel like I have to get healthy NOW because I share too many of his genes. I want to visit a palmistry expert because he and I have the same hands, with the same broken heart line. I can't think about how Meara's been shorted in this, having less time with him than Cyril and I, because that sends me from denial to anger and I'm not ready to get out of denial yet.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Rest in Peace, Tim

I'll write an actual obit soon. The one we did is nice, succinct. I just don't have the time right now.

My dad, Timothy Michael Lyons, passed away rather suddenly on Saturday, May 12, 2007 around noon, after an all-too-brief illness. The official word we're getting is a type of acute asymptomatic pneumonia precipitated his body shutting down. In other words, his lungs were 90% full of fluid and he didn't feel lousy until it knocked him on his ass Thursday night. They sedated and intibated (sp?) him, and thanks to the medications they had him on to attempt retardation of the apparent organ decompensations, his pupils were fixed and dialated so by early Friday morning, we had doctors telling us he was likely brain-dead. I'd really like to know if they bothered to scan his brain before telling us that, because the Irish in Dad showed itself right after that. They moved him to the Heart Hospital floor at Baptist, and my husband was kind enough to notice that it seemed like he was trying to open his eyes (which they had taped). The medical personnel implied that it could be a latent neurological response, like when coma victims cry, but we persisted and sure enough, he regained consciousness and displayed coherence. They had him on paralytics so it was a while before he could move, but when he did, we were able to communicate with him. He responded to our questions and statements with eye blinks, shoulder shrugs, and moving of his legs.

But his organs wouldn't bounce back and the edema progressed in his upper body, especially from them having to prop him head lower than body to precipitate blood flow to his major organs. His head and neck became heartbreakingly bloated. By Friday evening, he was getting more uncomfortable (from the organ failure), and he was slowing down; his heartbeat was irregular from the time he hit the ER and his blood pressure was too low and wouldn't stabilize. It was a long night of watching, waiting, staring at his monitors, and exuding love through our pores. We performed last rites on Friday night and took communion. We continued to talk to him, telling him how much we loved him, and as it got later, that it was ok to let go, that we'd be ok. They began to increase his morphine to combat his pain, and he stopped being responsive.

Saturday morning we ordered an EEG to assess his brain activity. It was what we expected, but we all needed to hear it; there was brain activity, but unfortunately, his body was not going to sustain life much longer and it would be a case of hours, not days. We'd already made the decision against life-saving measures like CPR or defibrillation, but we knew he wouldn't want to linger. We signed the paperwork to remove him from his medications (thankfully, they don't necessarily "pull the plug," because he'd be gasping for air as he passed). Everyone went to grab a breath of fresh air or a bathroom break before gathering in his room to say final goodbyes. Dad had other plans. My brother went into his room, kissed his forehead, said goodbye, and Dad flatlined on his own.

I've never experienced such pain. There's a chasm where my heart used to be. My feet are planted firmly in Kubler-Ross's first step of grief: denial. I'm a bit fascinated actually by how my brain can understand the reality of the situation, while at the same time revel in this place where it's blitheringly inconceivable to me that I'll never see him again in this life. The ache is scream-worthy, and I finally did some of that after the funeral conference at the church this morning. I pray it'll be a shade easier come Monday, because the idea of working in my cube at the office again fills me with an impatience that hasn't yet been calculated by modern measurement devices.

Pray for me and my family please in these next weeks. We will be transporting his ashes to Norwalk, CT, on June 1 for a memorial service and burial in the family plot at St. Johns Cemetery in Norwalk on June 2. It'll be good to see people, and I'll get my visit with Nanie that I obsess about, even on this blog. But that ache isn't going away anytime soon, and regular life is a trial. Thank you guys so much for your healing thoughts.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Windy Thursday

Ate lunch outside per usual and had a blast as my hair whipped around my face. Don't know if it's early Andrea or late cold front winds, but it's nice to not breathe smoke again.

The SSS is off its needles!!! Haven't tied up the loose ends yet...I've identified at least 4 spots that need a bit of cross-stitch to ensure their fortitude (marked them with open-ended stitch markers that I pray won't make the holes worse), which brings up another quandary: I forgot I'm out of blue yarn. So do I use the silver-grey, maybe add some extra spots where they're not necessary to create a random star effect, or do I indulge in the multi-colors a bit further by using the dark red Shadow that I also have? Probably the grey, but it's getting a night or two off, so we'll see.

Though I certainly don't need it, I'm hoping we hit the cake place again tonight at KB...wanna try Chocolate Silk next :)

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Where the heck's the week going?

It can't be Wednesday. No reason why. Just feels weird.

Husby was down with the Tuesday migraine, so I hunkered down with the SSS last night for about 3½ hours, and I'm more than halfway through the bind-off, I think. Hard to tell. Seems like more until you look at it, plus it dawned on me that I could safely do 2 stitches in 1 movement so long as I exercise a little grace, because KnitPicks Alpaca Cloud tangles if you pull it too quickly through the friggin' loops! Still, you get a rhythm going, plus I switched to a regular tapestry needle, rather than the one with the silly ball on the end. One thing that's nice is it's starting to look round, rather than like the world's largest snood.

Work went by fast yesterday, but it didn't feel like it in the thick of it, because I was working Custom sites for the first time in years. Custom sites are built in Dreamweaver 8 now, which is head-and-shoulders above any Dreamweaver I worked on in the past, so it's scary, interesting, and exciting to be working those types of sites again. I hope I get more time to play.

Last night and this morning I could feel myself coming down a bit from my post-lithium highs. Didn't want to get up this morning, let alone grab a shower, but thanks to my new haircut (not too drastic, just shaggier) I knew I'd feel better styling the mop with a fresh wash, so that rousted me up. Then when I was saying bye to Husby, my spirits buoyed even more, because I happen to be pretty squishy about what a cutie he is, so just looking into his face gave me such a lift. I leaned heavy on the carbs last night at dinner and the smoke was heavy in the air this morning, so I went into work headachy, but I've rolled up my sleeves at work and am feeling back to my new version of normal. It's rather heartening, I must say. So much depends on the simple effort of recognizing what I put into my body. If it takes making signs to put up all over the bedroom, I'm going to start reminding myself that healthy actually feels good. So friggin' simple.

P.S. Almost forgot...once a blue moon, my company comes through with a neat to TPC for Friday afternoon! Complete with parking pass so we don't have to shuttle from UNF. I didn't think Husby would give a shit, but he seems excited too, and we're not even huge golf fans. Even if it rains, I'm gonna have such a blast!

Friday, May 04, 2007

Seriously nice weather

What's come over me? Mind over matter? Lack o' lithium? Nah, more likely, can't beat 'em, join 'em...this mindset hit soon after realizing we weren't going to be able to move this year, that acknowledgement that comes with difficulty in life, the realization that being miserable is a personal choice. Whatever, others may find today a little blah, but I just want to be outside revelling in it. The humidity skyrocketed this morning, covering everything in a dense fog on the way to work, but when that fog burned off, it took quite a bit of the humidity back with it. The warmth we're experiencing is hazy, thanks to the blasted sadness that is wildfires in the area, but it's drier, so it doesn't hang on you with that wool-blanket feeling when you step outside. Oh, don't get me wrong, come July I'm sure the top thing in my mind will be, c'mon winter! But for now, it's delicious.

Jonesin' to get my hair cut again, tho'.....gonna have to feel Husby out on the subject. Last time I asked him about it, he let it slip point-blank that he didn't want me getting it cut, that he likes it much better long, and I ditched the idea immediately. How codependent is that?! It's my hair, for frick's sake! We both may look at it, but I'm the one stuck trying to style it, and then giving up and ponytailing it usually, or playing with it in attempts to get it off my face, which only make me look half my age or worse, silly, because I'm a late 30-something with all these barrettes and braids on my head. And I'm completely secure in his love for me, in spite of the fact that I'm as big as a house. Yeah, yeah, I know, what's that got to do with anything? So what makes me unable to push past his feelings on this ridiculously trivial issue? Did I mention it's my friggin' hair?

Delicious Friday! I have the Arthritis walk tomorrow, then relax time with maybe an excursion to the Fernandina Shrimp Fest this weekend if we can conjure the energy to go where there are people. Yarn in my stash and a song in my heart! Ok, I'm embarassing myself. Have a great weekend, gang!

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Getting to know me again

The ole lithium has to be hitting below therapeutic levels by now, and I'm still ok. There's a little more energy in my arms and isn't nervous energy exactly but it feels like it. My legs jiggle under my desk more and my hands and arms feel ready to fly when I'm stuck waiting on my computer. I'm probably talking faster. But being cognizant of these little changes really seems to be helping me this time around. I'm sure that part of it is the fact that usually when I decrease my lithium, I'm also dicking around with my Paxil (because I'm a born idiot when it comes to self-medicating), but since this time the Paxil's staying put for now, there's a shade less symptoms, and gone is the fear that I'm somehow going to regress back to Fort Myers Melanie or something (which isn't even possible, because Fort Myers Melanie was on entirely different drugs that were doing her absolutely no good and actually quite a bit of harm). I'm sleeping better too...pulled a stroke of intelligence last night and stopped grazing a good 2 to 3 hours before bedtime, and I know that helped a bunch, so I think I'm gonna have to make some signs for around the house or something to keep that mindset in check...something like: "Is it past 9 p.m.? Then stop eating, dumbass!" Too negative?

My brain dulls out a little easier too...this just means that it's a shade easier to sit on my ass staring at the idiot box when I could be reading, knitting, exercising, etc., which is ironic since I have this extra energy at present. So it's a motivation thing, and again, I'm going to work on recognizing it and doing something about it. Like tonight, I need to do a load of laundry and we're planning a labor-intensive dinner, but I'm not going to let that stop me from trying out some more stuff on the Bean. Baby steps.

SSS is trucking along; I'm going to do 3 more rows and then bind it off. Gotta do a careful read of the bind-off they have in the book, because I'm guessing a regular bind-off would prove far too stretchy, would shred any hope of that shawl holding its blocking, so I'm going to have to suck it up and learn a new skill.

I bought a basil plant last weekend because I needed fresh and couldn't see paying $1.99 for the cut stuff when it was the same price for the whole plant. We've got it in a place where the cats can't get to it for now, but I'm going to transplant it this weekend, trim it and see about rigging something so that I can dry the leaves on a regular basis. We acquired a pepper plant (named Steve) from friends last weekend too, and miraculously the cats aren't bugging him either, though he's in a more accessible place.

The whole porch needs attention this weekend, and the Arthritis walk is early Saturday. Hope this weather holds, though like everyone here, we're praying for rain. The retention ponds are drying up again, and this has to be the worst wildfire season in years. Was tasting the smoke again on the way to work this morning. If I ever get around to doing ritual for Beltaine this week, there's gonna be a prayer in there for the Earth.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Work? What work?

First, a public service announcement: any knitting screw-ups by the author, which occur over the next 2 weeks, will be attributed to lithium deficiency, regardless of extenuating circumstances. Any attempts to sway said tenet will be met with vehement opposition, sharp objects, the conjuring of Kali, etc.

I can tell that if I keep on with the alternative border on the SSS, that the above could definitely occur, and since ripping out the grey the first time nearly did in the shawl, I'm stopping this YO nonsense before I start hating what I've done, and finishing it off with a row or three of garter. I'm only on row 5 of what's supposed to be a 15-row edge, but I just don't trust my skill in lining up the YOs to look right, so better safe than sorry. One thing's for sure, I should probably finish a couple of my easier UFOs after this, rather than jump right into more lace (for the sake of Husby and those around me).

Blog trolling definitely brings on the "not enough yarn or time on the planet" blues. I swear I'm going to give myself a moratorium on casting new projects until at least the SSS and the FnF scarf are done. Plus some work on mr. sock's mate, and a shit-or-get-off-the-pot decision on the green hat (interest waning, will probably frog or bury in the bottom of a bag for revisit closer to hat weather). Because there's some excellent patterns and ideas out there in the ether, when you know where to look. This month's MagKnits (link at left) has a hat that presents a pretty Celtic cross-esque pattern. Found a guy with a hilarious Cafe Press shop - Panopticon. And KnitWitz here in town is starting a washcloth knitalong that's way more in my price range than the STR club. Also living vicariously through ever green knits, as she recently traipsed across Nepal in search of relaxation and yak yarn, and hoping to scope the Beltaine issue of Anticraft today, but alas, just found out I get to train the boss's soninlaw in QCing later (ACK!), so gotta get to lunch now :(