Since becoming in-valid…. I am really excited by every little thing that I can get done. No dishes yet, but I can stack the dishwasher!
Picture taken using Photo Booth on my new macbook. There has to be some advantages to working in a mac shop!
Yes, though I should be shopping for furniture so I can continue to organise the craft room, or washing clothes and linen, or doing dishes, or going to SSK, I am pottering around with the lights that Mark bought me as an anniversary present, photographing small furry people, and generally enjoying a day off with no commitments.
Photos of Blueberry and Custard to come.
Friday night was a haze of back pain and liquer muscat – not an inspiring start to the weekend, but unfortunately more frequent recently than it has been in past months. It sems like the last few weeks I’ve been doing more heavy lifting than I should, and the result is back pain so bad that I can barely sit on the train for 45 minutes without being in agony by the time the train pulls into Denistone station.
Saturday morning dawned with the promise of cleaners, so without the support of my usual morning caffeine injection, we did a quick tidy up so that the cleaners could find surfaces to clean. While they did their magic, I popped over to Mum & Dad’s to borrow Nanna’s spinning wheel for an afternoon of fibre fun with Emma, Andrew, and Christophe.
Despite much praise of my spinning ability, the resulting plied skein was a pile of crap. Emma assures me that I can re-ply it and it may come good. Or I could separate the plies and start again. No chance of that!
Saturday night I took to my bed again, watched Dr Who, and got an early night. Sunday morning, we got a little more housework done, and then Paula and Martin brought Rainbow to live with us. Rainbow is a “broiler”, a chicken bred for the meat market, and on her way to the slaughterhouse when she fell from a truck onto the side of Pennant Hills Road. Luckily for her, she was spotted by Paula on her way to work, and now will hopefully live out her short life with as much dignity and comfort as we can provide.
Broilers are bred selectively for massive weight gain in a short period of time. They are typically slaughtered within a few months of hatching, and their short lives are marked by the pain of massive muscle growth on skeletons that are unable to support them. Rainbow sat for two days before she was able to stand up, and it was another few days before she was able to take a step. She had likely never seen sunlight before she was loaded on to the truck, and hadn’t had enough space to stretch her wings.
A study, published in the Veterinary Record shows that broiler chickens, crippled and in pain, will actively choose a feed with painkillers, over a feed without pain relief, if given the choice.
After settling Rainbow in her new home, and having a lovely chat with her rescuers, I headed off to the pub to get my knit on. What a lovely group we have! It did seem to be “Pick on Emma Day”, so I hope here sense of humour remains intact, but we had a lively discussion, and Kelly was brave enough to try Continental knitting for the first time.
All in all, a satisfying weekend. We got housework done, made some new friends, and had a lovely knit and spin.
Last year, when I was beginning to recover from my ruptured disk, and was feeling, in general, rather sorry for myself, I received a phone call informing me that Hamish had fallen over and broken his spine. Crushed it. Really high up. Any higher and he’d be on a respirator till the end of his days. Or possibly even ending his days.
Hamish has always been a bit of a dare devil, a risk taker. If someone had called to tell me that Hamish had an accident bungee jumping off a motorcycle that was jumping over a burning pit, I wouldn’t have been too surprised. But he was playing cricket in the front yard with his son after picking him up from school. And he’ll never walk again.
Nothing like a story like that to kick you out of a self pity jag.
That was November. In that time I’ve been to see him about 4 times, and I feel like a completely shite friend. Utterly selfish and crap. The optimist in me knows that my life has been no picnic (for reasons that don’t get discussed much on the blog), but the rest of me feels that i have let Hamish down, that I should have been there for him and Heather more. I can tell myself that it’s ok, but I know that I am not OK with the sort of friend I have been, and it’s pointless to pretend.
A few months ago I knitted a moss stitch square of left over cotton from some baby hats, and gave it to him for a facial that Simone was going to do for him. Tonight he mentioned that the knitted washcloth was great for his skin (I figured that if he only has sensation in his head and shoulders, he might as well have a wash cloth that felt great). He even asked me to knit a few more. So I’ll do that. I may not always be there, but I can show my regard for him in a small way.
More washcloths coming up.
I was in court today, hopefully for the last time. After summarising the evidence against McMahon, which was chilling, and kept out of the papers, he commented that there was no contrition of a guilty plea, just repeated attempts to have the case thrown out on mental health grounds.
Ultimately, the judge made his decision based on two factors – that NSW law offers no protection to people who take drugs then claim that the drugs they took impaired their judgement, and that there was “community outrage”.
So maybe I made a difference. I choose to believe that.
Let’s hope he doesn’t appeal.
I’ve just cast on a gauge swatch for a beanie I am knitting for a work colleague who is leaving to move to Tasmania, to work on a house he has bought down there. Toby is a funny guy, with possibly the driest sense of humour I have ever come across, and we have had our clashes in the past, but I really like and respect him, and will miss having him around. Toby loves good craftsmanship, classic design, and things that are handmade.
So I thought it fitting to knit him a beanie to keep his head warm in the cold Tasmanian winter. I chose Naturally “Harmony” 8ply 100% merino, in a charcoal grey. It’s a low twist, with an almost felted feel, and it knits up to be an incredibly soft and wonderful fabric.
I bought this at Champion Textiles in Newtown, for $6.50 a skein. I can feel a Rogue Hoodie coming on. Though I would really prefer the zippered version that Kris did, but this is such a lovely fabric, the fact that the colour is lest than exciting doesn’t bother me.
Oh dear. Have I finally seen the merits of substance over style ?
Mark and I took our cameras to the Lillian Fraser Garden this afternoon to take pictures in the hope that we might end up with an image worth entering in the first photography competition. While I was unemployed, I volunteered at the garden, and it holds a special place in my heart.
Lillian Fraser was a scientist in a time when women were supposed to stay at home. My recollection of her exploits is sketchy, but I believe she became a bigwig at the Dept of Agriculture, and was a keen plant collector, traveling the world to bring back specimens to her garden in Pennant Hills, Sydney. On her death, the garden was bequeathed in perpetuity to the people of Hornsby Shire.
You can see the pictures we took here.
Please take a look, feedback is very welcome. 8 words per month…..
I had a difficult start to the week. Work has been pretty horrid, for reasons I can’t make public, and I came home on monday night (after finding that the Club Lard Auditors had made a 1kg mistake a few weeks ago – I am not doing as well as I thought), to find that Rhubarb and Grasshopper had escaped from the Palais du Bun, and gone on a rampage.
My birthday flowers had been eaten, the “cheer up” tulips from Mark had been knocked over, and the vase they were in ( a wedding present) aws in pieces on the floor. Bad Hare was desperate to try to get back home and pretend that it wasn’t him – Bad Bunny wanted dinner, and nipped me until he got it. I collapsed into bed, to find that it was somewhat damper, and more populated with bunny poo than I had left it in the morning. Yes, Rhubarb had paid a visit, and left a calling card.
I tried to remember that pooping on something that smells like me is a bunny compliment, and I shouldn’t be offended. But tuesday I was going back to court, for what I had hoped would be the final installment of the Brendan McMahon experience. Every trip to court has been confronting and awful, but I had been lead to believe that there was a very good chance that the 23rd would be the end of it, one way or another, and I felt a little more hopeful and positive. It may not be a great outcome, but it’s an outcome – and I can move on.
So on tuesday morning I met mum and the wonderful Jane outside the court, and we waited till 10.15 am for the court to become available.
The defence solicitor seemed pretty hopeless, the prosecution appeared much more competent and prepared. Unfortunately, the judge now has to make a judgemnt on an interpretaion of law. The defence wants McMahon to be considered insane – that he didn’t know what he was doing was wrong, but the state would prefer that the case was considered under section 11a of the crimes act. If you’re a law student, or a lawyer, and can point me at the relevant documents, I’d be grateful.
The long and the short of it – if the judge feels that the consideration of the “McNaughton Rule” (sp?) should come before section 11a of the crimes act, then the charges will be dismissed. Otherwise, there will be another court date for sentencing.
There is no appropriate punishment for this horiffic crime. I can only hope that once it is over, I can find a way to give the events of the past year some meaning.
And today, I learned that my dear friend Simone lost her cat Scooter overnight. He was eight years old, and healthy as can be until tuesday morning. He spent last night in an oxygen tent. He went into respiritory arrest and was revived 4 times, but they couldn’t save him. Please spare a thought for Simone, and her remaining cat, Maya, who doesn’t understand where her buddy has gone.
I’ve been feeling a little poorly for a few days, but this morning my sore throat felt like it was closing up entirely – and I woke up to a very bad asthma attack. My asthma has been bad since the weather has become colder, and I’ve been careful to take my preventer religiously, knowing that if I don’t, I could end up in hospital, or worse.
So today I’ve had a very quiet day. I’ve been feeling frustrated that I don’t get enough time for myself, for my knitting, photography, writing, gardening, and all the things that get forgotten in my busy life.
So with a day off, I was feeling miserable that I wasn’t able to use my time constructively. I did a load of washing, and put the dishwasher on, but between the painkillers, the sudafed, and the vast amounts of ventolin I had to take to keep breathing, I was about as jittery and scattered as a frog in a blender. Which, as you know, is strongly against my deeply held beliefs.
I finished the Surprise Jacket for little Lara on the weekend, and on monday I finished the Baby Fern Jumper. My dear friend Anna and her lovely husband are probably going through labour right now. On Saturday afternoon, she was 11 days overdue – and she was going to be induced today. I’ve got everything crossed, and am waiting with bated breath for an announcement.
Anna and I shared a house in the early nineties, and without going into too much detail, we shared some turbulent times. I am very happy that she is back in my life, and more than a little touched that she and Rob are considering naming their baby daughter Lara.
I knitted a fab blankie for them when I first learned they were having a baby. At that time, the baby was called “Boris Bump”. I am hoping to document the pattern properly, and perhaps even have the pattern published, so no pics yet. It’s pretty simple, but I think it’s the sort of thing I would have loved to knit as a newbie, so the Boris Blankie has to stay off the blog for now.
But I took pics of the Baby Fern Jumper today, and decided that it would be a good exercise to try to write up the pattern properly. Knitting things from a pattern is one thing, but writing up a pattern other people can follow is a skill I haven’t attempted until today.
So here it is, and here is a schematic. I’d love it if anyone actually wants to knit it, and if you do – and please send me any notes and corrections.
This past week has been very slow in knitting news, as I have decided to bite the bullet, and try to teach myself to knit right handed.
I first started knitting by holding the yarn in my right hand, and dropping the right hand needle to wrap the stitch, but for my first major project (The Go Everywhere, Wear with Everything Cardi from “Stitch ‘N Bitch”), I decided that my techniquie was far too inefficient for about 30 bajillion miles of stocking stitch (Note to American readers, what you call stockingette, we call stocking stitch).
So, armed with the instructions from “Stitch ‘n Bitch” , which are excellent, I taught myself to knit continental. And I forced myself to use the method for every bloody stitch of that god forsaken project. I love the cardi, but it is a challenging knit. Brain death occurs about 1 inch into the back piece, and then you realise you have two fronts, and two arms to do, and there is no way you can go back and frog because even that 1 inch has caused you so much pain.
So after THAT, I was pretty comfortable with continental, and have been happily speeding through my kniting and feeling (although not the fastest knitter in the world), that my knitting is not embarassingly slow, and that I have enough speed to be able to conquer a big project.
And then I saw Emma knitting the Fair Isle Sampler Hat from an old Interweave Knits magazine. And she was knititng with a strand in each hand, and I was in awe.
GIven that I am slightly left/right challenged in the first place, and that I had already pushed my boundaries to switch to continental, I really felt that that technique was not for me. But then I tried doing it another way, and quickly learned that only pain lies in that direction.
So I have pondered the problem for about 18 months, alternating between “I really should pull my finger out and try that” with “I don’t want to go backwards, look how far I’ve come”.
So this week I cast on another Umbillical Cord hat, and gritted my teeth, and decided to do it.
And I have discovered 2 things.
1) It’s very, very hard, but I can get about 1 stitch in 10 to slide off the needles with a proper flow, and if I am determined, I may get better with practice.
2) It’s much easier to knit in traffic with your gearstick hand free.
Mark got a phone call a few hours after the interview, offering him the job. Woo Hoo !
Though I can’t really imagine us living in Schofields, the idea of having the rural lifestyle is pretty appealing…..
Disco Knitter 
