Snap. Crackle. Pop.

So in spite of my incessant whining about my broken bits, I've managed to complete a project.

Holidazed Socks:

And made decent progress on the nacent Leyburn Socks:

About those broken bits: The snap portion of the title owes to the fact that apparently when I took my fall I snapped my jaw shut forcefully enough to crack one of the veneers on my front teeth. I broke it several days later when I nibbled on a cough drop in a vain attempt to avoid coughing. This occurred on my journey north to the Tanforan Mall location of Fredrick's of Hollywood in my search for a corset – I pretty much sobbed on my way back home, thinking how much my life sucked – then super-glued the broken veneer back together and hopped back into my Jeep.

Ugh - how pathetic is that – Fredrick's of Hollywood!

I still didn't find a corset. Well, a corset was found. Then I discovered the truly abhorrent sight of back fat. Those oh-so-unappealing rolls of flesh from all that chocolate I now so deeply regret. Somehow I didn't think any shirt/blouse/sweater/tee-shirt I owned would be capable of covering that… abundance.

The crackle portion is evidently due to my failure to keep up with my asthma meds. Lying down, my chest sounds like cellophane being crushed. Resolved to keep up on the Advair… no matter how nasty it tastes.

Pop. Well this is the unpleasant part. Tired of looking at the boxes of Christmas decorations I bent to pick up a really small, light box. Stabbing pain… ready to call 911, certain I'd punctured a lung or was having a heart attack. After a minute or so I felt fine, but then realized that certain positions or motions caused a very painful popping sensation in my chest – specifically under my arm, where the broken rib was.

Another visit to the doctor, another set of X-Rays revealed that the broken rib is now slipping out of place - thus the popping sensation. My brand newly assigned doctor (beloved Dr.H. is on sabbatical) suggests that I try to bind my ribs or use a corset. So I off to Fredrick's I go… then the tooth fiasco…

I'm not saying this for sympathy points – at the point of the broken tooth I was pretty much hysterical with the "why me!!!" attitude – but in retrospect it was pretty funny. At the time I'd no idea that the fall and the broken veneer were related; my regular dentist mentioned it only because he'd had patients successfully collect from their homeowners insurance due to falls.

The whole dentist visit was pretty surreal. I didn't get to see my regular dentist, owing to the short notice/emergency nature, so was assigned to his partner, Dr. A. I couldn't help but notice his resemblance to a very young Christopher Heyerdahl who plays Druitt on Sanctuary – and had to figuratively bite my tongue (since it was quite numb) when I discovered his assistant was also a big SciFi fan. A mumbled conversation ensued about the upcoming BSG shows; poor Dr. A. looked baffled…

Good times. Remind me to laugh next month when it won't hurt so much!

Dopey, Droopy & Prophylactic Measures

So this is me on Vicodin and without the appropriate foundation garments. The vicodin keeps me relatively pain-free but pretty dopey. I've given up on bras, both the u-g-l-y sports version and the lets-pretend-I'm-still-perky underwires. Both undergarments hurt like hell, so I've lapsed back to the cute camisoles I wished I'd worn when I was ten (but my mother thought were absurd - yet another childhood scar to recover from!). Thus the droopy part of the title. You don't get to my age after breast feeding two kids and get to look even remotely perky...

Anyhow, this is supposed to be a knitting blog, so I present to you: Knitting. Including the gory disasters!

It finally got what we California hothouse flowers refer to as cold so I dug around in my abandoned WIPs for the cute project I started during our last "winter". They are supposed to look like this:

Unfortunately when I pulled out my soon to be snuggly boots I noticed a small problem. Actually a couple of small problems:
Yep. Moths. Including a casing (eewww!) on one of the unwound skeins. The project was isolated, so I'm hoping the damage has been limited to this one project. Said project has been through the baking process and sealed tight since then. Even though my feet are freezing I haven't been able to pick this one back up yet... so instead
I spent tonight stuffing little organza bags full of cedar shavings
(aka hamster litter) to add to all of my wool storage boxes. Cute, huh?


In spite of my beyond ludicrous work hours I did in fact get a wee bit of knitting done:
Waving Lace Socks in Mmmmmalabrigo sock yarn (the sample given out at Stitches West 2008). Yum… My favorite pair of socks yet. Light, warm, and totally wonderful. Would I recommend this yarn? Abso-fracking-lutely. Buy some. Buy lots – and I’ll share the lust vicariously with you.

I’ve been creeping slowly towards finishing my Central Park Hoody(less) - less because I don’t want a hood, so plan on finishing it with more of a funnel neck collar. And a zipper, which means letting go of my inner control freak and allowing a tailor to sew in the actual zipper. (This picture is oddly washed out - the actual color is charcoal black with white and brown specks - very pretty).

I finished my Gumdrop Socks (from the BMFA sock club.) Happy project.
The socks are, however, too thick to wear with most all of my shoes. This does not in any way reduce my love for them in the slightest.

Whilst under the influence of the lovely Vicodin I cast on (successfully) and completed (successfully) the Noro Striped Scarf. This was a big deal, what with the counting to 39 and 1x1 ribbing and all.


Now that I’m habituated (for better or worse) to the lovely Vicodin I’ve returned to my Holidazed socks (gotta love that pattern name, given the circumstances), another BMFA club color. I initially had these knit up to the heel flaps in a size medium – but realized that (in spite of my instincts screaming at me) that they were too small and too tight for my freakishly high instep and double-wide duck feet, so I tore them down & with humility cast on a size large. I think that is probably my comfort ticket – size large in circumference, but medium for length. I do seriously love the colorway – “Muddy Autumn Rainbow”. I have a pair of Dansko shoes at the cobbler (being stretched, of course) that will look spectacular with these socks. I hope.

I finally lucked out with the elusive Wollmeise Yarn. Behold:
Suzanne Medium, Suzanne Dark, and Baba Jaga Dark. I do be in love.

I also placed my first order with Woolgirl - I actually took multiple pictures of my order because it was so incredibly packaged - not to mention that the yarn was splendid (but these photos were lost when my old camera was borrowed by my daughter, then stolen from the swim center locker room). I've never seen such care in a mail order and cannot recommend Woolgirl enough. Unfortunately part of my order was out of stock - but I'm oddly happy about it because I so look forward to receiving another pretty package!

Out of the rabbit hole.

Climbing my way back, with minor injuries and major work impediments. Apologies for the absurd delay. So about that Grand Canyon trip: If you should ever have the opportunity to do this – do it. Just go. This is a rare and unique opportunity to see the canyon in a way that so completely surpasses the park-your-car and hike to an overlook, or ride-a-mule-to-the-bottom adventure that I cannot find the words.

Do It.

It was beyond wonderful. Challenging, hot, freezing, dirty, and soooooo totally worth it. We arrived one day after some massive and horrible flash floods. The day we cast off our primary guide was very concerned about a dozen people who were reported lost – the raft(s) that they had been on were found many miles downriver from their last known location. The river was very high, running fast and deep, the color of a caramel latte, and soon looked more like a chocolate milkshake. We cast off, thirteen strangers, into the most remarkable adventure. Well, six of us knew one another - but the others were new, different and totally wonderful. This is the “before” picture – look how clean we are!

From left to right are Dave and Sally B, Me, DH in the yellow shirt in back, and Rhonda and Ron in the front. Our raft is behind – notice the generous pontoons (I later heard these rafts called Bologna boats!) Less than an hour later we were inundated by a thunderstorm – we sat in the boat in our wet gear looking liking the most pathetic bunch of drowned rats as we drifted downriver. The rain was warm but the river water was ffffrreeezzzinggg. At one point someone said Oh my god, look at that – and we turned to look upriver at a solid curtain of rain descending upon us. Amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it. After what seemed like hours alternating between baking and shivering we rounded a bend in the river and moored at a huge cavern carved out by the river
(and queue music sung by angels ~~~ aaaHHHaaah~~~) – and pulled out to a warm sandy overhang the size of two football fields, where the guides and two of the teenage boys played Frisbee, and the rest of us tried to get acquainted with each other and with our frozen appendages. Along for our journey were Jeff, Donna, their son Bryan, and Donna’s sister Sandra, from Connecticut and a grandfather/father/son trio: Verlan, his son Clark, and grandson Josh. Verlan was the most amazing person - every night he'd stand up with a poem or story, some funny, and some very poignant , and all very much looked forward to and throughly enjoyed.

Hilariously, Donna later admitted to me that when she’d heard that a bunch of Californians were coming along she was certain we’d all look like something out of "The Real Housewives Of Orange County” Har!
Poor thing ended up stuck with the Real Nerds Of The Silicon Valley.

Oh Theresa – that little pink bag you see inside the dry sack on top of the central storage section – that’s your HUGe gift from last year, containing one slightly damp pair of malabrigo socks. I did try knitting, really I did, and since we were limited to 25 pounds of gear total, socks seemed to be the perfect project. Unfortunately most all of the knitting happened on the plane ride – the necessities of setup/meals/cleanup in camp life left no time at all until after dark, at which time my handy-dandy ear light reverted to a handy-dandy bug attractant. That kind of took the fun out of knitting, really.



Our guides were Steven, Marty, and Mike. Steven is evidently one of the top river guides (which we found out later) – he had a near encyclopedic knowledge of the river and its history - Mike was the new trainee (impossibly quiet and adorable), and Marty the self proclaimed “color guy”. Steven (in back with the yellow life vest, Marty front right, Mike peeking out from back left. Marty was flat out hilarious. The kind guy with a dozen funny stories available at the drop of a hat; the kind of guy to whom you'd say “if you’re ever in town…” – and he’d show up. And you’d love him for it.

Steve seemed to have a story for every riffle and rapid on the river. Usually a grim story about what person(s) died at that particular section, which was a source of endless amusement for the two teen boys. But man, did he know the river – exactly how to approach each wicked rapid, work through (or past) every treacherous hole, and avoid the huge rocks lying under the surface of seeming innocent looking riffles.

I’m not fit to describe the sites. I can show a few pictures and throw out a few fancy words that contain phrases like sedimentation layers and “vishnu schist” (a substance that is a like a billion words old and which every single female on the boat swore would make the best ever countertop).

<<<--Sitting on the shist.


So many amazing things happened, like seeing the nautiloid fossils that measured the length of my forearm – and only came to view when Steven splashed water from a puddle over the sandstone... look close, it's there >>>



(Look here for better pictures of nautiloid fossils)










And then there was fact the fact that I scaled a rock wall three times my height to see the those fossils. Have I mentioned my fear of heights?

Watching Verlan (70+years old) sail past a the gasping/panting Donna and myself as we slogged up a canyon to the most beautiful waterfall and cavern.

Funniest event: Ron betting Rhonda a fancy piece of jewelry if she’d jump off a waterfall ledge. (This is my husband Bob in the picture, not Rhonda, BTW)

I’ve never seen any woman rip off a hat and sunglasses so fast… mind you, Rhonda can’t really swim. Dog paddle, yes… barely. I’m afraid of heights & couldn’t get the nerve to shimmy through the rock chimney to get to that ledge – but Rhonda, bless her heart - did it. And wore the diamond bracelet to her daughter’s wedding a month later. Ron had made the jump earlier and had forgotten to leave behind his waterproof video camera. Remarkably, Brian dove down and found it, still recording.

We went through some amazing rapids: Lava, which is legendary,

and Specter – which we renamed Sphincter - after riding through a hole that had us staring up at a wall of water a good twelve feet overhead.

After one of our day hikes I’d kind of torn my knee up coming down this wall (surprise!), so spent the day in the back of the boat where I could sit through the rough stuff – most everyone else had to be “down and in” – meaning crouched between the center storage and the pontoon, hanging on for dear life on the pontoon tie-down straps and my knee wasn’t in any state for crouching – so I got the full view as we plunged through the Lava rapids and hurled towards what Donna and I referred to later as the Wall O’Doom. We missed it by a comfortable eight or so inches. I later overheard our guide remark that he’d swum that rapid (meaning overturned and dumped!) more than he’d gone through dry... Oy. I can’t even imagine it. Prior to riding in the Cleopatra spot I rode most of the rapids on the pontoons, usually astride kind of like riding a horse – but the pontoon buckles were the
source of some truly epic bruises -
Donna-> and Me ->

I could go on for days about the trip – and if I have the energy I’ll fill in a few more details later. For anyone who is considering a trip down the river, do not hesitate - DO IT. If you're interested there are a few more pictures on my Flickr account and both Bryan and Sally set up additional photo albums as well. Sally's album shows Verlan's final evening story - the classic Casey At Bat, with his grandson Josh playing the part of the "hands" during the story. It was too funny, and I'll treasure that memory forever. Made all the more impressive that Verlan knew this (and so many more) stories by heart.

Small tidbits: Microfiber: Good, because it dries fast (the water is bitter cold). Cotton tank tops: guaranteed misery (the water is bitter cold and the irony of shivering when it is 98 degrees out is, ummm… not so funny).

White underwear – forget it. Everything white ends up stained brown. (Because of the water, not The Groover).
This is The Groover. You don't want to know anything else. Really.

Hats are a woman’s best friend, barring regular bathing where shampoo is involved.

A pair of kayaking gloves would be really fine idea and would have spared me a few blisters.

A complete change of clothing can be accomplished in the company of a dozen strangers with a strategically wrapped sheet.

A tube of Aquaphor can make you the most popular person on a trip down a very alkaline river, though Marty had yet another use for vinegar - a teaspoon rubbed over your hands would do wonders to soften them. You smelled like a pickle, but at least your hands felt good.

There are not as may scorpions as you might think, but a cot is definitely better than on the ground.

It is probably really bad karma to giggle at the incoming rafters with the freshly styled hair, immaculate manicures and spotless Keen water shoes and my payback was swift and sure (but standing there at Whitmore Wash waiting for the helicopter that would take us all back to civilization while the new rafters sort of sniffed at us… priceless).
<<--My formerly red sandals - see the sand sluicing out of them? It took three trips through the washing machine to get the sand out. The payback: putting away our camp gear under the house, I slipped and fell hard on my fanny, breaking my tailbone and then dragging around one of those mortifying blow-up rings to sit on for a couple of weeks.

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Upon returning from vacation, my work went from nuts to total insanity, so no blogging. Or knitting. Newspapers piled up for a week before I'd toss them because I didn't have time to read them. Not much sleeping either. My cats didn't recognize me. Nor did my kids or husband. I think I did more all-nighters in that six weeks than I did in my entire college career! I probably smelled bad. And in the month of November I had over 280 billable hours - for just the one major client. The other little ones had a piece of my flesh too... But however much I might bitch about it, I'm still deeply grateful to have work when so many others are struggling. I've been through some mighty lean times in the past... given the choice I'll take the insane hours every time.

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Other random items: One of my most favorite places ever - my LYS - closed this month, victim of the rotten economy. I know it wasn't an easy decision for the owner to make, and it was heartbreaking for all of us who worked there. The small upside was in taking advantage for the last time my employee discount and buying absurd amounts of yarn to stash away. I'm so far past SABLE* status I'll need to clone myself quite soon just to justify the yarn purchases.

*Stash Acquisition Beyond Life Expectancy

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Apologies for the overly long and sort of rambling post - I blame the drugs.

You know the story about the guy who finds a genie in a bottle and is granted three wishes, but each wish has some ugly twist to it? After the last two months I'd been wishing for a couple of days off, where I could just sit and knit and catch up a bit on of my shows that have been cluttering up the DVR.

Wish Granted!

My parting shot for the year was to fall off a ladder have a ladder self destruct under my feet in a daft attempt to reach for a box of Christmas items stored in a highly inaccessible place in the basement (thanks to DH who is having to re-arrange and shuffle basement items so as to work on various bits of our sort-of remodel) - the net result was yet another nasty fall. A new stupendous set of bruises and broken ribs just to ice the cake, so to speak. Vicodin is currently my best friend! And I'm taking a few days off, but it sort of hurts to sit. And thanks to the lovely Vicodin I seem to have lost the ability to count to 39 and cast on a simple K1-P1 ribbed scarf. (sigh).

I've discovered that Macy's does not stock corsets - that'd really help with the whole breathing and coughing thing right now. I'm pretty sure that the sales clerk thought I was certifiable though, so it was worth asking about just to see the look on her face. I settled for some u-g-l-y sports bras.

Perhaps in the next week or so (assuming I can stay concious long enough) I'll post some actual knitting content! Right now though, I'm having trouble just staying awake enough to read my email. Seriously. DH found me face first on my desk earlier this afternoon. It goes without saying that it was some pretty dull email.

Meanwhile - I hope everyone has had a safe and happy holiday with my best wishes for an excellent new year.