I need to develop some discipline and better manage my time. Only two rows on the white Sitcom Chic since Monday, which is also the last time I exercised, not to mention a host of household tasks remain undone. So I'm cutting back on my online time, because it really is an addiction and a bad habit, and I need to get control over it now. It was a sanity saver when I was cooped up in the house doing caregiver duty, but now it's turning into a time eating monster, and leading to laziness and burned out lightbulbs that haven't been replaced and a dining room table covered in junk mail. Oh, and I haven't ironed, either. So for the next few weeks, at least, (until I develop discipline and better habits) I'm limiting my online time to checking email and maybe 3 blog updates a week - that way there may actually be some substantive content in the updates. Because this is becoming pathetic really damn fast.


Lots of commentary on the blog circuit lately about the politics of linking and why we blog, and that, in a strange way, contributed to my decision to cut back my online time, because I could see myself getting sucked in to worrying about these things, despite myself, if I don't set some rules for myself. It's easy to start taking this too seriously and start worrying about what other people (the cool people with the Important Blogs) think of your blog's content, and feel an urge to Try Harder, because maybe if you knit cooler stuff or post more pictures or whatever, your blog will be Important. Whatever the hell that means. I blog because I feel like it. I'll stop doing it when it stops being worth my time. Link it or don't. My links are haphazard, and I assume most other people's are too - I linked to a few blogs I read often, but there are others I read and like very much that I haven't gotten around to adding - it's not a list of the people I think are coolest, it's just the ones that I had just looked at when I felt like messing with the template. I assume this is true of most of us, so I promise not to be miffed if I'm not on your list, if you won't be miffed if you're not on mine. It's just a blog.


I'll leave you with this bizarre answering machine message. The background on this is that I had talked to the One Smart Person at the funeral home and told her that I would PICK UP my copies of the death certificate, because they're 5 minutes from my office and I could swing by, get them and take them back to the office to fax and mail to the various entities that need 'em. That way I'd have them immediately, because it takes long enough for the damn things to get processed and I'm antsy to get the paperwork going and put the tasks behind me. Just hold them, I'll pick them up. Easy instructions, right? How can they screw this up, when they don't have to do ANYTHING? I'll call them to check to see if they are in, I'll come by and pick them up. Do nothing. So they were supposed to be back from Vital Statistics yesterday - don't ask me why it took two weeks - and I came home at lunchtime to see a blinking light on my answering machine. I had a bad feeling, and sure enough, a different, dull and droning female voice:

"Mrs. [ ]? This is ------- -------- funeral home. I just wanted to tell you that the death certificates came in, and I put them IN THE MAIL to you. You should have them in a few days."

As opposed to having them that very afternoon, in my office, with a fax machine handy. Thank you for helpfully violating my explicit instructions, that's just fucking great. I'm swearing at the answering machine already, because now I won't have the damn things until Friday - but here comes the kicker - after a pause, Dumb Bitch says helpfully,

"These are for [husband's name]."


Because, you know, I might not remember whose death certificate I was getting if she didn't clarify that for me. This is the level of moron I've been dealing with throughout this experience. And I had to pay them thousands of dollars for the pleasure.

Oh Honestly. What is with this stupid show, "A Race to the Altar?" This is a prime example of why I cannot stomach "reality television." What the hell does that have to do with being married? Listen up, Network Guys, I can give you a quick pitch for a reality show: Take these cutesy couples. Give them a house in need of constant repair and upkeep, a colicky infant who won't sleep more than three hours at a stretch, a very energetic and curious preschooler who gave up naps recently and is prone to ear infections and won't start kindergarten for another year, and throw in a big fat mortgage and maybe a puppy with chewing issues, and tell them to figure it out. Don't tell them how the game is scored, but give extra points for every time daddy walks the floor with the colicky baby, or takes the preschooler to the park so mommy can nap. Big bonus points for not getting pissy about who's spending what money, and just dealing with the bills as a team. Now THAT is a reality show about marriage. Nobody plunges into a body of water, unless you count unstopping toilets and bathing the two and four legged small people, and that's so not sexy. Don't hold your breath waiting for that one.

Like pornography for knitters: LOOK at the display of yarn on Matt's blog. I dare you to look at that and not get aroused.


I took the Designing Women quiz, and I'm Julia Sugarbaker. Yep, that sounds right.

Just like the car stops making that funny noise when you take it to the mechanic, as soon as I made an appointment to cut my hair it quit frizzing and began behaving beautifully. I'm still not sure I'll go super-short just yet, it'll depend on the mood I'm in (and what my hair is doing that morning) when I finally get my scheduled audience with the Great One.

Well-written and entertaining blogs: Everybody Loves Saturday Night and At the Still Point of a Turning World. They talk about knitting too, but it's the stuff around the knitting that I like best.


My first full work day in quite a while yesterday, and it was not a leisurely re-entry. I was vividly reminded of everything I don't like about my job, now we'll see whether the things I do like will also come back to me.


No knitting was done last night, my ability to concentrate was seriously compromised by the brain-frying I'd endured all day and the really bad insomnia the night before. I spent a good chunk of Monday afternoon working on the white Sitcom Chic, because August is nearly upon us and I want it done. I'm past the eyelet rows, heading on the home stretch into the neckline, and I'm very pleased with it. I had some second thoughts about the gauge on my red SC and re-checked it carefully in several spots. It's actually on gauge overall, the textured yarn somehow creates the illusion that it's over gauge, as the poofier parts of the yarn make some spots fluff into 4 stitches per inch. It'll be fine, so I will plug on with it - I'm only past the second body increase on that one.


Happy news - my son got the rental house he wanted, only a few miles from here. It'll be nice to have him back in town. The next few weeks will be a moving nightmare, as he has to move out of the townhouse at school, help his sister move out of the townhouse and put her stuff in storage, she has to find a place to crash with friends for the week or so between the "get out" date on the one rental and the "get in" date on the house she and her friends are renting. The plan as I last heard it is for Grad Student Boy to rent one truck, move her stuff to the storage unit, load his own stuff and drive down here, move it into the house, return truck. Then he will go back up there and rent another truck to help his sister make the move into the house a few days later. I think. I'm leaving that coordination to him, he seems to have a plan. I'll be going up there that weekend to help on the move-in to the house, too. Then on the 18th we will all be hospitalized with heatstroke and exhaustion and finally get some rest.

Woof That's what I said when I saw the prices - I mean, $42.99 for a raincoat for a 7 lb. dog? Murphy does need a raincoat, he gets chilled easily in a cold rain (Yorkies have no protective undercoat and he has little body fat) but he won't be getting one from here. And check out the dresses. I'm deeply disturbed by these things. I was disappointed in the site, because I've been looking for a good, serious source for small dog items for quite a while - it's mostly a matter of finding a few downsized things in the general dog catalogs. A small dog has a few special needs, like they should wear harnesses instead of collars, to protect their tracheas, and it's hard to find an easy on-off harness small enough for Himself - yet this site has frou-frou collars, no harnesses. I wonder who buys this stuff?

A long ramble about random thoughts ahead. Little to no Actual Knitting Content in this one, I'm afraid.

The end of daily posting is upon us - tomorrow I'm back in the office full time, for the first time in months. I've popped in and out, worked half days, brought work home, and generally tried to juggle/keep a presence there, and my employer was extremely supportive and flexible through this nightmare, and i'll always be grateful. Now it's back to normal work days (I hardly remember what those feel like) and I need to see what sort of job I will have going forward. It's too much information to go into here, but my office was in what can charitably be called a "state of flux" during much of my husband's illness, though it has settled down now, and I'm torn between feeling extremely lucky to still have a job and feeling a bit anxious about what that job will be like, and wondering if it's what I will want to do/be suited to my background and skills. I just don't know, but I'll find out.


I feel like my future is one huge decision tree right now, as I try to piece together a life for myself out of the debris left after the Cancer War. Refinance the house and continue the remodeling we were doing "before," or sell it and move into something maintenance free? Change jobs, or stay put? I was on my way to grad school and a career change - literally, I was to start classes the following week - when my husband collapsed in June of '01. Right now I'm way too tired to even think about grad school, not to mention two years older, light years wiser, and without any backup financial support to cover a career change, so forget THAT plan. I'll go ahead and refinance the house, too - I'm not afraid of home maintenance, I know how to do it myself or hire somebody who won't rip me off to do it.


Career decisions get a lot more complicated too. The luxury of a husband's income and benefits as backup is now in the past - though I'd always been a working mom by choice when the kids were growing up, and I've been the primary breadwinner and provider of benefits for a couple of years now, so that's not too radical a change, it's still an adjustment to thinking of this solo salary/lack of security as a permanent state of being. In the past my husband and I had each other's backs - if we wanted to take a gamble and change jobs, we could decide based on the long-term career advancement and earnings potential, or the overall appeal of the job, rather than purely on the here-and-now economics of the decision. When he got laid off in the early 90s it was rough for a while but not disastrous, because I had a decent job. If I got into something that absolutely sucked, I could look for something better and not wonder how the kids would eat. Since then, I made a few changes which, in the long run, were highly beneficial and left me in a pretty good position today, and thank God for that. Now I'm a woman in my mid-40s on my own, and the chances to be flexible and take leaps of faith just tightened up a hell of a lot. But I'll adjust. I'm just really glad I have the ability to earn a decent living, and no young kids at home. I'd be terrified if I had to do this and raise young kids, too.


My insomnia was much better last night - I'd have slept through the night if my old cellphone didn't decide to announce its battery was dying at 2 a.m., and I was able to go back to sleep easily. I attribute this to the movies and knitting before bed, and a general "calming down" of my nervous system as time passes and I'm not on the battlefield anymore.


Only a woman could write this, and you guys out there are gonna roll your eyes, but even my hair is on the decision tree. Do I go for it and cut it really short again, or just take off a few inches? I'm thinking of going for it and cutting it all off, there's something symbolic about it somehow - I grew out my hair because long and plain hair was easier maintenance (after an incident - and I'm not making this up - I was in the stylist's chair and he had taken the first snips and my cellphone rang - it was the hospital, telling me my husband's bloodwork showed his chemistry was terrifyingly screwed up and they needed to admit him NOW! RIGHT NOW! GET HIM AND BRING HIM IN!) My stylist finished the fastest haircut in his career and I blew out of there with wet hair, and that was pretty much the end of trying to maintain a style that needed regular trims. It's been that kind of two years. But "my people" are divided about cutting my hair - and why do these things divide on gender lines? Female friends say I looked better with really short hair, male friends disagree. OTOH, the male friends aren't the ones sitting here wearing a sweaty raccoon cap - even with a ponytail, my hair feels really hot and sticky. Sorority Girl is my personal fashion muse and she votes for going short again - she had pulled out family pictures while she was home, and found some cute ones of my husband and me, when he was healthy and my hair was short. I think this hair is going to be gone on Saturday. Unless I chicken out.


And on the subject of haircuts - archaeology Grad Student Boy made his mother very proud - he cut off his long hair for his father's funeral. It went from this:





To this:




Note that in the before picture, the hair is wet. When dry it was a wildly curly mop. He looks SO much cuter now - I'd show you but I haven't consulted w/him about showing his face on my blog - but that hair just wasn't flattering IMHO. I bitched about it as only a mother can, for years, and I'm so glad that he finally decided to make the change. He donated the hair to an organization that makes wigs for cancer patients, which also made me very proud. Mine's not quite long enough to donate, I think - I may be a couple of inches short of the required 10-inch ponytail - but I'll ask on Saturday.


If you're still reading by now, you're probably thinking, "Oh, thank GOD she's not going to be posting every day anymore!" More knitting content and pictures to follow soon - white Sitcom Chic and red Sitcom Chic are moving right along, I promise.

So, the increases in the white Sitcom Chic show more than the ones in the red one - in the Softball cotton the increases vanish into the fabric. It's not a big deal on the white sweater, they're on the sides and the underside of the arms, and they don't look ugly, they're just visible, but it bugs me anyway. It just made me appreciate how much nicer this sweater will look in a yarn with some texture. I really like Cotton-ease, it's a nice yarn, but the Softball cotton is so much nicer for this purpose it's bugging me, because I know my daughter and she's going to bitch a little when my sweater looks different from hers, but she needs a white one for sorority stuff, so this is what she's getting. It'll be fine for its purpose, not freezing at initiation, but not an amazingly cute sweater for parties and things. I see another Sitcom Chic in my future, if she likes the style, in something more textured. Maybe Mission Falls cotton. I have some in pale green in the stash from hell, it goes great with her eyes. It'd make a nice SC.


Finally watched "Catch Me If You Can" on PPV, while Sitcom Chic-ing. I read the book a while back, and they definitely made Abagnale more warm and cuddly for the movie, giving him all this motivation about pleasing his father, etc. Very Hollywood-y - I preferred the book, though Abagnale was way more snarky and wiseass than broken-home waif Leonardo, and not very appealing - smart, funny, but amoral - I thought the movie version made him a bit pathetic in trying to make him more sympathetic. Read the book if you haven't, it's a fast read and a hoot, and it makes a lot of the movie scenes make more sense (though you will think, hey, wait...that's not how it happened in his book!)

Stress and PMS - it fueled some long-overdue housecleaning - after Mass (which was wonderfully energizing and I'll maybe blather on more about that someday) I came home and sorted and threw away and polished furniture and cleaned the bathroom vanity - I'm sure my husband would be amused to see it took me no time to expand my collection of clutter to fill the entire nearly 8 foot expanse of countertop, but now it's a neatly arranged cosmetics department. If I used all of the crap I own regularly I'm sure I'd be much more glamorous.


I really like those little Swiffer dusters but I blew through an entire box of them on my wooden blinds, which hadn't been touched since I don't even want to think how long. It was not pretty. Now I need some Benadryl, because I stirred up enough dust to make the entire block sneeze, and I'm tired and my lower back is complaining about all this uncharacteristically vigorous housework. Of course, if I take any Benadryl I will be asleep, so nothing else will get done, but that's okay, I have imposed some order on my living space and I think that will help my restless mind. I am not a neat freak, I have a pretty high clutter threshold, but at times the clutter builds up past my tolerance level and then it Bugs the Hell Out of Me! Today was one of those days. Anyone remember John Astin's occasional role on Night Court? "I'm feeling MUCH better now!"


Then I sat down and worked on the white Sitcom Chic. I'm nearly to the eyelet row but snowblindness has set in again, I need to work on some granny squares or do a few inches on my own red SC until the feeling fades. But it looks like I'm on target to finish it in time to take it to Sorority Girl's moving-in festivities in mid-August. If the Sorority Girl is wise, she will go check out that button site an entry or two down and let me know if she likes any of the funky buttons, because otherwise she'll be getting a nice but ordinary button from Joann's - I saw a nice crystal button that would work, but it doesn't have the same style as the one with the compact and lipstick on it, ferinstance. So many choices!

Me at 1 a.m.:

Picture courtesy of an Italian website I can't understand enough even to cite properly, but I found it via a Google of insomnia images. Please just note that I didn't draw it and I'm not taking credit for it.

I am bouncing off the walls this weekend. I am looking forward to work on Tuesday, I need structure and normalcy. Left to my own devices I skitter around too much. My brain has to adjust to a world where I'm not on call 24/7 like an EMT in hell. I miss my husband, but I have been missing him for months now, since the brain mets took away the man I knew, so that's not really it - it's more the adjustment to NOT having his condition as the main source of stress in my life. I swear, I can actually FEEL my brain jumping around like a frantic rat in the middle of the night, trying to find something else to fret over. There really isn't anything to worry about right now, but I won't feel secure and settled until the insurance check is in hand, bills are paid, the refi of the house (long delayed) is in process, and I can figure out how much money I will have to live on/play on. Logically, I know I should be just fine, I have a perfectly decent job, but logic ain't what wakes you up in the middle of the night. I know it's mostly paranoia born of two years in hell, but I can't stop waiting for the next bad news to strike yet. It's going to take 30 days before I unwind; by then I'll have sorted out the finances and figured out where I stand. Then I'll stop freaking out and this blog will be much less Lifetime Channel.


On the knitting front, I used that Softball cotton to cast on a second Sitcom Chic - now I'm not quite sure if I should have used a size 7 needle. It looks fine at an 8, though I think I'm a tad above gauge - am I the only one whose gauge swatches are not always true of the actual garment? I just don't get that, but there you have it. I'm thinking that if I go down to a 7 I might lose a lot of the pebbly-ness of the texture, so I think I will carry on with the 8. I am making mine in a medium, so if it's an inch too big because of the gauge difference that will not be a terrible thing. I love that yarn so much I was tempted to search for more, and I found it on cones at CottonClouds. I also realized that I have 2 of Bonne Marie's designs on needles and two more in the wings, which puts her way ahead of the rest of the designer pack in my knitting world. I have more projects on line, waiting to be knitted, than I even want to contemplate. It makes it easy to go on a yarn fast - enough's enough here. Now that I am not going to be spending hours a day sitting in a hospital, nursing home, or here on the couch, my knitting time is going to be reduced. I'm planning to attend the Knitter's Review retreat in November, and by then I hope to have made a dent in the stash to the point where I can buy more yarn. I still want to make a shawl or two, but after swatching the stash choices, I concluded that I really need something drapey-er, which I do not own, and I need new bifocals even more urgently. I'm a year overdue for an eye exam, and boy do I know it. I can get by with off the rack reading glasses over my contacts for most things, but I want some nice new progressive bifocals in my latest prescription before I invest the time and effort in lace. You young things will find out what I mean soon enough. I didn't need reading glasses for real until the past year, and I'm now 45, but when you need 'em, you really need 'em, and there is no doing without.

Is it insane to cast on a second Sitcom Chic before the first is finished? I swatched the red Softball today and it's just too lovely - I hit gauge with a size 8 needle, which is sort of weird because I normally have to go down a needle size - and now I'm thinking I need to start MY sweater and make some progress on the body today. Hugs to Anonymous Benefactor! I never used this yarn before, it's so nifty and pebbly, it reminds me a bit of Mission Falls 1824 Cotton but the structure looks different. Fear not Sorority Girl, I'm on a 3 week timetable with your sweater. I promise to finish the white one long before this one so I can bring it up to your new house, I just need to do something that is NOT WHITE when my brain starts to freeze.


I think I'm having a twinge of post-traumatic stress - I cannot friggin' sit still. This is supposed to be one of my lazy days but I have bagged more junk, did laundry, assembled a rack to hold linens, tried to call the disability carrier to stop payments but couldn't get through because they were having some unspecified "situation" and hung up on me. Oh well, if they launch another check I'll send it back, no biggie. I'm so not used to having a relaxing weekend I actually do not know how to behave by now. I need to discipline myself to be self-indulgent, strange as that concept sounds, so tonight I will give myself a pedicure. I'm not quite indulgent enough to PAY somebody else to do it, not until the financial dust settles. I'm so used to living under fire and waiting for the next bad news, it may take a while before I feel confident enough to be frivolous.


A poster on Knitter's Review shared this fabulous button site: Button Shoppe. I hadn't seen this one before and I'm already hooked, they have some really funky, fun stuff. I'm now picturing a pink Sitcom Chic with that pink flamingos button.... or maybe Sorority Girl needs one with a STOP sign button, to fend off losers in clubs. I was disappointed in the Yorkie button (under "Fun Pictures") it's not as cute as it could be, but the raccoon button is cute.

Damn, I was rearranging stuff in the closet and in a moment of senility I left the box of Mystery Gift Fibers on the bathroom vanity outside the door. Looked up a minute later when I heard a strange thumping, snuffling and snorting - one of the cats (Boris) was trying to fit his very long, tall self into the small box, to roll on the fibers. He was in a state of catnip-like manic ecstasy, eyes bugged out, snorfling and snorting into the wool. Great. I may have to lock myself in the bathroom to experiment with spinning. Yet another reason why I don't think I'll ever become a serious spinner....

The kids go home later today, and I'm settling in for a long weekend of rest and self-indulgence. I told the office I'd be back on Tuesday, not Monday. I needed to take care of a few pressing tasks, like getting the car serviced, before going back to work, and that's done now, the rest is not that time-sensitive and now I need a few days off. While Girlchild's car was being ministered to we stopped at Borders and I picked up some "summer novels" and an armload of decorating magazines, as I seek inspiration for the master bedroom. I really wish I hadn't entirely forgotten my smattering of college French when I saw this one: Marie Claire Maison talk about a visual delight, but I can decipher about one word in ten at this point. My Spanish is a wee bit better, and if I'm ever going to revive my knowledge of a lost second language it probably should be the one that is spoken all around me. Oh well.


I really like Budget Living, even more than Real Simple, which can be Real Pretentious at times, though it usually has useful articles and recipes among the fantasy tales of artists who decorate clay pots all day in a picturesque converted barn studio in very expensive Zip Code as if You, Too, Can Do This, if You Really Tried, though if one reads between the lines it's clear that this idyllic lifestyle was actually paid for by her husband the very successful neurosurgeon/heir to a tire store chain/whatever....


Neither Borders nor Joann's had the new IK. Oh well.


I need to get back onto my diet, too - time to put aside the funeral food groups (caffeine, baked goods, alcohol) and get back to low carb and high exercise, it really was working and made me feel much better. I got on the scale the other day and I'd only put on a pound or two in the past couple of weeks, which, considering I was living on vending machine fare followed by restaurant and takeout food, strikes me as a success. That'll come off fast as soon as I get back to regular exercise and South Beach Dieting.


The Bossy One is requesting his morning stroll....actual knitting content to follow.

My allergies are in overdrive, probably because I'm living in a florist's shop right now. I'm sitting here a bit woozy from Benadryl and a bad night's sleep. I'm going to move the many plants I've received to the office when I go back to work next week, because the damn cats are eating them (more like chewing on them and then puking up the pieces) and I have to keep them (the plants, not the cats, though that's probably a better idea) in the back bedrooms. I hope it's the cut flowers that are causing my sneezing and not the dish gardens, they're really gorgeous. My office is small, about 11x12, and it's going to look like a rain forest when I bring all this stuff in there.


I made the first of several Goodwill runs, made a hair appointment for a week from Saturday. I swear it's easier to get an audience with the Pope than with the guy who cuts my hair, but at least it gives me time to decide whether I want to go for it and cut all my hair off again. I let it grow out while my husband was sick, because I couldn't count on going for regular trims - don't believe the propaganda that short hair is low maintenance, it requires regular attention, and my schedule was not my own for a long time. Now my hair is down to the middle of my back, and as I said, when the little old lady in the nursing home kept calling me a "little girl," I realized I probably did look like a blurry 12 year old to her - jeans, sneakers, long hair. I think I'm overdue for a change. I'm not much of a primper, but I intend to pamper myself a bit and do the hair and nails and facials thing regularly now.


I spoke to Social Security and the life insurance carrier to get that process started. Social Security pays a big couple of hundred bucks as a "funeral expense" - which is darkly hilarious to anyone who ever paid for even a very modest funeral and a VA burial. My long-neglected car finally got some attention - and two new tires - yesterday, and I showed the service guys the service notice addressed to my late husband who did not buy, participate in financing, or ever even drive the vehicle, and pointed out that I, not my husband, am their customer, and that this sort of thing really does not create a good impression with female customers. I watched as they changed the computer entry and took my husband's name OFF my vehicle in their service record. The younger service guy apologized nicely and said he had no idea how my husband's name ever got associated with it in the first place. The older guy did not apologize. I think maybe we know how it got associated.


While I waited for the car I finished the second Sitcom Chic sleeve, joined the sleeves to the body and I'm somewhere around the third decrease row. It's moving right along. I'm trying to resist startitis - I want to work on something colorful, this white is making me snowblind. I'm thinking of finally casting on that felted market bag from Knitters Summer '01 - I bought the yarn from Threadbear a while back, then shelved it as not easy enough to work on at the nursing home. Now that the biggest challenge of my life to date is over, I'm ready to deal with just a little more challenge in my knitting.


I really want to drag out the sewing machine and start noodling around with it. I need to redecorate the master bedroom - it was next on the to do list when my husband was diagnosed and all plans went out the window, so it's long overdue. I need to meditate over some paint chips and fabric swatches first.

My comment on a thread on the Knitter's Review forum - Heavens to Betsy and Golly Gee, if an occasional four-letter word causes you to feel faint, please feel free to not read my blog, because I will continue to use "curse words" on the occasions when such language is deemed (BY ME, as Author and Supreme High Ruler of my own blog) the most accurate language to properly convey my sentiments on certain subjects. The Next button works, and I won't be offended if you employ it. Thank you.

There are certain words that offend me, and I tend to avoid blogs that use them. The disgusting five-letter word that sets my teeth on edge and makes me want to barf is "hubby." Eeew, I think it's the first time I have ever written that particular five-letter Word, and my fingers are trembling with revulsion. Waves of nausea engulf me at the sight of That Word, because for me it conjures up images of Wilma Flintstone's enlightened relationship with Fred. Particularly when used in a sentence like "My hubby won't let me buy more knitting needles!!!!! LOL!!!!" If I see a sentence like that in a blog it's a pretty good indicator that the rest of the content is not going to be of any interest to me and might possibly make me ill, so I don't bookmark it or bother with it again. Seems to me that those who can't take certain other words can simply do the same. It's a big Internet, and I'm amused and amazed that some people apparently think their sensibilities should be the benchmark for everybody, or feel this was an issue worthy of opening for "debate", but I will spare you one of my oldie-but-goodie classic rants about my gender.


The first day of the post-funeral world and my to-do list is still a mile long as I try to get life back to some sort of normalcy. Car serviced, haircut, dog wash, clean out closets for Goodwill, that's just for starters. Maybe even squeeze in a little retail therapy with Girlchild before she has to leave town again. I'm planning to go back to work early next week. The funeral went very well, the dreaded Extravaganza was pared down to simple, basic and dignified, and we all survived the day. It really was NOT as difficult or emotional as I'd feared - I think that after all of the stress of my husband's last weeks, the people closest to him were all mentally ready and already emotionally wrung out. There was a surprising amount of laughter and chatter and joking around in the car on the way to the cemetery. I wonder what the driver made of it. Now it's just the paperwork - there is almost no estate to speak of, since there was plenty of time to structure things properly - so that's minor. I do need to call in an inscription for his headstone, and again, there was a lot of joking around about possible inscriptions - my son had us snorting wine out our noses at dinner by suggesting, "What the fuck are YOU lookin' at?" We all agreed that sounded the most like him, but I think we'll go with "Loving husband and father." It doesn't have the same panache, but it's also very much him.


God, my kids are fabulous and I am so extremely proud of them. They have been so strong and mature and wonderful throughout this nightmare. At this moment, I am feeling really good and grateful - we came through the War as an intact family unit, and my husband's horrible suffering is over. We'll never stop missing him, but we will go on and do just fine.


My daughter has been dragging out boxes of old family photos, and I'm going to scan some to share one of these days - I was so afraid that I didn't have any good pictures of my husband and me together, since we were absolutely terrible about sitting still for photos, but she found some really nice ones from a few years ago, Before Cancer, and we're going to make some enlargements as well as scanning them. Here's a weird little thing that sort of freaked us out - the scanner is hooked up to my husband's computer. We've used his computer in recent weeks, it was working just fine. The other day my son turned it on to use the scanner, and the computer has had a system failure - won't boot at all. My husband died, and so did his computer. Definitely a Twilight Zone-y moment.

Yes, this is still a knitting blog, and I apologize for the frequent detours out of knitting territory lately. We'll be returning to our regularly scheduled programming soon. I have most of the second sleeve done on the white Sitcom Chic, and I really need to get moving on that - it's already the end of July. I can't wait to cast on one for myself, out of that red Softball cotton sent by an anonymous benefactor. My yarn stash is truly big enough to be disgustingly obscene, and I need to work my way through it before I let the siren song of Elann lure me in. Unless I decide I just can't live without more Bandolino. I have some in black which will become a Useful Office Cardigan soon, and now I'm thinking a sand one would be nice as well.... Better quit shopping and sitting on my butt blogging, and go work on that white sleeve.

I will never underestimate the power of endorphins again. Like a lot of people, I've heard the yadda-yadda about how exercise can improve mood, and I accepted it but never really put it to the test. It's true. It has been many weeks since I had the energy to exercise at ALL; I was just too tired, stressed and sad - and many months since my schedule permitted a long walk, a bike ride, or anything outdoors in the fresh air. I forced myself to get onto my exercise bike on Friday, and I'm so glad I did. A few days of daily exercise has done more to improve my energy and sleep than any drug could have - minus any side effects. I am a born-again exerciser now. Sorority Girl is bunking in with me because SIL is using her room, so I didn't get on my exercise bike this morning - instead I took the Wee Bossy One for a brisk walk around the lake. He always wears out halfway through and is a 7 lb. arm weight for the rest of the walk. We met other dogs, saw lots of ducks and a flock of something new I'll have to look up later, and came back sweaty (me) panting (him) and pleasantly tired (both of us). It's a good walk, it takes about 40 minutes at a reasonable pace (I try to think of it as interval training - brisk walk, pause for doggy sniffing, hiking a leg, and socializing - then pick up the pace again). I'm going to do that every morning, weather permitting, it's been years since I've been able to - I used to walk every day, and it's now on the list of things I'm glad to be able to do again. Murphy was ecstatic - I remember when we brought in crisis nursing help for my husband, weeks ago, Murphy dragged me toward the lake for his walk. He had missed it too.


So my stress level is much lower this morning. This is good because I still have things to do, like go drop off a check at the funeral home for the church and other misc. costs, and figure out how to entertain my SIL today. I also must call my husband's best friend and retract whatever brainstorms I agreed to in my half-asleep state the other night - I don't think he'll be too offended, he's not that way, but if he is, oh well, I'm sorry but that's how it's gonna be. I conferred with the kids and they were in complete agreement that there is no way we want to be transported to an event at his house, and therefore trapped there, dependent on somebody giving us a ride home. We'll come back to our house and get our own cars and meet y'all up there, thanks. Also negative on the eulogy at the funeral - that, too, would be more appropriate at the after-funeral gathering, a eulogy is not typically part of a Catholic funeral, let's not start monkeying with it. Oh, the decisions one gets to make about these things. I am determined to keep this as simple and basic as I can, because that was my husband's wish and also what the kids and I want, and I am Licensed to Bitch.


Knitting content - a little progress on that Sitcom Chic sleeve. I think I'll take a shower and sit down and finish it while waiting for the rest of the household to stir. I can't wait to get that thing done - white is less than visually stimulating.

Patternworks. When the alternative to the lousy new website that doesn't work is calling the live people who don't give accurate information, I'm thinking things are bad in Patternworksland.

Ugh. I'm so tired already, I don't know how I'll get through the next three days. I had envisioned a small funeral because we have a small family, but it's morphing before my eyes into My Big Fat Pain-in-the-Ass Funeral, as friends and former friends call other former friends, and now people are coming from as far away as Atlanta. That's sweet, but frankly, annoying - almost none of these people so much as picked up the friggin' phone even once for the entire two years my husband was sick and housebound, when he could have used a call or a visit, so now they are missing him and want to come? How typical. I am already in a Fine Mood over this, but the funeral train has left the station and all I can do is paint a pained smile on my face and go along for the ride. The important arrangements are done, and the peripheral stuff really doesn't matter, as long as it makes no more work for me I really don't care, and of course, they do mean well. I just shake my head at the sitcom-like absurdity of it all.


My husband's best friend called around 10 last night, and I have no idea what I may have agreed to since I had just fallen asleep and was somewhat confused, but I think a bunch of people we haven't seen since the damn EIGHTIES are showing up. I know their names, they used to work with my husband, but I don't know them and never considered them friends. The good news is he (the best friend) is going to take care of feeding and entertaining them at his house, which is very nice, since as far as I am concerned they could all go to fuckin' Denny's, because I don't know them and therefore feel less than zero responsibility for their care and feeding. Unfortunately, I think I did agree to get transported to the best friend's house for this event after the burial, so I need to have a word with the limo driver that "No matter what that man said, you are taking me back to MY house so I can get my own car." I don't want to be trapped there for hours with a bunch of strangers who used to work with my husband, especially not while I'm wearing high heels and hose, makeup melted off face and hair frizzed, because by the time the burial is over it will have been a very long, very hot, thoroughly lousy day. I am not going to let myself get held captive at someone else's house, where I must be gracious over platters of cold cuts - I'll give them an hour of Semi-Gracious and get the hell out of there. But as my ever-so-wonderful and pragmatic Sorority Girl pointed out, I can be as bitchy as I wanna be and they will excuse it because I'm Grieving. She pointed out that we basically have a License to Be Bitches right now, so we might as well use it. This is why I love the girl!


Then, after that call was over and I fell alseep again, my SIL called to say some elderly uncle I've never met is going to come to the funeral too. That's fine, he's at least family and also her responsibility. I've managed to structure things that I don't have to deal with entertaining too many people, but even so, I am living on the traditional funeral food groups, caffeine, sugar and alcohol, and consequently I've developed a perpetual dull headache which only adds to my bitchiness. At least I am back to exercising - during my morning quiet time I read blogs, drink coffee and then get on the exercise bike. It helps. And in a few days this will be over and I can go back on my diet, spend a few days with the kids doing useful things, like getting a long overdue haircut and taking stuff to Goodwill.


It's very good to have the kids here, we are actually having Normal Family Time, eating out, talking - they went with me to finalize the details for the funeral service, and made wonderful contributions. We were amused and aghast at the vast displays of funeral tchotchkes for sale - it reminded me of the cutesy crap sold for weddings and high school graduations, and the three of us had a fine time critiquing the tackiness, though not in front of the funeral director, who really was a nice guy and "comped" us a few items (like they're not built into the obscene overhead cost already) like a guest book and prayer cards, which should help offset my parents' muttered criticism that I'm just not being traditional enough. Like my husband was a traditionalist? Where were these people for the past couple of decades? He's getting a Catholic funeral and a military burial, how freakin' traditional can you get? What do they want, that freakin' horse that follows the presidental funeral cortege? I can only roll my eyes... and somewhere, I am quite sure my husband is rolling his.


Needless to say, no knitting has been done.

She's updating her blog "at a time like this?" Yeah, why not. It's really been "a time like this" for a long time, and today doesn't really feel all that different from the previous weeks and months - except that I am suddenly free of the daily trek to a hospital or nursing home that I'd been making since, what, late April? My husband really was "gone" several weeks ago, when the brain mets did their dirty work on his brain function - I've been "missing him" for many weeks, even while sitting with him daily.


Which leads me to Catherine's Rant du Jour - "DON'T TELL ME HOW TO GRIEVE!" I wish I had a dollar for every smarmy dumbshit who has said, "Oh, just wait, this will probably really hit you later." I feel like some people are just standing around watching me like a damn lab experiment, waiting to see when I'll "crack." Because I'm obviously "in denial" or "repressing" or some other pop psych crap they got off Oprah and a Psych 101 class. They just don't get it - where the hell were they for the past two years? "This" has been "hitting me" over and over, in various ways, for a long, long time. Yesterday was terribly sad and painful, and yet I'd be lying if I didn't say I also feel a sense of release and relief this morning. The past two and a half months have been absolutely nightmarish, a grotesque ending to a two year hell. It was absolute, grinding, draining torture to go sit with him in that nursing home every day, and watch the big, strong, handsome man I knew turn into a tiny, emaciated, twisted, brain-damaged body who rarely responded or recognized me.


At this moment, I am terribly sad and still looking forward to the future, and rebuilding a life that doesn't revolve around cancer caregiving. The most intelligent thing said to me in recent weeks was a comment from a hospice nurse who said "You've been grieving him all along, you're much further along in the grief process than people can understand." It's true. I've described it to friends this way: I feel like I've been a soldier in the Cancer Army for two years, fighting an ugly, dirty war. My world totally revolved around patient care and meds and doctors and treatments and tests. It consumed every resource we had, every minute of every day, and I learned more nasty medical shit than I ever imagined knowing in this lifetime, and learned to do things I never imagined doing - I never even played nurse as a child, for God's sake! And I did it all while knowing (because I did extensive research) that short of an absolute miracle, we were never going to win the war. I kept that knowledge to myself, because I never wanted to rob my husband of the hope that kept him going for so long (though he was a very smart guy, so I'm sure he really knew) - but I have known that I had to be prepared to face this day, because its coming was virtually inevitable. I sometimes feel like I've forgotten life Before Cancer, and it will take some time and mental effort to come in from that life of dirty, brutal, and futile warfare and adjust to the normal world again. But I'm looking forward to NOT being in that army.


It's so inappropriate to say "Happy Birthday" today, but today is Sorority Girl's 20th birthday. I could not be more proud of her, she is an absolutely outstanding young woman, very smart, self-confident and funny, and tall and beautiful to boot (and that's not just a proud mother talking). Her father's cancer was discovered a mere three weeks after her high school graduation, and she had to become an instant adult at 18 - she effectively lost both parents the day of his diagnosis, because I've been largely unavailable to be there with her or support her through her first two years of college. A lot of lesser souls would have cracked under the pressure, dropped out or flunked out, but she dug in and persevered, fighting on her own front in the Cancer War - making her father proud of her. She has had to shoulder a lot of heavy adult burdens during what should be a "carefree" time of her life, and she still manages to make the Dean's List, hold down a job, and never miss a good party. She'll be driving home today - her brother arrived in town last night. He is also an amazing young man, but I won't brag about him on his sister's birthday, it'll keep until HIS birthday.


Thank you for all your words of sympathy and support.

This is an odd thing to post on a knitting blog, but I know people care. My husband passed away this morning, around 8:30. I was with him and it was as peaceful as such a thing can be. I am relieved that his suffering - and the whole family's ordeal - is finally over. He fought as hard as anyone ever could and never lost his sense of humor and amazing courage, he charmed and impressed everyone who came in contact with him throughout this long, terrible fight.


I'll be around, off and on, for the next few days, but obviously updating a blog isn't a priority in my life, I just wanted to let people know. If you've ever had a death in the immediate family you know it's a real "hurry up and wait" kinda thing, making arrangements and letting people know and such. I'm fine, just really, really drained and tired. Thanks for all of your prayers and concern over these long, hard months, it really has meant so much.

Okay, I have to say this...I hope it doesn't come out as ungrateful or unappreciative of all the kindness of anonymous gifts, but some of the comments in the Tagboard are making me nervous. I really am touched beyond words, but I'm also embarrassed and a bit guilty about it.


Let me say this first: I'm going to fool around with spinning at the Knitter's Review retreat, it'll be fun, but I can't see myself as a serious spinner - I live in FLORIDA, y'all! I need to spin like I need to become an expert downhill skier. Not to mention that I have a rather demanding career and a house that is falling down around my ears, as well as a neglected social life that I'd like to revive, and my free time for knitting is going to shift dramatically in the coming months. I have more yarn in my stash than I will be able to use in two years (when the going gets tough, the tough buy yarn, and I've bought a lot of yarn in the past couple of years). Please don't send me anything else. I feel ungrateful, turning away kindnesses like this, and I love you all for it, but honestly, I feel more guilty accepting this stuff, because I didn't post about the shitstorm that is my life to get either sympathy or free yarn. I started talking about it publicly because I am seriously aghast at the gaps in the health care system, the amazing morons in social work, the entire insane stressload dumped on families dealing with a critical illness, and it felt good to vent about it in the guise of Everywoman, who never saw the train coming and is now stuck firmly to the cow catcher, hurtling down the tracks. In case I haven't said it lately, I'm also very grateful for the wonderful support system I've found in my church, my neighbors, my online friends, and in a Huge Corporate Employer, that soulless demon, which turned out to be warm and supportive beyond my wildest dreams, as well as nearby friends who have stuck around and been genuinely helpful, listened to my ranting and plied me with margaritas, accompanied me to the funeral home to make the arrangements, and never said that all-time stupid thing I've heard over and over.... "OH, I know JUST how you feel, when my GRANDMA died...." (Hint: Losing your life partner of over two decades ain't nothin' like losing your Grandma. Never say that to anybody in my position, you'll be lucky if you walk away with your teeth.) Despite this hellish, hideous thing, I feel blessed in many ways. So please accept my gratitude for everybody's kindness and concern, but believe me when I say I don't need or want anything else!

Briefly, my husband's condition has deteriorated a bit, but ever-so-slowly. The home's nurse practioner thinks he may have pneumonia, though I have some doubts about that - I'm not sure how she could determine it without a chest x-ray, since his lungs are full of mets and he runs a tumor fever periodically anyway, how the hell could you tell just by looking, and what difference would it make, anyway? That's the weird thing about having him in a nursing home rather than a true hospice - I'm dealing with staff that is trained to think in terms of restorative care, no matter what, so there is a certain amount of "puffery" that goes on with the nurses trying to put a good face on his condition. Last night I called for an update before I went to sleep, and the night nurse said he had responded to her when she called his name. I was there all damn day and into the evening, and never saw what I would call a "response" - a brief flicker of an blank staring eye isn't a response in my book - but whatever. They are doing a good job with his physical care, and that's what matters now. I'll head on over there shortly, but, odd as it sounds at a time like this, normal things still have to be done, like laundry and trash and cleaning catboxes, and I like doing them. Friends have offered to come in and take care of the animals for me, but honestly, I need and crave the break in the middle of the day. I really need to make time to bathe the Bossy One, because he has gotten wet in the daily rain and smells amazingly bad, like a mildewed old carpet - it's incredible that such a tiny body can put off such powerful body odor, but he's really stinking up the place.


I'm tired and crabby and resentful as hell, and I want this to END. I'm wearing down from the sheer ugly grind of it. Week after week of big seizures and small tremors, changes in respiration, fevers that come and go, skin tears, potential pressure sores, new skin mets every day, awake and restless all the time one day, basically comatose the next, eating a wee bit, not eating at all, every day some other shitty new development, seesawing back and forth, inching a little lower every day in this nightmarishly slow deterioration, this has been a hell of unimaginable proportions, and I am exhausted and honestly running on the adrenaline of anger and resentment. His death will be a relief, not only for him, but for me.


I've had so many people say something like, "Oh, I could never do what you are doing!" and I just shake my head - does anybody think I was specially selected for this because I'm particularly suited to it? Anybody could be facing this someday, nobody knows what is in their future. My husband was the healthiest person on earth until this rare, particularly virulent cancer came out of nowhere - no family history, no bad health habits, no logical reason for it at ALL - that's why it has taken so long to kill him, his heart is still strong and he's a young man. You just never know what's around the corner for your life - we kid ourselves that we have some sort of control, but we really don't. And if you find yourself in this situation, you just put one foot in front of the other every damn day and just fucking deal with it. There is no alternative.

The kids are on Orange Alert and are prepared to pack a bag and come home when summoned, but there is no reason for them to sit around here now, they need to be with their friends, keep on going to work, and try to be as normal as possible. No point in them sitting here twiddling their thumbs with me.


Sitcom Chic is coming right along - I finished the body up to the underarms and about 4 inches of sleeve 1. I'm enjoying the pattern a LOT, and will definitely make another one. I'll probably get sleeve 1 done today, and maybe even get into sleeve 2.

The nursing home called me in the wee hours yesterday morning - my husband's condition had declined and they'd put him on oxygen. I got dressed and rushed over there, and sat with him until last night - he is declining but appears relatively stable, if that makes any sense. I can't sleep there at night, there is no room in that crowded room for even a decent chair, let alone a cot. I sit on what appears to be an upholstered dining room chair all day, and my back is not happy about this at all. So I left word with the staff to call me at any time if there is any change in his condition, and came home to get some food and rest. They didn't call last night, and I was able to get a decent night's sleep - exhaustion will do that. It's impossible to say how long this can go on, but unless he somehow rallies from this new low, I can't imagine it can go on too much longer. I'm praying it doesn't. This is exhausting and stressful beyond description, so I won't bother trying to describe it further. If my blogging drops off in the next few days, that's why - but honestly, reading knitblogs and writing about my own projects are a wonderful mental break from the stress, so I'll still be around as much as possible.


I'm well trained in these crisis drills by now - no matter what, I grab my knitting bag before leaving the house. I have made great progress on Sorority Girl's white Sitcom Chic - a white sweater is the perfect project for the wee hours in a dimly lit nursing home room, I had no trouble seeing what I was doing. I love this pattern, and now want to make one for myself. I understand why it swept the knitting blog world, it's fast and fun and incredibly cute. I should have it done by the time the girls move into their new house in August, and I can bring it up to her then. I was a wee bit concerned that the large size might be TOO large - somehow it looks really big on the needles - but I checked my gauge and then figured out the measurement on my own body, and it's not as large as it looks, it should be just fine. Sorority Girl inherited her mother's "bustiness" (say "Thank You Mommy!") and consequently has similar sizing issues, and since she is also tall, I feared a medium would look skimpy, like she'd borrowed a smaller girl's sweater. Fingers are crossed that it won't be too big, or at least that she can get away with it for sorority functions, and if she likes the sweater style but wants an even closer fit I will make her another one in a smaller size for her active nightlife.


I also brought my afghan project, and after my hands started cramping on my knitting needles I switched to whipping out a few more granny squares. I'm really liking the color combinations. I don't do orderly squares, I just grab colors at random - my concession to orderliness is to try not to put similar squares right next to each other in assembly. I crochet my squares together, too, I think it gives a firmer, more finished "frame" around the squares which looks really nice. I combat the horror of assembling a gazillion grannies by pausing now and then to crochet together a strip of completed squares, then crochet a few strips together, etc., it's the only way I can face it.


Meanwhile, a sweet but somewhat embarrassing phenomenon is taking place, and I believe the source is Knitter's Review's forums. I'm getting mysterious, anonymous gifts of yarn and fibers in the mail. My birthday was a couple of weeks ago, and when the first gift arrived, I thought, "Wow, how sweet!" but didn't think too much of it. Then there was another one a few days later. And yesterday another - this time it was 10 balls of a wonderful "Softball" cotton, in red. I was tickled because I think it'll be the right gauge for the Sitcom Chic I was just contemplating, and there appears to be plenty of yardage to make it so. I hope these secret yarn angels will identify themselves to me so I can thank them properly in person - and I do hope the yarn they're sharing is stash overage or something, so they're not actually spending money on me, an embarrassed stranger. Since I don't know who they are and can't repay them, this is my public vow to pay it forward instead, and share yarn anonymously whenever the opportunity arises. Knitter's Review has the nicest people on the Internet, and I'm not kidding.

I'm over my Big Dog Fever. I ran into a neighbor, out walking her THREE little girls in a stroller built for two (they were packed in there solidly) and of course Murphy had to visit and kiss and get petted, since little girls are his favorite variety of human - much wagging, licking, squealing and giggling ensued. The mom commented that the girls loved him because he was little, and they had a big dog. I mentioned my Big Dog craving, and she immediately said, "Don't do it. The poop is bigger. The shedding is bigger. The holes they dig are bigger. Little dogs are better. Stick to your little dog!" I thanked her for saving me from myself.


I do not need a big dog. I work long hours and occasionally travel, on business and for pleasure. I do not need the expense or the extra work. I love 'em, but they do not fit my lifestyle. If God wants me to have a big dog, He can help me win the lottery so I can buy a farm. Then I'll get several.


Sometimes life is like that - you have something on your mind, and someone crosses your path to smack you or give you inspiration, and send you off in a different direction. That happened twice today, once with my neighbor, and once with a conversation on Knitter's Review. You may recall I've been contemplating a cotton-acrylic afghan, and I wanted to use Lion Brand Cotton-ease, because it's sturdy and machine wash and dry, as well as wonderfully soft - but none of the colors by themselves were right for my decor. Then someone on Knitter's Review mentioned granny squares and I felt like
DOH! I haven't made a granny square afghan in years, but suddenly I could picture it in those poppin' Cotton-ease colors, with a white border, and I was off and running to Joann's, because the moon is in some yarnie house and the planets are aligned and Joann's actually has yarn in stock, and that hasn't happened in years, so clearly this was a Sign. And I filled up my cart with this


Then I went to the nursing home to spend a couple of hours with my husband, where I made these:

The colors that did not work individually look all bright and sunny and tropical together, especially with that crisp white border. The afghan will be a fun shot of color in my otherwise fairly neutral bedroom. And granny squares are the perfect "it's too hot to knit" project, they give me my minimum daily requirement of fiber without the hot flashes, they are small and portable and cool and easy to work on, especially in that soft cotton blend yarn.


So I have my next mindless, soothing project, and between these afghan squares and Sitcom Chic, I'm set for the next few weeks.



HOORAY FOR GRANNY!

Which HP Kid Are You?

I'm really trying to talk myself out of adopting a big dog. It's not practical, they shed, Murphy is used to being an only dog (though he adores big dogs and showers them with affection) and then I see This Face: Major. I grew up with a Major, though he was a Boxer, even his name is karmic. And who can resist that couch pose? I know I should, I already vacuum 3 cats' worth of hair off the couch and I am not one of those people who loves to vacuum and does it every day. And if he's a Great Pyrenees/Golden cross, we're talking double your shedding, double your work. Yet I look at that face and melt, and miss a big velcro dog's nose stuck to my hip as I walk through the house (though Murphy does a damn good ankle bracelet imitation.) What the hell am I thinking? Somebody slap me!

Woke up waaay too early this morning, have already finished dinner and will be in bed waaay too early tonight. God help me, at this rate I'll be doing Early Bird Dinners at Golden Corral next.


Speaking of old people, the funny thing about visiting the nursing home is that there is this delightful little lady who is usually wheeling her way 'round the halls - she's a trifle confused, but in a lovely, friendly way, she's always cheery and upbeat. She always gives me a big happy greeting which almost makes sense, and yesterday remarked to no one in particular that I was "Such a pretty little girl!" Nothing like a compliment from an 80 year old woman with poor eyesight and muddled thought processes to brighten your day...I took it as a sign that maybe I should cut my hair, if I look like a blurry schoolgirl to her I'm thinking that there is something fundamentally wrong with my current Look. But it reminded me of business trips to Naples (that's FLORIDA, not Italy, y'all) - they don't call that part of the state God's Waiting Room for nothing. It's the only place I've been where a woman in her 40s gets called "young lady" all day long, and they absolutely do mean it.



I finished the Xanax Sweater this morning, except for weaving in ends, a chore I despise - but it fits and looks just fine, so I'm happy with it. I feel so guilty for not posting more pictures, but frankly, I just don't have the energy right now, so you'll have to take my word for it that it came out okay. Soon there will be a flurry of photos of finished projects, because I'll do them all at once when I get the urge. Now that Xanax is put to bed, I cast on and did about 4 inches of Sitcom Chic, and tonight Animal Planet has the latest installment in the Eukanuba Tournament of Champions dog show - it's like a dog geek's dream come true, a dog show, easy knitting, and a pitcher of decaf iced tea. I'm so there.

I was right about the incorrect stitch count on the Xanax Sweater - by the time I finished the decreases called for in the pattern, I had WAAAAY more than the 29 stitches I should have had. I am admittedly somewhat brain-fried, but I re-read the pattern multiple times and cannot see where I screwed up, it's very plain vanilla easy and I did what it said. It's almost like there is a piece missing...but that's very odd since this pattern was generated by Sweater Wizard, and I've done raglans from SW before without incident. Anyway, I just continued the raglan decreases, with some minor juggling, until I hit the right stitch count, no big deal. I was just surprised to hit what is either an error in the pattern, or evidence that I really can't read anymore. I'm working the v-neck trim now, and then this baby is DONE. That's the beauty of a pullover in the round, when it's done, it's DONE. Except for weaving in some ends, of course. Photos to follow....


Of course, if the Xanax Sweater is done, it means I need to cast on another mindless project - maybe this one can be the Valium Sweater. I have a lot of Cotton Fleece from eBay, in dark denim blue, black, and a nice purple. I'm thinking a big, comfy v-neck cardigan in the dark blue. I'm very fond of v-necks, as you may have guessed, and I'm blessed to work in a casual, jeans-wearing office. We only "dress up" when the home office people visit, and that means nice slacks instead of Levis. I'm spoiled by the atmosphere, but I served my time in suits and silk blouses and hose and heels. Anyway, a nice blue cardigan would be great - I can throw it on the back of my chair and have it handy when a chilly meeting room beckons, and since I wear jeans 90% of the time, it's hard to go wrong with a nice deep denim blue cardigan. It's a construction company business suit. And I need to start the Sitcom Chic for Sorority Girl, too. And I still haven't cast on my felted Market Bag. Too much to knit, not enough time.

This is about weight loss, so if you're not interested, feel free to move along the blog road. Thank you.


I'm having a Happy Friday - seeing results from the South Beach Diet. Most of us perennial dieters have a portion of the closet where we keep things that used to fit, or almost fit but don't look right, or just plain hang there and taunt us. You know what I mean. So I'm getting dressed this morning, reaching for one of my usual pairs of jeans, which I've noticed are getting a bit baggy on me - these are the standard middle-aged woman's comfy-cut, straight leg, basic Lee jeans, not the most flattering things in the world, but they're functional. Anyway, something made me go to that section of the closet and pull out some slim-fit, boot-cut, low rise Levis that DID NOT FIT before, just to SEE.... I didn't expect much. They never did fit - I bought them in a fit of optimism without trying them on first, because I was on Weight Watchers then and I was sure I was going to lose weight, and because the price was way too good to pass up - like nineteen bucks, as I recall - and then couldn't stuff my big butt into them. There was a good three inches of my hips between button and buttonhole, you know? I cursed my big butt and stuck them in too small section of the closet, where they have been hanging for, oh, a year, at least. I've lost track.


I am wearing those jeans right now, and they not only fit perfectly now but are wonderfully comfy, with a little room to spare at the waistband! It's time to retire the dumpy loose-cut jeans and start wearing something with a little STYLE again. Whooo-hooo!!!!!

Knitting notes - I'm so close to done on the Xanax sweater, I may finish it this evening. I'm not sure how the stitch count at the back of the neck is going to work out, though - I'm using a raglan pattern I ran on my Sweater Wizard software, which means it comes with no real notes or explanation, just basic directions. I've made a lot of raglan sweaters in my day, so I understand how it works, but somehow I think I'm going to run out of raglan decreases before I hit the targeted back-of-the-neck stitch count, and I can't for the life of me figure out why. Not a big deal, the sweater is fine and it's not far off, if it's off at all - maybe I'm just imagining things, and when I hit that last decrease row it will all work out.

It's hot. It's really, really, humid. It's really, really hot-and-humid. It's "makeup melts right off your face in the ten feet between house and car door" hot and humid. And the afternoon thunderstorms have kicked up in earnest - yesterday's was a doozy - spectacular lightning, driving sheets of rain, small branches falling from the trees....we get this nearly every day at this time of year. They're extra fun because they usually hit right around rush hour, turning our already bad traffic problems into sheer insanity. It's so miserable, the only sane response is to plan a life that involves moving, as quickly as the heat will allow, from air-conditioned shelter to air-conditioned shelter, and forget outdoor activities unless it involves being neck-deep in a body of cool water. Except, of course, from around 2 p.m. on, when the afternoon thunderstorms start brewing...and this lovely weather will go on well into October. You only think you'd like to live in Florida.


I spotted another Mr. Coffee Iced Tea Maker fanatic at Gliss. I swear, I'm so in love with mine that since I saw Target has reduced the price a couple of bucks, I'm going to go pick up a second one for the office this evening (after the rain stops) and get everybody onto my addiction. I can't be without my iced tea fix anymore! I've cut way back on my diet soda consumption, and tea is good for you. Especially Luzianne iced tea with some Splenda and a slice of lemon. Iced Tea Heaven.


I've been given the green light from Sorority Girl to start the Sitcom Chic, so I must get going on that one this weekend. I've been mumbling to myself about needing a cotton afghan at 3 a.m., when the air conditioning that made it possible to fall asleep gets a trifle chilly, but can't decide on a yarn. The issue is machine-dry-ability. I cannot imagine a "dry flat" afghan, though I know people make them, it strikes me as wildly impractical in a house with bed-sleeping pets. I like Cotton-ease and it meets the easy-care test, but the colors are a problem - unless I pick only two or three colors. Right now I'm thinking of white with Candy Blue - the end result would look somewhat Wedgewood. Or maybe white-pistachio-banana cream. First I should decide on a color scheme for the bedroom, which is in dire need of paint. So much to do, so little focus. I'm blaming the heat.

The insomnia marathon may be - dare I dream? - over! I did not wake up at 3 a.m. last night, for the first time in close to two weeks, and my allergies also have backed off a bit. Maybe my energy level will return to normal and I'll be able to start exercising again.


I'm doing well at sticking to my balanced, healthy lower-carb diet, it's easy and I feel great on it, but I know that ultimately a middle-aged metabolism does not respond to diet alone. I really need to get things moving, because going back to work has just emphasized my dire need for new clothes. But I really feel like this will work THIS TIME. Part of it (and it sounds terrible to say it under the circumstances, but it's true) is that there is an advantage to dieting when living alone - I only buy what I can eat, eat when I am hungry, and so forth. I also probably have an advantage in that I have a doglike ability to eat the same thing for days without getting tired of it - this week it's grilled chicken breasts. I fired up the grill Monday evening and cooked several along with some nice grilled veggies, and the chicken plus a nice big salad is the basis of my meals so far this week. Now if I could just get motivated to get out of this chair and onto the exercise bike, I'd be SO much further ahead. But I am just thrilled with the difference this diet has made in my hunger level. It really is amazing how much less hungry I feel when I avoid certain carbohydrates - I used to eat a nice "healthy" bowl of cereal or oatmeal for breakfast, and by 9:30 I was actually, physically, growling stomach hungry, and searching for a protein bar or something to get me through the morning, I was constantly eating at the "top" of my Weight Watchers points, but I was freakin' physically starving all day. I just cannot live on a low-fat diet - it must be something about my metabolism. Now I eat 2 eggs and 2 slices of Canadian bacon at 7, and I'm fine until lunch around 1 - I don't even think about eating until lunchtime. I do miss my favorite carbs at times, but actually seeing the scale budge after many months of a discouraging plateau is a strong motivation to learn to live without them. And as I mentioned before, with my family history of heart disease and late-onset diabetes, I feel like a poster child for the type of "future diabetic heart patient" Dr. Agatston describes in the book. Though I've never been much more than 30 lbs overweight at my worst, my dad has always been very trim and HE still developed the heart disease and late-onset diabetes, so merely keeping the numbers on the scale at a certain level isn't everything.


It's good to be back at work. I hadn't believed I could miss it so much, but I really did. I've concluded that maybe I'm just not what you'd call a "self starter," unless you count knitting projects. I don't think I could do well working at home, or adjust to being self-employed. I need the structure of Going to the Office and interacting with colleagues to be productive.

Knitting-wise, the Xanax Sweater is moving right along - I'm working my way through the shoulder decreases, and I love the way every row gets a little shorter, it's like a reward for making progress. It's hard for me to put it down - I stayed awake later than I expected to last night, because I was in "just one more row..." mode. I need to cast on the Sitcom Chic and get started on it this week.

I have been on leave from my job for several weeks, but yesterday I went back into the office on a part-time basis - I'll work in the mornings and visit my husband in the late afternoon, or vice-versa, if there are meetings or other things I need to attend. I can't sit at the nursing home all day anymore, it serves no useful purpose at this point. He no longer knows whether I'm there or not. It felt really good to be back at work - I'm very blessed to really like my boss and my colleagues, though the work is often less than thrilling, yesterday was actually FUN - and there's not much fun in my life these days, as you can imagine. It was also very nice that people noticed I'd lost weight - considering I'd been on Weight Watchers for MONTHS before this latest crisis put me out on leave and nobody said boo about my weight loss, it appears that the South Beach Diet really IS making a difference.


I've begun the shoulder decreases and v-neck shaping on the Xanax Sweater - I LOVE working simple sweaters in the round, it truly is the most mindless sort of relaxation. I've been whipping through this one at a really rapid pace - yesterday my husband's nursing home roommate, a very quiet, sweet guy who is also way too young to be in such a place, couldn't contain himself any longer and asked, "How long does it take you to make a sweater?" I didn't realize he'd been watching the sweater's progress. I said that it's hard to explain to a non-knitter, sometimes it takes me a really long time to finish a sweater, but this one is going so fast because of the simple style and no complicated shaping - I can pick up a lot of speed on the long straight stretches of plain knitting. I still haven't started the Sitcom Chic or the other things I've talked about lately - apparently Startitis is like a fever, it spikes and wanes, or the insanely hot and miserable weather lately is just sucking the ambition out of me.


Re the car dealer rant - I am well-versed in the art of writing politely shitty letters, it is actually part of my job at times as well as a natural talent, and I think the answer to this one is a politely worded but pointed nastygram to the owner of this small family dealership, enclosing a copy of the service notice, and explaining to him that this is not the way to win the hearts and minds of female customers. They inadvertently gave me my "hook" at the bottom of the letter - I hadn't noticed when I opened it and threw it aside in disgust on Saturday, but at the bottom of the page are several coupons for discounts on services like oil change, etc. - clearly labled "Exclusively for [the husband who doesn't own the damn car, has never even driven it, and certainly has never brought it to the dealership for service]." Isn't THAT just a special little icing on the cake? That's also a hell of a fine hook for the nasty letter, which will be a polite and more businesslike version of the following message: "Dear Mr. Nissan Dealer, this is the second notice of this sort that I have receivd from your dealership. Note that it is addressed to my husband, who is neither the owner nor driver of the vehicle. Exactly how does my husband-who-does-not-own-the-vehicle rate discounts on its service, when I, the owner of the vehicle and the only person who has brought it to your dealership for service in the past, have never received these letters or offers of discounts? Perhaps you, Mr. Dealership Owner, are not aware of how your service department is slighting and insulting its female customers by this practice, and now that you are aware of it, I hope you will take steps to correct it."


But that's an entertaining task for another day, there are more important issues on my plate right now. But trust me, they won't get let off the hook.

Here comes another rant. Save yourselves - click away now!


Today's mail brought a notice from the Nissan dealer that my car is due for scheduled service. I know it is, I just sort of have other, more pressing things to attend to right now, yanno, and it's due but not overdue. But that's not the rant - the rant is that the notice for service is addressed to MY HUSBAND.


My husband does not own this vehicle, I do. I bought it after he was already sick and housebound in a wheelchair, and I needed something to transport him to radiation and doctors and such, because he could not climb in and out of my tall SUV. He did not participate in the purchase in any way, his name is not on the title, nor on the loan, NOR was his name associated with any of my previous vehicles, including the SUV I traded in on this. It's quite simple - I buy my own cars, and this IS NOT HIS CAR. Never has been. He did, however, buy a DIFFERENT car from this Nissan dealer a couple of years ago, before he got sick, but got sick before it ever even went there for service, so I can't even excuse this as some sort of computer brainfart - the service department has just made an executive decision that every Nissan in the house must belong to my husband.


I like this dealership - I've taken MY car to them for service a couple of times, I was treated with respect and they were quite nice, they have great hours, do good work, are in a good location, they're wonderful folks, except that I still don't exist to them. Last time I went in there I even made sure that they had MY name and MY phone numbers in their system, associated with MY vehicle, after receiving a previous notice like this telling my husband that my car needs service. I politely corrected them and asked them to fix it. This time I don't think I'll be quite as polite. It's time to talk to the manager and explain to him that little things like this can really piss off female customers. Even if the vehicle is jointly owned, it seems to me that the notices about its service and such could be addressed to the person who brings it to the dealership for service - be it husband or wife - again, my husband has never, ever been physically capable of going to the dealership with this car, so how in the HELL do they have his name associated with it in the computer, even though I've corrected them already?


Might seem like a trivial thing, but it's trivial things like this that can cause problems - a few years ago the DMV in its infinite wisdom re-registered my car - again, MY car, owned solely by me - in my husband's name, and I had to holler at them to fix it. Call me touchy, but when it's the vehicle I bought, make payments upon, and exclusively drive, I don't really appreciate seeing it reregistered to somebody else, even if it was my husband - what if we were estranged and I wanted to get rid of the car? Whoops, the registration isn't in my name....


But then, this is the South, where married women are appendages of their husbands in many circumstances. Don't get me started about buying a home in North Carolina...at least Florida has advanced beyond that "et ux" crap.

Only YOU Can Prevent Creeping Old Farthood.

The bombs were bursting in air and the rockets were glaring redly over my neighborhood last night - it was pretty obvious that lots of the neighbors have been through the Carolinas lately, and came back loaded with some really cool but highly illegal fireworks. Murphy isn't afraid of fireworks (or much of anything else, except that bottle of ear cleaner) and so we stood outside with some other neighbors, enjoying the show, until he got bored and started to fall asleep in the street. Not a bad display, and far better than dealing with the traffic for the city show.


So today I was in the supermarket, and at the next register is a man in his 50s, bitching long and loud to everybody around him about the fireworks - "No consideration! Don't they know some people have to get up in the morning! It was AWFUL...." the rant just kept going, and finally trailed off behind him in a sort of Doppler effect as he left the store.


And I'm standing there thinking "God help me if I ever get that old." I mean, I just turned 45, so I AM almost his age, but God forbid I ever get that kind of OLD. It was the Fourth of July, for heaven's sake! It's a national holiday, fireworks are traditional, we've had plenty of rain lately so the fire danger was practically nil, and this is what people DO on the 4th! Yeah, it was a little loud and it went on until almost midnight, but I managed to fall asleep anyway and was up at 5:30 this morning, and I feel just FINE. I suspect what kept him up all night wasn't the fireworks, but the big head of Righteous Indignation he'd built up. It's hard to sleep when you're pissed at the world.


So he was a reminder to me - if I ever feel Creeping Old Farthood sneaking into my thought processes, I need to slap myself hard, because it sure does sound whiny and obnoxious and foolish.


On a knitting note - I'm halfway up sleeve 2 of the Xanax Sweater, and I've swatched the Cotton-ease for the Sitcom Chic for Sorority Girl - I'm not sure whether I should go down a needle size. I'm just a wee, wee bit above gauge on a size 8 needle, and also not that thrilled with the resulting fabric - I think I'd be better off going to a 7, even if that then puts me a wee bit under gauge.

And that Austermann Saba is allegedly a DK weight yarn? It looks way finer than DK weight to me! It's gorgeous and I love the color and the feel of it, but it's much finer than Elann's description led me to believe. I'll have to swatch it later so I can figure out what I'll do with it.

It's Here! It's Here!




Ms. Mailman brought my Elann order. It's a bit hard to tell in this somewhat crummy photo, but the Mama Mia is a luscious shade of chocolate brown - I'd forgotten how much I love brown. The Austermann Saba is just gorgeous - I didn't buy the colors to use together, but they look amazing side by side. Now I'm not sure what I'll do with any of this stuff, but I'm sure I'll find a good purpose.


And for good measure, since I'm finally posting photos, here's the progress on the Xanax Sweater:

The color is actually a richer blue, I can't seem to get a good natural color indoors lately.


The Bossy One went for his annual physical today, was pronounced in perfect health, didn't protest his shots or blood test, though he wasn't too thrilled when the vet cleaned some wax from his ears. He squinched up his eyes and looked utterly miserable, but didn't struggle. She suggested that I clean his ears daily for a few days, a suggestion I always welcome because it certainly is always great fun for both of us. I just have to let him see the bottle of ear cleaner and he runs like hell and hides under the bed, and the chase is on. He never gets nasty or tries to bite, he's way too sweet for that, but his evasive maneuvers are very exhausting and he knows he can usually wear me down if he keeps moving. We topped the vet with a trip through the bank drive-through, where all the tellers had to rush to the window to coo at him, and he of course lives for these moments of public adulation because he's a tiny egomaniac. Now he's home again and somewhat disappointed; he's clearly telegraphing the desire to go for another car ride, because his public awaits. Tough luck, little dog, the only thing awaiting you now is the Evil Bottle of Ear Cleaner. Mwah-hah-hah....

I'm much calmer now, after the social worker rant - here's my stress level now: ME though last night was another Insomnia Festival - awake at two, managed to fall asleep, when the cats started stirring, the dog helpfully barked at the cats because they were stirring, etc. Looong night. Not a good night.


I am up to the underarm on the Xanax Sweater, which means it's just about time to start a sleeve. Now that I've been corrected on the due date of the Sitcom Chic (see tagboard) - what do I know? I was never in a sorority! I can't remember when the chorus of bitching about the grueling recruitment and initiation period begins, except that recruitment starts sometime when the term is about to begin and continues until everybody is in tears and collapsing from heatstroke and exhaustion. Somehow I thought initiation followed closely on its heels, but I guess they like to prolong the agony. So I will await a current measurement from Sorority Girl (in email) so I can gauge which size to make, rather than guessing. SG stands 5'9" and I don't want the SC to look TOO skimpy on her, so I was already thinking a large might be best, but that may be too big...measurements are a useful thing when knitting for someone at a distance.


My last birthday present to me, the big box from Elann, should be here today or tomorrow! I can't wait to dig into it, but I must, because July is Finish My Stuff Month - I must resist the startitis.

Oh, and now that I'm done ranting, yesterday's mail contained a delightful surprise birthday gift from an anonymous Knitter's Review friend - some Cascade 220 and a lovely soft gray fiber and a spindle. The latter two are entirely alien to me, of course - I can only hold and admire them, like a chimp - but the Cascade 220 will be put to good use in some felting project, I'm sure. Thank you to my anonymous friend with the Saugus, MA postmark, and I hope you'll identify yourself soon. :-)

Another Insomnia Night - it's not just the stress, it's the allergies. Something is pollinating or producing mold in the moldy-wet-gym-sock atmosphere that is summer in lovely Central Florida. I wake up around 3 a.m. unable to breathe. Last night I did NOT take additional Benadryl, because I've wandered around in a Benadryl hangover since Sunday morning. Between the lack of sleep, the stress and the allergies, I feel like I'm in a perpetual fog - I have to keep willing myself to snap out of it and be functional, all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch reruns on TNT, and knit.


Yesterday I actually finished something that has been lingering for months - the button band on the rose Lamb's Pride cardigan. Photos to follow, eventually, when I find the energy. I'm happy with it, it's just a plain vanilla stockinette, v-neck, but it fits nicely (though it's almost unbearable to try it on in this heat). I'll be glad to have it next winter. I've declared July "Finish My Shi...er...Stuff...Month" - in addition to new knitting, I am going to work my way through the various UFOs littering the back room. Now that the rose cardie is put to bed, next up is the gray hoodie, which needs a button band and, duh, the hood. To be followed by a sock or two, at decent intervals. Then I do believe I'll be caught up on my UFOs and can concentrate on current projects.


The Xanax sweater continues - not much progress, since yesterday was Finish the Rose Cardie Day - but I really love Cotton Fleece. It should be one of my mainstay "winter" yarns in this climate. I'm looking forward to the Elann order, too, with some sport and DK cottons and cotton blends I've never tried. I really should knit only with sport and DK cottons, blends and linens - and henceforth I intend to focus mainly on those fibers.

Next new item will be a Sitcom Chic for Sorority Girl's sorority initiation day festivities - all the girls have to wear white summer dresses for initiation day, and the air conditioning is usually set to Freezing. A cute little Sitcom Chic in white Cotton-ease should be just right, and initiation is in August so I actually have enough lead time to get it done. Cotton-ease is a really, really nice yarn - I hope Lion Brand decides to expand the line and put out more colors. Right now the color selection is its only drawback - it's very kid-oriented, baby pastels and jellybean colors, cute but not exactly flexible for most adult wardrobes. I'd use this yarn a lot more if it came in more colors.


And now for a brief rant about the uselessness of social workers. I'll spare you the lengthy, detailed and very profanity-laced rant my friends endured yesterday - the short version (which may actually end up being long, so if you don't wanna read it, click away now) is this:


In the ongoing nightmare which is my husband's slow death, way too young, from a particularly vile kind of cancer, there are of course many insurance issues regarding his care. I've dealt with at least half a dozen social workers in the past few years, who worked for the hospital, or hospice, or the cancer center, or whatever. I realized yesterday that, without exeception, in EVERY SINGLE INTERACTION WITH THEM, every bit of information they gave me was absolutely wrong. Many months ago I was misinformed about our at-home physical therapy benefits, and had to arrange for his therapy myself because the hospital social worker said "nobody would do it." It took me one phone call to arrrange it. I was misinformed about obtaining VA hospice benefits by other social workers. I was misinformed as to the start date of his Medicare benefits by others. As an aside: He can't qualify for the former because he's "too rich" by VA standards - apparently now veterans have to be living under an overpass to qualify, it's disgusting and we can thank the present administration for these policy changes that cheat veterans out of what they've earned by risking their lives for their country, but I digress - I was told that there was no income level to qualify for VA hospice care by SEVERAL social workers. Not true. Medicare benefits start date? He won't live long enough to get anything from Medicare - again, I was told wrongly about when those benefits would begin by more than one "professional." I called VA and SS myself and got the correct information, after being led astray by the professionals who were supposed to be doing this for me.


But the capper, and this is the one that really had me screaming and ranting yesterday: I have been told all along the line, by the hospital SWs, the hospice organization SWs, on and on, that my insurance does not provide for in-patient hospice care. I thought this was very strange, I mean, what do you do with a dying person who has too many needs to be cared for at home? It happens all the time, how can it NOT be covered? But I have been told this repeatedly by all the experts who claimed to have investigated this and spoken to my insurance company themselves, and too bad, so sad, your policy only covers home hospice. My husband requires nursing home care, and now that I have learned I had been misinformed all the time about his VA and Medicare coverage, I was suddenly very, very afraid and angry yesterday. We are not "wealthy" by any means, regardless of what VA freakin' thinks. I cannot afford to pay for private nursing help to care for him at home, even if I cashed in his sole, small life insurance policy early it would not help much. I will get out of this awful mess in an adequate financial state, meaning not horribly in debt, still owning my home and with a good job, but that's it. Our life savings are gone, and my husband outlived the bulk of his company-provided life insurance a year ago and there are no other benefits available. So the thought of having to pay out of pocket for his inpatient nursing home care, or alternatively home care, absolutely horrified me, because I couldn't do it without putting up the only small assets I have left, and I hope to NOT lose everything we have worked for all these years, you know? But let's remember those comforting Professional Social Workers have told me, with sad little head-shakes, that this is exactly the situation. At home hospice only, and the insurance company doesn't care if that's right for the patient or not, it's all you get. Too bad, so sad.


So yesterday I called my health insurance carrier myself, and gave them the scenario: My husband is bedridden and comatose, dying of metastasized renal cancer. He cannot be cared for at home. Does my insurance cover his nursing home care if the nursing home is providing hospice care to him?


The answer came back in two minutes: Yes, it does. The bills will be paid 100%. We're so sorry about your husband, is there anything else we can do? They couldn't have been nicer, more responsive, or faster about getting me the answer.


So this begs the question - Who were these Professional Social Workers talking to for the past several months, when every damn one of them came back with incorrect information on every single question that ever arose regarding his care? Did they even CALL my insurance company at all? Did they contact the VA or Medicare to get the current regs, which are all accessible online or via an 800 number? I can't believe they did, because it took me all of two minutes to get the right answers each time I went behind their backs to do their damn jobs for them.


So that's my lesson for today, gentle readers. Though I hope that none of you ever ends up doing this for your spouse, as I am, many of us are of the age where care for elderly parents is going to be an issue in our futures. Don't assume that you're getting correct information from those who are allegedly there to "help" you deal with a crisis. Trust not the Social Workers in a medical crisis, they are an abomination and an ignorant scourge upon the earth. Verify everything they tell you, do their jobs for them, because they can't be trusted do them competently themselves. Oh, and BTW, I went back to one of the Professionals to tell her that her information on VA benefits was not current, and her response was, "Really?!" and she thanked me for the information. Imagine her surprise! Imagine my disgust - this is only her full-time job, why should she keep current on the program requirements? How silly of me to think that she should!



End of rant.