Addiction. Yarn addiction to be more precise. A subject I have tried many times to explain to others and have always been met with the same old stare - deer in the headlights - I just don't get it - look. The only people who do get it are my knitting buddies and favorite yarn-a -holics. They know who they are! They are mostly at the LYS ( that would be Local Yarn Shop for you non- yarn -a-holics) and some on FB and Ravelry. Awww Ravelry! The mecca for knitters! The place you go to find any pattern, yarn , gauge, whatever you want or need in a yarn or pattern! If they don't have it, you don't need it! Back to the yarn....there is something about great yarn. I don't mean the cheap stuff either. Great yarn is hand spun wool and cashmere and silk and alpaca! All in brilliant colors - solids and variegated! Walls and walls of yarn in every gauge imaginable....from thin sock yarn to bulky wools! To pick a favorite would be like telling an artist to pick a favorite color! My favorites change by the hour, to say the least. Currently, it's a dark almost black, purple sock yarn made from merino wool and silk. Beautiful!
My addiction ranges in price from around $6.00 to $45.00 roughly for ONE skein of yarn! That's around 150 yards of worsted weight yarn! 400 yards of sock yarn is about $25.00 for my precious merino wool and silk blend and I've seen 70 yards of bulky weight go for over a $100 before! So, yarn addiction comes with a price and yarn-a-holics usually have a "stash" somewhere in their homes. I can only imagine the price of a stash - maybe in the thousands of dollars! However, one must have a stash for emergencies, shear boredom, and for those times when that perfect project pops into your head.
I've knitted for myself, for others , for charities, you name it. However, I get the most out of knitting for other people. I love seeing how people react to getting a homemade gift - something I have made myself. It is especially great to give to someone in need. My charity giving is usually to a Cancer Charity, because it is close to my heart. They are always in need of scarves, chemo hats, blankets, etc.. I know what you're thinking - why not just buy them a scarf, hat, or blanket? It's not the same. A handmade gift comes from the heart. It's special and is made with love. Each stitch is made with thought of the other person in mind - whether it be a friend or a stranger. You can't buy that kind of thing in a store - ever. You simply can't buy love.
So, this is how I justify my addiction. By knitting for other people. I simply can't knit in cheap yarn for someone else. It wouldn't be right. So, as my stash gets larger and my addiction continues and my LYS continues to be my second home.....I will continue to knit on with my fellow co-dependents.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
September 30, 2009
September 30, 2009 was one of the two worst days of my entire life.
Throughout the whole month of September my mom was getting sicker and weaker. We knew her heart was not working properly - -the infection was back. Five years ago she had two valves replaced and almost died recovering from the surgery. She spent close to a month in the CV ICU unit at Brookwood Hospital hooked up to every known machine made available. After being discharged, she spent at least another month at my grandparents house recovering. I never wanted to see her in that position again. However, I believed she was stronger now and the infection was not as severe.The valves had stopped working properly again and had to be replaced as soon as possible. We really were not given a choice - she was going to die if she did not have the surgery.
That day was a Wednesday - at an ungodly hour, I drove her to the hospital and had her checked in for surgery. One by one, my family arrived to wait for the 6 hour surgery. Even my younger brother, Brian, was home from Memphis for the surgery. We were allowed to see her in the pre-surgery waiting area, one at a time. We all took turns going back to see her. I could tell she was scared that morning when she was getting ready to go. She even said the words. Before they took her in - I whispered in her ear.."mama, everything is going to be ok. I love you."
6 hours later she was still in surgery. Brian and I became very worried, but tried not to let on to everyone else. Pretty soon we got a call from the nurse saying everything was ok, but they were still in surgery. We calmed down a little bit after the phone call - we relaxed some knowing everything was alright. Another hour passed, then another. Something wasn't right and we both knew it. We never said the words, but we just looked to each other with worry and concern in both of our eyes. Finally, we were called again. This time we were called to the waiting room upstairs by the recovery room. The nurse came in and said the surgeon would be in soon - that's it, not a word about my mother or how she was. The surgeon took his time coming in and when he finally made it, he said very few words. "I'm sorry, but she's just not going to make it." I sat there in complete and total disbelief. I couldn't have heard him correctly. My mouth was literally dropped open and my eyes were wide with disbelief. I finally got the courage up to glance at Brian, who had tears in his eyes that were slowly coming down one cheek. The surgeon asked of we wanted to see her and then he left for a couple of minutes and came back. He said "I'm sorry, she's already gone."
I guess at that moment it made it all too real and maybe for Brian ,too. Very soon after that he got up and ran out of the room. He had to leave - it was just too much for him. I stayed for a little while, trying to absorb what had just happened. It was all too surreal for me. There simply was no way I had just lost my mom. There were so many thoughts flowing through my mind at the time. None of it seemed real. Finally, I started crying and said things to my family. Things like, how am I supposed to live without her? What am I going to do? They had no answer for me - they were silent. The surgeon had no answer for me. He simply told me that he tried but he couldn't stop the bleeding. He said he tried for a long time, but it just wasn't possible. It was her time - her time to go. I got up, picked up her overnight bag and said "I have to find Brian." I left my family in the waiting room, walked quickly through the hospital, crying, looking for him. I found him, sitting against a wall outside of the hospital. He had stopped crying, but his eyes were red and his cheeks were swollen. I sat down beside him and we didn't say a word for a long time. Finally, we decided we wanted nothing more then to just leave - to get out of there as quickly as possible. Our mom was gone. She wasn't there in that hospital anymore and we both knew it.
There were many days after that I recalled that day and remembered every single detail. There was a certain moment when I felt a part of me die. There's not a day that goes by, not an hour that goes by that I don't remember her. She was the strongest woman I ever met. She went through hell and back and survived long enough for me to see how wonderful of a person she was. I will miss her forever.
Throughout the whole month of September my mom was getting sicker and weaker. We knew her heart was not working properly - -the infection was back. Five years ago she had two valves replaced and almost died recovering from the surgery. She spent close to a month in the CV ICU unit at Brookwood Hospital hooked up to every known machine made available. After being discharged, she spent at least another month at my grandparents house recovering. I never wanted to see her in that position again. However, I believed she was stronger now and the infection was not as severe.The valves had stopped working properly again and had to be replaced as soon as possible. We really were not given a choice - she was going to die if she did not have the surgery.
That day was a Wednesday - at an ungodly hour, I drove her to the hospital and had her checked in for surgery. One by one, my family arrived to wait for the 6 hour surgery. Even my younger brother, Brian, was home from Memphis for the surgery. We were allowed to see her in the pre-surgery waiting area, one at a time. We all took turns going back to see her. I could tell she was scared that morning when she was getting ready to go. She even said the words. Before they took her in - I whispered in her ear.."mama, everything is going to be ok. I love you."
6 hours later she was still in surgery. Brian and I became very worried, but tried not to let on to everyone else. Pretty soon we got a call from the nurse saying everything was ok, but they were still in surgery. We calmed down a little bit after the phone call - we relaxed some knowing everything was alright. Another hour passed, then another. Something wasn't right and we both knew it. We never said the words, but we just looked to each other with worry and concern in both of our eyes. Finally, we were called again. This time we were called to the waiting room upstairs by the recovery room. The nurse came in and said the surgeon would be in soon - that's it, not a word about my mother or how she was. The surgeon took his time coming in and when he finally made it, he said very few words. "I'm sorry, but she's just not going to make it." I sat there in complete and total disbelief. I couldn't have heard him correctly. My mouth was literally dropped open and my eyes were wide with disbelief. I finally got the courage up to glance at Brian, who had tears in his eyes that were slowly coming down one cheek. The surgeon asked of we wanted to see her and then he left for a couple of minutes and came back. He said "I'm sorry, she's already gone."
I guess at that moment it made it all too real and maybe for Brian ,too. Very soon after that he got up and ran out of the room. He had to leave - it was just too much for him. I stayed for a little while, trying to absorb what had just happened. It was all too surreal for me. There simply was no way I had just lost my mom. There were so many thoughts flowing through my mind at the time. None of it seemed real. Finally, I started crying and said things to my family. Things like, how am I supposed to live without her? What am I going to do? They had no answer for me - they were silent. The surgeon had no answer for me. He simply told me that he tried but he couldn't stop the bleeding. He said he tried for a long time, but it just wasn't possible. It was her time - her time to go. I got up, picked up her overnight bag and said "I have to find Brian." I left my family in the waiting room, walked quickly through the hospital, crying, looking for him. I found him, sitting against a wall outside of the hospital. He had stopped crying, but his eyes were red and his cheeks were swollen. I sat down beside him and we didn't say a word for a long time. Finally, we decided we wanted nothing more then to just leave - to get out of there as quickly as possible. Our mom was gone. She wasn't there in that hospital anymore and we both knew it.
There were many days after that I recalled that day and remembered every single detail. There was a certain moment when I felt a part of me die. There's not a day that goes by, not an hour that goes by that I don't remember her. She was the strongest woman I ever met. She went through hell and back and survived long enough for me to see how wonderful of a person she was. I will miss her forever.
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