WWJD? I sure don’t know.

Hmmm, it’s the last Tuesday of January, the day I’ve dedicated to the NaBloPoMo theme “change,” and I don’t know what to say.

So many things are changing for me right now.  I just want to crawl under my blankets and wake up with all the hard work done and my life set up the way it’s supposed to be.  I understand that you are supposed to pray to God for advice and guidance when you are faced with a difficult decision, but what do you do when there is no answer?  I have been praying about the same question for 6 years now, and when no answer came the first time, I had to make the best decision I knew how to make.  I continue to pray for guidance, and I still don’t know what to do, even though the same problem exists and has shown no signs of alleviation.  I’m not trying to say that God doesn’t answer prayers, I’m asking what do you do when the problem that has been the subject of your prayers for years is reaching a head, and cannot continue on the same path without dire consequences for an innocent bystander?

I understand that if there is anything in your life that may cause you to be less of a Christian you are supposed to get rid of it, but what if that something is also something that the Bible says you should never get rid of?  I know I am talking in secret Bible code, and hopefully those of you that are well-versed in the Bible will understand what I’m talking about here. 

What should I do if change is forced upon me?  What if I think change is the best solution, but God hasn’t given me the go-ahead?  What if I never get the answer from Him, but instead continue to live in a desperate situation?  I need someone to tell me what to do, and tell me it will be okay in the long run.  I just don’t think I can continue under these circumstances.

Oh My Gosh I Had SO MUCH FUN!

Yesterday was the absolute BEST. DAY. EVER.

I got to work (barely) on time, had a bagel, looked for my wallet and…uh-oh…no wallet.  Where is it?  When did I use it last?  Is it in my desk?  No.  In my truck?  No.  So I took a personal day and went back to the house to find it.  I dug through the diaper bag, under the beds, in the toy box, all my yarn stash, nothing.  Nada. 

Now, here’s the super-fun part.  My license and my social security card were in there.  I know, I know, you should never have your social security card in your wallet, but when we moved last, I didn’t want to lose it so I put it in my wallet and there it stayed.  I just never got around to putting it away.  You know what else I never got around to?  Changing the address on my license.  Hoo-boy!  Talk about a great time!  So how will the DMV replace my license when I can’t prove my address?  How will I get a new social security card without my license as picture ID?  Why would my husband pick that exact moment to call and ask if we had an extra “hundred or so” dollars to pitch in on a trailer for their hunting gear? 

As a matter of fact, we do not have an extra “hundred or so.”  Oh wait, let me run out to the money tree in the backyard and grab that for you!  I just hope they don’t ask for photo ID!

Anyway, the DMV opens at noon on Wednesdays, so I sat around for the longest hour and a half of my LIFE and gave them a call as soon as they opened.  The person on the phone was so great!  I only needed two utility bills and something with my signature!  Then, when I got there I only had to wait about an hour!  Now, I know that seems like a long time, but if you have visited your DMV lately you should know that is very quick.  While I was there, the woman at the counter told me that I was allowed to renew my license ahead of time if I wanted, so I went ahead and did that as well, saving me a second trip in a couple months time.  Awesome!  Oh, did you know you’re not allowed to smile for your license photo anymore?  It’s true, and when the fella taking my picture told me that I couldn’t smile, I just felt the urge, the NEED to smile at the camera.  Too funny.

Once I got my license (with the worst photo in the world), I was on my way to the social security administrative building.  It’s a new building, much cleaner than the old one, but it still smells like urine.  FUN.  I only had to wait about 45 minutes there, and again the woman at the counter was so nice!  I just couldn’t believe it!  I guess all the praying I did before embarking on my adventure did the trick.  I did have to call my parents while I was there because you have to have their social security numbers to get your own card, and my mother said, “You know, after tearing up your whole house, going to the DMV, going to the social security office, putting a fraud alert on your credit bureaus, and taking a day off work, you’ll probably find your wallet tomorrow.”  She’s probably right.

So, all in all, it was a pretty horrible day, but made better with the kindness of the DMV and social security admin workers.  Thank goodness there are still some kind people in this world.

Two-Needle Baby Sweater.

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Two-Needle Baby Sweater (February chapter), Knitter’s Almanac, Elizabeth Zimmermann

Caron Simply Soft Brites, Berry Blue

US 6 needles, straights and DPN’s

For a co-worker’s baby-to-be.

I must confess I altered this pattern a bit.  You are supposed to work each sleeve back and forth and then pick up the stitches for the body.  To make this completely seamless I chose to place the sleeve stitches on spare yarn, cast on the underarm stitches and knit the body.  After that I picked up the underarm stitches and the sleeve stitches on DPN’s and knit in the round.  I also picked up three stitches on either side of the yoke and knit i-cord for a tie rather than use buttons.  This was an aesthetic choice as well as a safety issue.  I wouldn’t want a phone call telling me a curious teething baby had eaten buttons off something I made them!

“We’re doing it the Jack Butler way!”

It’s happening again.  I decide to get a little more serious about my writing, start looking around at literary magazines currently accepting submissions, and I start writing poems in my head that I think would meet the standard they are looking for.  FAIL.  See, every literary magazine has a certain voice they are trying to put out there.  Some like edgy and experimental, some like natural stream-of-consciousness, some just want to SHOCK! and AWE!  It does a writer no good to send out their work to a magazine that clearly has no interest in publishing that writer’s style.  Better to spend your energy and postage on a letter to your mom.  Maybe she’ll use the SASE to send you an encouraging note and some money.

Anyway, I’ve been flipping through some of my work and it seems to me that it isn’t total crap.  I mean, it needs some work, for sure, but I can hear a voice starting to emerge.  I’m not sure if I should go back and rewrite the ones that are a little off, the ones that have a good message but no indication of my voice, or if I should leave them alone and use them as tools to remember how much I’ve grown.  I suppose I could make the edits and still keep copies of the originals, but it doesn’t seem right to change their essential being.  It almost seems like I am trying to make them something they’re not.  They are meager little poems, not very well-written, but they are an indication of what I can be.

I’ve been thinking about Cocoa a lot.  I still feel so much grief over his death, and a good amount of guilt.  I am so mad at myself for not recognizing how bad off he was, then not being able to afford the vet treatment that he would have needed to save his life.  I knew all along that something just wasn’t right, and I knew that Himalayans are infamous for never complaining and never letting their owners know they are sick.  I knew when I got him that I would have to keep a quick eye on him to be sure he wasn’t ill and just not letting anyone know.  I feel like I let other issues cloud my judgement and they cost my cat his life.  I don’t think I will ever be able to have another pet.  If hubby and son want to have a dog, or whatever, that is all them.  I just don’t think I can open my heart to that kind of responsibility.

What does any of this have to do with change, the NaBloPoMo theme?  What part of this post isn’t about change?  Something’s moving; something’s stirring in me like the first green petals peeking out of dried up winter leaf piles.

The green death flavor, please.

I had all kinds of ideas floating around in my head for posting, but they’re gone, replaced by that not-quite-stuffy feeling you get in the back of your head to let you know a cold is on it’s way.  Tonight I’ll be driving by Wally-World to pick myself up some liquid life, even though it tastes like death.  I know they make cherry flavor and even those fancy-pants pills that you can swallow without ever having to taste anything, but I want to know that I’m going to feel better.  I don’t like my relief to just sneak up on me…one minute I’m lying there, the pattern of the couch cushion imprinted on my cheek, sweat pouring down my face, nose raw from cheap tissues, the next I’m awake, sitting up and watching Maury while knitting on whatever is next to me.  That’s not very exciting.  If I have to suffer the slings and arrows of the common cold because someone can’t keep their ass home when they’re sick (I’m looking directly at you, cubicle neighbor), then I should be able to experience my recovery as well.  Green death reminds me of healing.  The bitter nasty that slides down your throat and threatens to make you throw it all back up is what I’m talking about!  The thrill of victory as you manage to get a full dose down, and I don’t mean a soup-spoon.  That’s not a true tablespoon and you know it, so no cheating.  By the time you’re able to scour the taste out of your mouth you’re feeling better;sleepy, even.  Ah, rest.  Blissful, peaceful sleep.  Wake up in the morning and maybe even want to get a shower.  Maybe wash your hair!  Drink a cup of coffee!  Hell, let’s get nutty and drink a glass of o.j.  You can actually taste it! 

Anyway, that’s what I’ll be doing tonight in an effort to not take any time off work.  If I don’t see you tomorrow, have a great weekend!