I talked to my mom after I posted last time, and changes were abruptly set in motion. Turns out that in spite of manyseveral emails and conversations over the previous few weeks, mom’s surgery was not on the tenth, but the second. So instead of hanging out with Michelle for the weekend and having some calm prep time for the trip, we were suddenly scrambling. We both had to change our times off work, Michelle had to get hospital documentation for the airline to cancel her plane tickets, and instead of a leisurely drive down on a Thursday afternoon, we had a 10-hour slog through the last (last, dammit!) snowstorm of the season.  Luckily, both workplaces were amazingly kind about the reschedule and we made it down in time to nap for an hour before taking mom to check in at the hospital.

Surgery took longer than expected (scar tissue = a torn hole in the bladder, apparently) but well, though they won’t know if the tumor is going to require chemo or radiation until pathology comes back in a couple of weeks. Speaking of which, just before we left town, we found out that Katy has a tumor on her face that is going to require surgery. Up to $1500 worth, which I don’t even know how or if we can manage, but I decided not to think about that until we get back to Minnesota.

We brought mom home to her apartment this afternoon, and she was tired enough that she just wanted to sleep. We were thus able to spend some time hanging out with friends.  Which I’ll sum up with this:

It’s the existential questions that really get to the heart of friendship.

Hi! Has my cunning ploy to make you fonder with my absence succeeded? Because it was entirely intentional, I assure you. Wipe any thought from your mind of my thinking “oh, I have stuff to write about, just let me get these photos processed” on no fewer than seventy-two occasions since last we spoke.  Really, now. Does that sound like something I’d do?

- ahem -

There was lots and lots and lots of snow, and then there was some more. We’re expecting a final (?) layer of the stuff on Thursday, though I’m sitting in the park in short sleeves while I’m typing this. Michael is laying on a blanket on the grass, golfers are pushing around their silly little carts, and the birds are all singing at once, making up for lost time.

I’ve been plenty busy. Work carries on quite well, and I feel like I’m (finally) really good at my job. I have four good knitting groups with great people every week, and awesome Crafty Brunch at Lori‘s once a month.  I get to hang out with Mary at least twice on her weeks off. Gwen and Kala and I are going to start a monthly “new yarn shop” field trip. I started taking a Spanish class.  Nik and Becky came to visit (with their fetus), and then Mandy (with Mordecai), who just left this afternoon.  My sister is coming to visit on Wednesday, and two days after she leaves for home, Michael and I will be driving down to spend a week in Columbia. My mom’s having surgery on the 10th, and we were both able to get the time off work to be with her for a week. While we’re down there, we’ll also get to cheer for Rachel when she defends her thesis research. Carisa is next on my “get her to come visit me” list (but she’s stubborn, so don’t say anything).

I have a pile of photos to share, but I’m taking a route to this post that will hopefully bypass the aforementioned (and totally nonexistent) route to nowhere. Post first, but stay tuned. There will be knitting and Yarnover pictures…I just need to get these photos processed.

Scene: Michael and I in bed, pre-sleep. He’s playing a game on his phone and I’m pretending to read a Discworld novel. I make a snarky comment about his game, and he gives me a sidelong squinty-glance.

Me: Don’t glance at me!

Michael: I’ll glance at the pope if I want to.

Me: You can’t. There isn’t one.

Michael: …

Me: (singsong) You can’t look at the Poh-ope.

After which he, understandably, resumes ignoring me and goes back to the game on his phone.

Of both the yarn and coat varieties. I told Becky in the first week of January that I’d show her some pictures, and then promptly forgot, because I am Chelsea and that is what I do.

Bright colors keep me alive in the wintertime, so I bought it on a great Cyber Monday sale from Asos. If I amortize the cost out, I figure I paid about seventy-five cents per compliment, so far.

The buttons were ugly and started falling off the day the coat came in the mail. I figured if I had to replace them anyway, I’d get something nicer. Sewing fifteen wooden buttons onto thick wool fabric wasn’t exactly a laugh a minute, but the effect was worth it.

Plus the skirt does the spinny thing. As all former nine-year-olds know, the spinny thing is the most important thing.

 ~~~

Yarn acquisition has been slow so far this year. With all of the prep for Year of the Stash, I really got into the whole downsizing shiz. At the very least, I hope to end this year with less yarn than I started with. But souvenir yarn is immune to my downsizing drive.

We stopped at Yarn Harbor in Duluth on our way back from the cabin. Michael found a display of yarn from a farm about five miles away from where we spent the weekend, so of course we had to get some of that.

I suspect this will become the Architect’s Hat, but not for quite a while. I need to focus on getting ahead of the YOTS assignments, lest I lose my forfeit.

I don’t really need more laceweight, but this little cake of Juniper Moon Farm “Findley” kept sparkling at me out of the corner of my eye. I’m knitting a pullover out of a different Juniper Moon yarn right now and my affection for it may have colored my need for this. But I don’t care. I expect it will become something like the Solemio Shrug.

~~~

Knitting progress has also been slow. Thumb and wrist are improving, but I’m skittish. In an effort to find other things to do with yarn while allowing my knit-muscles to rest, I’m looking into a rigid heddle loom.

Fellow Twin Cities Raveler Cathy gave me a kids’ version so I could see if I wanted to invest in a Cricket. The answer was yes, but I have to save up.

These Vancouver Fog armwarmers are the only knitted object I’ve finished so far this year. Knitted about 3x longer than the pattern called for, in Plymouth Tweed.

They were Mary’s Xmas present. She’s entirely knitworthy. Y’all know I live on approval and recognition; she feeds my ego and I knit her things. Seems a good partnership.

I’m totally framing this.

So there’s this thing in Minnesota, “Cabin Culture.” People are always going “up to the lake” or “out to the cabin” on the weekend. The cabins are family possessions, and the excursions to them are generally restricted to family, too. Since I’m from outstate and didn’t marry into a cabin family, I’d resigned myself to the fact that this wasn’t going to be a part of Minnesota life of which I could partake.

Until my amazing friend Mary sent out an invite for a long weekend in Embarrass. Family friends own a cabin that they open up to visitors in the wintertime, and seven of us headed up there last Friday.

It’s the coldest place in Minnesota – apparently the overnight temp fell to -42°F on our first night there, but we were indoors and thus did not perish.

It’s a beautiful property with a wood-fired Finnish sauna, which we took twice over the weekend.  Deep conversations were had within, as apparently 160°F just melts out all of the words. If you know me at all, you won’t be surprised that I always want to give and receive all of the information. What may surprise you is what we did after the sauna.

 You see that kind of scuffed-up pile of snow just outside the sauna door?  Do you see that long ridge in the shadowy area? That there would be the imprint of MY BODY. From where I ROLLED in the SNOW. Maybe 160°F also melts brain cells.

Michael and Mary both said they were going to do it and I thought they were insane, but went outside with them just to witness the spectacle. I don’t remember deciding that I was going to do it, too; I just remember standing on the ice, and then pushing myself up out of the snowbank. I’d have thought such a thing would be torture, but the contrast of temperatures seemed to short-circuit my skin, and my brain just refused to process what had happened. It was like “this information we are receiving can’t be right, so we’ll just shut down the reporting process until we figure out what’s going on out there.” I felt amazing for a least an hour afterward. Looks like I finally found something for which my endorphins work properly.

We also went snowshoeing, which I’ve been wanting to try for awhile.

I decided before we started that as long as I only fell down three times, I’d consider myself a success. I was only felled two and a half times, therefore I won! It was a lot harder than I expected (apparently that snow was more powdery than is ideal for the activity), but not un-fun.

I turned back before everybody else; I made it a little past the spot from which this shot was taken. Across the field and to the tree line was my goal, and I met it. The walk back was profoundly quiet and still. I’m kind of glad I got to do that part alone.

Scott’s dog Winston (and Lori’s dog Milou) had a marvelous time as well, even without snowshoes.

The outdoor activities were fun, but the main focus of the weekend was maximum hanging out. Board games and knitting and conversation and movies and reading and enjoying being warm inside while looking out at the dazzling, deadly landscape.

Also there was eating. Lots and lots of delicious eating. Pizza and coffee cake and homemade lasagna and crazy eggs and brownies and Tres Leches cake and everyone was so nice to accommodate our stupid still-restricted diet.

(I may or may not have had the last of the coffee cake for breakfast this morning, Lori.)

Magnificent Mary and her Xmas present, the armwarmers I finally finished last week.

This was where Michael and I slept. The whole cabin was so thoughtfully fitted out; fully equipped kitchen, piles of towels and blankets. games, books, toys; just everything we could need while we were there.  The reentry process has been a bit bumpy, let me tell you. 

After two and a half days, it was time to pack up, however much we wanted to stay. We squeezed so much joy out of the visit, but reality beckons.

Memories to treasure, and new friends as well. I’m so ardently grateful for this experience.

The hospitality of the cabin’s owners as well as that of Mary’s aunt and uncle goes back decades, as we saw when we flipped through their guestbook.  I hope that someday I’m able to do something this nice for other lonely strangers, somewhere in the world.

(1st, 4th, 5th & 6th photos provided by lovely Mary.)

I am posting something here before it is fully and officially more than four weeks since I last greeted ye, my sistren and brethren.  First we had the three horribly boring weeks of the elimination diet, wherein I could think about very little save what I couldn’t eat, what I had to eat, and what I would eat again once I was allowed to do as I pleased.  Then as soon as we started adding things back in, Work Drama began and I was too full of terror and self-recrimination to do much more than twitch while staring into space*.  In the week since that, I was mostly recovering from a week’s worth of adrenaline, tossing in a pap smear, x-rays, a fourth pregnant friend, and knitter-friend crises.

Brain has been full, yo.

Very little knitting has been accomplished. Just today I finished my first project of the year. This time last February, I was finishing up my 8th project of the year.  RSIs are no joke. Chiropractor has brought the pain down from an 8 to a 3-4, but it’s still unpleasant enough that I keep finding other things than knitting to do. (I’ve read a bunch more books so far this year than last.)  But the aforementioned x-rays were good, showing no joint damage or arthritic changes, and I’ll be making an appointment with a physical therapist when we get back from The North next week.

Yes, Michael and I are going Up North this weekend, a thing which it seems Minnesotans do with some regularity in the wintertime. My amazing friend M. and her lovely husband S. invited us up to a cabin owned by a family friend.  There will be snowshoeing and sauna, board games and knitting, food and general hanging out and I’m really looking forward to it!  Except also there will be a couple of people we haven’t met before, so of course my lizard brain has kicked in, trying to convince me to fake sick. I’m always glad that I did things, but I very rarely want to actually do things, you know?  My couch is safe and in close proximity to all of my stuff, after all.

But I will not fake sick. I will go and have a great time and make new friends and look at the stars. I will add yet another good time to my history of doing things, and trust that some day, eventually, my lizard brain will learn from experience.

~~
*Drama resolved.  I still adore my job, my boss appreciates me, and my coworkers are awesome.  Carry on.

I went to my first Knitter’s Guild meeting last night.  It was not bad. Everyone was friendly and there were a ton of people there. I got distracted in the middle of the Savvy Girls presentation, though. They were talking about traveling and knitting, and how to turn regular adventures into yarn adventures. There was an offhand comment about sneaking yarn into trips with your significant other, and suddenly I was off in my own world, thinking about Michael.

Is there a word for sad/irritated/grateful? Maybe in German. I need it every time I hear people talking about their spouse rolling their eyes at “one more row,” telling them they have too much yarn, scoffing at their creativity, disrespecting their craft. Those “Your husband called – he said you can buy as much yarn as you want” signs common in yarn shops get right up my nose, but I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you. Asking his permission? It is to laugh. But you’ve met me.

I mean, come on. Dude bought me a handmade swift and the ChiaoGoo interchangeables for Solstice. (And a Keurig, but that is off-topic.)

I tell everyone that Michael is supremely knitworthy and an awesome knitter’s spouse, and it’s true. Not only does he support me in this thing that makes me happy, he takes joy from seeing my joy. I don’t have to sneak yarn into our trips together; often he’s the one finding yarn shops for me. His giant feet aren’t his fault, and he makes up for them by liking bright and happy colors in his socks. He’s learned the lingo and makes conversation, asking intelligent questions and sometimes making interesting suggestions. I don’t have to excuse my stash to him, he knows what it means, what it’s worth. And I know what he’s worth.

Sometimes I’m lonely up here, and I still really miss my people. But I have my best friend with me.