mamacate

Yule Hearth

I had big plans for this Solstice. The house is done (mostly), the second job is finished (mostly), and life has settled down to a dull roar (sort of). I dreamed of getting back to the wonderful solstice parties we used to have, where friends gathered together to light candles and say blessings and to tumble our intentions out into the dark in hopes that we could follow them through the winter and arrive somewhere sunny and bright with dreams flung wide.

My house is almost too perfect for entertaining now (who is this grownup family that lives here?), but tonight it’s just me and Rhys and a blanket and our own little Yule log. In the crush of birthdays and Christmas trees and end-of-semester madness and holiday knitting, this dark night is going to be a quiet and relatively uncomplicated one.

I love the gathering and the bringing together of light and of dreams, but right now, a quiet evening warming our home is the very light I think I need. I’m realizing that the creeping night of winter has had its own intention in my life, reminding me to invest my heart in my home and family, to feed the fires. This growing night’s cold and darkness has kept me tending the fire, keeping a warm glow around our very center, and before looking toward the earth’s coming light, I’m going to coax bright flames from this little hearth and warm my hands and feet before it, and forget the chill outside.

Whatever hearth warms your life this solstice eve, may its flame burn brightly and may it keep you through the long dark night.

Blessed be!

Otherwise Occupied

Yeah, so long time, eh?  I swear to god it wasn't weffriddles that was keeping me away (much).  I'm on 54.4 (happy to provide clues via email--you know who you are).  But aside from brain-sucking puzzle insanity, life has been taking us for a bit of a ride lately, some of it not so fun, but so far all ending well, so that's a very good thing.  I feel like I should have some sort of cosmic lesson from this about how to ride through intensity, but I don't think I really learned anything.  We just survived, and sometimes that's really the point, isn't it?

So, let's see.  I suppose big thing #1 would be the Big Cancer Scare.  See, Rhys' family pretty much has an amazing incidence of breast cancer.  And there was a routine mammogram, and then there was another one.  And then a consult, and then a biopsy.  And truly, we really didn't think there would be any chance of a happy answer.  I mean, when you're one of two females over 30 in the entire extended family who hasn't had it (yet), it's just a little hard to believe that the biopsy is going to come back okay.

But it did.  Whoo freaking goddamn hoo, huh?  I mean, wow.  So, you know, dodged that bullet.  Amazing.

Then we've also been going through this big special ed evaluation for Sir H of the not-so-much-with-the-new-preschool (esq.), and despite warnings to the contrary from everyone involved with the case that they never approve services for this kind of situation, they...approved services.  They gave him a slot in the public preschool.  I mean, yeah, huh?

And Rhys' sister's 2.5 year post-cancer appointment?  Clean.  Mom's annual follow up from her cancer of many years ago?  Also.  Clean.  Seriously, this is all in the past four days.

What I'm saying is that I really need to buy a lottery ticket right now.  Or like go stand in the way of a tornado or something because apparently I am having some really good luck right now.  Or maybe more like a lot of really not bad luck.

So that's what I've been doing.

Also, throwing a 40th birthday party for my spousal equivalent.  (Because nothing says "happy 40th birthday" like a serious cancer scare.)

Rhys got a pair of crocs, a tiara, and a birthday girl sash.  She even wore a dress.

With socks of course.  White ones.  Natch.

So I threw a party at our house.  Even though we have a Trader Joe's less than 10 miles from our house, I rarely get there, but I went in preparation for the party and, well, let's just say that trip will live in infamy as The Grocery Incident of 2006.  People at the party kept running away from me as I chased them around trying to force them to eat mini cannoli and baked brie and shrimp cocktail.  Okay, I lied, the shrimp cocktail didn't even make it out onto the buffet because there was no more room.  Dude it wasn't pretty.

And then, THEN, I made Rhys a meal on her actual birthday that was entirely out of Julia Child.  Which is to say it contained approximately 1 stick of butter per serving (that would be filet mignon with bearnaise, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus).  By the end of the whole shebang I was tired.  And we had each gained approximately 30 pounds.

Shrimp, anyone?  Mini cannoli?  You're full?  I'm sorry, that's no excuse.

As I was saying.  Not much going on here.  Work remains complete madness.

The swing coat is slow.  Okay, I'm slow.  Can you blame me?  I've divided for the arms and it's still slow.  Just keep knitting, just keep knitting.

Here's the WIP shot in the bathroom mirror.  Sorry for the forest green on black business.  It's a small miracle I actually remembered to photograph it.

Do you think I could just bind off and call it a bolero?  Hmm. 

By the way, I was trying to be all smiley and not look like it takes 90% of my brain cells to photograph myself in the bathroom mirror without holding the camera directly in front of my face (it does in fact take 90% of my brain cells to do that, but I was trying to look like it doesn't).  So apparently I went the dorky smile route, apparently preferring to look like I don't have any brain cells at all.  Ah well.  Look at the knitting, okay?

So yeah, that's the latest from here.  And here are some living room photos (by the way, that wasn't the right couch picture last time--I knew I liked the couch better than the one I found on the website).

And yeah, there are boxes under the piano.  Like all our new closets can't store all our crap.  Imagine me mumbling something about holiday presents here.  My goal is to pretend we can live up to our living room for at least a few more weeks.  Better hide those boxes, huh?

Randoms Wait for No Wednesday

You know, I love Mozilla, I do.  It keeps my passwords in just the way I like, and makes lovely little toolbar buttons that let me check my email.  But the damn thing just closes itself up at random intervals with no warning at all.  It's not even one of those "Netscape has encountered a problem and needs to close" things.  It's just, hello, no more browser.  It often does this when I'm sending email, but sometimes it just decides it's tired and unappreciated and it's going home.  And this, when I have an open window with a half-composed blog post?  I do not like.  Thank you for listening.

Now to get on with the randoms.

• So that little chain letter meme thing was fun, huh?  Thanks for playing, people.
• The swing coat is still a great knit, but I'm at that point in the top-down raglan--anyone who has knitted a top-down raglan knows this point--at which I have simply an unreasonable number of stitches on the needle.  I have like 10 more rows until I can divide the body and sleeves, but those 10 rows might as well be a whole sweater, because it is taking FOR EVER.  I'm stalling on the picture-taking because it still looks like a lump.  I figure when I divide the sleeves I can try it on and take a more decent picture.  It's all down hill after that.
• The house is kind of freaking us out, because it's SO GROWN UP.  It's all fancy and shit with the dramatic bookshelf lighting and the grand piano and the fireplace and all.  Now it's completely over, because we just got one of these:       It looks kind of cheesy in the picture, but it's actually quite nice.  At least I think it will be when it gets to our house.  But we've got this gorgeous, fabulous living room and I love it completely, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it freaks me out a little.  It wasn't that long ago that we realized that decorating with milk crates after 30 is no longer cute and edgy, but tips right over into the category of sad.  I suppose things have changed a little, huh?
• I blame Imbrium. Weffriddles.  This crap could keep you up for weeks.  Don't blame me.  It's all Imbrium's fault.  Really.
• Finally, I'd like to tell you about my ass.  Well, okay, about the present I got from my good friend Wooly Headed Ruth.  She sent me back my spalted birch spindle that was sojourning with blogless Manise (which has apparently spawned plenty of enablement without even the benefit of my presence, causing, apparently, the Spindlewood Co. to run out of spalted birch.  I'm here to help).  She threw in a little birthday gift.   While the oldness of my ass may be questioned by some (particularly those with asses older than my own), its tiredness is unquestioned.  And it will be soaked, happily.  Thanks, Ruth!