Explore Monogamy

Remember in the 80s when George Michael's video for I Want Your Sex had him write that on his beard girlfriend? Or, remember in the 80s when that song was still shockingly risque and was banned from the radio in a lot of places? That seems so quaint now.

Anyway, this post is about monogamy. Sort of. But not that kind. I mean knitting monogamy. Picking just one project and plowing through until it's done. I go in starts and fits with this practice. On the one hand, I can see that when I am faithful to one project then I actually end up with finished knits instead of 85 in progress. And since it's going to stay winter here all damn year this year, I might well be wearing these handknits in July. On the other hand, I get enticed by new yarns or patterns and cannot help myself before I am casting on just one more cowl. Or sock. Or cardi. Or...you get the picture.

Last weekend I looked at my Color Affection and decided it was Time To Finish that bastard. I was sick of the sight of it, so I knuckled down and knit hours and hours on it while watching tv or listening to an audio book. And to my great surprise, I got it done.

Madtosh sock in Kelp, Twig, and Mansfiel'd Garden Party

And now that it's done I went to rummage in my other UFO's and started to think maybe I should really give knitting monogamy a serious try. Maybe I should try and stick to one project and one sock for riding in the the car and sitting in waiting rooms. Which I realize isn't totally monogamous but it's not always practical to haul my my main project around with me.

So today is a rainy, cold and generally crappy day and I am on my last dose of antibiotics that seem to give me heartburn. I decided there is really no better day to grab one of those UFO's and see how much I can churn out while snuggled up with some hot tea and a good book on my ipod. So today I will be forging ahead on my Helleborus Scarf and seeing how far I can go before getting bored with it and picking up a cardi. I have around 8 inches of it worked up so far using these yarns. I'm really looking forward to having it done and being able to inject some color into my life while Milwaukee is muddy and grey.

Well, that was awkward.

So I had to do bloodwork today. I thought it was fasting. So of course, it was not. And I fasted for naught. Which is no big deal, but I also did not eat enough yesterday at ALL by accident. I got busy doing stuff and never felt hungry. The end result was I only got in just over 450 calories for the day. Which is not at all ideal and something I try to avoid. And I was concerned about fasting because I sometimes get a low from a calorie deficit with Metformin. But I also knew my anxiety would raise my blood glucose so I was probably going to be just fine for a few hours into the day even with no food at all.

Since The Man has to cart my ass there, I wanted to get there early to get it done with as little disruption to his day as possible, they open at 7 so the plan was to get there soon after. I woke up at 4:30, and didn't really fall deeply asleep again. So I got up as planned at 5 and got ready for the day. Trying to use my mindful breathing as the panicky feelings about going to the doctor's office would bubble up.  Trying to not bite The Man's head off everything he spoke to me. Trying to think calming thoughts and focus on it being over soon. I'm not scared of needles or blood at all, it's just being there that I don't like. Because I know they have to touch me. And I know it's the doctor's office. And so...panic.

But I was powering through. We got there. The lab wasn't open yet, but I had knitting. So it was good. I sat down and got the knitting. The lab opened. They called me in. I babbled about my shitty, shitty veins and apologized. They looked over my chart and saw I only needed thyroid and liver panel today, so I totally could have eaten some breakfast. DUDE. Dammit. Whatevs. Once again, I don't know what magic this place has but they got the first vein in one stick again like a motherfucking boss. WOOT.

Then they handed me a cup and pointed me to the bathroom for a urine sample. Now, for the people who have spent more than 15 minutes in my presence you already know this, I can pee. I usually always have to pee. I pee all the goddamn time. When I gotta pee, it's all my mind can focus on and can't unfocus it until I just go. I have a walnut sized bladder, I swear. I had consumed extra extra water yesterday to try and plump up my veins for the draw. I drank a full glass this morning with my morning meds. I walked into that bathroom and everything just went to hell.

First of all, the towelette they gave me to use first had coconut acid as the second ingredient. FUCK. I am allergic to that. But rules is rules. I used it, hoping that somehow I would not be dosing the hoo-ha with too much coconut. And then....nothing. Really nothing. I couldn't go. I thought calm thoughts. I did diaphragmatic breathing. I thought of waterfalls, rivers, drips, and still nothing. I ran warm water over my hands in the sink. In the end I managed about a teaspoon. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Well, shit...what do I do now? I can't go back into the lab, I can't just leave. I shamefully walked to the checkout area and tried to hide my container from view and just said "I can't pee." She said I could drink water and wait. I said "No, I mean I can't pee here. I just...I can't." She sent me back to the lab where I had to explain myself and my performance anxiety, and my lack of usable sample. So they gave me a to-go bag and instructions for when to bring it back in to them. So awkward, but not nearly as much as the time I had to collect...umm...other samples. While living in a dorm and sharing a bathroom with many, many women. And then when I took it to the hospital to drop off the lab tech knew me from classes. So it was "Oh hi, how are you, you're in my such and such class, aren't you? yadda yadda yadda...." And then there is me "Ummm, so here is my poop, ok thanks bye." There should really be an unspoken rule about lab workers, they should just pretend they don't know you. No matter how well they might actually know you, you should get to pretend that you're anonymous at that moment of handing over the paper bag with your name on it.

So now I am home, pretty much chilled out for the next several hours thanks clonazepam being my co-pilot, already showered again to try and negate any residual coconut acid poisoning and of course, now I have to pee like every 45 minutes from all the damn water I have consumed.

I've been getting more fiber these days....

Mostly wool. I was infected with the Color Affection virus going around the knitting world and I am really making progress. Probably because I do a lot of sitting around on my ass.
But I have finished the first two sections and though i don't have a pic yet, I have begun the short row section. I screwed up and forgot to do a row of main color in the stripes, so my count is going to be off. But I am going to roll with it. It will look fine, right?

My Color Affliction

And I decide that spinning should count as exercise so I did an hour on the spinning wheel working on some leftovers from Tour de Fleece 2012. I have a whole stash of GORGEOUS new fiber to spin from the fall, but I want to finish up some leftovers from TdF before I begin working on anything new. Hopefully I can finish the spinning of this tomorrow, so I can get around to the plying which will go crazy fast.

I also finished the entire season 3 of Downton Abbey and am just about fit to burst because I want to talk about it but it's not done on PBS yet. Le sigh.

I'm OK!

I have had it on my mental to-do list to come back and update that I'm OK! I got out of the hospital on January 9 after kicking my evil gallbladder to the curb on the 7th. We had to wait for my pancreas to stop being upset. Which took, like, 8 days. It was very very angry.

And then, well, brain fog and fatigue have pretty much been my companions. And meds. Oh, soooo many meds. in my intake paperwork they asked all the meds I use. They were: aspirin when I get a migraine and vitamin d. That's it. Now I have thyroid meds (surprise!), proton pump inhibitor (which I think is temporary to just reduce stomach acids in case my pancreas tries to digest itself some more), metformin for the beetus, cholestyramine powder which is like Tang FROM HELL and I have to drink it over the sink in case it won't stay in because it is so amazingly foul, and antidepressants. It's a whole box of stuff. So that is super good times. And none of these meds play well together so my day has to be planned around how and when to take them so they can actually be absorbed. And also taking my blood sugar 4 times because it has to be over a certain amount to take the met...and OMG MY ENTIRE LIFE REVOLVES AROUND A PILL BOX. Half of them cause the shits and half of them cause constipation, which is AWESOME and needless to say, it keeps me on my toes. Sorry for poop chat, but whatevs, everyone poops and if you ever have your gallbladder removed you should know that your innards are going to be adventuresome for a while.

But mainly things are good. I'm just about 4 weeks out which means next week I can lift things over 10lbs again. And my energy levels should improve now that I know my thyroid was being a lazy arse. And the brain fog forgetfulness confusiony stuff. And the whole being freezing cold all the time thing. This week I have kind of given in to the exhaustion and just let myself nap. So today instead of hanging out with The Man, I basically slept. Which makes me feel bad because I am neglectful. But apparently I was also tired. So tired. I took a morning nap and an afternoon nap. And really, I could have slept through, but I had to get up and take meds at some point.

But we hung out this evening watching Haven, which is kind of the shittiest show EVER because while the story is good, the acting is so so so bad. And I worked on my Color Affliction, which is in the never ending solid color stage and feels like it hasn't grown at all, even though i am now over half done with that part. I would like to finish it tonight so I can add the second color tomorrow.....
but who knows how far I will get!

Bringing some serious

And at least 50% typos that I am going to have to go back and fix later.
So if you know me in my real life, you know that 50% of my waking existence is spent just keeping the cheese on my crackers. And most days I only succeed at 25% of that. I am a hot, hot mess. I try, I use skills from many, many hours of therapy. My doctor phobia has kept me from seeking new therapy. See, that is kind of a problems. And I am very much aware of it. I have been a total agoraphobe for a while now. It's not lazy, I fear outdoors will kill me.

And then, I was suddenly sick. I thought it was a tummy bug. As grim hour after grim hour passed, it became clear that it was not a tummy bug. Whatever was happening to me was kiiiiiiind of a big fucking deal. So I evaluated my choices at that point: See if the vomity burning hole in my guts would stop, or see if the vomity burning hole would really just explode and kill me. That sounded rather unpleasant to me. So Ermergency room it was going to be. With blatant honestly. I could not stop vomiting. Or panicking. Or panic vomiting.

In the spirit of coming out, I'm still in hopstal right now. I am in my room at Community Memorial in Memononee Falls. I am awaiting surgery hopefully today to set free my gall bladder that decided to take against my wee little pancreas like a fucking BITCH from hell. Jesus. That is some very painful stuff there. The most physically painful event in my life.

Now another thing you know about me, or maybe think you know, is that I no longer speak to my mother.  Let's just cover the basics. I love her. I have tried my damnedest to love her, to be enough for her. This is not up for argument from a peanut gallery. I gave it my all, and there was no more of me left to give. It might be cowardly, but this is my story and I am allowed to be a big pussy in my stories.

So now it's out there. For real. She still contacts me. I just refuse to respond in any way. She has said appallingly hurtful things to be. Just hair curling. I felt them and fell apart and carried on. That's not working for me any more.

So this time, when it was clear that Shit was Bad, I reached out to two aunties to tell them there I was and what was happening. One of them thought it was be a good idea to tell my mother. I did not disagree with that at all, because I was seriouly ill! This was the result. I did get a phone call from her husband and I was quite frankly under heavy pain control and after his using his "now you listen here!" tone of voice I just hung up. I do know that no one asked WHY or HOW I was so sick during the call. My docts can't get it either, I'm actually pretty healthy. I do not drink. I have never smoked. I have done no recreational drugs. I eat breakfast on a Sunday and injure my pancreas so badly that now I'm diabetic for life?

So: read on. And wish me luck. I don't pray, but if you do I am happy to take any good thoughts.

---

On Jan 1, 2013, at 6:27 PM, JREDACATED wrote:

> Julie ... You may be aware of this, but if not you should know that
> Annie is in the hospital for pancreatitis. Went in last night I
> think. Has a stone that they will remove along with her gallbladder.
> Don't know when that will be. Phone # to her room is REDACTED
> She is in a lot of pain, but sounds like they will be able to remedy
> that. ...J

From: "Julia Fenner" To: "JREDACTED
Sent: Wednesday, January 2, 2013 12:41:58 PM
Subject: Re: Annie in hospital

Of course I am not aware of it. How could I be? You and Annie have
made it very clear that she does not want me in her life. I grieve
every single day. I have not heard her voice for over five years. Now
I get a phone number for a hospital room? What is the name of the
hospital? What is her cell number? What is Jeff's number? Did she ask
you to contact me? Our internet has been down. I would like to hear
from Jeff. Do you have any idea how cruel you are to tell me this and
give me no other information?

First, I want the name of the hospital. I want you to send me her cell
number, Jeff's cell number, and a landline number if they have one. I
need her e-mail address, too. If you choose not to do the right thing,
please let me know if she survives. It is the least you can do.

ANNIE'S NOTE: for all of this blathering, no move was made by my mother to contact me, her actual child. An awful lot of every was involved in demanding every other people way to contact me, though. Frankly, there is no good time to deal with shit like this, so I figured I might as well deal with it now, while it is happening.

Awwwwwww yeah, bullet point post baby

With bonus jam porn. Or porn jam? Oh, no. Nononononononononononono. Jam porn is definitely preferred! Spiced Cherry Blackberry jam, to be precise. Which is a really fancy way to say that tonight it was "eat random shit from the freezer or I am throwing it away" which is just a frog hair more appetizing than what my granny sometimes said, which was "here, this needs to be eaten." So I ate ever so gently freezer burned shrimp for dinner, and some french fries that my husband cooked that ranged from blackened to raw and flaccid, the concept of "single layer on a baking sheet" seems to escape him. I made a peach crisp that was surprisingly tasty for just throwing some crap on frozen peaches. But still, precious freezer space was being taken up.
So...why not jam?
Hell yeah, JAM!

the suspects

So I looked at a bunch of recipes, gathered the not-as-freezer-burned-as-I-suspected berries and cherries and went for it. Since I'm not canning it, I admit, I basically winged it. I also added in some cinnamon, ginger and vanilla bean chunks. Because it's the holidays and therefore I must put ginger and cinnamon and vanilla in ALL THE THINGS right now.
I ended up with this:

ruby red jars of loveliness

Now onto the random:

• I am back on the hexipuffs. I am remembering why they so much fun to knit. 
• Since Hellvis died in August, the other two cats are still working on their new dynamic. Lately Erma has been really aggressive toward Marge. Mainly because she wants to lay on him because she is cold. Marge isn't having it.  Also, Hellvis used to walk around the house yoweling for no reason. Marge seems to have decided it's his job now and does it at random times. 
• I brought all my holiday crap down from the storage closet upstairs, I even put some lights and wreaths up outside. And I put up the disco forest on the freaky orange buffet:

spaaaaaaaarkles

•  And then I ran out of oomph and have been living with assorted plastic tubs and totes for the past few days. The tree is in a box in the living room, arranged just so it takes up as much floor space as possible while still allowing the u-verse remote to see the box so that Colbert Report can be viewed. 
• My reindeer moss wreath really does smell like pee. Old, nasty pee. And now it's like..molting.
• And that wraps it up for now!

An oldie, but a goodie

I am reblogging this, it was originally posted to my old livejournal blog in March of 2006, it happened in our old house. We got a new chimney cap in 2008 when we had a new roof put on. And then we moved away in 2010, one of the first things we checked here was if the chimney had a cap. It has a screen, so...no squirrels. :)


How to remove a squirrel stuck in your water heater vent pipe in 11 easy steps.

1. Freak the hell out over a noise in the basement.

2 Call husband and tell him he needs to go find some men at work and ask what to do because there seems to be a bird stuck in exhaust pipe that leads from the chimney to the water heater. Once he realizes that there is a real live wild animal trapped in the house he stops arguing that he IS, in fact, a man and says he will call back as soon as he finds some. Then wait for him to come home so I can make him clean it up if the bird dies during extraction. I do plumbing, but corpse removal has always been J's department in this marriage and I see no reason to change this now.

3. Prepare to take the vent, um, thing, the little hat business, off the heater and have a pillow case ready to catch the bird, which is fighting and screaming in there. When several minutes pass with NO BIRD, shine a flashlight up in there, squabble with your husband over who has to look up the tube, lose that fight and gingerly take a peek and realize it's a SQUIRREL and it's looking right at you with it's beady eyes.

4. Freak the hell out again. Oh LAWD, it's a SQUIRREL, it has beady little eyes! Take a few minutes to scream right into the tube which will cause the squirrel to scream back at you. I did this around 4 times for good measure.

5. Realize this is one of those things you are going to have to lay out some money to deal with and soon find out after a series of phone calls that there are some things people just don't want to help you with, even for cash money. Who knew?

6. Finally call the humane society and have a wildlife expert talk me through Squirrel Relaxation and Removal 101. The guy will have to stop and laugh several times during this conversation. Just suck it up and take good notes.

7. Cover all your basement windows with cardboard to black them out. Use plenty of duct tape, it will stick to spiderwebs. This is not the time to freak about the spiderwebs. Turn off all the lights in the basement, BUT wait til right before you go up or being in a pitch black basement will still give you the freaks, even if you are 32. Shut up, it was DARK. Put a large bowl of ammonia down there to stink up the basement and stink out the squirrel.

8. Open the back door wide open and let the sun and fresh air stream down the stairs and hope the little bastard will make a break for freedom. Sprinkle flour by the back door so that you can see the tracks after it escapes. Sprinkle more flour after your husband walks in it with his big manfeet. Also, you can put a few peanuts in the shell out under the tube to entice the squirrel. That was The Man's idea.

9. At this point the wildlife experts advise leaving the house. However, other experts in the local wild life, such as my neighborhood watch liaison, Officer Shelly Lubis, would advise one to not do anything as stupid as leaving your house wide open like that. You will come home and find no squirrel, but quite likely also no washer, no dryer, no television and no computers. So I just quietly knit and J read on the sofa until he went upstairs to take a nap with the cats who were in jail. Also, no I did not call the MPD to ask about that. For reals.

10. Wait 3 hours until you hear thump, screech, rustle rustle skitter skitter skitter and VOILA! You have removed your first squirrel from your dwelling! Check the floor for tracks, realize several peanuts are missing and go bang on the pipe and joyfully hear silence! No scratching, no screaming, no squirelling! Victory is yours.

11. Let out the cats and be shunned by Marge who had plans for that squirrel and will never forgive you for keeping him locked away for all the good stuff. Clean up all the damn flour and peanut shells.