FO Friday: Stash Enhancement Tally

Fairytale Tarot (Hunt)

 ''It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman in possession of too much yarn, must be in want of more''. (with apologies to Jane Austen)


It IS a sad fact that one's stash is always in need of enhancement. Never mind that you have already achieved SABLE (Stash Acquisition Beyond Life Expectancy, ie. you will never live long enough to knit/crochet all the yarn you own) - although I myself am innocent of this crime, I know others who are not. One of them might be Eviller.

This year I had decided that as much as possible I was going to knit from my stash, buying new yarn only when unavoidable, for example, my Big 6 Project (more about this another time) or for a specific project for someone's birthday, say. That kinda thing.

However.

 What can you do when someone (Belo) gives you good folding cashmoney for your birthday and says, ''spend it on yourself'' ? It would have just been rude not to pop into Jenny Wren's, seeing as how she's lovely and her shop is full of yummy squishiness just as she had a sale on and buy a me-sized sweater's worth of this gorgeous peachy-coral Lanas Stop Baby Wool, wouldn't it ?

The pretty KnitPro crochet hooks kinda fell into my basket at the same time. Plus, they're tools, so don't count as stash at all.

And then my friend Dianne sent me 800m or so of lovely undyed silk and some Muga silk, towards my Big 6 Project:

So of course they don't count as they were an unsolicited gift. And the birthday vouchers my Good Twin gave me enabled the addition of the following, but they are also earmarked for the Big 6 Project:

I try not to look at the destashes on Ravelry when I'm trying to avoid temptation, but this happened to catch my eye, and it was just so vibrant I had to have it. Yes, had to, I tell you, it was meant to be mine, especially at the knockdown price it was:

And as if that wasn't enough - you're right, there is no such thing - I won a giveaway on JenACKnitwear's blog, a lovely kit of a stole pattern and 800m or so of Frog Tree Brushed Suri fingering weight to make it with:

Yes, you may gnash your teeth all you like while I lounge here cossetting all these piles of luscious yarn ...

A Modern Aspect of Grief

Robin Wood Tarot

I feel like I’m not handling my grief for my loss of my sister Halcyon very well. It’s only just over a month since she died, but I find myself crying an awful lot, and frequently. I am so over the stinging red eyes, the sore throat, the permanent lump, the soggy tissues and the ache in my heart. I don’t want to do this part any more.

Since the last death I had to cope with, social media has arrived and become established, and it is having a huge impact on me, one that I had not at all considered.

When one loses someone, one normally has some control over when one pokes at the raw and bloody abyss of one’s grief.

Not so on social media – you switch on in the morning with your cup of tea, to see what’s happening in the world, amongst your family and friends, and – BAM ! – you’re confronted with stuff that you are not in a position to deal with because it is so unexpected: how the hell can the first post you see on your timeline be from your sister  …. seeing as how she’s dead ? How has she managed to comment on that photo ? 

Oh right .... 

It was in May. Or February.  Or April. This year. Or last year. Or the year before that. When she was alive.

Someone else has revived it and refreshed it by commenting on it, or sharing it.

But for that blessed nano-second, your brain and reality lag behind to the time when she was still here. These unexpected emotional crashes take their toll – I am in no way hardened to losing my baby sister, often such a pain in the butt, always so cute and fun, and so I’m pondering blocking people until I can better cope: I need to re-assert that I have the right to try to choose when I am upset and when I cry.

 My middle niece is raising money for the hospice that cared for Halcyon, please sponsor her here.

You may remember the Ruby Shawl I made for Halcy as a late birthday present, for a ball she had been planning to attend - here is what happened to it.

Victorian Romantic Tarot

Walk of Shame

Housewives Tarot

No, not that kind of walk of shame - not only am I married, I'm too old for that now: I would take pride in it rather than shame.

I was at the dentist today, having slinked out of an appointment on Friday 13th (are they KIDDING me ?!) You'll recall my morbid irrational fear. Today I was there for a filling, which involved a needle for anaesthetic being put into my pre-numbed back of my mouth. I cried. Silently, of course, since after all, I am an adult. 

During my stay, tears continued to leak out in spite of my best efforts, the dentist's words of advice on how to calm down, and the death-grip I had on the dental assistant's hand - a very talented person who could handle all kinds of tasks with her remaining hand, as we found out.

I have to go back next week for either a triple trip for a root canal, or one single trip for an extraction. I have opted for an extraction - fortunately the affected tooth is in a place that will not leave me looking like I'm some kind of Appalachian hillbilly.
 

As I drooped and drooled home (the anaesthetic took 4 hours instead of 2 to wear off) I pondered my father, Belo, who regularly falls asleep during root canals and other dental nastiness.

I considered Titch, whose arm had to swell almost to bursting point with pus-filled yuck before he would consent to A&E.

I considered my Good Twin, whose pain threshold meant she thought a burst appendix was a particularly feisty bout of trapped wind. On the other hand, she thought her gall bladder packing up was agony, so please all my gods don't let that happen to me.

I considered my friend Dianne, among whose symptoms of Behcets is sweating blood. Literally.

And I considered my sister, Auntie Fashion, who has been in Addenbrooke's for just about 2 weeks so far while they work out what they can do about the PML without poking the Behcets back into action.

And I was ashamed.