My SIP (sock-in-progress) is sooooo freakin' pretty I just had to share...
It's Arucuania Nature Wool and Ann Budd's First Time Tube Socks -- Rav Link
Yeah, I love them
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Moments you never forget
There are a few moments in your life that stick with you forever. Some of them are happy:
Sadly, there are a lot of those moments that stick in my brain that aren't so happy:
But this week's moment may be the worst so far:
My grams is my best friend. We often say we cut out the middle-man. We talk every day, usually three or 4 times a day. She is 86 years old and an amazing woman. She drives herself (and her friends) everywhere; she volunteers, lives in a cute apartment, she does the crossword puzzle everyday and will kick your ass at canasta if you give her half a chance. She is, in a word, awesome.
I can't talk too much more about it right now. Not without crying, which I can't do at the moment -- Beastie is home sick and it scares him when I cry. But it's liver cancer, she won't survive surgery and it's pretty much always fast and fatal. So there you have it.
She is at the doctor's office right now discussing treatment options. I'll post an update later, when I can think about it without forgetting how to breathe.
"It's a Boy!"
The moment Sparky & I watched the sun setting over the Chesapeake Bay and I realized he was the man I would spend the rest of my life with.
Watching my oldest son receive his diploma.
"Hey, we should start selling our yarn online."
Hearing my son sing in the shower the first time he fell in love.
Sadly, there are a lot of those moments that stick in my brain that aren't so happy:
"Honey, your dad passed away."
The day I took the M-Chat test and realized that Beastie had autism.
When I saw a car come skidding at me on an icy road, knowing I was about to get t-boned.
Hearing my son cry the first time a girl broke his heart.
But this week's moment may be the worst so far:
"Your grandma has cancer."
My grams is my best friend. We often say we cut out the middle-man. We talk every day, usually three or 4 times a day. She is 86 years old and an amazing woman. She drives herself (and her friends) everywhere; she volunteers, lives in a cute apartment, she does the crossword puzzle everyday and will kick your ass at canasta if you give her half a chance. She is, in a word, awesome.
I can't talk too much more about it right now. Not without crying, which I can't do at the moment -- Beastie is home sick and it scares him when I cry. But it's liver cancer, she won't survive surgery and it's pretty much always fast and fatal. So there you have it.
She is at the doctor's office right now discussing treatment options. I'll post an update later, when I can think about it without forgetting how to breathe.
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