waddaya know.

Well I am glad the pictures are going up again. I think my file size was too big initially, and I needed a few minutes (very precious minutes lately) to resize to less-than-behoemoth proportions. So I will post a few pics on my Christmas post, like I tried to do previously, and then some pics of crochet projects I have completed recently.

I have not done any heavy-duty emailing or posting here in a week or so, as I have been very preoccupied with things and feeling overwhelmed for the umpteenth time. I'm going back to the doctor next week to check on my thyroid, because I have been more tired than I should be (full night's sleep and a nap almost every day, and I am still tired) and also more irritable than my normal short-fused self. I don't know if it's hypothyroidism again, or if I am just depressed. It's really hard to tell, but it was such a relief to know the first time I was checked, that it was completely out of whack and explained most of the problems I had after A was born. Not too often that one diagnosis can cover depression, fatigue, weight gain, hair loss, and being cold all the time. And that a little inch-wide organ can control all of that. It's pretty amazing. But not unlike much of the body--the smaller the organ is, it seems that much more complex, like the eye.

Things are also less than ideal at D's work at the moment. There have been lots of changes in the management, accompanied by some extremely untrustworthy behaviour by the corporation running things, to the point that D is considering other places to work. The problem is, if one wants to move up in his field, there isn't any other place in the commutable area that would suffice. So for the first time in my life, I don't want to move away from Baltimore, but find that I might.

If I think about it too much, I just can't function. I hate moving, even though it pares down so much of the accumulated crap that creeps in. I can pare down if I had two uninterrupted days and about 20 trash bags (not likely to happen...). But the idea of getting a house ready to sell, uprooting myself from everything comforting and secure here, going someplace where there is no one I could call in a pinch to babysit or commiserate with, just gives me the horrors. And the biggest thing is friends and family that I wouldn't see but once or twice a year... I can't do it. It's hard enough as it is.

So a lot is on my mind. After the initial shock that this is a possibility, I have been more calm than I might have been a few years ago. Because today has enough worries of its own, as Jesus says. But still, it lingers as I make plans to enroll A in preschool, to take a trip with friends to italy in May, teaching plans. Being around friends and family.

I know that nothing in this life is guaranteed, except the fact of my salvation and God's love for me. Those things will not change, but everything else can be changed in an instant. One cannot really live well by dwelling on that, though. Living like this is the last day of my life, like the cheesy country song I heard in a waiting room, is just too emotionally exhausting, packing the day with so much meaning and importance. How does one live like that, and not feel crushing dread that the other shoe will drop?

I need to stop reading the news, or at least news about regular people whose lives were instantly changed by tragedy. Having reports of global chaos at my fingertips is a terribly dangerous thing, since there's always something awful happening to somebody in the world, and some joe reporting it. So every day there's something with a body count, or a crime so unusually horrid that the numbers don't matter. Good and praiseworthy things are not good copy, I guess; you can almost hear the disappointment when someone makes a full recovery, or they find that the missing kid was just hiding in the basement or whatever.

I guess you could say it's no wonder I am depressed, thinking about any one of these things. If I was really busy I wouldn't have time to think about it all, or read any of it. But no, I remember feeling the same things when my life was full of grading papers, planning lessons, disciplining students, and trying to find time and energy to paint. It's just the way I am wired.

will blogger put up my pictures this time?

here goes...

oh cwap

It was bound to happen. "Crap" is the borderline-awful word that I say most (another truly awful poop-word I say less often, but should never say around him and do, to my own horror), and I had previously been amazed that A hadn't said it before. But today he made up for all that lost time by repeating it over and over and laughing, after I spilled something and said, "Oh crap." I immediately reacted, which is not what I should have done. I should have just ignored it like a nonsense word, but instead I blundered around with "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, it's not a nice thing to say, don't say that, say 'oh my' instead..." Meanwhile, A is chirping "Oh cwap, Oh cwap, Ohhhhhh cwaaaaap," putting the phrase through its paces.

This week has been a difficult one for me, since A is getting up earlier and earlier, D has had a stressful week at work, and I am very worried about some theological issues that affect my comfort level at the church we love very much. Last week, all was right with the world (except my eye twitching like mad), and this week gravity has reversed itself and I am waiting for the Queen of Hearts to start issuing edicts. Put it all together, and my defenses are not what they should be. My temper is set to permanent flare-up mode, so it's even harder to censor myself. Just picture Donald Duck after ants make off with his picnic lunch, add some discernable words, and there you have a little portrait of me in the worst part of the day.

Italians call Donald Duck "arrabiata"-duck (can't remember "duck" in Italian). Arrabiata means angry or spicy. Just thought you should know.

To add insult to injury, the bible studies I get emailed to me every day are on the book of Ephesians. Guess what passage was on tap yesterday? Eph. 5, where a verse says "nor should there be any obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking..." Oh...rats.

stalling

I should be writing two lesson plans at the moment. And doing examples for the kiddos. But I am not. I had a few ideas and need to write them down before they escape forever. I've got a lot of crochet/knitting projects in the works, and have such a small attention span that I work on them for a little while and come back to them. Many months later. If at all.

some ideas and/or projects I am currently doing:

• making a hat for my friend E who is in Iraq, in the Army. We were pen pals through high school while he was an exchange student in Sweden, and he's a terrific writer. The funny thing is I just got back in touch with him after about 5 years. Hopefully the hat won't look dorky. Wouldn't want him to be laughed at, after all he's probably been through.
  
• making mittens for my friend in the middle east. I have some beautiful wine-colored alpaca yarn--I am really into alpaca right now, and a super easy pattern my aunt gave me.
• figuring out how to crochet with beads, to make a rope necklace. It looks easy, but few things are that look easy. I think the necklace will go well with the mittens.
• knitting a pillow for a friend, using "shadow knitting," a technique from a book my sister gave me this Christmas. It's very subtle, with a dark and a light colored yarn. The pattern only shows up at certain angles. There's one sweater in the book I want to make before I die. But I am in no rush, since it involves reading massive amounts of charts etc. Please God give me time or give me some yarn in heaven. Maybe super-alpaca. Thanks.
  
• idea #1: cutting cheap grocery bags into long strips, and crocheting a bag for bags with them. Rather redundant, but I think it will look cool. Very eco-friendly.
  
• idea #2: crocheting a big doily heart and starching the crap out of it for a valentine-y wreath. They had them at Joanne's, and I thought hmmm...how hard can it be?
• idea #3: submitting instructions, photos, etc of my projects to the super cool online magazine CrochetMe. It would involve lots of checking and re-checking my work, and actually writing down patterns--GASP!--since I do most things free-form.
  

That magazine is like crack cocaine. There was a great article in there recently by a woman whose mom knitted, tried to teach her, and she wound up liking crochet instead. She talked about how people seem to think it's the redheaded stepchild of knitting, and it took her forever to not feel guilty about not being jazzed about knitting.

I learned how to crochet from my third-grade teacher, Miss Hiske, who was the closest thing to a Nun that Lutherans could make. She rarely smiled, or even opened her mouth far. Probably from clenching her jaw at all of us annoying third-graders. She read a chapter from Proverbs to us every day, and made us put our heads down whenever one particular student (always this kid Chip who had a crush on me, who I couldn't stand and he would turn around and stare at me and sigh. It was so pathetic.) couldn't get a concept, and she'd hash it out with him until he looked like he understood it. Anyway, after making a granny square christmas stocking and a vest I outgrew before I could wear it, I gave up crochet until last year. I had been knitting for about 6 years off and on (lots more off than on), picked up my old crochet hook from third grade, and started messing around with the yarn. I felt like I had been cheated, all those knitting years, when I could have been working twenty times faster. Why didn't they tell me???
Who could have told me anyway???

Ok, I need to quit stalling and write up some plans. And then string some beads. MMMMM beads...

why is my eye twitching?

It's my first ever internet contest. My dear readers can determine why on earth a little muscle under my right eye has been doing a jig for 5 days off and on. Be creative! The prize: I don't know, the satisfaction of mind for doing something good for a fellow human being.

I have a few theories, which put together, make for a stressed out person--but really, theories aren't really helping me at this point. I just want to put a bowling ball on my eye socket for a while to give some counter-pressure or something.

The biggest theory I have is my lack of consistent sleep for 2 weeks. Is A sleeping, you ask? Yes, through the night. It's just me and my dumb lack of self-control when it comes to reading too much, and watching 2 or 3 episodes of Lost every night. Idiot. We got season 1 for Christmas, and I was so-so about watching it, because I haven't been interested in TV since Buffy was on. I think for the past few years, I have watched about 3 hours of TV a month. It's really nice to not be tied down to a schedule (Tuesday nights were Buffy time--I would speed home from aerobics to not miss the first five minutes of the show). But now DVD helps and hurts the cause.

I really enjoy the show, even though it stresses me out quite a bit. I mean, people are stranded on an island containing God-knows-what dangers, and flash back to their former lives, which were all filled with drama and tragedy. Oh, and they all survived their plane falling apart in mid-air. And nobody knows where they are. We finish watching the episodes, I look at the clock and curse myself.

I just finished another book as well, the Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler. It's my season of reading the bestsellers I bought/borrowed a year ago. This one was far less depressing than the Earthquakes book, and is much better than I thought initially. But again, I stayed up too late reading after vowing to go to bed early.

My other theory on the eye-twitching is a vague sense that I have forgotten to do something important. It's very likely that is the case, but I can't remember. I have spent so much time this month spending time with people I don't normally, I have not seen most of my friends in quite a while. I miss them, and dare I say it, I miss my old routine. Maybe if I get together with some friends, I can rid myself of the twitch.

Dofuf, Married, and beebee Deesis

We have had a whirlwind of activity these 2 weeks, visiting with friends and mostly family, opening presents and eating artery-clogging yummy food. I have no profound observations on it all, though I am very glad things turned out better than I expected. They often do, especially where family is concerned. It helps to have a cheerful little person around, whose look of astonishment and rousing choruses of "Make 'Em LAUGH" can relax tense situations. It is a privilege to share these firsts with him, and it gives me some hope.

One tense situation that turned out well was the arrival of a huge firetruck on my parents' little street on Christmas Day. Their neighbor had been trying to heat their house with the oven, and filled their house with carbon monoxide. He is ok, but it was a scary time. Firemen were going in and out of their house, and then came to our door. They went through the house, checking for CO, and chatting with my father-in-law outside. He had been a fireman for 20-some years, and retired a few years ago. My son was wearing his brand-new Fire Engine shirt from Kip Kids, a cool t-shirt company with bright graphics. So Pop-Pop and little A got to check out the fire engine close up, and give a little cheer to the sober occasion.

A is playing with our ceramic manger scene, which has been a very tempting item since it came out of the box. It's nothing special or heirloom-quality, and I don't even remember who gave it to us. But he has been clinking the pieces together on our foyer table, sliding them back and forth and having conversations with the kaow (cow) and formerly-one-armed shepherd. Dofuf looks on at Married, who prays in front of Beebee Deesis, as the stable sheds little wood splinters on the table.