Recovery

It’s amazing how much I rely on my computer – and it’s not a bad thing.

I miss not being able to interact with my online friends, contact vendors and customers, or just check in with Gerry.

I’ve spent the past day catching up on a lot of email (I apologize if you haven’t received a reply if you’ve emailed me recently!) I’m just about there, but I wanted to catch up on my blog, too!

As I recovered my bearing on my computer, I had another chance to come home and see my family doing well in my absence. It’s hard for all of them when I’m gone – hard for me, too.

But it’s lovely to see them functioning so well. They’re getting to know the Twin Cities better than I will – visiting museums and historic sites when I’m away – and I’m jealous of that. At least I got to take them to Punch Pizza – after London took me!

Being away from Gerry for a few days at a time allows me to see changes in him that might not be as apparent to the kids. We don’t really have any other ‘regular visitors’ in our lives – a few friends who come by every two weeks or so, but nothing like when we lived in NJ and had the same folks dropping by every few days.

So I’m it as far as another adult seeing Gerry’s recovery. And I can tell that it’s wearing on Gerry – he’s lonely for some companionship besides me, the kids and the pets.

Both of us are concerned that this back isn’t better. He has a great deal of pain (putting up the storm windows this weekend instead of calling someone on Craig’s list, like I suggested, didn’t help, did it Mr. Landy..?)

We feel that we’re in a waiting game, waiting to see what the Mayo clinic says on his day 100 visit, waiting for a call back from his oncologist so he can get a referral for a back specialist or physical therapy, waiting for him to get better.

He is better – we think.

Physically he’s not as well as he was just before the transplant, which is a disappointment to both of us. But the transplant and chemo were really rough, and it’s hard to recover from them.

Hannah calls him, “Little Dad” – lovingly – and he accepts it – also with love. I’m ashamed of how much his reduced height seems to matter to me, in the scheme of life it’s so unimportant. I need to keep remembering that. It could be ugly and hard to take without the love.

Fly Girl
The travel is rough. I have always hated flying, for me it’s just tolerable at best. I’m larger than the average woman, and worse – I have long, long legs that bang up against the seat in front of me. The ten minute manicure in the Cinci airport made it nicer, but still – air travel is a bore.

When I’m squished into my seat, I find myself dreaming of my comfortable easy chair back home, where I’d be surrounded by my yarn & drawing stuff.

I hate being on someone else’s schedule, hate being told to put all liquids in a baggie (because the terrorists hate our flawless complextions)

And I hate walking for what feels like miles to go from gate to gate. Over carpet. Dragging luggage.

This week my trip to Virginia entailed a total of 4 flights on small commuter airlines, the kind with jets that can’t pull up to a gate, so travelers are forced to walk outside on the tarmac and up the stairs onto the plane. The pig was very enjoyable, though.

Each time I got to the top of the stairs I’d hesitate, turn, and thrust both arms up into the air, waving the peace sign with both hands.

No one thought it was funny (except me and one woman who laughed in Cinncinati.)

Each time I deplaned I waved like one of the Beatles. Once again, not funny. Eh.

All those steps, all that cramming my legs into small spaces, led to a visit to the doc today because my knee went ‘out’ during the night while I was asleep. Rest, she says, is the thing.

One of the lovely things about flying, though, are the views. I’m child enough to want a window seat – and I get some nice shots of clouds and wings and landscapes and sunsets. And planes.

Travel, itself, I enjoy. I love being in new places; seeing new trees and rocks and people and food.

I love feeling how different folks and landscapes just – are – around the country. I’d love to travel the world!

How great that The Amazing Race is on again – love that show – but I’ll miss it this Sunday as I’ll be on a bus from Banff to Edmonton while it’s on. Ironic, huh?

I love knitting while I travel – Max’s Sox have been a lot of fun, knitting them and picturing his face when I show him my progress.

He loves them – loves the color, the yarn, the fact they’re for HIM! They fit – but just – so I am going to take off the toes and knit them out longer. In green.

One of my dreams is to take Gerry and the kids to Scotland at some point in the next few years – hopefully as part of a teaching engagement – but it feels to me that it would be an important thing to do. I am so looking forward to the trees, rocks, lakes and views of Banff this weekend. A woman at Max’s school’s Silent Auction told
me she would see me there. Odd – small world!

I believe there is still some space in some of the classes in Edmonton, too – check it out, if you’re inclined!

Old Dominion
Virginia was, as always, quite lovely. The drive between Staunton & Charlottesville was very beautiful, and my view of the small, charming town of Staunton was so interesting – changing between day and night. Fascinating!

Angel made a sensational carrot cake (I brought it home to Gerry and he finished it – he alone!) and some wonderful cookies.

We’re being fully supported with home-baked goods – thank you, again, Amy! Please hide them from me!

The Blog That Refreshes
It’s hard to express how much this blog has meant to me in terms of keeping my priorities straight. Knowing I’ll be writing about certain situations, about my feelings and interactions, makes it easier to get through some of the harder parts in life.

Of course I don’t write about EVERYTHING in my life – that would be impossible and imprudent. But I write about things that I want to share, and that covers quite a bit of my designing and teaching life – and a little of my personal life, too.

And it’s fun. If life isn’t about having fun and finding joy in unexpected places – like a porch in Staunton – then what’s the point?

Reading about other folks’ adventures, writing about my own, it’s a connection that I enjoy making – especially in the fiber community.

Most especially, the warm embrace that I’ve felt – that my whole family has felt – has been a great comfort in this past year. There are days that are very hard – times when I’m away from home, away from Gerry and the kids, and I find my mind wandering to the scary place where I ask, “Is this what it will be like when …?”

I don’t go there often, and seldom on purpose.

But I’m human, and I can’t help but ponder the future. It’s useless, but there it is. I can’t help but tie myself up in a ribbon of “What If’s” – as silly as that is. Silly, but human.

We all think those things, I have the perspective of understanding that I [we] may be closer to the not-to-be-considered future than I once thought I was. We were.

But this type of pondering doesn’t take center stage very often. It’s more like the pattern on the wallpaper or the weave of a carpet. It’s there, and I can get lost in the design if I let myself. Or I can allow it to augment our lives, bring a different understanding to every day events and make everything that we do that much sweeter.

I do have my breakdown moments. Usually not in front of anyone – except, perhaps, a class of 20 people in Austin, TX…

But for the most part I’m happier keeping the sorrow to myself, secure in the knowledge that if I need support in those times, I’ll find it in my friends (many of whom I’ve met and know through my blog.)

So my inability to post for the past few days – oh, I suppose I could have, but I preferred not to until I caught up with my other work – forced me to think hard about what the blog has meant to me, especially in this year.

I’ve done this blog for over 5 years – since 2002 – and my blog has been one of the most rewarding relationships in my adult life.