A Few Days Off

I woke up so much in pain today – still getting over my flight(s) from Harrisburg, my teaching (lots of fun, but LOTS of students) and just – life.

Farewell Shiloh

As I was laying in bed, feeling rather sorry for myself (oh, poor me…) the phone rang.  A kind woman had found our cat, Shiloh, laying in the grass by the sidewalk at Lexington and Lincoln, panting and in bad shape.  He wasn’t visibly hurt, he just seemed – odd.

So she read his tag and called us.  By the time we ran there, he was gone.  Hit by a car?  We don’t know.  RIP, Shiloh.

We haven’t let Nitro (our newest cat) outside since we got her last year, and we won’t be letting any other cats out until we move away from Lexington. It’s just too busy of a street.

Shiloh was, however, the type of cat who would rip out any screen to GET outside if we didn’t let him go. It’s that perpetual dilemma – a long boring life, or a shorter life filled with cat fun.

So I’m going to take a few days off before October.  I’m in tremendous pain (the recent trip really did me in – the teaching was good, but HARD, and the travel portion was even HARDER) and I just need to readjust my brain a bit.  And grieve for poor shiloh.

My Weekend

Knitters Day Out was filled with many, many enthusiastic knitters!

I was up at 5 am on Friday to fly to Harrisburg, arrived in time to drive to the hotel, take a short dip in the warm indoor pool, and teach that evening.

There was a heat wave in the area (91 degrees!), and the classroom was rather warm.  That always makes a class a little slow moving, and the fact it was a Friday evening just added to some of the brain fuzz we ALL feel by week’s end.

I taught all day on Saturday (36 people in my morning class, 17 in my afternoon) and was WIPED OUT by 5pm.

The 36 person class had been a mistake – the limit was supposed to be 15, but unfortunately something had happened and before anyone knew it there were 36 women in my Twisted Float Shrug class.

I do have some classes that I can teach to larger groups, and this class went pretty well all things considered, but it’s also one of my harder classes.

Midpoint through the class I realized there was NO way that everyone was going to get what they paid for – an understanding of how to make the Cocoon Shrug – so I offered the folks in the class an opportunity to take my Self Guided Twisted Float Shrug Class online.

I was glad to have that option – it allowed everyone to breathe a little easier, and allowed me to take some questions in class and spend more time on some of the hands-on techniques in the class.

After my classes I had dinner with some very kind knitters who treated me to wonderful food at a great Italian restaurant.  I feel like I must have been the WORST company in the world – I was so tired I could barely hold my fork, let alone keep up a conversation!

And, perhaps because I was tired, I ordered the wrong thing.

I’d looked up the restaurant menu and selected a chicken dish that was prepared with no gluten.  When the waitress arrived I ordered – the wrong thing.  And didn’t even realize it until I got back to my hotel room (feeling a bit achey and flu-ish) and reread the online menu.  I’d ordered the Chicken Picata, and yes, it does have flour.  Oy.  My own fault.  Next time I’ll tattoo the correct dish only my thumb.

I was just glad the next day wasn’t a teaching day – Sunday was only a travel day.  Yes, that “only” is a little bit sarcastic.

Originally the KDO folks wanted me to fly home on Saturday evening after my last class, but the timing and flights just didn’t work out (9 hour layover in Chicago, anyone?) AND the flight was $200 cheaper if I stayed over on Saturday.

Even though it was only 8:00pm when I got back to the hotel, I was tired and knew if I didn’t take advantage of the coming “sleep wave” I would be up all night with the pain  So I crawled into bed and immediately fell asleep.

Until the phone rang.

It was the KDO payment person, she needed my social security number.  I’d emailed my invoice earlier in the day, and my SS number was on my invoice, but apparently it was necessary that she have my SS number right at that minute, at 9pm on Saturday night.

It was probably because I was awakened from sleep and in pain, but the woman’s tone was so brusque – I’m sure it was because I was in an over sensitive place.  Damn you, delicious chicken and sauce dish.

Sleep came very slowly, and the pain was so intense, that by midnight that every time I moved or rolled over I was fully awake.  Around 3am I brushed my hand over my shoulder and was totally skeeved out to find a few beetles (I’ve sinced learned they’re stink bugs) having a party on my bed.  Ick.

No more sleep for me.  They were all over the ceiling, the inside of the window and on my bed.  AND they flew.  Ick.

I took a hot shower, watched TV, then went out to find breakfast at 7am. I arrived at the airport very early – I was sort of hoping to get on an earlier flight if I could.

I guess I should have guessed that I’d be pulled out of the security line for special attention, and I was in so much fibro pain by that point that when the very kind female TSA officer began to run her hands [gently] over me in a pat-down, it felt like I were being bruised.

Folks with fibro know how painful it is to get a hug or handshake from someone during a flare up – any touch on a sensitivity point feels like a punch during ‘normal’ pain levels.

I was in full flare up mode by this time, EVERYTHING hurt.

I explained to the TSA officer that I had fibro, and a good amout of pain.  She kindly asked if I’d rather do the search privately. Yes I would. That way I can cry and NOT scare the children in line.

After that I needed a drink – but the bar wasn’t allowed to serve until 11 am so I waited.  At 11 on the dot the kind server brought me a G&T, and life was good.  With free wifi and a G&T, I was in airport heaven!

At the gate, though, I was bumped from the flight and put on the next flight leaving not for Cleveland, but for Newark.

At Newark I took the shuttle to a different terminal, and waited 3 hours for my flight to MN. Moving bags on and off a shuttle bus is highly underrated as a workout, and I personally feel it should be part of the London Olympics.

I feel very sorry for the woman sitting next to me on the last flight – I was so twitchy and squirmy – there was NO way to sit in that seat that wasn’t pure pain.

When the next Inquisition comes around, they will use Continental seat 17C as one of their instruments of torture.  Just sayin’

Okay, here’s how bad it was.  During a flare up my back and shoulders begin to hurt so badly that wearing a bra is insanely painful.  But – let’s face it – bras are usually considered necessary in polite society.

Well, part of my squirming around was that partial disrobing trick that all women are familiar with – the “I’m taking off my bra but you can’t tell, la la la la la, look over there…” dance. 

Did I mention it was a sports bra?  That poor, poor woman in 17B. Yes, I was bra-free in seat 17C.  Make a country song out of that if you dare.

I let just about everyone get off the plane ahead of me – why on EARTH should I hold them up as I hobble down the aisle?  I clutched my Namaste bag to my chest (it doubles as a faux external bra) and hobbled to the baggage claim, where Gerry and Hannah had already grabbed my luggage and we all went home.  I crawled into the back seat and rocked like a baby.

So how was your weekend?