My blog was resurrected after a near death experience with an ill-fated WordPress upgrade. I got approached by a stranger and asked if I was Duncan’s owner. I wrote three real letters, with paper and ink and stamps and everything. I sold a piece of art to a mysterious dark-haired stranger. Everybody at work got layoff notices, but we were told to keep it secret because they might be revoked.
February:
The bus strike continued through the coldest of the cold snaps. I hurt my back. GC and I started getting up before dawn each morning to follow the murder of crows.
I bought a little art. I did a lot of contract work. I met and fell in love with my great niece. I had another MRI, to find out why I was still in pain. I whined. I won some luxury yarn! I got some wonderful Christmas gifts, including a Kindle. I knit and tinked. I dealt with some long overdue family stuff. The year flashed before my eyes. On New Year’s Eve I purchased Astronaut Love Triangle’s first piece of visual art, while celebrating beer’s 8,009th birthday.
Postscript:
Also, while I didn’t blog about it yet, for fear of jinxing it, I’m very happy to report that over the past two weeks I’ve noticed a dramatic improvement in my pain and my ability to walk. I went cross-country skiing yesterday and it felt good. I’ve stopped all the painkillers, and, for the past week, I’ve only been taking one time-release anti-inflammatory a day instead of two. So maybe I did get my wish, which was to wrap up the cancer and the spine problems in 2009!
Happy New Year everybody! Thank you for reading, for commenting, and for being part of my life throughout 2009. As GC said, “For such a bad year, it’s been a pretty good year.”
Posted by Zoom! on December 31, 2009, at 4:27 pm |
Tomorrow I plan to do my full Year in Review post. But for now, here’s the Readers Digest Condensed Version:
In 2009 I had two mammograms, three breast ultrasounds, a pelvic ultrasound, an abdominal ultrasound, a bone scan, two biopsies, six MRIs, one radiation set-up, 18 radiation treatments, three pre-ops, three operations, three post-ops, 10 dressing changes at the hospital, 19 visits from the home care nurse, 10 physiotherapy appointments, a chest x-ray, 10 pain-management appointments, two appointments with the medical oncologist, three appointments with the radiation oncologist, four appointments with the breast surgeon and five appointments with the neurosurgeon.
Approximately 117 people saw my naked breasts, and about three-quarters of those people touched them.
Posted by Zoom! on December 30, 2009, at 8:41 am |
Have you noticed lately that some restaurants are getting a little more scammy lately?
A month or so ago, GC and I stopped into The Honest Lawyer for a bite to eat while out Christmas shopping. I like lettuce, tomatoes, onion and mayo on my burger, but I forgot to ask for mayo, so I asked for it after the fact. When we got our bill, we saw that we’d been dinged 75 cents for the mayo.
The exact same thing happened once at Phil’s Diner, but it was 50 cents.
Another thing is coffee. Restaurants always used to include coffee in the breakfast special, but I’ve been to some lately that not only don’t include it, but charge you an additional $3 for it! The advertised $7.99 breakfast special turns out to be $10.99. It’s not a scam exactly, but neither is it entirely honest. Especially when they ask you, as they’re seating you, if they can bring you some coffee. This is before you’ve had a chance to see the menu and the fact that the coffee is not included and is exorbitantly priced. (The Buzz, I’m looking at you. You make a delicious brunch, but your overpriced coffee sucks.)
I’m getting used to the coffee thing, but every now and then I encounter a surprising new restaurant scam.
A couple of days ago XUP and I met for brunch. All the stores were open, but our first three choices of restaurants were closed because it was, apparently, a pseudo statutory holiday or something.
We ended up at the Arrow and Loon at Bank and Fifth.
The breakfast special looked good on paper – eggs, bacon, toast, fresh fruit, baked beans, homefries.
XUP looked at the vegetarian breakfast special on the menu.
“How come,” she asked, “You get all that stuff for $4.99, but I only get half as much stuff for $8.99?”
True enough, the vegetarian breakfast special seemed pretty pricey for such slim pickings. I think it included eggs, toast, fried tomatoes and fruit.
XUP decided to order the regular breakfast special and give me her bacon, thereby creating her own vegetarian breakfast special for half the price.
Breakfast was delivered and we ate most of it. It was okay. The “fresh fruit” was cantaloupe and it was slimy around the edges. XUP had a tiny bite and declared that it tasted like mildew.
Later, after we’d eaten, we were just lingering and talking, when a family came in and sat at a nearby table. We eavesdropped as the man ordered for himself, his wife and his daughter. (He allowed their son to order for himself.)
His style of ordering was more of a negotiation. For example, can I get the regular breakfast but with grilled tomatoes instead of bacon? And can I substitute something else for the baked beans.
It was at this point that XUP perked up.
“Hey!” she said, “We never got our baked beans!”
When the waitress came by again, XUP informed her that we’d never gotten our baked beans.
“Oh I know.” she said sweetly, “We don’t actually include the baked beans unless people ask specifically for them.”
XUP and I were not expecting this answer. We were expecting, I dunno, something like “Oh dear, I’m so sorry, the cook must have forgotten.”
We looked at her, semi-incredulous, waiting for more.
“I know on the menu it says they’re included,” she explained, “But unless you specifically say you want them, we don’t put them on the plate.”
“Oh, I get it,” said XUP. “It’s a trick.”
“Would you like me to – ” asked the waitress.
“No,” said XUP. After all, we’d already eaten breakfast and paid for it.
But then we speculated that if only we’d thought to specifically ask for the fresh fruit, we wouldn’t have ended up with the slimy cantaloupe. We’ll keep that in mind for next time.
(There will probably only be a next time if all the other restaurants are closed.)
So. Is it just us, or are you noticing an increase in little restaurant scams too?
Posted by zoom! on December 28, 2009, at 8:43 am |
Sick socks
About that sock. I couldn’t get all the stitches back on the needles in order to tink* the sock, and after what could only be described as a herculean effort, I gave up. Fortunately I’ve had some very kind offers of help, so the sock is in the sick sock bag until I can take it to Carmen or Arden or Grace.
Meanwhile, I started a new pair of socks, for GC, who is absolutely knitworthy but who has never had a pair of handknit socks. Two days later, I screwed it up. I don’t know what happened, but there was a hole in it.
At first I thought, “It’s not a big hole and it’ll probably close up as I knit further down the sock.”
This, my friends, was an outrageous and utterly transparent attempt at self delusion. There is nothing in my experience to suggest that a hole in knitted fabric will “close up” as you get further away from it. But I continued knitting stubbornly onward, all the while wondering how much I was going to curse myself for not having fixed it when I had the chance. And what kind of person did I want to be anyway? The kind that makes mistakes and just shrugs and says “Oh well, that’s good enough” and doesn’t bother to fix them? Maybe what’s wrong with the world today is that we’re all averting our eyes from what’s wrong, pretending that mistakes will fix themselves, moving from one mess to the next. Maybe it would be a better world if people acknowledged their mistakes and took full responsibility for fixing them, even if they don’t know how.
(There may have been more going on than just the knitting, I’m not sure.)
So. After taking stock of everything that was wrong with me personally and the world in general, I finally stopped knitting and started tinking. One stitch at a time, I started un-knitting back to the hole. It was a long and painstaking process. It was so long that GC went grocery shopping during it and when he got back he apologized for being so late but he’d run into a car-less neighbour there and offered him a ride home and had to wait til he finished his grocery shopping. Throughout all that, I tinked.
But I didn’t tink well. There was a pattern in the stitches (s1, k1, yo, psso), and I kept losing one stitch for every repeat, ending up with 2 less stitches on each needle for each row I tinked. In essence, the sock was disappearing.
Eventually I got frustrated and this is when I should have walked away.
But you know I didn’t. No. I took my frustration out on that poor sock. I yanked it off its needles and frogged back a few rows til I got safely past the hole. Then I tried to put the stitches back on the needles. But those stitches had had a taste of freedom and they weren’t going back.
I stuffed GC’s sock in the sick sock bag with my other sock.
Central Park Hoodie
Next I decided to revive an unfinished knitting project. I started the Central Park Hoodie a couple of years ago, then abandoned it because knitting season ended. I never got back to it. It’s about 80% done. I started knitting, and it felt good, the big fat 5mm needles and nice thick wool.
But after I finished the first row, I realized I’d misinterpreted the cabling pattern.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
I’m pleased to report that this time the tinking worked. I didn’t think it would because of my dismal track record and also because cabling affects the order of the stitches, but it worked. Yay!
I feel so accomplished and virtuous.
*Tink: knit backwards, or “un-knit,” in order to retrace one’s steps back to a mistake, for the purpose of fixing it.
Posted by zoom! on December 27, 2009, at 10:40 am |
The Kindle, sleeping
GC gave me a Kindle for Christmas! It’s a wireless electronic book reader from Amazon.com. Kind of like an iPod for books. It’s a very cool thing. I can purchase and download a book in less than a minute, directly from the unit, and it can hold up to 1500 books. I can also buy newspapers, but without the images, and magazines.
It’s the size of a very slim book. The battery lasts a week between charges. It’s much easier on the eyes than a computer screen. It’s got a built-in dictionary, access to Wikipedia, and it can read out loud. Best of all, I can download a sample of any book and read the first chapter for free before deciding to buy it.
E-books are cheaper than regular books, but in some cases, not by much. I bought Galore by Michael Crummy yesterday, which I’ve been wanting to read for months – it was about $3.30 less than a paperback copy from Amazon. (On the other hand, I can purchase the complete works of Shakespeare for $2.99. This almost makes me wish I liked Shakespeare.)
My current table of contents
I like my Kindle very much, though I admit to having had mixed feelings about them when they first became available to Canadians a few months ago.
That’s because I like books. I like bookshelves. Books have substance and weight and value. They’re more than just their words. They hold memories. They have spines and covers and pages and depth and character. They are physical objects. They are real.
Of course, because they’re real, they require real space. And I decided a long time ago that all my books had to live on my three Billy bookcases. If I ran out of space, I’d have to stop buying books or else give some way. But that’s getting harder and harder, because I’ve already given away pretty much all the books I don’t feel attached to.
The Kindle in its case, with Duncan illustrating scale
So the idea of being able to store 1500 books in a tiny machine is very appealing. I like that I can start reading a book one minute after hearing about it. I like not carrying around a big fat hardcover book to read on the #14. The Kindle will be ideal for traveling and vacations. As far as the technology goes, I’m finding it’s a comfortable way to read. No complaints there so far.
A page from Galore
Psychologically, though, it’s a bit of a leap. The Kindle separates reading from books, which seems practical and efficient, but leaves me feeling a little bereft. I just can’t see it replacing books, at least not for me, so I’m not approaching it as an either/or kind of thing. I have to decide upfront whether a particular title is one I want to own in book form, or whether I just want to read it. And that of course begs the question, why spend the money buying a book and the time reading it, if you don’t hope to form some kind of attachment to it?
When I switched from a typewriter to a computer back in 1988, it was a bit of a psychological leap too. I struggled most with the loss of tangibility and the loss of pages and drafts. Suddenly each document was like one long page with the potential to expand infinitely to accommodate its content, and the rough draft morphed eventually into the final draft. I don’t know why this troubled me so much, but it did. In time, of course, I got used to it and now I can’t imagine going back to a typewriter.
It’s not a great analogy, because I don’t see the Kindle replacing books the way the computer replaced the typewriter. The Kindle will supplement books. I’ve recently started downloading audio books, too, because I can listen to them while knitting. So I’m not completely inflexible about the idea of books having to be books. I’m just struggling with it, a little, conceptually.
I’d love to hear your thoughts about reading, books, audio books and the Kindle.
Posted by zoom! on December 24, 2009, at 10:21 am |
Christmas Eve, and I’m almost ready. Just a few loose ends remain. Clean the bathroom. Tidy the house. Make room in the hall closet for coats. Clear the kitchen counters. Prepare the veggies. Find the extra leaves to extend the dining room table.
I’m going to try to get everything done this afternoon, so I can spend the evening making snowglobe ornaments while drinking a Bailey’s Chocolatini in the warm, comforting glow of my imaginary fireplace.
I wish you all much love, warmth, comfort and peace over the next few days. Maybe even some happiness and joy. (But if this oh-so-jolly time of year is difficult for you, for some reason, I wish you strength, humour, and swift passage.)
Posted by zoom! on December 23, 2009, at 10:43 am |
I’m just taking a break from wrapping presents, which is my least favourite of the Christmas chores. Every year I tell myself that next year I’ll wrap them as I buy them. But then I forget again.
Speaking of forgetting, I forgot where I put my son’s Christmas presents. I searched and searched and got a little panicky, but eventually I found them sitting out in plain sight. You know how things become invisible when they’re too visible? That’s what happened.
I just made the cranberry sauce. It’s my sister Deb’s recipe and it’s really good and easy. Bring one cup of water and one cup of sugar to a boil. Add a bag of washed cranberries. Return to the boil. Add the zest of a lemon and half a teaspoon each of cinnamon, ginger and ground cloves. Simmer for 10 minutes. Let cool. Put in a jar and refrigerate.
I’m doing as much of the Christmas dinner preparations ahead of time as possible. The turkey is one of those frozen stuffed Butterballs – you just take it out of the freezer and put it in the oven. No defrosting. No panicking because the damned turkey won’t stop being frozen. No running it under warm water for an hour at the last minute while worrying simultaneously that the sink is going to contaminate the turkey and the turkey is going to contaminate the sink. No trying to chisel the bag of gizzards out of the frozen cavity. (Though I do like to put the organs out in the back yard for the crows. It amazes me how quickly they find them, considering I only put food out for them two or three times a year. Ten minutes, tops.)
Here’s the menu: roast turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts with marjoram and pine nuts, roasted carrots and parsnips. My mother’s bringing dessert. My brother and his partner are coming too, and of course my son, and GC, who is making hors d’erveshors d’oevreshors d’ouevreshors d’ouervers appetizers.
I had a very good day yesterday, which included a lovely lunch with Woodsy and coffee with Max. Max and I talked about all kinds of interesting things, including drugs, addiction, harm reduction initiatives, the local drug users group, his love life, the Tamils, cops, those creepy pro-life protesters down at the Morgetaler Clinic, overdosing and blogging. He’s an intelligent young man and an interesting conversationalist, and the time flew by.
Top Cat yarn in blue topaz
When I got home I discovered a package in my mailbox. It was my contest prize from Wandering Cat Studios! It included a skein of gorgeous Top Cat yarn in blue topaz, a bag of adorable sheep stitch markers and an original Sagittarius sock pattern. Absolutely wonderful. The Top Cat yarn is so succulent – it’s a blend of merino, cashmere and nylon and the colour is stunning. I am a very lucky knitter.
Here it is in my yarn basket:
Zoom's Yarn Basket
Okay. Well, I guess the presents aren’t going to wrap themselves, so I better get back to it!
Posted by zoom! on December 22, 2009, at 9:13 am |
The Sock
I tried. Really I did. And then I put it away, at least for awhile. I’m going to try again after Christmas. When things settle down. When I settle down.
Meanwhile…
I knit a baby hat for Chelsea from some silky Lion & Lamb I had in my stash. It was a very soothing knitting experience.
The Canadian Blog Awards
For a couple of days there I wasn’t sure whether Knitnut had come in third in Best Personal Blog or was in a three-way tie for first. The voting system was that complicated. It reported twelve ’rounds’ of vote tallying, and after each round votes were reassigned from losers to non-losers and there were ‘equalizations.’ Whatever that means. The final results showed Knitnut in a three-way tie for first, even though it got eight fewer votes than one blog, and five fewer than the other.
Following several days of radio silence from the organizers, during which we could see the results but not understand them, a list was posted. Knitnut was third in Personal, and Bank Street Bully was fourth in the Best Blog Post category. (Thank you kindly to all of you who voted for me. I appreciate it very much.)
Other local results
Robin Kelsey’s Watawa Life took second in Best Photo/Art blog, but will always be first in my books. Milan’s A Sibilant Intake of Breath came in third in Best Science/Tech blog. Apt. 613 was second and Mindful Merchant fourth in Best New Blog. Postcards from the Mothership was second in Best Family Blog. Congratulations to all. (I hope I didn’t miss anybody…if I did, please let me know.)
Christmas
GC keeps buying Christmas presents for the pets but giving them to them early. So now we’re keeping all the pets’ presents at my house. We’ve got a big meat-stuffed bone for Logan, some catnip mousies and other toys for Duncan, and some special seed bars for Billy and Lester.
I love my Christmas tree. It’s a modest little Charlie Brown affair. It’s wobbly and tilted and it has wayward branches sticking out at odd angles. Some years I like a big, symmetrical tree, but this little guy feels like the right tree for this year.
Posted by zoom! on December 20, 2009, at 9:32 am |
The sock, two days ago
So. This morning I’m sitting on my couch listening to a podcast of This American Life, and knitting a sock. It’s a slipped stitch sock. I’m getting close to the toe; it’s just a few hours away from done.
I decide to set aside my knitting for a moment to make some breakfast. But somehow, as I’m putting it down, I manage to slip one of the three bamboo needles right out of all its stitches. It wasn’t one of the gusset needles either, which hold the simple stocking stitch stitches. No. It was the other one. The one that holds twice as many stitches in the fancy slipped stitch pattern. In other words, it was the critical, complicated one.
I looked at the stock. Stitches were poking out in all directions. There were purls and knits and slipped stitches. And some of the slipped stitches were racing like slippery snakes down the ladders of my rows.
In the olden days, I would have put aside the sock and taken it to work and asked my knitting guru, Penelope, to fix it. And she would have patiently figured it out and fixed it for me. (I could never watch the actual surgery, even though she advised me to. It was too distressing.)
But I don’t work there anymore, and neither does she. I am guru-less.
So, as I looked at my sock with its guts spilling out in all directions, I realized the most important thing to do is step away from the sock. Don’t panic. Find a small crochet cook. Take deep breaths. Don’t rush. Attitude is everything.
The sock, after my well-intentioned but clumsy efforts to save it
When I was sufficiently zoned out, I approached the sock again, and studied it for a few moments, as I’d seen Penelope do. Then I slowly started coaxing stitches back onto the needle. Some of them were easier than others. After a few minutes, I had to set it aside again because I was making things worse. I got most of the stitches back on the needle, but badly…some are okay, some are twisted, some are in the wrong order, and some are missing.
I think I have to rip a bunch of rows out now, but I fear I’ll have the same problem at that point. The stitches will be poking out in all directions and I’ll just end up chasing the slipped stitches further down the sock.
So now I’m going to put it aside and have some breakfast and decorate my little Charlie Brown Christmas tree that I picked up at the Parkdale Market for $10 yesterday. I’m hoping that by the time I get back, one of you will have proposed a simple yet brilliant solution to my unraveling sock problem.
February: 
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