Happy Mothers' Day!

And a happy Mothers' Day to everyone - even those of you whose babies have four legs or scales or feathers or whatever!
My kids had a big surprise for me. The only clue they gave me was that I had to be up and dressed by ten a.m. - no sleeping in or lounging in my jammies. I figured they were going to take me out somewhere, but I was so wrong. We never left the premises.
After we enjoyed chocolate-glazed donuts and Mothers' Day cards, they pretty much abandoned me in the house with my new grandson (that's a REALLY sneaky trick).
My merciless crew then proceeded to empty and organize my two-car garage. They discarded enough of my trash and treasures to make room for my one small car. I've lived in this house for 29 years and I am trying to remember if I have ever seen a vehicle in this garage - a vehicle bigger than a bicycle, that is. (Hey, there WAS a bicycle in there - where did it go?)
I'm a little sorry we didn't do before and after pictures, but the 'before' was every bit as cluttered as you can imagine.
P.S. If anyone needs a sturdy 4' x 8' worktable, please come by and pick it up from the curb!

He's here!

Our new baby is here at last! He arrived Friday, 03/28/08, at 1:06am, weighing in at 8 lbs, 12 oz.

Yah-ta-hey

Let me tell you, two four-day weeks with a fun-filled weekend in between makes for one long day. By Thursday I was so out of it that when I got home from work, I sat down in my recliner intending to read my mail, and slept for twelve hours straight. I did feel much better Friday. Sometimes the old bod just has to say STOP!
The weekend was a wonderful experience. We drove from OKC, which is 1299 ft above sea level, to a point just across the Continental Divide, and just east of the Arizona state line. We spent the weekend at 6568 ft above sea level, and I for one could tell the difference in the air.
We met some really nice people; all but one were Navajo, since there was no one else there. I made friends with a loveable Lab named Opie, and four of us cousins had a really fun slumber party.
Oh, and one more thing - I finished my Branching Out scarf!
Be forewarned, I'll be back in a day or two with lots of pictures to show you.

* poof! *

I arrived at work at 7:45 am today, with a smile on my face and a peaceful feeling in my heart.
It's noon. They're both gone.

Knitting Daily

Illness among my co-workers* has increased my already full workload, so the past couple of weeks have been a little rough for me.
* (I always feel compelled to hyphenate that word, otherwise I tend to read it as "Cow Orkers" whatever those might be - it doesn't sound pretty.)
More work hours mean fewer play hours, but I have been steadily working on my
Branching Out scarf,









and have started a pair of toe-up socks.








The cold weather will probably end just as I finish this warm wool/alpaca scarf, but I will be able to wear the socks year round.

I hope to block these Baby Pea Pod pieces and sew them together this week.

Off to see the wizard . . .

Last night I took my favorite Little Man to see a high school production of Wizard of Oz .
We both enjoyed the show even though it was three hours long.

On the ride home, I asked him which part he liked best.
"The lion. He went 'aargh and aargh.' "

I asked him if he liked the music.
"It was beautiful."

Then he went to sleep in his carseat.

Saturday Morning

As I write this I am comfortably reclined in an upholstered chair, surrounded by equipment humming and clicking and occasionally beeping. A monitor and keyboard hover in front of me supported by an articulated arm *what the heck is that noise*

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Please excuse the interruption. I am at home now.

I intended to continue that first paragraph by explaining to you that I was blogging one-handed because my left arm was busy with a fat needle and a several clear tubes connected to an intricate machine named Amicus that was pumping blood out of my arm, extracting life-saving platelets, and returning my blood to me.

You may or may not know, so I will explain, that this is a completely sterile process, because the Amicus and others of its ilk are set up for each extraction with a sealed 'kit' of tubes and bags and such, so the only opening in the entire kit is at the needle. Everything from my entry paperwork to the final product is identified with barcode labels.

The kit itself fits into openings in the Amicus, and loading it is a process that - well, if you sew, have you ever threaded a serger? It's a lot like that. Bags go on hooks, tubes go into channels and around gears, and I don't know what else. It is an extremely well monitored system and I feel completely safe with the procedure, plus I get that warm fuzzy feeling of having done something beneficial for a cancer patient or some idiot who doesn't know to slow down when the streets are icy. They tell me that one platelet donation can save three lives.

I was going to tell you about my surroundings, including the man to my right who was quietly snoring, and the lady to my left who was engrossed in a book. I was going to describe the two phlebotomists who were at this time all the way down at the end of the long room, taking care of some chores after making sure we donors were snugly settled in.

I was rudely interrupted from this pleasant story-telling by the sudden onset of horrible banging and clanking and screeching noises from that wonderful machine named Amicus.

As I said, no one was nearby, so I said, loudly, "HELP!" That, or possibly the awful noises from Amicus, got the immediate attention of two skilled professionals, who rapidly shut down the machine, pulled the needle from my arm, and applied a gauze pad to the hole so my blood wouldn't leak out. They were calm but definitely not smiling as they diagnosed the problem as a "defective kit." I got the impression that this was something that would be intensely investigated. I can't even imagine how much paperwork this incident will generate.

They told me I was fine, but I would have to wait the full 58 days before I could donate again because I did not get that 'return'. I would need that time to rebuild my blood.

I really admire those women. I feel so safe in their care. Most of the time, everything goes as planned, but when it doesn't, there is no hesitation. They know exactly what to do.

I am really sorry they had to clean up all that mess, and I'm also sorry the blood was wasted. I'll go back in April. Or maybe May.