Happy 27th birthday, Jilly.
(One of my all-time favorite pictures of her, all dressed for my sister’s wedding. She didn’t get to GO, mind you, but she wanted to celebrate just the same, and sat in her favorite, most-photogenic spot for the photo. That orange chair was SO perfect for her coloring.)
I still can’t believe she’s been gone for 12 and a half years.
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I finished the back of my sweater last night. Are you excited? I knew you would be. Naturally, I immediately started the two fronts.
I know, the excitement is nearly unbearable. I hope you were sitting down?
Sadly, I have very little else to talk about. Isn’t that terrible? (Not to mention a surprise.) You know, go to work, come home. Go to work, come home. Go to work. Come home. The usual.
Although.
Today is the 9th anniversary of my losing Katy. This always makes me rather sad. I can’t believe it’s been nine years. I wouldn’t give up Chappy for anything, but still regret losing her, especially so young.
Accordingly, I’ve been sort of sad today, and Chappy has had to endure extra hugs.
I wore my “dog tag” necklace today. These are charms from C.B. Stark on Martha’s Vineyard, one for Katama, one for Chappy. Together on a chain, they remind me of dog tags. And, of course, they ARE my “dog” tags.
Sigh.
I still miss her.
Excuse me, while I go give Chappy a hug.
How is it possible that my little Katy would have been TEN years old today?
Not only did I talk and think about Katy a lot yesterday, I spent a little time with her, too.
When our two miniature dachshunds died, years and years ago, we had them cremated and buried in the yard, with pink dogwood trees to mark the spots. (Pink because they were both girls, of course.) But when Katy died, I didn’t know if I might be moving out, or staying, or what, and wanted to be sure that I could keep her with me.
(Does this seem morbid to you? It’s not like I weep over her ashes every day, but it does kind of make me feel good knowing where they are. I can’t remember the last time I visited my grandparents at the cemetary, either, but it’s good to know that I could.)
So, she’s spent the last 8 years in the crate she arrived in (when I had her flown up from North Carolina as a puppy). Yesterday, I pulled it out of the closet for the first time in about 6 years and let her sit in the sun for a bit.
It’s really rather cozy, though, in her crate. Not only are her ashes in there, but she’s got her collar, her leash, her favorite toys. You know, to keep her from getting bored (and because I couldn’t bear to get rid of them).
There’s actually more than one collar–I’ve got the one she came with in there–bright pink and so relatively tiny that it just barely fits over Chappy’s nose.
There’s also this.
We had one of these picture frames for Jilly. It’s got room for a photo on one side, and a clay pawprint on the other. We got one for Jilly for her last Christmas, did her pawprints in January, and lost her in February 1999. (Just in the nick of time, in other words.) And her picture is lovingly displayed in our family room.
For Katy, though, I had bought another pawprint kit for her, but hadn’t gotten around to doing it yet. First I’d waited for her paws to grow up to full-size. Also, of course, I thought I had plenty of time. I never dreamed I’d lose her at 20-months old.
And while I was mourning her loss at the vet’s office, that was one of the things I mentioned.
Do you want to know how wonderful my vet was?
He told me that, if I could get him that kit quickly enough, he would see what he could do. And look what he did! Not only did he get two pawprints for me, but he imprinted her name into the clay, as well as a couple flowers. Is that not an above-and-beyond kind of thing to do, or what?
The irony is that he was the one vet of the group that Katy had never particularly liked–she used to grumble under her breath at him, but be sweet as pie to all the others. I don’t care what she thought, he definitely gets Good Vet Points in my book.
The sad part, though, is that I can’t bring myself to display this pawprint. I’m incredibly grateful to have it, but it’s kind of a sad memento. So I let Katy keep it for me, in her crate.
For the record, Chappy was definitely interested in this stuff yesterday. He sniffed at her picture, licked her bone (and seemed to think it smelled much more interesting than the one HE has). Perked his ears up when I accidentally squeaked her toy. And generally acted very respectful the whole time. He even, according to Mom, spent some time sitting next to the closet door where we keep Katy’s crate–an unusual spot for him, but maybe he wanted to spend some time with his sister.
That doesn’t mean he didn’t get bored, though. After all, it’s the dog that’s HERE that needs the tummy rubs, right?
He’s got a point!
May 12th is always a sober day for me, because it’s the anniversary of the day I lost Katy.
(Go back and read that old post if you don’t know the story. I’ll wait.)
Now, I know. If I hadn’t lost her 8 years ago today, I wouldn’t have had Chappy, and that’s unthinkable. And not just to me. Susan said on Ravelry last night that Harry was looking at her pictures and said, “Deb looks naked without Chappy.” A world without Chappy in it would be a darker place.
But–that’s true of Katy, too. There is no scenario that would have had both her and Chappy in my life at the same time. We’ve always been a one-dog household, and if I hadn’t lost her, I would never have even looked at the litter of puppies that Chappy came from. He would have gone to some other owner and we never would have known what we were missing.
Even if some bizarre miracle had occurred and I’d ended up with both of them, well, chances are Katy would have bossed him around. She was a protective dog and while we’d worked hard on her little possessive/temper issues (which had improved so much in her last few months they weren’t problems any more), still … I’m sure as a big sister, they would have flared up from time to time. (Because, aren’t little brothers supposed to be pests?) She wouldn’t have minded sharing her toys, but she would not have liked sharing her Mom. You know. Me.
You know that I would never give up Chappy. You know that I can’t even imagine my life without him.
But still.
Today, I miss Katy.
It’s interesting to think of all the things I do now that would be new to her. Blogging, for example. I didn’t even discover blogs to read until she’d been gone for three years, forget about writing my own.
She never saw me do real knitting, either. I’d pretty much put a hold on all my chewable, craft-type activities when she came into the house. I haven’t embroidered anything in over a decade, and have only worked on one (unfinished) quilt. I had started to think about knitting again, though, and had a trial knitting bag sitting in the family room for a while–a ball of yarn, a pair of needles, and a few rows of garter stitch–just to see what she would do.
And, spinning? I don’t know what she would have thought of spinning! Or of sheep and goats, though she would probably have been pretty calm about them, as long as they weren’t interested in her food. She saw me sit in front of the computer a lot–though I mostly wrote fiction, then. She saw me take lots of pictures, though not as many as I take now that I have blogs to feed. She helped me bake and cook, just like Chappy does, and kept me company while I read. She always greeted me at the door, and liked nothing better to nap with her chin or paw touching my leg. (Unlike Chappy who really prefers to sleep NOT touching anyone else.)
She was the first dog we ever took on vacation–to Martha’s Vineyard, of course–and she absolutely adored riding in the car. She never got carsick, although she had an unfortunate habit of swallowing things that weren’t digestible. She was also the reason I got my first camcorder, and my first digital camera. And why I still have clickers scattered around the house. I’m a huge fan of clicker-training, and can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am that I discovered a training method that meant I spent all of the 18 months I had her focusing on all the nice, beautiful, cute, GOOD things she did, rather than looking for and punishing the mistakes. I can count on one hand the number of times I actually got angry with her.
My life is certainly different without her. I’ve created an entire online identity around her little brother, and who knows what I would have been doing now if her tennis ball hadn’t bounced off that tree eight years ago. I can’t believe she would have been 10 years old this year. I can’t believe she’s been gone for eight of them. The world itself has changed so drastically. It was happier, easier back before 9/11, and the most difficult thing I had to worry about was teaching Katy not to growl at her grandparents on Monday mornings. Then, I lost her, 9/11 happened, the economy pretty much disappeared … and I got Chappy–my sunny, breezy, happy, easy little boy.
Nothing has been the same since I lost her.
But then, she changed my life by coming into it in the first place. It would be a sadder, emptier place if she had never arrived at all.
So, I’ve told you the saga of getting Katy, my first Boykin Spaniel. Nine years ago today. And I’ve told you about losing her to a car when she was 20-months old. I’ve even told you about my identical twin, Susan, who only lived for a few hours.
But, I haven’t told you about this photo.
The first time we took Chappy to Martha’s Vineyard … well, it was an awful trip, really. (If such a thing is possible.) It rained for all except the last day we were there. Chappy was only 9 months old and didn’t know what to make of this “vacation” thing. He barked at every noise. Cars. People. Lights. Noises. Someone sneezing three miles away. Everything. We were wet. We were stuck in a perfectly nice room at a B&B, except, it was kind of small for three of us for long hours. There was nowhere for us to sit and eat because the room didn’t have anything resembling a table. My allergies were terrible. It was just … not great.
That last day, though? The sun finally came out. We took advantage of it to take Chappy over to Chappaquiddick to see the beach. And when Mom got her film developed she had this interesting double-exposure.
Now, of all the years she had that camera, this never happened. It took pictures and advanced the film just like it was supposed to, for thousands of pictures of family, grandkids, vacations, everything. Never any technical difficulties at all.
Which makes this picture that much more interesting.
Me and Chappy, on the beach.
Twice.
Or, is it me, Chappy … and … Katy and Susan, stopping by for a romp? Especially since the second me over there doesn’t seem to be casting much of a shadow. And the one dog doesn’t seem to be wearing a leash.
Yes, yes, I know–it’s a simple double-exposure. But what are the odds of it happening only once to a perfectly functioning camera, on the brightest, happiest moment of a vacation, so that it shows doubles of me–an identical twin–and Chappy, who really does look quite a bit like his older “sister.” Who’s to say that Susan (and Katy) didn’t take a mystical hand in the malfunction to create this picture to let us know they were there?
Coincidentally, Mom wrote about this exact same thing today. Which is pretty funny in itself, since I don’t think of this picture very often, but was planning to write this post all day. (We do this telepathy thing to each other all the time!)
Not only that, I heard the “Katy Song” for the first time in months today. Back in 1999, the day before I was supposed to pick up Katy at the airport, I heard the Savage Garden song “I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You” on the radio while driving to work and practically melted. The lyrics were perfect.
Maybe it’s intuition
but some things you just don’t question
Like in your eyes, I see my future in an instant
And there it goes,
I think I found my best friend
I know that it might sound
more than a little crazy
but I believe…I knew I loved you before I met you
I think I dreamed you into life
I knew I loved you before I met you
I have been waiting all my lifeThere’s just no rhyme or reason
Only the sense of completion
And in your eyes, I see
the missing pieces I’m searching for
I think I’ve found my way home
I know that it might sound
more than a little crazy
but I believe…
I was so anxious to get my arms around that little puppy, and the words hit exactly right, and ever since, it’s known in our family as the “Katy Song,” and it always makes me think of her. So, what are the odds it would come up today?
I guess she’s thinking about me, too.
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And then, yesterday would have been Jilly’s birthday–our miniature dachshund whom we lost at 15 years old in February 2001. (To give you an idea? That little girl in Mom’s arms? My now-19-year old niece who’s taller than all of us.)
So, the negative about pulling out so many old, favorite knitting books to write reviews about them? My already-overflowing bookcase has started disintegrating into chaos. Because it’s overflowing to begin with, I’ve got horizontal piles of books, and piles of books balanced on the top … not to mention the knitting magazines overflowing their holders. The extra bags of yarn that have been piled there haven’t helped matters, either.
Then, I’d pull books out, and somehow, they would lose their places and there wouldn’t be room to put them back … As I say, chaos.
So–an hour or so of work later, at least I’ve got everything more or less tidy. The yarn is organized and all in the appropriate bins at the top of the closet and, for the moment at least, the books mostly all fit. (Um, we’ll see how long that lasts!)
Also? Today would have been Katy‘s birthday. I know, I tell you this every year, but for some reason, I’m really missing her today. Or at least, right NOW. So, here are some (blurry) photos-of-photos of her because, darn it, she was so beautiful….
A progress shot of my button band. I’m doing a double-knit band, and think it looks just fabulous. Hefty enough that it’s not curling at all, it looks smooth and seamless. Just lovely. Very pleased. This, obviously, is the first one and it’s only about half done, but … very pleased indeed.
As always, since it’s May 12th, I have to mention Katy, my first Boykin Spaniel. She would have been 7 years old today. The thought that she’s not here still breaks my heart, even though, really, if she hadn’t, er, stepped aside, I wouldn’t have Chappy. Which is unthinkable, of course. But, still. I miss her, anyway. (sniffle)
Speaking of missing, I got a e-mail from my best-friend today who told me she’s moving from the San Francisco area to L.A. to attend the A.F.I. Conservatory. Exciting news, huh? The interesting part is that she needs to find housing … Um, does anybody in the L.A. area have any recommendations? The school is near Griffith Park, if that means anything (grin), and she’s planning on moving in July.
On the plus side, the tv show Eli Stone has been renewed for another year. Woo hoo! I enjoyed that show so much when it came in as a mid-season replacement and am so happy to hear it will be back. In fact, surprisingly, all the shows that I enjoyed so much last year are coming back–that pretty much never happens.
And–because I know you desperately want to see more pictures–here are some more that I took at my sister’s house on Saturday.
Look at what I found when I came home today. Two VHS tapes of John Adams, thanks to Jessalu. (No, really, thank you, Jess!) And, of course, she was so concerned about their safety, that she padded the box with a little yarn. Smart thinking, huh?
(Really, sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who’s considered this an excellent–and fun–use of all that novelty yarn. To pull the skeins apart and use it to stuff the corners of boxes. Sure, it would tangle, but who wants to knit with that much novelty yarn?) (And, please, if you would, don’t leave me nasty comments. I just don’t happen to like it myself, is all.)
Anyway, now I’m all excited about watching John. I just have to find a good night to start–one where Mom will be sufficiently awake and interested (grin). I mean, why rush through a tasty treat?? It’s just so nice to have it!
It’s May 5th, as you no doubt already know, and that means it’s the anniversary of the day we lost Muppy. She was our very first dog and died on the day she turned 5 1/2, poor thing. She was a miniature wire-haired dachshund with the prettiest colors in her fur and we are all forever grateful that we took her along to the photographer when we had a family portrait done around 1982 because she pre-dated the good family cameras, and this is by far the best photo we have of her.
It’s a milestone, though, because it was 25 years ago today that she died. A quarter of a century–how is that possible? I remember so many things about that day so clearly, including the silly giggling when I told my best friend on the bus on the way to school. I knew she would think it was a joke, and her laugh was so infectious that I was laughing in self-defense as I told her the awful news. (And, no, she did not laugh. In fact, she cried.) Then, in speech class, my teacher started the class by griping about what an awful morning she’d had–little, normal things like running late, needing gas for the car–then, to change the subject, she asked me how my day was going. “My dog died this morning.” Lordy, she felt just terrible! My father didn’t go to work that day, either–which was one of the first times ever that that happened–and when I got home from work, all the drapes and shades were drawn in the house. It was just an awful, awful day, but at the same time, a really beautiful Spring day, much like today.
After she died, we had her cremated (as the town required), and then buried her in the backyard with a dogwood tree. A pink one (because she was a girl.) It’s looking quite lovely right now, too.
On Friday, I showed you some Katy pictures but today would have been Jilly’s birthday, so . . . fair’s fair, right? Jilly was a miniature-dachshund and she would have been, let’s see, 24? We got her when she was 8 months old, when I was still in high school, and we lost her in February 1999, when she was 15. Saying good-bye to her wasn’t easy, either, but at least she’d had a long, full life . . .
Yeah, we all loved her an awful lot, too….
Because today would have been Katy’s 8th birthday.
Lord, how I miss that little girl…. I mean, look at those gorgeous, amber eyes….
Okay, I need to go hug Chappy now….
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So, let me tell you about this happy little Golden.
Back in 1999, we lost our 15-year old miniature dachshund–an event that was incredibly sad, but not wholly unexpected, since she lived a long, full doggy life. But, see, within a couple of months, I was obsessing on the idea of getting a new dog. I was buying and reading books on dog training. Looking at cute pictures. Pouncing on nice dogs in the park. Obsessing.
Only–and I’ve told this story before–Mom swore that we would NOT be getting any more dogs. And thus began my campaign–the Campaign to Get a Dog. I still say that I felt like I was 12 again, begging Mommy and Daddy for a puppy. I talked about dogs. I read about dogs. I researched dog breeds, and my dog-book-library started to grow.
This picture–of that happy, doggy face was part of the campaign. I knew that he was there to welcome the new dog, but I told Mom that he would just be there to welcome people to our house. (Yeah, like she bought that excuse.) Of course, this friendly little dog wasn’t the winning move in my campaign. No, that was when I told Mom that, if I GOT a dog, I’d name her Katama, and we could call her Katy. If you don’t know, Katama is the South Beach area of Martha’s Vineyard, and the family joke is that Mom can’t resist anything from Martha’s Vineyard. It worked, anyway, because in October, my little Katy came to join the family.
I’m sure, though, that this little fellow definitely helped. Who could resist such a happy face?
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Yikes! Twelve loaves of unbaked stollen! (Eight normal-sized, four mini-loaves.) Talk about scary . . . Halloween’s got nothing on Stollen Day at the Chappy household for frightening….
Years. As in, my car is five years old today. Hard to believe it’s gone that quickly. And oddly enough, I’m usually getting “itchy” about a new car after 4-5 years, but I’m still thoroughly enjoying this one. I could wish for a slightly bigger trunk, perhaps, or some more legroom for back-seat passengers, but . . . I LIKE my car. And as a special birthday treat? Since Dad will be away for the next few days, she gets to sleep in the garage. Woohoo!
Yule. The Christmas season is definitely here.
Yarn. Of course. The last skein of my “raspberry” yarn, drip-drying in the shower. This yarn came out so nicely . . . I’m really pleased with it.
More Yarn. All handspun. In fact, this IS all my handspun–or at least, all that I haven’t given away or knitted into something else. That’s three skeins of the Raspberry there in the front–good representation of the color, too . . .
Yippee!! A row of baked Stollens. I’m DONE for another year!
Yawn! Of course, after all that baking and agonizing, we’re very tired, now….
…. Makes me want to go to my Yellow bedroom and go to sleep….
And, wow, I can’t believe there’s only one more letter to go. I have SO enjoyed this ABC-along this year! But, I can’t wait for Z . . . I know exactly what I’m doing for that one!
Oh–and I almost forgot! I had wanted to add one more “Y” but forgot to dig through the pictures looking for one . . .
Yellow Eyes. My dearly departed Katy had the most amazing amber yellow eyes . . . so beautiful! (Chappy’s eyes are more golden-brown, but Katy? They were actually green when I brought her home at 7 weeks, and then they turned into this gorgeous, topaz color. In fact, they were the inspiration for my bedroom color . . . just loved that.
Despite my cold, I haven’t been idle. I actually did some knitting last night. Not only that, I spun, too! How’s that for somebody who’s not feeling like herself?
This is the back of my sweater, with the cable panel going up the center back. That’s one complete repeat and the first couple of rows of the next one. I know it’s not the best picture, but, what do you want from flash photography at 8:00 at night? As the sweater grows, I promise I’ll get a better-resolution picture for you, so you can really see the cable. It’s lovely and intricate, which I adore. The more inter-woven a cable is, the more I like it.
Now, tonight, Chappy and I are sitting in our room, instead of watchng television downstairs with Mom. She’s feeling pretty horrible–the post-nasal drip of a cold draining into her stomach makes her nauseated so . . . she’s in her bedroom tonight. Since that’s where Dad usually is, he’s down in the family room and Chappy and I are in our room. Except, he doesn’t want to be–it’s too early! So, he’s been hanging out over by the door a lot. At this precise moment, he’s chewing on his nylabone, so he’s starting to relax.
Now, I’m going to curl up on my chair and pull out my knitting . . . although it’s been a long, long time since I sat in my bedroom and knitted!
My cold, for the record, is definitely here, but not horrible. I was shivering when I came upstairs, pulled out an extra warm wool shawl, put on my socks, and am feeling better, at least in that way. At least my nose isn’t quite as drippy as it was before. Stupid cold….
Oh, and today is the 7th anniversary of bringing Katy home . . . I can’t believe that went so fast. She’s been gone 5 years, but I still miss her….
Here’s a look at my knitted-bag-to-be. This is two strands of Cascade 220, knitted together, on US size 10.5 needles, which feel absolutely HUGE. I put the bobbin of singles in the picture as a size-reference, but I must say, those colors look pretty fabulous together, don’t they? Although, really, the brown in the knitting isn’t quite as coppery as it looks in the photo.
I had planned–well, hoped–to get the rest of my third bobbin of singles spun up today, but that didn’t happen, because I didn’t feel well enough to sit and treadle this afternoon.
Last night, I colored my hair (very necessary), and while working the dye into the back, I got a face-full of dye fumes, which triggered . . . not exactly an asthma attack, but something like. I’ve had a bit of a cough for the last week or so–not nearly as bad as last month, when Chappy was coughing, too–but kind of there. Well, last night, after I did my hair . . . wheezing and whistling.
I couldn’t get to sleep until after I’d used my inhaler (leftover from my lung infection last March), because my lungs were whistling with every breath . . . and I slept fine about 5:15 this morning, when that same noise woke me up. And again around 6:15. And 7:15 . . . and I was just more or less short of breath all morning. (And yes, Norma, I took some Elderberry syrup.) We took Chappy out for a walk this morning, but it was a short, just around the block one.
Of course, instead of being really smart, I then did what I’d wanted to do today–I cleaned my closet. Pulled out my craft stuff, the extra parts to my spinning wheel, books, yarn . . . I vacuumed around inside the closet (it’s amazing the amount of fur that gets in there). Reshuffled things to make better room for my knitting books. Stuff like that. Surprisingly, my lungs were better after that.
But anyway, that was my day. It would have been a lovely day for a good, long walk, but that didn’t happen. I planned on doing some baking. That didn’t happen. I should have cleaned my bedroom, but that didn’t happen, either. (Ironic, I know, that I vacuumed my closet, but not the rug I sit on every night while I type.) And I really wanted to spin, but . . .well, maybe after I finish this post.
Today would also have been Jilly‘s birthday. She would have been 23 (yes, unlikely, I know.) Here’s a picture of the two of us at work however many years ago this was. Our office had a “Stuffed Animal Day,” where people brought in stuffed toys. Well, I brought in Jilly, because “She was the most stuffed animal I knew.” Mom came and picked her up around 10:30, but for a little while, we worked together. (Please note that Jilly brought HER stuffed animal. A little teddy bear named Chewbone.)
Oh–and let me ask those of you who embroider. My Mom is making a wedding gift for some friends and wants to put their names at the bottom. We need an alphabet about 5 stitches tall and relatively narrow, to spell out their names–does anyone have a good one we could use to chart them?
Just a couple things.
I finished the first of my two socks. I’d show you more, but I actually have Plans for this pattern, so a peek at the toe is all you’re going to get. Yes, it’s a contrasting color. I even, in fact, used reinforcing thread to give it extra strength (ooh la la!). The main yarn is Cherry Tree Hill Supersock in “Indian Summer,” which was gifted to me by Shelley back in April. The contrast? Some Koigu that I had in the closet. I thought the colors looked really well together.
Meanwhile, I’m trudging along on my Peacock Stole Part Two . . . I’ve been working for months and I’m only on row 87 out of, what, 250? As much as I love this pattern, and love the idea of making a rectangular version of the triangular original . . . I’m ready to be done with this now . . . and yet, there’s no end in sight!
Oh! And the roving I showed the other day, that I said I was disappointed in? Teyani (about whose customer service I really had no doubts) offered to exchange it for a ‘darker’ batch, which is great. Pretty though it is, I do so hate being disappointed, don’t you?
Did any of you see this article in Publisher’s Weekly, about the slowing down of the knitting trend? (Huh. Obviously the writer doesn’t know any of us.) Although, actually, I thought it was a fair, well-balanced article, focusing on the slow-down in knitting-book purchases in the last year. Well, sure . . . there just aren’t enough really good, new knitting books. I mean, there have been some great ones this year (the Harlot’s, Wendy’s, Mason-Dixon . . . and I’m eagerly awaiting Eunny’s), but once you have a reasonable knitting library, there’s only so much to buy. (Some, of course, would say that my knitting library is UNreasonable, but, what do they know?)
Also, on an important-to-me note, today would have been Katy‘s birthday. She would have been seven today. I could really use a cupcake, too. Our favorite nickname for her was “Katycakes” and for some reason, it just seems like there should be cake today . . .
Is it strange that I still miss her so much? Lord, look at those eyes she had! Amazing, really–same breed as Chappy, and yet her face looked so different. Not quite so rounded, she had that “triangle” of fur down her nose. She kept her hair neat–no topknot on the top of her head. Fewer curls than Chappy. Oh, she was so pretty . . .
But don’t tell Chappy I said so. He gets just a little jealous when I talk about her….
It just seemed like the right “K”–considering how we were just there a few days ago. Katama. One of my favorite spots on Martha’s Vineyard, and the origin for my Katy’s name. So, first, here, and to play fair–a road sign pointing not only toward Katama, but also to Chappaquiddick (can’t play favorites with the “kids,” right?)
Of course, once you’ve started driving toward Katama, eventually you’ll come to Katama Road.
Not to mention passing by Katama Airfield. From here, you can take bi-plane tours of the island–something I’ve never done, but which sounds fun, don’t you think? Although, considering how Chappy gets carsick, I somehow don’t think he’d get along with a biplane….
But then you’ll come to the end of the road, and a line of sand dunes . . .
And, there you are, at South Beach. By far my favorite beach on the island . . . or, really, anywhere. Pure sand, with few rocks or shells.
It’s also got the roughest surf on the island–since South Beach, of course, there’s basically nothing south of South Beach but the Atlantic Ocean. I mean, literally, for thousands of miles. The whole, eastern coast of the U.S. slopes away toward the the southwest from New England, and so there is nothing shielding the south shore of the island from the waves and wind of the ocean except the occasional dolphin or whale.
Not that that makes it an unappealing place to be. It’s a great place to visit in the summer. I took this picture in June, 2001.
It was also the Katama ferry that Mom, Chappy and I sailed over on last week. (Chappy, of course, has his own ferry, though it’s called the OnTime III.)
And, of course, you can find the name Katama all over. (Note how it’s right next to the Chappy rock. Which is just as well, as Chappy’s a little jealous of his big sister.)
The original Katama, of course, was an Indian Princess.
Although, of course, my favorite Katama was my Katy. But you knew that already, didn’t you?
(Did you notice how I restrained myself, too, from using Knitting? I figured it was bound to come up once or twice, and I wanted to be different!)
Because, really, why should it be?
Sure, hundreds of knitters, spinners, and bloggers were in Maryland this weekend, but we had a (mostly) fun weekend right here at home.
First, we met Risa and the twins (bad picture, sorry) at the park yesterday morning. (She wrote a great description of the day, including some very flattering comments about Mom and Chappy.) Except for the couple descents into tears (by the twins), it was a really nice day, despite the spritzes of rain on the drive over. Or the little boy who implied he was better than Chappy when he asked how old he was and I said he’d be five in July, and the little boy said, “Well, I’m ALREADY five.” Like it was an accomplishment he doubted my lovely dog could attain . . . brat (grin).
Last night, though, around 9:00, Chappy was very dramatically sick–pretty much everything he’d eaten all day came up all over the family room rug. We were worried, too, because when he first got up, we thought there was something wrong with his leg, he was walking so oddly and couldn’t manage the jump up onto the ottoman. He was also drooling, though, and when he threw up the first, um, batch, we understood–he had stomach cramps. But, in all the years we’ve had dogs and seen them get sick (usually, yes, on the rug), we’ve never seen one visibly suffering from stomach cramps. The excessive drool was unusual, too. Dogs usually just walk into or a corner, or stop where they are, heave a little, throw up, and go about their business. It was unusual to see Chappy actually being queasy. (Well, he used to get carsick as a puppy, and so yes, we’ve seen him queasy, but honest, the house was not moving at all!) After about 20 minutes, though, the drool dried up and he was feeling well enough to jump up onto the ottoman and sleep. He was fine (but sleeping) the rest of the night, and today, he’s entirely himself and (without wanting to get too graphic) his digestive system seems to be functioning normally. I just wish I knew what had caused that . . .
Anyway, today has been a lovely Sunday–beautiful weather. We had a nice, long, leisurely walk, I did some cleaning, some laundry, some reading. I actually got 10 rows done on my Celtic Dreams sweater and am well into the “skirt” section of the pattern, and am now pretty sure I’ll have the body done before vacation starts next week. (Barring unexpected emergencies that would cut into my knitting time.) This is a relief because it’s getting large and bulky and kind of a pain to turn as the rows move along and my luggage is going to be heavy enough. And the “worst” part is still to come. The one negative about doing the sweater-in-one-piece thing is, really, doing the sleeves while the whole rest of the (heavy) sweater sits in your lap, adding bulk, and making it difficult to knit at the height/angle which you prefer. But since it’s counteracted by few finishing details and no seams . . . well worth it.
While I was sitting with my knitting, I tried listening to some music on my new MP3 player. The music of choice? The soundtrack to Chess, which I haven’t heard in years. Not the soundtrack from the London version, or the one from the horrible Broadway version. No. It must be the original concept album. Do you remember it? It pre-dated the stage productions, and spun-off the single “One Night in Bangkok.” My college roommate my Sophomore year had a bootleg copy of it and played it over and over . . . at the beginning of the year, I hated it, but by the end, I liked it so much, I had to buy a copy for myself. And then when I spent a semester in London my Junior year (1987), I got to see it in the theater. I dragged a fellow student with me, got to sit in box seats right by the stage (bless those last-minute student-ticket discounts!), and when we left through our private exit that let out right by the stage door–got to see Tommy Korberg as he left and got on his motorcycle. (I’m still kicking myself for being too “cool” to ask for an autograph.)
It’s a dated musical, for sure–the music is very “electronic,” written by Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson, formerly of ABBA, with lyrics by Tim Rice. And of course, it focuses on a chess tournament between an American and a Soviet player, with huge, heavy, Cold War implications. But, the singing is fabulous. The song “Nobody’s Side” as sung by Elaine Paige was practically my anthem when I had my miserable 21st birthday in Germany all by myself. The duet “I Know Him So Well” is just beautiful, as is the goose-bump-raising “You and I” which ends the album. And, really, how can you help but love a song that manages to tell the entire history of the game of chess in multi-part harmony? So long as you ignore the antiquated politics . . . it’s great. And the best part? That serious, heavy, electric rhythm makes it marvelous for knitting.
Of course, since I’m not using “jealous,” you need a “J” for this post, so here you go–my two favorites Js. Joan and Jilly. It’s an old picture (Jilly has been gone for six years now), but it’s one of the few good ones of both of them. (Mom, unfortunately, wore black a lot while Jilly was alive, and so in most of their pictures together, all you can see of Jilly is her eyes.)
This one, though, was taken by a professional. Mom had taken Jilly to the photographer so we could get a really good picture of her, but she (Jilly) was such a nervous, skittery little girl, she wouldn’t sit still. At all. Roger-the-photographer tried everything for about half an hour, and then said, “I’m going to leave the room for five minutes, and maybe she’ll relax a little.” When he came back, Mom was sitting with Jill in her lap, and he said, “That’s the picture I’m going to take.” Mom immediately protested, “But, my hair! My makeup! I’m not prepared!” But he took the picture anyway, and, well, Dad got a really nice Christmas present that year (grin).
And, apropos of nothing, while I was browsing through the photo album, I came across this one from Christmas 1997, when I was teaching my 8 year-old niece to knit. You know, the niece who right now is looking at colleges… (And, we won’t discuss how horrible my hair looked . . . this was back when I brushed it and caused frizz instead of curls because I didn’t know any better.)
Oh, and by the way, I’m officially 39 1/2 years old, as of yesterday. I guess this means I really am in my late thirties, huh?
Our first dog, Mustard. (Because she was a hot dog–we were children when we named her, you understand. Really, she went by “Muppy.”)
My first spinning. (Well, there was one, lumpy glob of wool before this one, but this is the first that actualy counted.)
First Grade
My first book–as in the manuscript of. Obviously, I’d read countless books before I ever got to this point, but unfortunately have read countless since without getting it any further than this point, poor thing.
My first laptop computer. (I suppose it did, technically, fit on one’s lap, but it weighed so much, really, why bother? It’s a monstrosity, circa 1989. I’d give you the tech specs, but really, you’d just laugh. Hey, I was just excited that it had a hard-drive.)
My first sweater . . . really! A Lopi pattern, in Lopi wool, using both hands for color-work and knitted on circular needles. The whole thing was a revelation and took me 10 days. Count ‘em. TEN days.
My first “real” ring, my birthstone.
My first bedroom. (Thankfully, only two walls were wall-papered. It WAS the 70s, you know.)
My first day of school. Luckily, Mom snapped this picture before the bus arrived–once it did, the only shot she got was my ankle in its purple sock as I ran onto the bus.
My first pair of glasses. (Needed shortly after finishing that first sweater. A coincidence??)
My first Christmas. Note my very excited big sister sitting in the background. I love that shot of her. (Oh, and may I introduce you to my Grandfather?)
Which brings me to another first for the day. First Christmas songs on the radio. I’ve been hearing them in the stores for a couple weeks now, but for the last 3/4 of an hour, they’ve been playing nothing but Christmas music on the radio. Some of them are songs I like quite a bit, and it has been a while since I heard them, but . . . it’s not even Thanksgiving yet! I’m sorry, that’s just wrong. (Added: Did you know there is a Society for the Preservation of Thanksgivng that addresses just this sort of thing? See Phyllis‘ blog entry for today.)
But hey, assembling all those “first” photos was fun. You should try it. Consider it a meme from me to you. And before you go, here’s one more for you
First male dog in the family!
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Tannenbaum.
House Calls
