The Stitch Witch

I've coveted Wisteria- all of

I've coveted Wisteria- all of it, everywhere- for as long as I can remember. The scent, the color, the languid drape of the flowers...

So, today, I nearly drove the car off the road after noticing a thirty foot long stretch of it sprawling over the fence behind a laundromat.

Heaven is found in the strangest places.

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Front yard cows...

They're not mine but I drive by them regularly and, well, cows in someone's front yard...the novelty hasn't quite worn off.

We've been living in the edge of the Berkshires for about nine months now and I think we're finally settling in. Winter was dull and dreadful, mostly because I hadn't the time to establish any fun routines and a little touch of depression may have settled in. Funny how it's easier to notice these things after the fact. But spring is here and that always makes life better. I'm taking a few days off in late May to mind a friend's bookstore and surround myself with books (hopefully sell a bunch). My friend Linda called tonight and now I have plans for a day of wandering bookstores in New York City. Later this summer, we're heading to Montreal for a weekend. And living on the edge of nowhere oddly enough means there are more options for pottery classes than on the eastern side of the state. Who knew?

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Insomniac with Camera

I promise not to flog this snow storm to death. Well, mostly. The pictures were so much fun, though.
At 11, when I went to bed, there was about 4 inches of snow. At 3, the cars had disappeared. It was pretty neat.

Of course, the digging out sucked but at least it was powder.

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To put 28 inches of snow in perspective,

I give you an 80 pound pit bull who desperately needs to pee and hates getting her nether bits snowy. Can't say that I blame her.

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Admittedly, it's January 31 and we haven't taken down the Christmas Tree

It's not shedding needles, even when I give it a good shake.

We are recycling it today, though. Having a Christmas Tree up for Groundhog's Day seems a little odd.

Can't remember what kind of tree it is but despite it's remarkable longevity we're not getting one like it again next year. It doesn't smell like pine tree- hasn't since we brought it home.

In other news, we're finally settling into the apartment (I know, we moved in July. It's been hectic, you know). The business of settling in was more complicated than I expected. New position, new apartment, new area- lots to settle. Still have boxes in the bedroom to unpack, pictures to hang, no curtains on the windows. At least the books are out. (and organized by color. Pictures eventually).

What else? My knee. Remember that little fall last October? Partly to reduce wear and tear on the knee (so it'll last longer) and partly because it makes life less painful, I'm sporting a snazzy, duct tape embellished cane (duct tape because there's a duct tape pattern for every season and occasion) Possibly, I'll splurge on a shillelagh one of these days. It turns out meniscus surgery is not something the ortho's inclined to do just yet because every scrap of cartilage we can keep in the knee will hopefully help delay the inevitable knee replacement. I can get around pretty quickly with the damn thing. Hopefully, as this regimen of diet, exercise, and physical therapy transforms me into a svelte 43 year old gimpy Olympian, I'll need it less or only occasionally.

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A little Tennyson to finish out the year

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,    The flying cloud, the frosty light:    The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new,    Ring, happy bells, across the snow:    The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind    For those that here we see no more;    Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause,    And ancient forms of party strife;    Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin,    The faithless coldness of the times;    Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes But ring the fuller minstrel in. Ring out false pride in place and blood,    The civic slander and the spite;    Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease;    Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;    Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free,    The larger heart, the kindlier hand;    Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be. Happy New Years, folks.

 

Merry Christmas!

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The last time I owned a Christmas tree to decorate

was during Dubya's first term. But the past couple of years I've been picking up an occasional interesting shiny glass ornament figuring that somewhen there'd be a tree for them. Today is officially somewhen and after Grace strung the lights and we added our 13 ornaments (we had 14 but fragile glass orbs and Fat Pit Bulls do not mix) I discovered The. Coolest. Thing. Ever.

The pretty ones with the shiny inset center practically glow when the light hits them. I love them and could probably waste an entire day or three transfixed by their bright shiny wonder fullness. Ok, keep in mind that I do not have cable and part of my brain is probably desperately seeking a Boob Tube substitute but if these are it, that's ok by me.

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The Fat Pit Bull

(who is somewhat less fat these days) sulking mightily because I'm busy goofing around on the phone when we should be curled in bed sleeping.

She's not a big fan of sleeping on the carpet.

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More wine, please.

> Nick, what happened to the stove exhaust filter?
>

>
> Oh, well, my bacon caught on fire and it got really big but I put it out.
>
> How'd you put it out, Nick?
>
> Well, I dumped a lot of water on it.
>
> Nick, we don't put water on grease fires.
>
> Oh, I know that but it was a lot of water and it worked and it's a good thing it worked or the apartment could've burned down and then we'd be homeless and have no stuff and I'd owe a lot of money and we'd be screwed. Are we getting a real Christmas tree this year?
>
>
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You would think, with all the advances

In technology, you'd be able to smell this picture

and experience how wonderful this wreath smells.

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Snowy day

Not much snow- just enough to launch December

Since we don't have cable and spend very little time on the interwebs, the weather's usually a surprise. It's pretty neat.
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A few days before Halloween, I finally had a chance to putter around the old railroad bridge in downtown and take a few pictures. A bajillion, actually, but one's probably plenty. Thing I learned: Old railroad bridges look cool but are popular places for people to hang out and drink. And pee. A lot. Thankfully, this blog lacks smell-o-gram. 

Besides, hanging out at smelly bridges, what've I been up to this past month? Nothing. Retail managers who are single parents do nothing in November except run. 

Sort of. In an astonishing show of gracelessness, I kicked a rolling chair out from under myself because I'm apparently incapable of sitting down while reading.Who needs multitasking anyway? Anyhoo, I absolutely arsed up my right knee. Truth be told, the arthritis was a lot worse than I realized so it was pretty arsed up before the fall. We could call that moment the straw that broke the camel's back or at the very least tore a ligament and a meniscus. Oy vay. After 30 tiresome days on crutches, I had a follow up MRI appointment Wednesday. The knee, it is a hot mess, in the sort of way that caused a handsome ortho surgeon to inquire exactly what I'd done over the years to have this much of a messed up knee at such a young age. Apparently being 43 with a 73 year old knee is not the norm. Who knew? Dr Handsome drained the knee and loaded it up with cortisone- which hurts like a bastard. Not the injection itself but later that night OH EM GEE though I'm now able to walk, albeit quite slowly ( think great grandma walking uphill in the cold through a wall of molasses. THAT slow) without the trusty aluminum crutches. The cortisone is to get me through the next 5 weeks of retail hell after which we shall formulate a long term treatment plan involving permanent weight loss (though I big time had the weight loss epiphany the morning after stepping out of bed, falling down, and discovering that walking unassisted wasn't in the immediate future), PT, and maybe a touch of surgery to try and clean up the meniscus a bit. That part's questionable. Half the knee's bone on bone (cartilage, schmartilage- who needs it?) and loaded with bone spurs which causes ongoing damage to the meniscus so any repair we do isn't a long term solution. So December's unofficially research the knee options month. 

Today, however, was the first day without crutches day and for that I am grateful. I am also grateful that I don't have to spend all of my walking time staring at the floor whilst crutching along. It's humbling (and scary) to discover how much miscellaneous crap on the floor can turn a crutch into a glider, especially when you consider how messy people are. 

But enough about my knee (possibly a glass of wine before blogging after a month hiatus isn't a good idea), here's the old Westfield Whip Manufacturing building (which apparently, is still lit at night even though it's a hulking ivy covered ruin and definitely no longer the site of any sort of buggy whip production.)

So, I haven't quite figured out email blogging

And sometimes the pictures end up sideways, which confuses me a bit because they look perfectly fine when I'm writing the post and then I look at the blog after it's posted and the trees are horizontal.

Consider it an unintentionally accurate view of my life these days: unpredictable and occasionally quite askew. We are getting connected to the interwebs on Monday. This won't fix the every day chaos but at least my trees'll no longer look like they're napping.

And for the knitters who are as wackadoo as I am, it's 25 degrees out and we have not turned the heat on. This is in part because I've discovered that if the house is chilly on the weekends, everyone (including the dog) sleeps in. The quiet uninterrupted knitting time is well worth wearing an extra pair of socks. If the weather holds, I might actually get the holiday knitting done-get this- by the holidays this year. I'll gladly resort to wearing nose cozies for that.

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For a little peace and quiet

I've taken to hanging out in the local cemeteries. The dead are FAR less demanding than the living. Plus, the trees are pretty.

One distinct difference between southwestern MA and NH is the trees. Autumn's always meant an exuberant riot orange and red maples, punctuated by a smattering of yellow ashes and beeches, and followed by soothing orangey-brown oaks. And for years, I've been irritated with folks from MA who clogged NH highways and hiking trails "leaf peeping". Why didn't they head to the Berkshires? How different could the trees possibly be? Plenty, it turns out. I've moved to an area thick with oaks, which are still green. Most of the area trees that have turned color so far are varying shades of yellow. Maples are the oddballs of the forest around here though they are pretty popular in cemeteries and attract plenty of admirers. Visit a cemetery around here right now and odds are decent that most of the visitors are wielding cameras, not flowers. I didn't realize this initially and spent about a half hour sneaking around so I wouldn't disturb "real" visitors. Then I finally realized that the guy that I thought was praying had a camera and that the woman who'd stopped her car in the middle of the road not far from me and who I thought might be calling in to report the picture taking grey haired whackadoo (aka moi) was just taking pictures from her car. So, I guess this is how people around here who don't travel get their autumn maple fix. Interesting.

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