elainegrey

The car's care wasn't the cheapest bunch of changes, but Christine had the 100,000 mile service done and, as i have apparently worn out the door solenoid with my fidgety button pressing (lock-unlock-lock-lock-unlock) as i walk to the car we prepaid to have that replaced. Christine will have them do that when it's convenient. No one's told me recently that it's my fault, but i recall how when i would play with other things like turning the dial on the TV (because that's literally how you changed the channel, you darn kids, get offa my lawn) my dad would fuss that i was going to wear it out.

Thus, i feel fairly certain i wore out the door lock on the car.

I'm torn between being pleased she got it fixed and annoyed. I'm fairly certain i would have just adapted to using a key (because it works), and would have agonized over the decision to get it fixed, wondering if it was really worth the money. And then, nigh four times daily, i would be reminded that i was not fixing something.

It's a real tension for me, one i'm not entirely at peace with. On one hand, i recognize the sense of well being that comes from things that just work, the ease they move you through life. The worn and broken surrond me: is it consumerist brainwashing or authentic human reaction to see these things as projections of self? On the other, there is the sense of waste and of other needs and desires. I've so many projects, do i really need to add this to my list of things to fix? I've other acquisitions i want to make, do i really need a new one? And what will happen to this when i throw it out?

Two particular examples come to mind. The first i am actually at ease over. I broke the little ceramic bit off the tea pot lid that would hold the lid in place when pouring soon after receiving the pot. I've not fixed it (even though i think it's in the bits and bobs drawer) and heaven knows i wouldn't replace the pot over this. This irritation is minor, mainly because i think the little bit didn't really hold the lid on that well. I should hold the lid when i'm pouring even if it was repaired. Probably the only irritation is that it is not expensive in time or money to fix -- there just needs to be a time when i'm not using the pot that i think to do it.

The second is the cover for the toilet lid, some acrylic shag thing where it was held on with elastic. Has it ever remained on? Should i mend? Should i get a new one? What is it even needed for? I tend to think of it when i'm in its vicinity and forget later.

It's not that i don't mend things. I darned and patched socks this weekend as well as making a pair. Sometimes mending and extending the life of clothes makes me feel clever and creative, like when i've overdyed stained things. Sometimes i'm pleased not to replace things (the socks would need to be replaced; i'd rather mend than shop for socks).

The question is one of priorities though: would i have a better (amortized) sense of well being if i mended the toilet lid cover than if i crocheted a new thingy from scratch? The immediate sense of pleasure might not be there with the toilet lid, but what about every time i cleaned the bathroom after?

Interesting: i see myself persuading myself to prioritize fixing it, not discarding it (what purpose does it serve?) or replacing it. Both it and the matching rug are six years old and have been attacked by cats, well trafficked, etc. The towels will be nineteen years old at our anniversary. I was really wondering if i should splurge on new things for the bathroom.

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Edward, oddly, is the only cat that crosses my tiny desk. I chose to get a small desk in the theory that there would be less surface area to pile things on. (Forgot i'd have a floor.) Edward, the largest, will try crossing and turning on it, but there's really not that much room for him. He has such a pleasant way of letting me know he's ready for morning walkabout, and he's huggable like a big stuffed animal. His fur is not that fine but it's plush and healthy.

Greycie Loo has discovered my lap and pays a visit for a while in the morning now, demanding petting, throwing herself into the affection, rewarding me with love nips. She settles down for just long enough for me to think she might stay for a while, and then she's off. She seems so much more restless than the other cats.

--==∞==--

I did some more mad crocheting yesterday evening, finding the basketweave pattern to be incredibly rewarding to stitch and incredibly greedy with yarn. I'd hoped to do a scarf sixty stitches wide (about a foot and a half), but i realized that 1.5 oz of the yarn would make just about five inches of the pattern. I'll make a skinny scarf. I bought the yarn to use up the yarn left over from making gloves. I suppose with time i'll accept left over yarn and will realize a ball of yarn just doesn't go very far.

I was actually able to get a couple of loads of laundry done just before Meeting: Christine was left to fold. I also finished winding up the huge balls of purple cotton yarn i'd dyed for a friend.

The swift doesn't function as smoothly as i'd like. ( design notes )

Meeting was good, although self-oriented. I realized that i've "burned" away all (many of) the distracting "shoulds" in my private life. I feel mostly independent of external demands and expectations. I now have room to listen. And then, when i got to my meditation about the gift of wisdom, i felt an overwhelming sense of NOW, a sense that i am now ready to receive that "wisdom." "Wisdom" is a loaded term, and i think my expectations are not of "wisdom of Solomon" type wisdom, but correct prioritization of the moments in my life "wisdom." The Quaker term would be a state of "clearness," "being clear." (I don't think Friends often use the term "clarity" despite the dictionary reporting that the current sense of the word clarity originated in the early 17th century and Friends were formed mid 17th century. Still too newfangled a term for early Friends?)

The overwhelming sense of Now, the sense of a potential way of being that is easier, brought on a huge emotional sense of relief (and the awareness of the held back stresses). I consciously chose to step away from the experience and turned to thinking about crochet and dyeing clothes, and used that as a place of replenishment, before returning to that experience of relief. I think i was able to pace my experience to keep from being completely overwhelmed: and that too is a wonderful sense of competence, of being able to choose not to be completely washed away in emotion.

And, the moments set aside to think creatively were also productive. I came up with a design for my purple altered sweater ( notes )

I also felt inspired about another dye plan: ( dye thoughts )

Errands at meeting and errands on the way home, then lunch watching "Cake Boss," latest guilty pleasure. I ripped out the effusive purple thread work and worked up a proof of principle piece to show my design concept was possible. Called Mom and Dad, groceries, mental prep for the work day including determining my strategy and tactics for dealing with the work surprise from Friday. No exercise but felt exhausted.

Health:( details )

Yesterday's watching (and crocheting) included Pittsburgh, a Jeff Goldblum documentary/comedy/mocumentary.... I'm not familiar with The Music Man so i don't know how traumatic it is to see Jeff Goldblum playing that part. If Christine's reaction was any measure, it's quite painful. There's some loving shots of the bridges in Pittsburgh, a wierd failed romance between Illeana Douglas & Moby, and a very annoying conceit with Jeff Goldblums' 23 year old fiancée. I think i found the conceit most annoying, wondering how Catherine Wreford's near invisibility affected her. Her character in the film is so shallowly portrayed (she knits!), and her role is simply to be there so Jeff Goldblum can bounce his anxiety about acting on the stage off of her.

Finding this bit of news about a subsequent play in London with Goldblum and Wreford i'm left hoping that their engagement was real and their dis-engagement left Goldblum with the need to shield her person in the film Pittsburgh.

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Crocheting this second motif for the shoe upper (see http://www.flickr.com/photos/elainegreycats/4034968852/) is an interesting exercise in re-creativity. Christine fusses at me for not documenting my code -- the pattern i developed -- and i claim the documentation is in the piece. (*Snort* yup, undocumented code.) On the first piece, i'm creating: what can i do for the next row? how will it look? On the second piece: is this going to look the same? It's more worry and less delight. I give myself permission to not duplicate but simply make something that will look similar enough to someone talking to me, but make no attempt to replicate stitch by stitch.

***

Our observance of Halloween was muted. A Friend i met in February died during the day after a long bout with a chronic illness. Through a caringbridge.org blog she and then her partner shared the story of their letting go. Their intentionality and willingness to be present with the realities bought back the echoes of things Friend L shared in worship in February. She had the blessing of (near) cognitive clarity to the end and the ability to make many choices about how she was cared for and treated: Friend M is a doctor and that probably provided an ease that others might not have. I think back to the death of a Friend in my Meeting earlier this year, another death that Friends found to be just as much a giving as a taking. My thoughts are mixed: i'm aware of privilege and "luck" just as much as i am of the gentle simplicity and sad joy that their stories tell. I think of Christine and the shadow crossing her face as she looked at her mother dressed as Cruella d'Ville for Halloween: would her mother have willingly pretended to carry a cigarette holder before her mind began to go?

I did eat candy corn: i am reminded that sweets seem to be mood altering and not in a good way.

Our pumpkins sit un-carved: orange veggie/fruit for later meals.

Our kitchen has come back from the brink. I must rent a rug shampooer. I tried again to use our little mini "steam" cleaner and find the fixture that sprays the solution clogged. I wonder if i should find someone who would like to fix and have it. It does suck some of the water out as i cleaned spots, leaving anti-spots on the dingy carpet. Our table has been covered again with stuff for months. Household ickies acted as a bit of a block for creating a celebratory space.

The table might be gone by the time i get home tonight. I wrote Whole House Building Supply, an eco-salvage yard, and while they don't take most furniture (bookshelves and cabinetry seem to be the exceptions), my correspondent was interested. Greycie Loo will be disappointed: she's grown fond of it as a perch. (Of course there are *two* similar cat friendly perches near the table, but those are clearly for cats.)

Note to self: one can't just run into the grocery to buy a dozen roses at 9:40 pm. There will be two doods who aren't paying attention, who manage to let their groceries get rung up with the previous person's, and who generally gum up the limited check-out options.

I did get to the airport just as Christine was ready for curbside pickup. Unfortunately, SFO was a traffic jam, astounding traffic back up -- i've no idea what was going on. I decided $2 for parking was worth it to speed along our reunion: that was quick and easy. Comic, too, as i realized she was just two floors down as we talked on our phones, so i went down the stairs, but she was already in the elevator. We met on the second floor to the amusement of the guy getting out of the elevator. So quick, we didn't owe for parking. What could have had traffic backed up almost to the 101 exit ramp, i wonder?

She noted how the bedroom smelling of cat* smelled like home. *sigh* It's true, and i notice it when i get back from a trip, and then it fades from consciousness. It does make me wonder if visitors find our place stinks of cat. It's not simply litter box but also the food and probably more general mammal smells... *sigh*

Dress and dishes remain on the decrufting list.

I did finish the top of the hassock cosy yesterday. I think it looks rather attractive. I've some mindless crochet work to do on the last side, then i need to figure out how to piece together the parts. I won a yarn auction on eBay for some more yarn: that solves the major problem i was considering. I remain amazed at how much yarn crochet uses up.

I ought to take some photos of the garden. The lemon tree is blooming again, the volunteer tomato is clearly a small cherry tomato and covered with green fruit, the ginger is going to bloom. While many of the flowering plants are past their prime, it's still lush. One scented geranium, in particular, is blooming with the showiest flowers i've seen on a scented geranium. I pulled many dead needle clusters from the sequoia, close to the trunk. I hope it's just annual shedding and not water stress.

Evening Review
Give thanks, share beauty, note joy:
The moon hanging in the afternoon blue sky. (No joy with the opaque air obscuring the hills and the heaviness in my chest)
Vanilla ice cream and honey floating in peach tea
Lunch with L-J and P-C
Sharing my worries with Christine on the bench before leaving for work.

Noteworthy events (dining out, errands, correspondence):
Christine's sister D & brother L broke the news to their mom that she will be moving into an assisted living facility soon. Christine mourns, partly because it's the end to any "home" in NC, she says.

Left work early to come home for a nap. Stressed by my morning worries about the month to come, but also feeling pretty unwell.

Finished the last square in the hassock cosy.

( the usual )