Yes, you read that right.

Hooker.

Not Prostitute.

See?

Image

Keep reading, I promise that this isn’t really about yarn or crafting at all.

But this does involve a different kind of intercourse…

I have leftovers from the first socks, and the second pair, both boot socks, that I knit for myself and my then boyfriend while out trolling for salmon our first summer together.  I still can smell the sea and the exhaust and know in my very soul the intense feeling of moving down those steps into the dark foc’sle and smelling the drip stove and the interminable damp, seeing nothing but feeling…him…just standing there near me, the closeness of the moment, the feeling of all of my skin just waiting, almost reaching out, for the pressure of touch.

There are many socks of those two and a half years: The pair for my mother that I designed myself, the pair made while fishing next to a glacier in between times of running gear, the pair for my sister that became the first knitting I cut into so I could lengthen them, the pairs that I worked on in the library of the school with the knitting group, the pair I gave to my best friend that he had goaded and guilted me into making for him, the brilliant lime green and purple that I was working on when I said “Yes” in the little cabin on the island off the bridge.  All these remains…all with sweet feeling and smiles are seen.

I have the remains of the blue and grey yarn that became the only pair of socks that I gave away to a non-loved one, not a stranger but not a near and dear friend, because I couldn’t bear to keep the socks that I threw myself into when that same boyfriend ended our relationship.  Now I contemplate wether or not to use it in something that I want to cherish…but I know that I will. The yarn is beautiful in its comforting blues and greys, no longer sad but a reminder.  I have no regrets, only memories of a wonderful time that shaped me.

There are the orange and purple leftovers from a sock club that I was in, colors that never spoke to me calmly but begged to me for creation into wearability, the perfect socks to reclaim myself as I reclaimed my self and looked to the future.  There are many bright yarns from that time, as I built myself back into ‘me’.

The intense of pink and lime green gives me pause to think of the daughter of a companion.  She is strong and beautiful and the yarn suited her perfectly.  Though I originally intended them for myself, when knit in her company while waiting for dinner to cook and listening to hockey, I knew they had to be hers.  I have mixed feelings of that time…the intense blue of my companions eyes from a disquieting setting, made all the more attractive for the soul searing-ness of it all, matched with the closed, never revealing of souls we shared…the bare need matched with the lack of need, an oxymoron of a relationship if ever there was.  In the end of it all, she was the treasure and I’ll use the yarn with joy for her future…and remember those intense eyes.  The dark yarn with the shots of pink and lime green is my own tangible reminder of our connection

The small bits of leftover from my first nephews socks, made from leftovers themselves, will not even make a single row in my work but will be brilliant and an amazing reminder of the hours I spent on the phone and the constant checking of the message machine just in case I missed the telling of his arrival and the miles of blanket knitting I put in.

Discovering the yarn that reminds me of the sea I watched for weeks while waiting for a letter, a note, a phone call…anything…from Him…and then getting them all at once, in the way you do when mail planes are delayed.  The hopes of feelings returned and questioning acronyms all rushing back in tides of learning love and building habits and life together.  I know that I’ll use this yarn followed by the remains of the first socks I knit for Him and remember the joy, admiration and pride in his voice when he showed off my spinning and handmade socks to a friend. And the second, third, fourth and fifth of his sock remains as well…and the yards of the yarn that I was knitting the day we met, now nearly threadbare because it had to be pulled back so many times despite the years of knitting ribbed socks because I couldn’t get his voice out of my head long enough to count to 2; not just because Sisu loves him, not just because he continues to show off his handknit socks with pride every time he wears them, not just because he does the driving so I can do the knitting in the car…but because of all of these things.  Because of the love.

I sway from this project to another pair of socks that I am knitting for an entirely strong girl friend because I know I need her yarn on this project as well.  I have torn the yarn stash about looking for the leftovers I KNOW must be there to find the yarn from a shawl I gave to my inspirational girl friend.  The yarn from two local best friends must be included and I even feel the pull to start another pair of socks for my third rock of a girl friend because it wouldn’t be an accurate chapter if she wasn’t represented.

This is a intensely personal project.  

My love in and of the last 7 years, shown in yarn. 

There will be no rhyme or reason to what yarn lies next to, before or after the next, only that it is a memory of love.

Rough in patches, strong throughout.

I couldn’t ask for more.

It has happened.  

Again.

That feeling of deja vu.

“I know you, don’t I?”

And that, ‘Watch out for the crazy person’ look that you get in return.

Except that I wasn’t crazy.

I don’t think…

So familiar but am totally unable to place him.  

And then the questions start:

“Last name?”

Nope, not familiar.

“Live here long?”

Just moved here.

“Do I look familiar to you too?”

Sorta but not sure…

And then the long looks as we both go about our day and still try to place the other because, by this point, we know we KNOW each other vaguely.

And then it hits him and he asks the right questions:

“Did you live in Alaska?”

Ok, this is a vague one but at least I have a geographical range and its totally right.  Yes.

“And you were with Jamison?”

Wow.  

Just…

Wow

And thats it totally. 

It has been a while.  Quite a while, actually.  Like, nearly 7 years.  And we only met each other in passing a few times.  He was friends with my boyfriend at the time younger brothers and had come over a few times to play Halo with them, a huge 8 person event that happened about once a month or less during fishing season…which was the only time, that one season, maybe two, that I met him. And it must have been just in passing too, because I rarely stuck around for Halo night because I didn’t play.  But then, nearly 7 years later, I walk into the kitchen at work and see him and it is so strange.

Of all the places in all the world, I am now co-workers with someone who I met once or twice in Pelican, AK nearly 7 years ago.

Very weird.

 

And, of course, its happening again today.  I got a notification on Facebook that someone had “Friend”ed me.

And he looks familiar and we have a few of the same friends…

but I looked thru my old yearbooks that my Mum had sent me a little while ago and couldn’t find him.

I know him somehow.

I know I do…

Don’t I?

You ever have those days where you truly crave a food that you know is “wrong” but there is just something telling you that its right?

 

Yesterday, I wanted a doughnut.  And not just any kind of doughnut but a lemon or raspberry filled doughnut with powdered sugar on top.  Warm and fresh and perfect…but that wasn’t going to happen.  There are no doughnut shops in Port Townsend and, considering that it was already 1pm when the craving hit, I felt it better to hold out, have some real food for lunch and then revisit the craving afterwards.  The craving never came back but I thought about doughnuts for the rest of the day, specifically ‘Why on earth am I thinking about doughnuts?’.  A brief sojourn onto Facebook brought it all to light.  Yesterday was over-priced doughnuts day, or Paczki Day as I know it from Michigan, better known to the rest of the world as Shrove (from shrive, meaning to confess; a time when Christians would self-reflect on what they needed help with over the next 40 days and confess sins to they would go into Lent ‘clean’) or Fat (because of the traditional practice of using up all the lard which would be forbidden during Lent) Tuesday and marking the last day of indulgence before the day Lent begins.

Which would be today.

40 days, nearly 6 weeks, of sacrifice.  There is a LOT of discussion over what is acceptable to give up during this time and equally as much history behind what was given up in the past.  If you were to meld all the ideas together, I’m pretty sure you would end up with just drinking water after sunset as practices abound of not eating any animal products, no fruit or wheat and, my favorite just for the wording, “[only] a small meal without vegetable or alcohol”.  I’m pretty sure water is all that is left.  However, in a society that is leaning far from self-abnigation, discussions of Lenten sacrifices are most often met with the question of “Why?” and, as I have found, too many of the ‘faithful’ are unable to answer the question aside from “Because thats what we do before Easter.”

But WHY is this important?  WHY is it something that is done?  WHY are YOU doing it?  WHY is your discipline something that will bring God closer, or rather, you closer to God?

Lent is NOT a time of self denial for our own means to an end but to turn thoughts towards God when we feel that hurt, want or longing for whatever we have given up.  One of my favorite authors, Lauren Winner, writes in ‘Girl meets God‘ about the Lent she gave up reading, everything except her Book of Common Prayer and her Bible, a huge sacrifice for her.  She turned to prayer during those hours she normally would have spent with her books and wrote that she felt that, without her escape into books to turn her thoughts away from anything upsetting and wrong in her life, she had to turn to God.  That her pastor didn’t suggest that she give up reading as someone might give up a much loved dress “…but because it might move me closer to Jesus.  It might move me to my knees.”

This year, because of my feeling of crass negativity in many areas of my life, my discipline is going to be foregoing negativity and mindfully combatting it should I fail. 

I’ve already failed more times than I can count and its not even 11am.

I was angry with myself for having a body that has pain and doesn’t allow me to run right now.  I was irritated and snappish behind someones back after a silly phone call.  I was mentally berating an acquaintance on Facebook for “X is giving up junk food for Lent.  Lets see those extra pounds go away!” I was irritated at myself for failing right off the bat and needing to ask for forgiveness and help being positive within the first hour.

And then I remembered that its only day 1 and I prayed for myself and for others.  That my thoughts and actions and words be uplifting for others.  That not only myself would be affected by my Lenten discipline but that others would be released from negativity, mine as well as theirs.  I am working on this today and for the next 40 days, as always, with Gods help.  And hopefully with yours too. 

I’m at a loss this morning.  Over the last 23 days I have established a new routine that has been ceremoniously ended.  Considering there was a huge ceremony at the start and and the end, there was nothing UN-ceremonious about this process however there is now a gap in my day that needs to be filled else-ways.  I am, of course, speaking of the recently ended Winter Olympics 2014.

I have tried “Olympic” knitting in the past but generally set myself either goals that were too lofty or was not living anywhere where I could even watch the Olympics so it was difficult to get into the spirit of the process.  In 2012 there was a rather large kerfuffle with the USOC and the use of the term “Ravelympics”, namely they were put out that a legion of knitters would ‘make fun of the effort that olympians put forth’ and would, in general, bring shame to the idea of and word of “Olympics”.  There was a huge change on Ravelry to put the legal overkillers at rest and there was launched the renamed the “Ravelympics” as the “Ravellenic Games” and there are a barrage of teams and prizes and rules and basically a massive headache to those of us who, like me, tend to keep to the Yarn Harlots vision of The Knitting Olympics, since it was her invention.  I “boycotted” those games because I was just too angry at both our litigious society and the monster that had been created in people but this year I reclaimed the Knitting Olympics as my own.

My goal was to turn this beautiful yarn:

Seahawk Yarn

from Fancy Image Yarns in the perfect Seahawks colourway into socks for Mike who had been cheering the ‘Hawks all season and was still charged because of the SuperBowl win.

 

1.5 skeins to go around his wide feel later and we have a met goal!Seahawk Socks

I cast on during the opening ceremonies and cast off the second sock on the Friday before the Games ended.  These socks feature the “Fish Lips Kiss Heel” which was a first for my sock knitting but certainly won’t be the last, in fact I’ve already cast on another pair to use this heel with.  It fits so very well and looks beautiful on the foot, mine and Mikes!  Here is a cool interview with the Sox Therapist, creator of the FLKH.  If you are on Ravelry and knit socks, I HIGHLY suggest you buy this heel pattern.  Best $1 I’ve EVER spent on my knitting.

Because being a monogamous knitter is so NOT in my genes, I had to get into another project too and while its not strictly “Olympic Knitting” because it was started before, it was my goal to get it done before closing ceremonies.

This was the inspiration:  ITW Oct 2012

This was the roving:  Bodhi-5050-MerinoSilk

This was the pattern: Song of the Sea

This is the unblocked long cowl that I made from my handspun!

Song of the Sea

It is soaking in its bath of Soak right now and will be laid out to dry as soon as I finish this post here.  The true joy of this project is that it was sheep fluff and worm spit when I got my hands on it and now it is a beautiful, wearable and perfectly wearable object in so many ways.  I need to do more with my handspun because I always feel so accomplished when I have a finished project.

*sigh*

Now its over and instead of spending the morning with Mike on the couch watching CBC and the Olympics live, because the US coverage SUCKED, I have had to find some other way to begin my morning.  Good thing I’ve started running again, beginning again today, because that was the perfect way to put forth my own Olympic effort.  Getting up and going running in the rain and cold?  Yes, it was an Olympic effort and while I’ll not be anywhere close to the 26.2mile maintained 6 minute mile that I would need to qualify myself for a Summer Games in this lifetime, I’ll keep running all the same.

Where the heck did January go?  As I am trying to get back into the blogging saddle, I keep wanting to talk about…everything that has gone on since I last posted and, as it has been just this side of seemingly forever, it is a monumental task that overwhelms me and I don’t post anything.  So here I am, telling you about my day today and my right now:

Craft Lit, one of my long-standing favourite podcasts is going to be starting the reading and analysis of “North and South” by Elizabeth Gaskell.  In the excitement building, Heather is having give-aways, in the form of raffles, every day from the site and in posting about it here, I get another entry into the drawing!

 

I am drinking my butter coffee again and I swear that it gives me more energy in the single cup than multiple ones of my traditional coffee (with 2T of Coffeemate) does.  I feel more awake and nearly jittery and while I DON’T like the ‘jittery’, I do love the energy and the ‘must move now’ feeling that goes with it.

 

I frogged a shawl that I was designing and using my hand-spun yarn for because I found a pattern that I love very much and think that it will be perfect for this particular colourway.  First the yarn:  It was was the October 2012 colourway from Into The Whirled club and was inspired by this photo:

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Called “Bodhi”  On fibre, mine was a 50/50 Merino/Silk blend that was, as all Cris’ fibres are, a dream to spin. Image

The softness of the merino and the shine of the silk made this lovely to work with.  I kept the braid intact and spun end to end  and then N-plyed it to keep the colour progression intact and LOVE the way it feels and came out.  I have had this finished yarn for ages and have been wondering what I was to make with it.  And then I found this perfect pattern.  The pattern is called “Song of the Sea“(Rav link) by Louise Zass-Bangham who blogs over at Inspiration Knits and who wrote about this pattern in this blog post.  I plan on starting this very soon, maybe even today!

 

I have multiple spinning projects and, like always, multiple socks on the go and I’ll update you with those projects one at a time over the next few days. 

Its good to be back.

Where to start…

Lots of words to lead up to 10 minutes that I haven’t to right words to speak more clearly about…I hope you read and understand where I’ve been and where I am now…

March:  I’m starting to run again because I have again signed up for the Port Townsend Rhody Run, a local 12k which is run in May*  I’ve encouraged friends at work to sign up but, as of yet, I’m running alone again.  I love the power I feel after increasing my distance.  Each step is “further than I’ve gone before” and I am in awe of myself.  Not that I’m doing anything special that anyone else would think was worthy of awe but when I think of how many years I talked about running while I barely made it over the bridge in Sitka and how far I have come since my ‘Before’ and ‘After’ photos…well, it is darn amazing to me.

Early April:  Still encouraging friends to sign up for the Rhody, I may have 2 on the hook.  Still training and increasing my miles.  Love it!  Toying with the idea of running the Seattle Marathon in December.  I get emails all the time from SM because I ran the Seattle 10k in 2011 and had registered for the 2012 10k but failed to train.  Maybe I could do that as my “next big thing”.

Mid-April:  Found a blog that talked about “destination races”, the idea of travel to a distant place to run a race.  Her #1 pick?  Maui.  Hmmm…I know someone on O’ahu…is there a big race there I could train for?  I wonder….

Late April:  M is late picking me up from work and I get a random phone call from my brother, K who lives on O’ahu and has so for nearly all his life.  Its a guilt call because I haven’t met my nephews, his sons, yet and they are now 8 and 6.  Big fail Auntie Tasha.  They say that if I don’t come to visit soon, Auntie Janyne will be their favourite.  Enough.  I tell K that I’m thinking about registering for the Honolulu Marathon that will be run in December and that he should run with me.  He laughs at me and tells me that he’ll cheer very loudly instead.  He also makes a Clydesdale vs Stallion comparison about his own body type and running and tells me that he and Janyne have picked me as the runner which I laugh at (and then blog about in mid May).  I stand in the cold outside of work for a little while pondering this now verbalised idea of running a marathon for a while before calling and waking up M to come and get me.  I go home and research plane fare and race fees.

Mid May:  I register after weeks of researching training plans, best plane fares and questioning my sanity.  I run the Rhody Run on the 19th, all 12k/7.46mi of it, and wonder why I ever thought that a *$&^ing marathon with its 42k/26.2mi was a good idea.  Training begins a few days after but, since I can never do anything by half, I had thrown in a few other races before my December 8th goal.  Lots of weeks are between me and then and I want incentives along the way.  Foam Fest, Seattle 10k, maybe a half…we’ll see what else.

Rest of May, June, July:  Running.  Lots and lots of running.  Sometimes following the Runners World SmartCoach plan, sometimes not being so specific but always getting in the mileage because I want to hit my goal for the Seattle 10k of PR-ing.

Early August:  Foam run with KV and KT, my co-workers.  So. Much. FUN!  Worth the drive to Issaquah just to play in the foam and certainly will have many, many others join us next year.**  Not so much a race but an obstacle course that was so very much fun as well as so very muddy and foamy!

End of August:  Seattle 10k.  I felt very good for this run, especially since we got there right on time (not too early) and I had never been to Gas Works Park.  The run was…challenging…more for little issues with the course and post-race than anything else.  For starters, who plans a race like this and then doesn’t post the course on the website until 2 days before?  Apparently they had planned things and then forgot to tell the runners.  Next, who on earth thinks a funnel is a good idea in the early parts of a race?  Yeah, me neither.  How about a time when the racers have to run against the tide of other runners coming thru?  Or, better yet, when one group has to cross paths with the other? Yeah, me neither.  Oh, how about when we mislabel a box of shirts with “M” when they are “XXL”?  Yeah, that was a PITA.  I understand running out of shirts towards the end but really, I was in the front of the middle of the pack, not the end so that last one shouldn’t have been an issue!  In the days after the race I sent a strongly worded email (well thought out and not sent for a few days post anger) about the course and my unwearable shirt, seriously, it was too big for M(!), to the contact that I had emailed for months before about the course plan with no hopes of a reply because my months of prior emails never got me a response and, surprise, surprise, got one back.  She apologised and asked for my mailing address so they could send me a proper shirt.  Thankfully I got it…and wear the XXL for a nightdress.

End of September:  On a cold, blustery, rain sideways-y day, I ran the 1st ever Quilicene Half Marathon and my first “official” half marathon.  KT and KV were going to run it with me but then KT hurt her back and KV had to work so they were going to cheer for me until the weather hit this particular stage of icy death.  It was actually a cheat on my planned training schedule of 16 miles but considering that I did it in a running skirt and wool top in the pouring and blowing rain, I called it a win.  Actually, I tell myself and M that because of the foul weather and my insanity of running in it on an ‘off’ day, I get credit for those other 3 miles.  Despite cramping about mile 10 and forgetting fuel, I managed to pull out a very respectable 2:26:46 and am quite happy with myself.  And I take a long, hot bath to thaw the surface ice and get blood flowing back into seriously wrinkled toes from being in soggy shoes.  Disregarding the rain, it was a beautiful run, I loved the distance and I’ll sign up again next year.***

October:  More running and I get up to 20 miles in training.  Starting to get…bored.  I love running but I’ve been training for this One Big Race for 5 months now and I’m ready to shake things up a bit.

November:  Nothing shakes things up like not running at all for 3 weeks.  For the record: Not my best idea ever.  Also for the record:  Not the worst one, either.  I’m not as tired all the time, I feel like I’m totally ready to get back out there and I really did need to total break from this one focus.  Being actually ready for the marathon is niggling at the back of my mind but I have so much working/thinking/packing to do before I go, oddly, its not high on my list of rightnow worries.

Post Thanksgiving to 4th December: All relevant thought processes ran as thus: ‘Do I pull out decorations Before or After?  Do I have time for this or the other?  Should I pack X?  Damn.  I don’t think I’ll get presents knit in time to mail to get there in time for the big day.****  Work is stressful.  Meh, go for a run and then think about it/stop thinking about it.’

December 5th-7th:  All thought processes ran with this following phrase running as a background track:  “I’m in Hawaii!  Feel that beautiful sun on your shoulders and know you made it.  Look!  A palm tree!”  Also running:  “Are you ready?  Really Really?  You know you could spend the day at the beach instead.  Not really, but doesn’t that sound nicer than attempting 26.2 freaking miles?”  I got lucky enough to have family who live in Mililani, HI, which is smack-dab in the middle of the island of O’ahu, and thus avoided most of the tourists, you know, cause I’m not one of them and got up every morning and ran before the sun got too much.  I did some mild sightseeing but was afraid of wearing out myself both from the heat and sun so I took it pretty easy.  Thursday was lovely as SIL W took off the day from work and showed me around and then to the Expo so I could pick up my packet and race bib.  Best days ever were spent at Haunauma Bay on Friday where I saw so many fish and even two green sea turtles(!) and with my nephews, first at the Christmas parade and had home and then at the Lagoons and sushi on Saturday before the race.  They were amazing at keeping my mind off the race and on them.

December 8th:  Why on earth did I think that what I really, really wanted to do in life was spend 6+ months preparing, travel 6 hours by plane, lie awake worrying about 6 our of 8 hours “sleep” about missing my set alarm to get up at 2:30am, get dressed in running clothes, get picked up at 3 to head to the race state at 4:30 for a crazy race start at 5am?  And why, during all of this would I have this niggling voice to put a totally unnecessary piece of plastic in my pocket?  Crazy.  But I did it.  I honestly spent the first 1.5 hours thinking that I was nuts, questioning why I was doing this insane thing and thinking very negative thoughts about Sisyphus as I worked my way up Diamond Head within the crush of the crowd.  And then, it happens.  Of all the random things, as the sun begins to rise on that beautiful December morning, a rooster calls out his greeting just as he always does because its a normal day in his chicken life and he is oblivious to the thousands of people moving along, just this side of his little chicken world, and I start to laugh.  Suddenly, this run becomes fun again and I, I am in Hawaii darn it all.  I have been running my backside off, literally as I dropped a pants size, to get here and how many people do I know that can say they ran a marathon in Hawaii so how very cool am I?  This positive burst gets me up the hill with a smile and keeps me going thru Hawaii-Kai where I see the turnaround that I was promised, lo those many miles ago and I finally get the sun OFF my face directly and onto the side and I begin the trek back.  Damn plastic getting in the way when I reach for a gelblok.  I am pleased to see that there are people behind me because I had started to get nervous although my splits, as near as I can figure since my watch has been blinking Low Battery at me for a while now, have been pretty steady and right were I want them…which is “consistent”.  While I tried to/thought I’d have a time goal, I learned quick that it wasn’t so smart, especially since the people that picked me up commented on the heat and lack of wind.  Note:  When the locals say its warm and windless, be warned.  Wow.  Was it ever hot, that sun is relentless and boy, was I ever tired and, from looking at the signs, I still have at least an hour+ to go because I’m just passing mile 20, the furthest I’ve ever gone.  I finished chewing my most recent gelblock, a gift from the gods for LDRs in this runners opinion and was cursing, once again, that piece of folded plastic in my pocket that keeps getting in the way of my access to the manna kept in my thigh pocket (the best part of my SparkleSkirt and THE reason I chose to wear my Everest sparkle over another).  I move the little orange pouch to my L side thinking that it may not bother me as much over there.  And then…

Ooops, I see someone trip and start to fall in the distance, up there and on my right…hope they are OK…hope I’M OK…I’m so hot…where is the next water station…just keep going…

And then…

I hope they are OK…I can see there is a group of people standing around them…that girl further back was OK after she tripped on a cone, maybe this one hurt a knee or ankle…that would suck so close to the end, I mean, we’re just over 20 miles here, nearly there Tasha, just keep going because you know you can do it…

Then.

That looks weird…he’s on his back…

I knew the reason I had not ignored that still, small voice that had told me to bring that orange pouch.

STOP. He is not ok.  Someone says he’s not breathing…where is the pouch, did I drop it, oh God don’t let me have dropped it after all this time…I can help him…the pouch is on my left…Call 911, tell them where we are…who else knows CPR, lets get started…thank goodness for this other guy in purple, we can do this for this guy…totally sucks…1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30…breath, breath…again, keep going, keep going, EMS is on their way, switch roles, keep going, keep going, switch roles…finally, EMTs…they didn’t move me, just put the pads around us…clear…keep going…clear…keep going…get him on the gurney…keep going…OK, they are lifting and taking him now…there goes my valve…the guy in purple looks as…stunned is a good word as I do…say something…Ok then…good…see you…

And it was over.  He, both of the “he”s were gone.  The EMS with one, the crowed with the other.  It took me a minute to realise that the race had gone on around me, that 99% of people passing by hadn’t stopped and that this hadn’t changed their race at all…and there was nothing else I could do but continue my run and pray for the downed CPR guy.

“Aside from that, how was the play Mrs. Lincoln?”

Ouch.  There was soreness especially from, as I came to learn later, my hips were forced to go from ‘movement’ to ‘stability’ in about an instant and without stretching or cooldown and then I expected to go back to ‘movement’ about 10 minutes later.  Not pleasant at all and very visible to all friends and family who watched my times get longer and longer and wonder what was happening.  I just kept going, walk some, jog some, all the rest of those 6 miles and thinking about how good it would feel to stop moving and stretch and relax those sore places and hope that CPR guy was OK and, in a morbid sense of humour, just laughing at myself knowing that I felt better than him, especially since I felt those ribs crack and cartilage pop!

And then it was over.  And there were phone calls to my support crew all over the country and my SIL who would be picking me up later from the park and a banana and water and then the joy of my first shave ice from the Waiola Store…the best shave ice that I had (I tried 3 places before I left :) ) And walking was difficult and I couldn’t have eaten more than that shave ice if I wanted to and I really, really didn’t want to eat anything, and laying at the beach and walking in the water at the lagoon was so lovely though the salt water stung my raw bits, both known and unknown and then felt so very good and then I felt like a salad would be just the right amount of food and then shower and then bed and feeling like I was worn out though not totally horribly bad…until I woke up in the morning and found that sleeping up in a loft was probably NOT the best idea ever because the thought of that ladder was scary enough to make me stay in bed until my bladder forced me to move, like NOW.

The rest of my Monday was spent hobbling around the North Shore with my friend, my brother K’s mom, PR and her son MR, admiring waves and water along the North Shore and they treated me to dinner and a show at the Polynesian Cultural Center, both of which were fantastic, as was the company.  Tuesday was spent with W and my nephews at the Arizona Memorial which was breathtakingly sad/amazing/thought-provoking/awesome and then playing in the “ripples, because ‘waves’ are bigger” at the beach before I’s basketball practice and then home for packing before my flight home on Wednesday morning.

While at the airport, I got a text from W who excitedly told me that she met someone who knew the guy I gave CPR to and wanted to pass on my contact information.  I agreed wholeheartedly…and then got on a plane to the frozen Pacific Northwest…and landed with a message left on my phone from a mysterious HI phone number…

And thus started the “Thank Yous” and messages about and phone calls with my CPR guy, BD.  He not only made it to the hospital but, in the following 11 days, has made it thru surgery to be home again and is on the road to recovery.  As his story post CPR isn’t mine to tell, I shan’t but I will tell you that I have been…overwhelmed with emails of thanks.  Overwhelmed because, well, as much as I feel like I just did what anyone would do, I know that, obviously, it was a HUGE thing for him and his friends and family and that, as I saw, very few people stopped to help or even knew what to do.  I just don’t have the words to respond to them as “You’re Welcome” just seems…silly and inadequate somehow.  My friends and family are also admiring of my actions and, again, I don’t know how to deal with this attention.

I did something fantastic…but I did nothing that anyone who had the knowledge wouldn’t do.

I gave up my marathon time AND kept running after performing CPR…but I didn’t really have an option, its what you do when someone needs help and you know what to do.  Besides, it was my first marathon and I was hot and tired and I’m just glad that I had the stamina to perform CPR correctly!  As for still finishing the race…um, I had to get to the end because thats where my ride would be and my mileage and sun fried brain couldn’t have told you any other way to do it.

I’m in touch with BD and friends and family and, in honour of my efforts, have been given the hash name of “Heart Throb” and a honorary place in their running group which I am so thankful for.  As a solo runner, the idea of having a group to run with is fun and inspiring to me, and  I’ve passed on to everyone that the biggest “Thank You” that they can give me is a copy of their renewed CPR card because, obviously, even marathon trained runners can need assistance!***** I’m toying with the idea of going back to HI in the near future and teaching CPR myself to the group and other groups that those members are a part of because, well really, someone nicknamed “Heart Throb” teaching CPR to a group whos member recently needed it is…totally awesome.
I’m so glad I was there in the right place at the right time.
Live well BD.  Know that MY life has changed because of you too.

*I’ll sign-up again on January 1st when early registration opens.  Race date: May 18th, 2014!

**Foam Fest Seattle, Sat. July 12th 2014!

***Sept. 27th, 2014 is the 2nd Annual race.

****Yeah.  No.  There was very little knitting and actually NO spinning done from September to the present day.  I need to spend some quality time with my wheels.

***** As an instructor for AHA CPR, I have watched the instructional DVD for BLS for healthcare providers about a gajillion times and can recite the *@%#ing thing.  The one part that has always bugged the crap out of me is the opening scene:  Two runners who slow down to take a break on a bridge and talk about A) “thinking about training for a marathon.”  B) “Oh, count me in!  I’ve always wanted to do one but didn’t want to put in the training alone.”  A)”Great” B) “So hows work going?” A) *dramatically clutches his chest* B) “Oh, that bad huh?” A)*falls to the ground  B) “Someone call 911″ …and then cuts in the voice about the importance of this training and such.  I used to laugh in my head and think, uh, sure, like that would ever happen to someone prepping for a marathon.  I’ll never be able to see that opening scene again without very vivid memories, thoughts of BD, a tear and a prayer of thanks.

Someone recently said to me, “If you think that time flies now, just wait until you have children!”.  Well as there are no children, save for those borrowed from my friends and family in my future plans, I’ll just have to settle for time passing at my own appalling rate.

 

I have been…busy…since I last blogged in so many, many ways.

 

My joy of fibre continues. My spinning had been amazing and I’m working on this Into the WhirledDSC_6335, in Mandarin (an old club offering on BFL) and this Enchanted Knoll DSC_6345, in Johnny Jump-Up on Superwash Merino.  More on the spinning soon because , OH BOY, do I have something to show you!!

I have been knitting, but not so much in the last week due to an unfortunate injury:

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Pepper was rather put out that we left her at home when we went on our recent camping trip to Salt Creek Recreation Area 20130720_143925 and didn’t let her seen the pod of Orcas 20130720_161505 or chase chipmunks and get tangled up like Sisu did 20130721_142151 so she took out her vengeance on my leg, claws and teeth, after purring and rubbing into me 5 seconds before.  I swatted at her, missed, hit the wall and heating vent and damaged my fingers badly enough for x-rays, good painkillers and at least 2 weeks in splints to protect me.  Yes, they still hurt 1 week in but I finally have some mobility back though I cannot make a fist or touch those fingers to my palm without pain and actually, they won’t bend that far at all, pain or no.  I am not impressed with myself.

 

Mike and I 20130721_082240 have been exploring our area more than just camping too.  We went up to Hurricane Ridge and admired the view  DSC_6470

and I loved the wildflowers too DSC_6440  Lupines always remind me of my Mum and that view is to be admired! DSC_6406

The biggest part of what I’ve been doing?  Running.20130519_124750_2  Finishing the Rhody Run with my friends was the start of my real training for the Seattle 10k and my mileage has only grown from there.  So much so that I have these to proudly display:  DSC_6473  Bruised toenails #1 and #2.  They are my external display of my long runs and I couldn’t be happier or more proud of myself.  11 weeks ago I was dreading the idea of 8 miles whereas now, my last long run was 13 miles in 2.5hours.

 

Oh yeah.  And I’ve been cooking and kitchen experimenting daily, bought a sewing machine and have made pj bottoms, skirts and an amazing infinity dress that I LOVE, have a successful herb garden in my strawberry pot, been reading and listening with voracity and spent far less time with my camera than I intend to do in the future.  And intend to keep this blog going as I know I have missed sharing and need to write again.

 

 

 

One of my clearest memories is flipping thru a photo album and seeing photos of my father running.  Not just running but RUNNING.  Short shorts, no shirt or only a vest, sweat beading…Running.  His sport was track and field in high school and then earned a scholarship to college for his excellence.

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Third from the right, front row is my father with the rest of the 1969 University of North Texas Team (photo from the digital archives of the Yucca, the UNT yearbook)

I know that his running continued through his time in the US Marine Corps too…though that may be an understatement considering how much running those corpsmen/women do…far too much for the dead!  Anyway, I know that there is at least one photo I remember of him racing in a USMC singlet, most likely a battalion ‘team’.

I also know that there was more than once when I was growing up that I wanted to go run with him and he never let me.  I was always hurt by this leaving of me behind but I justified his doing so because I was a)not long legged like him, b) not in shape to run with him, c)any other reason I could convince myself of.  I don’t know that he ever knew how much I really wanted to run with him.

In 7th grade, I ‘joined’ the middle school track team and signed up for the 3200m (2 miles).  Because, you know, my father ran long distances so I can show him how much I am his daughter and make him proud of me and he can come to my meets and be proud of me…yeah.  After a week or so of ‘practice’, we had our first meet and I ran…for about 200yds with the pack and then had to walk because I gave myself such a horrible side stitch and was THAT ill-prepared for the race.  I also broke one of the rules of running by staying in the inner lane as I was lapped and lapped and lapped again.  I was so embarrassed and only saved by two things #1: My family wasn’t there to see my abject failure.  More specifically, I mean my father; and #2: One of the guys, G, an 8th grader who had already ran the race, who I barely knew from passing in the hall and at the door to band class, re-entered the track with me and encouraged and wheedled me to jog along with him for the last 2 laps.  He stayed with me the entire way and pushed me to keep going.  I don’t think that I ever could have thanked him enough.  I would still send him a card today if I knew where he was.

After that fiasco, my knees were hurting so much for the next week that I didn’t return to practice again and didn’t actually attempt to run until just a few years ago when wholeheartedly embarking on my weight-loss/health building journey.

I found my passion.

After years of saying that I hated to run and that it wasn’t for me, turns out that it was all along.  Which is pretty funny considering my sister has always hated running.  Weird because she LOVED soccer when in High School but she always said that she hated the running part.  She said that about hating that part in Volleyball too, even though it was just the warm-ups.  My brother, K, just professed to me yesterday that HE too dislikes running.  While talking to him the other day he declared ME to be the runner of my fathers children and promised to cheer very loud and be very proud of me.

Why would he cheer and be proud of me?

Because in 204 days and some odd hours from today, I’m going to start running in a big race.

SisuGirl is now Registered
for Honolulu Marathon.

I have a training plan, I have races along the way to keep me going and I have a goal.  That and some good shoes.

Here we go.

PS: To my HS friends: I was serious about sending G a card.  If you know where I can find him, please let me know!

Oh this project…

I bought this fiber back when I begun spinning and what a lucky purchase it was.  I had seen it on Etsy and messaged the dyer to see if she would dye it for me.  I learned 2 things from this exchange.
#1: You always should ask because the worst they say is no.
#2: You always should ask how much if you haven’t seen the original listing.
I was a little shocked when the bill came but chalked it up to learning and the cost of cashmere.DSC_4492

I would do it again instantly if I found another listing that sang to me the way this did.
This beautiful fiber came out of its packaging every few months to get pet and admired and then put away as I realised that I was no where near the spinner I needed to be to delve into this gorgeous stuff and give it its due.DSC_4491
After I finished Intentions, I needed a break from BFL and thought that, after all this time of spinning consistantly, it was time to get in there…and it was.
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The fiber spun as from a dream and the colours were beyond my hopes.  DSC_6147
The plying was perfect and preserved those colour repeats that I wanted to hold on to.  DSC_6170
The knitting was more bliss as I began a simple shawl with a 3 stitch garter edge with a YO and then YOs next to the spine stitch before YO next tot the other garter edge.

It worked up beautifully.
As I got to the end of my ball, I thought that simple lace faggoting would be the perfect way to finish.

It is.

I worked until I could feel the end was nigh and began my cast off with JSSBO.  I knew it would take a good deal of yarn so saved myself what I thought would be perfect.
I was close.

6 stitches close.

There was weeping and gnashing of teeth.  Ask M.  There was cursing too.
Lucky for me, I was binding off in the brilliant line-green section of yarn and I just happened to have some lime green yarn that is a very nearly perfect match.  You can’t tell unless I point it out to you.
The blocking was magical, as it always is, and the simple lace is perfect.

Perfection
I wear this scarf/shawl often and it is the project that I stick into my bag daily if I don’t wrap it around my neck  before leaving.  The cashmere and superwash merino couldn’t have been a more perfect blend and this project is sheer perfection in every possible way.

We ALL have them.  Its those little things that we do that make us, well, us.

My newest quirk is a little hard to explain.

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Well, actually, its easy to explain, just harder to Explain.

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Those things?  Yeah, those are part of my new daily habit.  Unsalted Kerrygold butter, MCT oil and locally roasted fair-trade coffee.

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The special butter is for various reasons.  You can read about the nutritional value of grass-fed butter vs. grain fed here, here and the importance of good butter here.

MCT oil takes a bit more explaining because I bet many people aren’t familier with it.  MCT stands for Medium Chain Triglyceride Oil, basically a fat that doesn’t have a long chain of fatty acid esters of glycerol.  It is found most commonly from Coconuts and Palms (Coconut and Palm oil are both MCTs)  There are lots of articles out there that extoll the virtues and uses of MCT oil in the athletic community, bodybuilding community and the low-carb (Adkins) community.  This blogger wrote a fantastic post with lots of links to studies regarding MCT oil and its usefullness.  I HIGHLY suggest taking a look if you are interested in more information.  I don’t care about the use of MCT for bodybuilding and I love rice, flavoured pasta and potatoes far too much to ever think about low-carb anything.  The BIG upside for me is that MCT’s are not digested by the liver or bile salts in general, they are absorbed directly and can be put to use in the body.  As someone who no longer has a bile concentrator in my body and who has been suffering with the digestion of nearly EVERY form of dietary fat, just let me tell you what a godsend discovering this has been for me.

You could also use coconut oil if you don’t have or want to try MCT oil.

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So now we see the addition of the third and final ingredient:  My own Port Townsend roasted coffeeMade in my fantastic vintage Regal Poly-Perk.

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Yes.  I am blending the coffee, MCT oil and 2 tablespoons of butter together.  On High.  For 30 seconds to a minute.

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This is the result:  Creamy, frothy and perfectly hot, thanks to the speed of the Vitamix.

How does it taste?

Well, thats where my quirk gets quirkier.

Its amazing.  Creamy, smooth and perfect.

And this coming from someone who has ALWAYS had at least 2 sugar packets in a regular diner cup or at least 2 tablespoons of Coffeemate in her home-brewed mug.  For years I have been saying that my concession to “fake” food was Coffeemate but no longer.  I don’t need the sugar and don’t miss it.  As for the flavours, I have tried vanilla and almond extract and both are lovely additions.

Before you wrinkle your nose at the idea of butter and an oil in your coffee, stop and think.

Do you take cream/half-n-half/milk in your coffee?  Butter is simply whipped cream.  Or over whipped cream, depending on your POV.

Oil?  If you put Coffeemate/International Delight or ANY other non-dairy creamer in your coffee, you already are putting oil in yours.  A highly processed oil and most likely a trans fat.  Mine is simply better for you.

Now for the big question:  WHY?

Because I figured I had nothing to lose when the nutritionist at work told me about it.  She told me that drinking this “Bulletproof Coffee” helped her feel full while she was IF-ing and/or low-carbing.  Considering that I often fast by accident (get ‘too busy’ at work for lunch and go for 10+ hours), the idea of something that would help give me energy without a sugar crash or processed food binge was very appealing.  Let me be very clear though:  I DO try to eat and have healthy choices around if I take the time to eat them.  I just have no sense of time and it passes me by without me being aware until I am ‘starving’ with an hour before I get to go home and make dinner.  With the sun shining these past few days, I have totally taken my lunch breaks and enjoyed the sun, and the lunches, immensely.  I don’t generally skip meals on purpose.  Just usually.  On accident.

However…for the past week, this coffee has totally carried me through from 8am to 3pm with NO hunger and complete ability to resist the candy and snacks that have been out tempting me at work.  I feel alert, boundless energy and really enthusiastic about life in general.  Granted, this could be due to the increase of Vitamin D but I’m going to give the coffee its due.

Interested?

Do your own research like I did.  There are tonnes of blogs about different peoples trials of buttery coffee.  There are just as many articles out there about the benefits of grass-fed butter and just as many of those about MCT oil and Coconut oil.

Think I’m nuts and that this is just another fad in the food world?

Possibly.

If you discount the yak butter tea that has been drunk in Tibet and China and Bhutan so long that it has “Traditional” in front of ‘recipe’.

I just know it works for me.

Try it and let me know what you think!

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