The yarn I ordered for YAS (yet another sweater) has arrived. Or at least part of it. Hopefully the other bag of yarn will show up from the UK sometime this week. I know, I know, I have three – yes count ’em three SWUFO’s. Though progress is being made on the Casual Cables Cardigan, slowly but progress. And then I’ll get back to Carrot Cake sweater. Slowly. I ordered Rowan Yorkshire Tweed Chunky to make the Moss Stitch Jacket from Sarah Dallas’s Scottish Inspirations book. It (the jacket) has been haunting me since a trip last spring to Knit/Purl in Portland when we bought the book. Before I started the other two sweaters (on US 5’s and US 7’s). I mean what can you not love about a jacket that is knit on US 11’s in chunky? (though it is somewhere between aran and bulky in my book) I rolled a couple yards off a ball last night to try it out – for color – and I estimate that I can knit a square 1″ of fabric from this in 1 minute. Not that I’d be counting or anything like that but… I wasn’t really sure what color Damp was going to be. All the pictures on line show it different. This is what it really looks like!
We’ve still had our little rains on and off. Around here it can rain for three days straight and only total .10 of an inch. Enough to get your car dirty. But I enjoy every drop. Our thanksgiving destination weather outlook says no rain, sunshine and 45F on the beach. Love it love it love it!!! We’ve rented a cabin on the water at West Beach on Orcas Island in the San Juan Islands (WA).
I’m not a crier. Ask my family. Cold hearted no. Just don’t go off on crying jags. This week has been a hard one. Lots of crying jags. A couple of passings this week. Saturday at 11 am I will be missing the funeral service of the a person that I’ve known longer than any one else in this world except for my parents. I’m getting all damp teary eyed just writing this. When I was an infant my Dad was transferred to Seattle from San Francisco. We moved into an apartment in Burien and Jack and Betsy were our next door neighbors. They had a baby boy Edward, just a tiny bit older than me. My parents and Jack and Betsy became instant best friends. The next year or so Jack and Betsy built a house in Des Moines, we built in Auburn. Mom used to get scared riding in the car through the little country lanes between the two towns. This was way before there was an I-5 and State Route 99 was it going north and south. Their son Bobbie was born the next year and my brother Steve the year after that.
For years and years I was the only little girl between the two couples. I spent hour upon hour having fantastic fun, one of my earliest memories being dancing on my Dad’s feet and then Jack’s. It was Jack that had us throw firecrackers under wash tubs to hear them crackle. It was Jack that suggested we tie pop bottle rockets to balsa wood airplanes. It was a field south of their house where us kids were the chasers when Jack and my Dad flew their big rubber band powered gliders. It was Jack that built a boat in their basement and a cage out back for Rocky the Racoon. It was at their house that I first drove a go-cart and a dirt bike. I climbed rocks and trees and ropes to get into the treehouse. It was Jack and Betsy that gave me a key to their house in case I ever needed it. It’s Jack and Betsy in all our birthday party photos and at my wedding. It was Jack and Betsy with my parents on an Alaska cruise for my Mom’s birthday when they woke up to find a news bulletin under their doors about the World Trade Center on 9/11.
Maybe 10 years ago or so one of their sons bought them a house on the waterfront in Des Moines. Jack and Betsy retired to live on the water that they loved so much. Not too much later Jack was diagnosed with Parkinsons and dementia. He was in and out of dementia for a long time, I don’t know that they ever really diagnosed Alzheimers. The last couple of times I was with them Jack claimed he knew who I was and called me by my right name, just occasionally by my Mother’s name. I saw him last during happy times, their 50th wedding anniversary and their daughter’s engagement party. My parent’s visited them 4-6 times per year and the past couple of visits left crying. I think they last saw Jack in September. We knew that someday we’d get the call. We got it on Saturday. I’ve bought a card but have been trying to figure out what to write. But maybe I just did.