A perfect day

The day, while not actually perfect, was nice. As I was walking to work (where all my patients turned out to be pleasant types who said “Please” and “Thank you,”) I admired my favorite mittens which were keeping my hands very warm and comfy. I reminisced about why I had them at all – thanks to my perfectionist friend for whom I had made them. She is one of those who examines all projects – hers and anyone else’s – and loudly exclaims about any imperfections she can find. She insists that everything be perfect and that any ever so teensy mistake be remedied immediately, even when the trouble of remedying it far outweighs the trouble of living with it. In my opinion, this attitude too often leads to never finishing anything at all because nothing can never be good enough to satisfy its creator. Anyhow, these mittens, many years ago, were designated as a Christmas present to her. They were my first real stranded knitting project besides a little sweater with a Fairisle border that I made for Rebecca when she was wee. That sweater was total torture to knit and I vowed that I would never do stranded work again. I didn’t know about steeks at the time, and so I was knitting back and forth which I simply can’t do in two color work. These mittens were promoted as being very easy and blitz quick to make. Talk about false advertising. I suffered quite a bit, but not, I will admit, as much as with the sweater, since I was at least looking at the right side of the knitting all the time. The part that you see in the picture turned out quite well, but I could not grasp the pattern on the palm until I had the mittens nearly ¾ done. This sort of thing does not bother me at all. I can close my fists if some super picky person is looking at my mittens, and furthermore, it gives them character. I will have to admit that had the mistakes been on the more public part of the mittens, I might have been fussier. Actually, I most certainly would have been fussier. Anyhow, I realized that these mittens would not do for my friend because of the mistakes. Additionally, I decided that she might be the sort who expects both mittens to be the same (boring!!!) So I kept them for myself and quickly made her a truly easy and truly blitz quick pair of Aran type mittens. Those had no obvious mistakes and were a great success as a gift. I have been grateful to her quirks ever since as these are my most favorite mittens – the softest and warmest, and the nicest colors. And had she not been such a fussbudget, I would not have them. I might add that I am pretty cavalier about unimportant mistakes, and find perfectionists annoying in general. However I would not be adverse to this irritating trait in my neurosurgeon, should I even need one.

A cold and hot day

Here is a picture of the Christmas Cake Rebecca made – very artistic, as you can see. And a picture of Rebecca the child admiring the Christmas Cake I made many, many years ago when we lived in Ireland. Not so artistic, as you can also see.
It is the third day of Christmas, so I can still tell of Christmas adventures. I must add here, that while I have a warm heart, I am a cold person and I do not tolerate heat well at all. When I am in Hawaii with the aunties, I whine incessantly about the hot weather. I only closed my bedroom window a few days ago, in honor of the snow and in deference to the rest of the household, and plan to open it again soon. Maybe even when I finish writing this! I consider a balmy (to everyone else) seventy degree day to be oppressively hot, if not sweltering. This boring insight will shed light on my Christmas eve ordeal.
We live about a mile from the Cathedral, and as it was very snowy and very cold, Rachael and I dressed very warmly for our trek there for Midnight Mass, and when we arrived, what to wear under our choir robes was a though decision. I was thinking that at Midnight Mass people left their coats on, and it would probably be chilly in the huge building, so I left on more than I usually do. A big mistake. Our robes are two layers, and quite warm at any time, (click here to see) and I should have known better. I had on my woolly stockings, a petticoat, a wool skirt, a silk undershirt, as well as the usual underwear essentials. The rehearsal was tolerable as that room really is cold most of the time. Our first few songs were also tolerable, but halfway through the Carol Service which preceded Midnight Mass, I was sure I was going to pass out. Things were wobbling in front of my eyes, and my head felt light. I slipped out of the formation and went outside and breathed in the lovely cold for a few minutes. Thinking I was recovered, I slipped back in as the Women’s Schola was processing upstairs into the gallery where it was REALLY hot. I lasted about five minutes there before the wobbles and wooziness returned. What to do? I crept out of the gallery, found a discrete closet and took off all the clothes under my choir robes except the essentials. I hid my clothes under a bench. Then I crept downstairs to the bride’s dressing room and doused my face in cold water. Much better. I crept back upstairs and rejoined my group. I was a little worried about my clothes, as I am not so averse to warmth that I would not have been quite unhappy to go home without them. Fortunately they were waiting for me when the Mass was over. And no one was the wiser, until now that you know, of course.

A Christmasy day

As a special New Year’s Treat for you, here is a picture of the world’s cutest and sweetest doggie as she peeks out from under my covers while I sit here typing.
Our Christmas was very nice despite the snow. The Cathedral sent out an email enjoining us that while we might be dreaming of a White Christmas, we were not to pray for one. Miraculously, despite very adverse travel conditions, the choir in its entirety was there for Midnight Mass, which was glorious as usual. The Cathedral was full, but comfortably full, not the usual full where people have to stand outside and listen to the Mass on speakers after not one more person can be crammed in. The Christmas morning Masses are voluntary for the choir. In years past, only the cantors (who are paid professionals) have had to sing. Last year however, some folks asked Jim, our director, if they could come sing, and so he invited us all to come if we wanted to. He was astonished when about a third of the choir showed up. The Cathedral provides us breakfast between the two Masses, and all in all, it is a very nice way to spend Christmas morning. The Midnight Mass is televised, so one is not allowed to scratch, make faces if they don’t like the homily, and one must look happy and pius even in the difficult parts of the Bach. Since so many people will be watching, and mistakes will be immortalized, this is not a relaxing event. The morning Masses are very different. We don’t sing the most difficult of the music, everyone is a bit tired since we left the Cathedral at about one-thirty in the morning and are back at nine. I always feel that a “bit tired” (not a “lot tired”) sometimes calms one down.
Last year, when they opened the Grand Ceremonial Doors for the Archbishop process out through, everyone could see that it had unexpectedly begun snowing during the Mass. It was beautiful to see the snow through the doors, and a cheer went up. Oh, so different this year. We groaned when the Mass was over and it was snowing yet again. There has really been sufficient snow. The weatherman told us that it would rain on Christmas and this thought made us happy, as we are ready for normal life to return, and normal life is not possible – or is at least seriously curtailed – when there is a foot of snow on the ground in hilly Seattle. The weatherman was correct in that it rained for a minute or two, but then it immediately started to snow yet again. Today, it looks like there might be a meltdown of the good sort. Let us hope so. I need to go shopping.

Yet another lazy and snowy day

Today was the predetermined day to work on Tom’s estate papers, etc., and bring it all up to date. I have to say “etc.,” because I can’t even tell you what is there. Well, in my role the queen of procrastination (especially in this sort of thing,) I decided that I would start right after lunch. Then, after lunch I noticed that the floor of Rachael’s room was really gritty and that Margaret had found food bits to spread around. I felt that it needed to be Hoovered immediately. Then, as long as I was doing that, I thought I might as well do my bedroom too, and then the rest of the upstairs. Since I had brought the vacuum cleaner all that way up. Then I realized that I was way behind on the laundry, and had better do that. After several loads were washed dried and folded (as well as some hand washing that had been sitting there for several months,) I got out the Tom stuff, and found a few bills that I needed to pay. Just then, Ana called to say that she was stranded at work because of the snow, and could she come stay the night? Naturally, I had to drop everything and fix her dinner. I fixed a broccoli, spinach and tomato risotto, and we thought it was quite tasty. Then, since I had company, I could not possibly work on those excruciatingly boring papers and accounts. However, I actually had spent at least ten minutes at it before Ana called, and I felt very virtuous. But now I will have to spend another day soon avoiding it.

Yet another snowy day

Last night the snow came down in droves, yet again. When poor Margaret went out for her walkies, it was over her head. I had to carry her to the middle of the street where the passing autos had made her a pathway. She was not pleased, needless to say. I am going to feel similarly when I forge my way to work this afternoon. I set this picture of Pike Place Market chilis as my computer wallpaper to cheer me up, and I thought it might cheer you up too.

A rosy day in December

The snow is falling again, and we are hunkered down for a while. Sadly, I have to unhunker and go to work tomorrow, and I am hoping that it will be possible to get there. In the meantime, we are having soup and hot chocolate, and being cozy. There are a few floral bright spots even in this weather. A favorite patient of mine gave me these roses as she was leaving the hospital to return to Alaska. Originally, they were part of a daisy and rose bouquet. The flowers stayed fresh looking for a long time, and as they were starting to fade, I decided to try to preserve them. I tried microwaving them, and it was successful. I did two at a time, for eleven seconds and then eleven more seconds and then eleven more seconds until they were dry. They turned out rather nicely, and now whenever I come into or leave the house I see them in my entryway and think of Helen. The more tropical looking flower is a Christmas cactus given to me by a sweetie about thirty years ago. At the time, I lived in a second story flat, and I had my plant on the windowsill in my kitchen. One day, it leapt out and crashed to the ground below. Horrified, I ran down to rescue it, and as you can see, it survived.

Another snowy day

When it snows, Seattle stands still. Folks from snowier parts laugh at us, but there it is. We really cannot function in the snow. My bus is one of the first to give up when there is snow, and in this picture of my bus stop, you can see two abandoned buses waiting for the snow to go away. And as you can see from the yellow tape, the road itself - a rather main one - is closed. Last evening at work I was praying that the predicted storm would not arrive in Seattle until I arrived home from work, and so it happened. My bus was still running and there was not too much ice on the sidewalk from the previous stormlet. I had visions of myself slipping, breaking an elbow and ending up a patient on my own nursing unit, but I arrived home intact. However, in the wee hours of the morning, there was a ferocious thunderclap, followed by another, followed by intense snowfall, followed by Margaret protecting us from the snowflakes. She is ever vigilant and diligent about keeping the weather at bay. She continued barking until we finally gave up and got up. Several days ago, I was talking to my aunt on the phone, and she asked, "Has it started snowing?" "No, what makes you think so? Is it snowing at your house?" I asked. "No, but Margaret is barking," she said.



Here is my snug little house which I hate to leave when the weather is bleak.