It ain't the prettiest, and the amount of yarn came out juuuust so - but it is a tea cozy, by God.
I adapted the pattern of the cashmere tea cozy from Last-Minute Knitted Gifts, basically by knitting two sides and adding a row of eyelets at the bottom. I also liked the pattern better straight up (In the original pattern, my sides would be the top and bottom). The cozy is currently warming a pot of organic Earl Grey.
I didn't accomplish much else yesterday. I spun about three meters of yarn and prepared some of my silk/rayon mix for dyeing. Remember I've got the 3.5 kg cone?
And then there was this:
A dear friend of mine gave me an early Christmas present (the needles, not the orchid, this isn't a florist's blog :o). She said that she knew I already have one of these (she should, she gave me that one, too), but felt that this would still be a special gift. It is. Proceed with caution. I feel a rant coming on.
If asked about my wishes regarding the big things in life, a cure for breast cancer would probably make the top of the list (it's more attainable than world peace, people). Like so many other lives all over the world, my life and the lives of my family and family friends were forever changed by it. And it doesn't end there. Only the other day, a woman who used to be more of a casual acquaintance of mine called me and wanted my advice, because her sister was recently diagnosed with the same combination of secondary tumors that killed my mom. Honestly? I didn't quite know what to tell her.
As deputy mayor of his town, my dad is currently covering almost all of the mayor's duties, because - guess what - his daughter has exactly what my mom had. And her husband left her. The sister of my dad's best friend? Same thing. The wife of the man running my corner newsstand? Need I say it? The husband is staying though, by the looks of it. And those are just the terminal cases, to use a cruel, but sadly accurate term. I can't even count the number of people I know who survived or are currently being treated for breast cancer.
It is a matter of cold statistics that you, who are reading this now, know someone (and if you take in all the other big C's, the statistic becomes truly mind-boggling). You may not be aware of it, because they may be the people running your newsstand, and maybe you are not wearing a recognizable pink ribbon pin on your collar on a slow day. Or maybe they are the makers of your favourite knitting needles.
If there were just one thing I've come to appreciate about it all, it would be the instant warmth and understanding whenever you happen upon people with cancer in their lives - any kind will do.
One day, the fate fairy knocks on your door and says, "So, yeah, you thought your life would go on all normal-like, but you know what? Change of plans. How about being really ill and scared to death (this is where she does this evil little giggle) and in pain, discomfort and indignity, maybe for a goodish while, maybe for the rest of your short life? Okay, done. Oh, and I'm going to invite your nearest and dearest to watch you suffer helplessly, that's okay with you, right? Good." Cancer patients and caregivers - we know what that's like, and the knowledge creates a rather strong bond. We tend to not remain strangers for long. And just in case you're miffed right now, because you did watch Love Story after all, so you know just fine - I'm going to include you in my prayer that you are going to stay miffed like that for the rest of your life, and that maybe one fine day people will know terminal cancer of any kind only from cheesy 1970s movies.
The paltry rest of this year is, I'm afraid, earmarked for basic grieving, not to mention for holidays with two freshly widowed parents. (Yeah, I didn't say anything about those visits from the fate fairy wherein she tells you that she sure hopes you told your loved ones all the important things, because they just had a fatal accident. Man, I hate that fairy bitch.) But come 2007, there will still be chemo caps to knit and, hopefully, flower pins to felt for a fundraiser towards the next Susan Komen 3-Day, and God knows what else I can come up with. It's my personal Love Story project.
Dang, I knew those new needles would come in handy :o).
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