Life's a Stitch

An attempt to fill the void

Personal loss is more than sadness. It's an unfillable void. We can do our best to try, but I'm convinced it's not supposed to get filled up. That hole in our life is there so we don't forget. If you mark it from the one year anniversary of my mom's death, it's been a year of loss, including the passing two friends. 

To cope with this last one, a dear friend whom I've known for nearly 30 years, I turned to the crocheting of a prayer/comfort shawl for his wife. It was my vacation crochet project. Something I could do, since so far away, I wasn't present for his funeral, which was tough for me.

Pattern: Seraphina's Shawl, a free crochet pattern, meant for thicker yarn and larger hook. Wanting something light as angel's wings I chose a lacier look.

Yarn: Malabrigo Lace, 2 skeins

Hook: 2.5mm

Thoughts: This is crochet that looks and feels like lace knitting. I'll do this one again. Thinking about the purpose of a comfort shawl, and always afraid that the recipient won't receive it in the spirit intended, I realize that its purpose goes both ways. The memories, intentions and grief worked through in the making of these projects also benefits me.

I've lost a faithful follower of my blog since day one, over eight hundred posts ago. I miss him.

Update: since the writing of this post we have received word of another loss, our vibrant and talented cousin Michael in Denmark. I look at his accomplishments and feel the meaning of his music and lyrics - Dance Like Nobody's Watching for example, and my personal favourite, on the lighter side, Dishes Done. Life is short.

Rome

Wanting the city experience Blogless Marsha, David, Chuck and I rented a centrally located apartment near Campo de Fiori, literally field of flowers, which it was in the middle ages, but with a more sinister history in later years. Now a cheerful public market, the statue of philosopher Giordano Bruno still stands in the middle. He was burned alive at this spot in 1600 for heresy.

The apartment was teensy, just big enough for four people. Thanks to M and D for taking the loft accommodation, my still fractured ankle was most appreciative. They had to be careful not to bonk their head on a 15th century beam. The floor covering was a bamboo looking plastic, very practical for a vacation rental where a tenant might spill some red wine. Our street:

Fascinating ruins right in the city. I was impressed with ceramic tiles that have lasted a couple of thousand years so far:

The Colosseum where people spent the entire day, picnicking and playing games as well as watching the occasional gladiator/lion competition. There is a series of small rooms carved into the hill, where the men would visit the working women, so to speak. Look closely at the carving on the wall pointing the way to the area. Similar carvings were on the ground in Pompeii to direct visiting sailors:

In the area of the Roman Forum was this sheep, carved in 103BC. Where there are sheep, there is wool and there is proof of knitting in ancient Roman times, not long after that year:

Rome was a walking adventure. I am most appreciative of the doctor treated my foot with seven injections of cortisone in the week prior to the trip. Without her willingness to find a way to deal with what seemed like a hopelessly painful situation given the walking nature of our travels, and a terrific aircast sport brace, it would not have been possible. I've had the dream of walking the Camino de Santiago, long before the movie made it popular, and I plan on visiting her before I go. She understands as she's been there on bike. 

More to come: Greece and Turkey

 

 

 

A thousand kisses deep

Where to begin. I've had good intentions to post about the trip but things keep getting in the way. Like the Leonard Cohen concert. His recitation of  A Thousand Kisses Deep rivaled the thrill of Santorini as a cruise ship stop, and it's still fresh in my mind so that's what you get. 

I studied his poetry and lyrics with a brilliant English teacher in grade nine. Oh yes, that was 43 years ago and Mr Cohen seemed old to me then, mind you he was only 35, but when you're 15 you know how that goes. Back then I couldn't fathom what it would be like to be 45 at the turn of the century and here I am twelve years later, still feeling basically like the person I was at 15, but older, hopefully wiser, definitely heavier and still appreciative of Leonard Cohen's talent. However, other aspects of life have changed:

Now and Then

1. Concert tickets              Now: $100+           Then: $15 - $20

2. Parking                         Now: $25               Then: free    

3. A beer at the concert     Now: $8.50             Then: $2.00

4. Average spectator age   Now: 65                 Then: 30

5. Stadium advertising       Now: Pharmacies    Then: None

6. A Thousand Kisses Deep, I'm Your Man, Dance Me to the End of Love, then and now: Priceless.

I'll leave you with my usual, sometimes tiresome in my husband's mind, sky pictures from our trip. I do take way too many sky pictures. Maybe it's the result of living in socked in British Columbia that I appreciate both colourful skies and those of grey:

Sunrise in Turkey:

Stormy sky in Naples:

And my favourite sky with land nowhere in sight:

 

 

 

 

 

 

We're baaack

I thought that was a quote from Poltergeist, but trusty google claims it's from the Shining. Maybe both. Blogless Marsha and I had the good fortune to knit not just Italy, but Greece and Turkey as well. Here are the first pictures as proof:

Despite the fact that the Colisseum picture looks like a backdrop, I promise we were really there.

Ten days were on a cruise ship. Now I'll diverge after watching an episode CBC's Marketplace last night. It focused in germs in hotel rooms including C-difficile, E-coli and MRSA, often found in hospitals, the infections from which my mother passed away nearly a year ago. Most disconcerting was the real life example taken from the hotel in which my daughter and I stayed when she had her reconstructive leg surgery a few years back. I am now eating my words of description: a clean, comfortable hotel. Gross.

Back to cruise ships where Noro virus abounds and great efforts are taken to thwart such occurrences. I'm wishing hotels had the same standards. When C and I were discussing this tonight, it brought back a memory of a humorous poem I learned in fifth grade, written by Alex Guiterman (1871-1943):

THE Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup
Were playing in the garden when the Bunny gamboled up;
They looked upon the Creature with a loathing undisguised;—
It wasn't Disinfected and it wasn't Sterilized.
They said it was a Microbe and a Hotbed of Disease;	5
They steamed it in a vapor of a thousand-odd degrees;
They froze it in a freezer that was cold as Banished Hope
And washed it in permanganate with carbolated soap.
In sulphurated hydrogen they steeped its wiggly ears;
They trimmed its frisky whiskers with a pair of hard-boiled shears;	10
They donned their rubber mittens and they took it by the hand
And elected it a member of the Fumigated Bandhttp://lifesastitch.typepad.com/_/2011/03/bagels-bananas-and-ginger-ale.htmljavascript:mctmp(0);
There's not a Micrococcus in the garden where they play;
They bathe in pure iodoform a dozen times a day;
And each imbibes his rations from a Hygienic Cup—	15
The Bunny and the Baby and the Prophylactic Pup.

Who knew that poem, memorized so long ago, would provide an example of dramatic foreshadowing for today's world? It's enough to turn you into a germophobe and makes me wonder about my experience in San Francisco a couple of years back. I promise the next posts will focus on the more positive aspects of our travels, including the search for the best pizza in the world.