Fingers, Beware!

What was the one thing my boss says before I go rafting? "Don't hurt your fingers!". Of course, she means make sure you can still play piano and organ when you return.
What were some of the trials I put my body through? Mostly skin deep: cuts, bruises, heel blisters, sunburn, rashes, and dryness (wash your hands multiple times a day in bleach treated water). I ingested my more than fair share of bleach treated water, too. My insides must be white!
And I wasn't sick. That was the good news.

Redwall Cavern GCNP

For 18 days, I was admonished to hold on and keep away from the oars, especially in the rapids. I did a great job of it, but early on (day 8) I got smacked by an oar--on my left little finger. Ouch! Hard to imagine that it happened so fast and with such force; I was holding onto a strap that was around the seat behind me which was covered with a Paco Pad, watching churning water in front of us, when the oar suddenly had no water resistance and threw the rower and oar forward and he and it landed right on the tip of my finger. As far as I know, that was the only injury of all 16 of us, besides the aforementioned skin abrasions.

This could be the last time I had ten functioning fingers.

It hurt, it swelled up, turned red, and ... It suddenly looked, in shape, like it matched my right pinky. My right pinky has, for years, been deteriorating from Heberden's Nodes.  Click here for some scary pictures. Scary especially for me because my hands don't look that bad yet, (do they?) but they look like my grandmother's hands.

My Grandmother's Hands

For days I looked at my left pinky injury, which didn't hurt much, but looked odd. It certainly wasn't an injury for which to be airlifted out of the canyon. A bad bruise, to be sure.
It wasn't until I had been home for five days, I played organ in church on Sunday, knitted my way across the state of Arizona, and otherwise returned to normal life, that I looked at it one evening and thought it really looked the same as it did three weeks prior. Shouldn't it have improved? Was it always going to be crooked, red and tender? (Tenderness most noticeable when playing music. Banging it on a keyboard.)
The next day I was in the doctor's office, he was moving it around, ordered x-rays, and there it was: a broken bone. To be specific, the tendon on the back of the finger was still attached to a tiny bone fragment that had come off of the distal phalanx. The bad news was that it would never get better on its own, and the really bad news was I have to keep my finger in a splint for 8 weeks. Being a three week old injury doesn't make it any better, so now I'm trying to soldier on with eight and a half fingers. My right pinky isn't 100% and my left pinky is 0%. I'm going to continue to play, cheating the notes in the bass (lucky that I can use pedals to bolster the lower notes), and it seems I should be able to knit.
The splint is clumsy, and gets in the way of needles and writing (I'm left-handed) and tonight it started aching so that I stopped knitting! On a ten point scale, it has to be an eight if I have to put down my knitting.

Recovering

 And I have a whole pair of socks to knit in one week. Rut-roh!
PS:  I discovered last night I have to keep my hand above my heart or it throbs and it wakes me up.  Maybe I can knit lying down!?!  Worth a try!

To A One-Year Old

Dear Juju,
I always try to answer, but I don't always know what you are saying.  Poor Grandma, listens to your wonderfully complex sentences, and wonders what you are thinking after one-year of breathing air.

Grandma chases you at a snail's pace, as you scoot around the floor.  She changes smelly diapers for you, not because you ask, but out of our own comfort zone.  You discover something new everyday, with or without Grandma's help.   What a joy it is to discover 2 plastic cups that fit together, and doubly fantastic that they have lids!

Do you know about the word "no"?  You look at little piles of dirt, or the plants, or the computer cords, give us big people a questioning look, and shake your head.  How cute is that?  You seem to wait for the "no" word, and then choose to go elsewhere.

Grandma has renewed her interest in Norwegian "barnesanger", teaching clapping, and hoping for a sound from you that is similar to singing or saying a word she can recognize.

Your big smile with four teeth, your fine blonde hair, your peek around objects or corners to make eye contact, your own coded language that you use everyday (sometimes we give in and join you with the babbling), and the swaying to music, make this one year a bright one for me.

Let's go for a walk... stroller or back carrier?  Beach or pavement?

Love,
Grandma

Dress 'em Up!

That's what little ones are for!  Especially when Grandma can't help but make things to order.

The picot dress by Debbie Bliss has been a challenge.  First of all, I read too many Ravelry comments about how it had to be tweaked, especially the bodice.  And then, of course, I wanted to use my cotton/silk blend that was left over from the lace tunic. Same color as mommy, right?  And it was a different weight than in the pattern, so after a false start to fix gauge on the skirt, I probably ripped out of the bodice 5 times.  It was miles too big, and then just big and finally I pared it down where it was too small.  The "too small" part was discovered by the actual modeling. Luckily, or more like it, I was so unsure of myself, I never finished the trim (picot) on the bodice, so it was easily ripped back.
That picot trim is the best... it definitely makes it into a gorgeous little garment. I added an owl instead of a pocket.  And buttons.  You gotta love buttons!

Hands

What incredible instruments we carry around:  Hands!!
Fingers, especially... what they do for us.
And what we use them for--mine are pretty well trained to knit, sew, play keyboard music, and... a multitude of other things.


I most noticed my grandmother's hands.  She would proudly hold them up to display how her fingers would point off in different directions--around corners even!  They were an amazing mess, but they produced the best fried walleye, autobiographical stories in her scrawling handwriting, quilting, sewing, knitting, crochet, paintings, cakes, breads, ROLLS (who could forget her rolls?), and...and... the best advice, compassion.  She couldn't surprise me with new projects; that was to be expected. But often she would make, what I consider, progressive-thinking comments about events, people's actions, etc that were totally the opposite of what one would expect from a woman in her 80's or 90's. She was always open to new things.


Yet I most remember her hands... I see them everyday now in my hands!  How surprised she would be to realize that my hands are becoming like hers.  Not only in shape but also by what they produce.  It's as if I can't type fast enough, or knit fast enough, or ... it's our productivity.


Here's a glimpse of my grandmother's hands: (Mine)

And Hers, 26 years ago:

The NEW Me!!

Who am I and where did I come from?


After my pregnancy, I suddenly turned into this mother-person! (1982)

 You would have thought I had dreamed of this role my whole life.  I hadn't... at 33 I became a mother overnight.  I guess it has to do with life and species preservation.  To make such a change to my mind-set, I would want more children, but no, I stopped at one, and had no thoughts of a second child.  I attributed that to being an only child of an only child, and relishing the attention one gets as a kid in a small extended family.


Change number two:  Once my daughter was on her feet, I never looked adoringly at babies again. My first change was a very temporary and discriminating change, because I again dropped the mommy act and for 26 years I almost dreaded the thought of becoming a grandmother.  Would I be able to take on another role? After all, I hadn't held many babies other than my own, and I certainly never encouraged anyone to hand over their infant to me to fondle.  Then...


Change number three:  Last July I took a glass elevator up to the fifth floor and there was my daughter with a newborn in her arms... (talk amongst yourselves--I'm all verklempt) (2009)

and I was another person again!  Now my little one is almost 11 months old and I love the feel of her.  Would I again be discriminating and see only one baby in my life? She's too far away to touch daily so have I taken on a substitute? (We skype often. I sing "our" favorite songs and taught her to clap.) But when my good friend wrote that she had just adopted twin boys, I leapt at the chance to hold them. 


Oddly, three days before I got word of the adoption (of course, they had been on a list for years) I heard a review of a book about the sleep habits of twins, and I found it really interesting.  What I gleaned from the interview is that twins are a handful!  Well, duh, you say, but it was recommended that you have a list of helpers, and I immediately knew what I had to do.  I may be a pest, but I'm at their disposal for a few hours a week.  I say, "I'm coming over on ... afternoon. Or would you rather I come some other time?"  So far, I've gotten my hands full, shopped and babysat while mom and dad went out to shop.  I feel useful, and I sure enjoy it!  The new me...(2010)

Lest you think that I'm cheating on my own granddaughter, let it be known that in her first year I have spent exactly 17-1/2 weeks with her.  That doesn't include the hours of Skype and it doesn't mean a few hours of visit time but 24/7 time.  Pretty good for making a connection that is 4,000+ miles away!!  (2010)

That's the NEW me!  (Knitting?  Another blog topic!!)


Call me, 


Grandma