Where’s My Mojo?

It’s gone, just gone. Can’t find it no matter where I look. Have you seen my knitting mojo?  Have you perhaps stolen taken my knitting mojo? Wherever it is, whoever has it, please return!

I’ve been too busy lately, mostly being busy with doing nothing. At least I can’t see results of my busyness. Usually that means I’ve been online going nowhere. Not this time, at least not that I’m aware of. Or am I on autopilot and don’t even know what the left hand is doing? I just can’t get into another gear with my knitting. Holidays coming up very fast and Hanukkah on turbo-speed or even warp speed heading our way this year, makes no difference, I don’t feel the pressure.

Good for my heart. Bad for holiday presents. I always have some super easy knitting on hand to do while waiting for appointments or attending classes. That would be washcloths or dishcloths. But how many can one woman make if she doesn’t even have enough people who use these items? Socks are another knitting project for on the go, as long as they are simple socks. But I got it into my head that I’ve made enough simple socks in my life and now it’s time to work patterns into socks. I have two such projects on the needles and neither is the perfect no mind needed kind of knitting.

An update on the deathflake mittens: I managed to knit with the right color progression, see below, but noticed that I knit very loosely when knitting stranded and, yes, frogged it all again. My next attempt is with smaller needles but I put it aside for a while to finish a pair of socks.

Here are the frogged mittens:


You see where I’m heading here? I’m burned out on dishcloths and washcloths and simple knitting but can’t find the stretch of time needed to make more complicated items like patterned socks or shawls or sweaters or….

That’s what I call a major mojo problem. I’m making an appointment with another season of “The Good Wife” and knitting today. It might be the cure.

I’m a very handy person when it comes to problems around the house. At least I think I am. This might all be a big delusion I’m finding out now. Yes, I can put down laminate flooring, but I can’t do the finishing touches. For years now, we are missing the finished edges of our floors. And where the floors turn into stairs? Ha. That has never been worked out in my mind. And the fact that I stopped cold when it came to the dining room and living room.

I also do plumbing jobs. Most times with a little bit more success. OK, you’ll never have to worry about that stopper again once I got my hands on it, and who needs it anyway in the bathroom. Our latest is the shower, it drips. I worked my magic, but unfortunately it had nothing to do with the shower head. The drip, I diagnosed, is caused by the thing that turns the shower on and off. I could replace whatever part is worn out, but I’m pretty sure I should turn off the water supply first. Now I know how to turn off the water supply to toilets and sinks, there is a handy knob to turn underneath them. But where does one turn off a shower water supply?

Doing research online tells me this shut off mechanism is not easy to find for showers and tubs and there is talk about concealment of these valves. Is that fair to the amateur plumber I ask? Since I’m not about to go hunting for something someone was trying to hide from me, probably successfully, I’m aware I have to shut off the water supply to the house if I am to make the repair. I can do that and have done that before. But, here is my fear: what if I can’t fix the problem? Then I’m stuck with a shower that would spew out water and the only control is no water to anything. Can I risk that? This is one time where I need to follow up and fix the whole problem and not just a part of it.

Next! Believe it or not, both our bathroom sinks are malfunctioning. They were both clogged up. No problem, I have done this many times before, get down on the floor unscrew the trap, clean it out, and reattach. With my frozen shoulder it has become somewhat of a bigger problem, but I can still do that. Unless part of the metal pipe breaks off. No problem, I put a plant in there so no one is tempted to use that sink. And after all there are two sinks in this particular bathroom. So I go clean the other sink and reattach the trap and guess what, something is wrong and now water leaks out of the trap. That has never happened before. The only solution I can see is get a new trap and keep my fingers crossed. That will be a purchase made later today.

At least the sink in our second bathroom still works, but I’m starting to feel squeezed. We have not renovated our bathrooms since we moved into our house in 1992. My belief is that we still deal with fixtures from 1976 when this house was built. But the new roof and gutters ate up our extra money and we’ll have to wait for a while before any thoughts of a new bathroom get to cross our minds.

No wonder my knitting mojo left this house new roof and all, who wants to live in a one bathroom sink home?

I’m still struggling somewhat with the heart anniversary, and I’m following along and reliving the events. You can stop right here or follow Stephen’s posts from last year.

“October 18, 2012

Still uncertain about the atmosphere on this planet…. A pretty rough day here: another transfusion and a many-syllabic-named lung problem, on top of the usual pains, discomforts, and indignities. I hereby predict much better things for tomorrow. Marianna on the Mend! -S

October 19, 2012

What’s the point of surgery if you don’t have scars to show off? This is a lesser one, of course, on the arm that graciously gave of itself – the one that hopes to soon join its partner in knitting. All in all, a better day today. The highlights were pretty high – including several hours of visits from 5 friends (asked if she’d seen the tunnel of light, Marianna responded no, it was dark and smoky, with jazz playing); and the lows were manageable. Onward! – posted by the husband of the Bride Of Frankenstein

October 20, 2012

No sugar-coating in this update (that would be bad for M’s diabetes). The only good news is mostly symbolic: 8 days after our ambulanced arrival, she’s finally out of the ICU and into her own room. Other than that… Not a good day, sorry to say. From a pre-dawn attack by a seemingly psychopathic (but presumably incompetent) couple of syringe-wielding nurses, through an entire day and evening with energy tank registering empty-minus, this has been the one step back that paves the way for tomorrow’s two steps forward. As for tonight… I think I’ll stay right here and create my own ICU. -S

October 21, 2012

The Creature Walks Among Us!

Best day yet. Two hallway walking journeys, a coupla hours of chair sitting adventures, and another good visit with friends. Marianna is well spent after all that, but definitely on the road to the road home. As always, thanks for the supportive e-shouts! -S

October 22, 2012

If you’re following Marianna’s journey from death’s door to health’s highway, you know what to expect: this was another 1-step-back day. The apparent culprit: meds that kept her blood pressure too low. Way too low, like ~74/45. Less pressure on her healing heart, but it prevented her from doing anything beyond breathing. With blood pressure meds on hold, she’s back to her self, as we look forward to morrow…. -S

October 23, 2012

A pretty good day in general – a little more walking, a lot more waking, and a major post-surgery highlight: sitting in a chair for an hour’s worth of bathing, hairbrushing, and braiding by 2 attentive nurses. I (Stephen) promise you: Marianna was in full radiance.

Still no word on our return date (probably accompanied by an oxygen tank), but I think it moved a lot closer today. -S”

Did You Hear Me Scream?

I was so, so good and then get punished. How is that fair? As I have expressed in the previous post, I’m stalling working on our daughter’s scarf. No more! I finished yesterday. A big incentive was a project I’ve been eyeing for a long time. It needed a little cooler weather and conditions were just right yesterday. This was going to be so good. My knitting mojo was going to take off again and no one was going to be able to stop me. Except for myself of course.

But let’s get the scarf thing out of the way. All I can say is: finished. I’m not in love. But what else was I going to use the yarn for? Let me present the Zombie BBQ scarf for one night of Hanukkah:


But you came here for the screams. After midnight while happily, very happily knitting along the deathflake mittens I noticed something wrong. Of course I was already bothered by something, but had no idea what that something was until it hit critical mass or a tipping point. I can be very dense that way. Trying to will my knitting to do what I want it to do, though to be honest, it has not worked yet. Always ends in tinking or frogging.

What was going wrong? Take a look:


You don’t see it? Hear the screams? Black skulls? Wrong color scheme is what’s wrong!!! To my defense, the chart has the skulls in black and the background white. Can’t figure out why. It’s probably explained in the directions, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t read directions.

As you can see from the picture, I’m no good at stranded knitting or whatever you call the hell of carrying along two colors. I was hoping I could go through life without learning that skill. Until this pattern comes along and holds me in its spell. I knew that resistance would be futile, at least I know myself that much.

I’m now teaching myself stranded knitting continental style. And no, I will not carry my yarn left and right hand. I carry yarn with my left hand and this is not going to change. Back to watch videos and start over, right after frogging the whole thing.

I think I’m pretty zen about it, after the screams no other outbursts. Just handwringing.

Not wanting to ruin my gemini reputation I also finished a beanie for Stephen and dyed it last night with koolaid. My first attempt at dyeing. Even Stephen is turning koolaid friendly after seeing the results. The black cherry smell, not so much.

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Now look at the beanie again and know that I spun, plied and knit and then dyed the thing. Kind of proud right now but waiting for the day when I will look at it and think what a beginner I was. That’s how good I want to get.

A word of advice about using koolaid: wear gloves. My fingers look like they came straight out of a murder scene.

In other news: Lambtown, Dixon. I did go and came back with major loot to be shown to you another time. The two major accomplishments and excitements: 1. I fell in love 2. Got 3 bobbins made for my spinning wheel, and they arrived today.

1. Fell in love with the Schacht Matchless spinning wheel. Morgaine from Carolina Homespun let me try the Matchless they had set up and it felt like, like what? Effortless? Butter? Magic? No, not magic, it was love. I always thought I would like that wheel also known as the cadillac of spinning wheels, but somewhere I also got the feeling of hyperbole, it’s not. I’m saving my pennies now. Feel free to contribute to my spinning wheel fund, I would not complain.

2. The spinning wheel I have now is an Anthony Cardarelle. It’s a one of a kind. Hence, parts could become a problem. Spinning wheels have changed since this was made in 1969 and I’m somewhat limited with what I can do. For now, as a beginner, this is OK. Until a Matchless comes my way. The bobbins Clemes & Clemes made for the wheel arrived today. They are the folks who took over when Anthony died in 1970 I believe. They are a bit shorter, the bobbins, not the people, but let’s hope they will work.

In other news, I survived my anniversary. And if you don’t mind I would like to take the opportunity again to post what Stephen wrote a year ago.

“October 16, 2012

I would never discount the relief and gratitude I feel: in the past few days Marianna has survived a massive, seriously life-threatening heart attack and two surgeries, the latter 7 hours of quadruple bypass and all that accompanies it. Having said that… my heart, head, and stomach hurt at seeing her – a full day later – in such apparent agony (hopefully dulled by medication) and discomfort. I.e., she’s still in the immediate post-surgery area, strapped to a bed, and breathing on her own only in the past few hours. During our last ‘visit’ I was sure – from her eyes – she wanted to cry, or scream, or both, but both were physically impossible. I was gonna head home today or tomorrow to deal with a work disaster, but that’s emotionally impossible. So our kids are driving there to bring me what I need, for work and to take care of Marianna. I wish I could just quit my stupid job, with the universe hiring me as her caretaker…. -S

October 17, 2012

Some progress today – a coupla chair-sitting sessions, speaking getting a bit less difficult – followed by some setbacks: she needed a transfusion, and her heart rate suddenly started climbing, with a headache – a frighteningly familiar pair of circumstances, tho with a different and also familiar (to us, because it plagues my dad) diagnosis: atrial fibrillation. Medication has slowly been settling things down, and the a-fib just now stopped. Marianna’s sleeping right now – well, most of today, actually. Food’s been a problem, too, but no time to finger-tap that story on her iPad. Let’s just go with another long, deep, heartfelt – please join me – Whewwwwwww………… And once – and always – again: thank y’all so very very much for caring about this wonderful person next to me. -S”

In my own words a while later I write about my experiences at that time. I’m pretty forgetful, but the hospital time is burned into my brain. I remember so much.

“My mind and my fantasies were constant companions. With the help of some narcotic here and there.
Imagine you are in bed laying on your back day and night. No getting up. A catheter attached so no bathroom breaks either.
Staring at bland walls I was able to close my eyes and imagine the most exotic textures. From floral designs to leather coverings, the walls let me play with them for hours. Especially the gorgeous leather design. I could imagine making small cuts and the leather would curl back at the incision, just like my wounds on my belly now that don’t want to heal.
After surgery and my experience with death behind the curtain, I spent several days in ICU. Getting blood transfusions, afib, another blood transfusion, probably developing the clots while being bed bound.
After the initial ICU, one patient, one nurse, I made it to another ICU unit, two patients, one nurse. The place I started out at.
Nothing to occupy my mind, but my imaginings, I started paying attention to noises coming from outside my room, and there were plenty. Next to my room, an important booming voice, often on the cell phone, and many visitors. I made him a politician whose constituents were not allowed to know he has heart problems. I pieced this together when a nurse mentioned his constituents. I gave him a very interesting life with lots of intrigue and scandal.
Then the almost constant screaming from another room. Stephen thought it was another language, but I made out phrases like, go away, leave me, over and over and over. That almost drove me crazy, so I had to come up with something. He was a serial killer of young women and feeling regret, he now wanted to confess. Also, he did not want to be tempted to kill again and so told the nurses to go away. The young nurses had no idea what was going on and were actually very attentive and fond of him as it turned out. I wanted to shout out, get away from him, you’re in danger, but I’m glad I refrained. It turns out the not so old man had a stroke and probably what I took as confessions of murders was just gibberish.”

So how are all these people doing now? Lesson learned and living a healthier life? Or like me, just plodding along?

I better go, I have some frogging to do.


It’s been a bit quiet around here. Not at our house, just here on the blog. It hasn’t been so loud at our house since my teenagers got into punk and them or me blasting the music. Enough suspense: we got a new roof.

As a typical German I was prepared with food and drink for the workers, but they hardly accepted anything. My grandmother used to get a case of beer and food whenever a repair project got started at her house. I watched and learned. But people here don’t let me be nice to them, I feel ripped off.

Today, a year ago, I was in surgery. This is what Stephen posted on my facebook page at the time:

“October 15, 2012
After 7 hours of *successful* surgery – quadruple bypass – Marianna 1.4 is inching her way toward consciousness, to be followed by weeks/months of healing. Whewwwww. I’ll report more when we know more; for now, see – and read and repeat aloud – previous sentence; repeat as necessary… -S”

It probably was the most difficult time for my family ever. Both our kids were around, our daughter Liana having flown in from Denver and Toby was able to take a few days off from firefighting. I have no idea how Stephen held it together, whatever the “it” is. Turn this situation around and you can be assured I would have fallen apart.

Some recollections from Stephen who was posting updates to my facebook page then:

“October 13, 2012
Hi friends of Marianna Greenberg… If you’ve got some spare prayers/love/good healing thoughts/golden circles — whatever you’re into — please send ’em her way. We’re at Sacramento’s Mercy General Hospital, where she’s recovering from a massive heart attack and will have open heart surgery within the next coupla days. She should be sleeping peacefully right now, after a very nightmarish few hours. Visited a few minutes ago: tho really weak of course, she seemed to be pretty much back to her full self — enough so, that she asked me to let folks on her 1000-truffle-benefit page (sorry, no handy link) know there’ll be a delay…. G’night for now, happy birthday to Toby who’s sitting/dozing across from me, and LOVE for Marianna — more massive than anything else. – Stephen


October 14, 2012

Update: We’re still deep into the woods, but on a clear path toward home. Probably tomorrow morning (depends on how Marianna’s doing, according to all the tests and numbers and evaluations), the path will become a surgical journey through a triple (minimum) bypass. In the meantime, she’s pretty stable, glad our kids are hanging out with her – Liana’s braiding her hair right now – and really appreciative of your love and support. (She said, “Tell them they’re sending so much light, it’s keeping me awake.”) More thanks from me – feeling much more like me after actually *sleeping* (in a 3-question-mark motel!) last night.

Following up on our previous update – re Marianna’s concern about getting so much light from y’all, see pic. In other news, kids and I moved out of – make that escaped from – the seedy motel and into a nice hospital-related apartment across the street; from homely to homey. And the uppest update: Marianna’s on track for surgery, tomorrow around 8 am till midday. Soon, friends….”

Right now I’m reliving this and trying to process. I’m not aging gracefully. But then I have always totally thrown myself into any experience good or bad. There is no half-way for me. Let’s make this a massive heart attack seems to be my modus operandi. And then go for the quadruple by-pass. And then let’s have a pulmonary embolism to top this experience off nicely. I bet my life will end in the ultimate: death.

Since it’s Halloween season I might as well creep you out a bit with the arm picture after surgery:


All that is left now is the line down the arm, no more Frankenstein look.

Today I get to indulge, indulge, indulge. Just try to stop me. Bored? Come back another time. Though eventually this all leads to knitting.

At some point during my second heart attack or escalating heart attack I was technically dead. I have been asked about the white light and flippantly answered seeing smoke, hearing jazz, etc.

I can report nothingness instead. Whenever I came close to dying, I felt myself falling into emptiness and nothingness, falling asleep without dreams. Often my thought then was, this dying is not so bad, this feels like easy death. Every time I would wake up again and realize that my death would be much more difficult for my family than myself. At some point during my initial stay at Sierra Nevada Memorial Hospital I asked the doctor if I would die. He answered: You could. I asked Stephen to call Toby. I had this grand idea of a profound good-bye, but all I managed to tell Stephen and Toby was to take care of themselves and each other and that I’m OK dying.

The image of hell as a 30s nightclub with lots of cigarette smoke and jazz stayed with me for days. In my morphine induced semi dreams and pain state of my body, it morphed into deeper and more desolate pictures. I saw dumpsters and rats and the refuse that used to be people, the music long gone. I wrote poetry in my head about it, but that is long gone too and all I’m left with are the images.

After coming out of surgery, mostly unconscious and breathing tube still in my mouth, I remember Stephen saying that I looked like crying and screaming at the same time. I remember thinking that he can read me well. And then a memory of someone dying behind the curtain next to me. Discussions about DNR and that a decision needs to be made. Next I hear a priest saying a prayer, and then an announcement that it’s over. I could not wait to be able to speak again and talk about this. And the nurse confirmed that it really happened.

Before surgery I assured the surgeon that it would be OK if I died on the operating table. No hard feelings since I brought this on myself. He replied that no one dies in the operating room. Well, but apparently they can a short while after.

I still have the memory of being wheeled to the operating room on my bed. Thoughts of what a big mess this room is, sort of like my house with stuff all over. Not much color though, mostly monochrome. Many, many people bustling about. Then everyone trying to explain what they will be doing until I told them to just put me out and that I’m hoping I will not feel any pain. And that no matter what they explain now, it will make no difference. They will do their job and I’m down the rabbit hole now and hope to find my way back eventually. Next: I’m out. Thanks guys.

After almost 7 hours, I wake up, kind of, almost…. The difficulty was my family waiting all this time. They are the heroes in this story, and of course the doctors and nurses. It’s unimaginable to me what I put them through. I will never, ever be able to show my appreciation and gratefulness and love to them. All I can do is knit whatever they want.

And here we are at knitting, finally. The Zombie BBQ scarf has stopped me. I’m avoiding working on it because it’s not what I wanted and I’m settling for what it is. So many new projects were started until I realized what’s going on. Avoidance. So I made a pact with myself: finish this scarf and you get your knitting freedom back. You’d think this would work, right? No, instead I do all other kinds of crazy stuff.

Here is one crazy project: I signed up for online classes with edx and coursera. 4 of them. Two have started. One is Care of Elders with Alzheimer’s Disease. The reasons for this class is that my life might be affected by people with this disease. The other class I signed up for is Science and Cooking, a Harvard class. Am I over my head in this class! Want to know the molecular weight of food ingredients or the number of molecules in the food? This is the class for you. But they won’t bring me to my knees, though I am close many times. All I have to get is over 60% to pass, I might be able to do that. This is so absurd from someone that had to get the highest grade or feel like a failure. I’ll keep trotting along until the next class How to Change the World and Scandinavian Film and Television.

All this because I don’t want to work on the bloody scarf. There are socks to knit, shawls to finish, mittens to start. Do you realize that Hanukkah starts a day before Thanksgiving this year? Is this crazy or what? It will have to be lots of I-Owe-Yous this year.

Something I believe I did not show you yet is an Ashton shawlette worked in silk for my MIL. I was hesitant to post a picture in case she’s reading here. Her birthday and present giving over, take a look. A silk scarf does not stretch as wool does, but it still turned out.

Pre-blocked and while blocking. One of the next posts will be about my fiber fleece adventures.

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