Month: November 2014

There are days that should not happen. But instead these days get replayed in one’s mind over and over and over. Such a day was yesterday. After Stephen picked up the phone and I saw his expression, I knew something was terribly wrong. It was Toby with the saddest of news. Gemma, his and Christy’s dog, was hit and killed by a car.

We try to be supportive, but as a parent I feel pretty helpless. We are all devastated.

We don’t often do Thanksgiving and especially not this year. Instead I was trying to get ahead of the holiday season. My knitting is mostly done except for the blocking. I can actually get away with calling it good. Most of the holiday presents got wrapped today and are sitting in their respective bags in the living room. We still have to add some items that have not been delivered yet.

I love the lights, love the bustling about of shoppers, as long as I can stay on the outside looking in, and tolerate and eventually hate the music.

Most of my holiday gifts are either handmade or bought long ago when I knew this is exactly what you would like.

Here is my thought of how to enjoy this holiday season/spirit without having to consume. I’ll go to the mall. With friends. And knit. We’ll plop ourselves right in the middle of the bustle and knit and talk and absorb, but only the good spirit.

Is that possible?

I have mentioned this before, but every year the memory comes back and I love repeating it. A few years ago as I walk joyfully and full of enthusiasm and good spirit through the Mannheimer Weihnachtsmarkt, and the heck with it, I’m stealing these images to show you the place of the crime.

And this one from Dominik Rossbach / Stadtmarketing Mannheim GmbH

and some more

just one more from Mannheim

and Heidelberg

During the Holidays in Heidelberg.

I’m sure glad the area I’m from knows how to turn on the lights;-)

Back to the story. As i’m walking on cloud 11 through the market, I hear a guy say to another guy while passing by me: “Every year, the same shit.” It was like a cold shower.

It could have been me saying that, while living in Germany. But seen from a distance, almost outside, I found it all marvelous.

This theme has me in its grip for a long time now. I have early childhood memories, whereas Stephen acts as if he’s been dropped on this planet later in life and remembers almost nothing.

Since I had the more difficult childhood, and he sailed through his relatively smoothly, it might be true we remember the negative more readily.

Several years ago I read a book on this topic, called “Mistakes Were Made.” One story in particular had a long-lasting effect on me. One of the authors describes a memory from childhood about dancing with her dad every time they read a particular book.

Then she came across a first edition of that book and, in memory of her dad, bought it for her kids. She noticed the original publishing date, which was way after her dad had died. So how could she have such a memory of her dad reading it to her? I think she finally figured out it must have been her uncle who read the book to her.

OK, if you end up reading Mistakes Were Made and the story is a little different, please, that’s what memories are made of, faulty remembrances, but the gist of the story is true.

Often in our family now, we refer to something we might not accurately remember as: Mistakes Were Made.

The other day we had a drunk driver on our road who smashed into a neighbor’s car and kept on going, then came driving back around the corner, still totally drunk and lost in the neighborhood. Before I could figure out what was going on, I was trying to piece together what that loud crash was I heard and my imagination was flying wild.

Several scenarios were swirling through my head. Until what really happened came out of that whirlpool. Here is my hypothesis: what I imagined going on before I knew what really happened might have been more exciting than the final truth, and it features more prominently in my brain.

As we get older and brain function is in decline, it might get harder and harder to distinguish speculation from a real memory.

It probably took me much longer going through scenarios in my head trying to identify the crash. When I finally noticed that a car had hit another car I had already assimilated the hypothetical versions. So what stays behind as real might not always be so, and what has more staying power might be the imagined. Just sayin’….

I love tasting different yarns. It’s similar to Ben & Jerry’s ice cream flavors, new ones all the time, and how can one just walk on by? It’s one aspect of knitting that feeds an addictive soul. I wants to try them all, my precious!

Knitpicks Chroma yarns were on my got-to-try list. And with the last order, I got a skein in worsted and one in fingering. Here is what draws me to this particular yarn: slow long color changes. I’m a sucker for those. Most of us are.

With the worsted skein I knit up a pair of fingerless gloves.

Very soft yarn, nice colors. I had no intention of having identical gloves, I love them as well as my socks fraternal. And I know something about being a twin/gemini. They are size medium but could stretch to large.

These fingerless gloves are looking for a home. Here’s an idea: a raffle. First I thought only on Facebook, but I would like to give blog readers a chance at winning, too. And if you read both, double chances through double entries.

If you’re interested in winning these fingerless gloves, here is the deal:

I have a few rules.

1. I will only ship within the United States. I don’t have the means to do more. If you are fortunate not to live in this country you could still participate and have this sent to a friend within the United States.

2. I need to know if you’re even interested. The best is you write a comment below this entry, even if all you say is “I’m in.” Or, if you know my email, you can let me know by writing me a note.

3. These are the type of gloves that like hand wash cold, lay flat to dry. High maintenance, I know.

4. Good luck!

On the library steps I had a moment of panic. Did I leave my glasses at the post office where I just came from? Oh well, Stephen is with me, he can help the blind woman.

The book I expected to be on hold was nowhere on the hold shelf. What happened? Did I really wait that long to pick the book up? And what was the name of the book again? OK, think marianna, you can do this. Something to do with Alzheimer’s versus everyday memory loss. What could the title be?

Aha, the computer, I sign in to see some sort of history that tells me what I had wanted. How cool is that? And the print is big, very big. And the title? Ahem, “Where Did I Leave My Glasses?” How much better does it get?

The book is hilarious. It lets me accept my memory lapses with some grace and laughter. Recommended for everyone without actual Alzheimer’s. Because if you have Alzheimer’s you’re screwed.