islenskr

I have no idea who reads this. Not a clue. But I know there are a lot of crafty people whose lj's I read who sew and know where lots of great fabric finds are. And I was hoping that someone might be able to point me in the right direction.

I'm looking for a wool melton in heathered medium grey. A real grey, not a tannish or brownish grey. Steely grey is what I"m looking for. But heathered.

If you spin, I'm looking for that gorgeous blue-grey that Gotland sheep's wool can be.

Believe me, I've considered spinning my own yarn and weaving my own damned fabric. But I just want to make the coat already, so I'm looking to buy some wool.

I've tried:
Woolrich (looks kinda grey-oatmeal)
fabric.com - I've had so many bad experiences with this place...
Military Heritage - I've had my eye on their medium grey melton for a while, but it also looks pretty oatmealy-grey, and the samples are $40, so before I buy that, Id' thought I'd ask.
Osgood's in Springfield, MA - the owner doesn't know much about fabric, I don't care what he says. It's always hit or miss, and in the world of heathered medium grey actual melton, it's miss.
Dorr Mill's site (NH) - although their wool melton looks absolutely dreamy, they don't have heathered grey (I might email them, though)

One other thing: I really really really really really want as close to 100% wool as possible. Real melton. 14oz/yd2 or more (fabric.com is calling 11oz/yd2 heavyweight, which seems more in the realm of a heavyish flannel to me...)


Thank you so much in advance!

You know, I was going to write an update about this past weekend:

"This past weekend, I stayed home. I got a fair amount done: finished weaving the linen rag rug for under the treadles of the loom (...)

There was a thing that happened. J and S came over for a visit, to see where I lived now and see the kitties. I hadn't seen them in a while and it was nice to sit and chat. At some point, for some weird reason, I started thinking about the house as *my* house. My own. Not W's. And I thought, oh, this is what it'll be like when I actually own a house. Planning changes and actually being able to carry them out. Inviting people over and not worrying about nosy/noisy neighbours, not enough seating for guests, actually having a space of my very own. The feeling left again, but it was there for a while, and it pretty much smacked me in the face. Suddenly, this all seemed/seems worth it."

Then yesterday morning, I wrote this:

"I got some bad news this morning: W has cancer. I had thought he might. There were...bathroom issues that were pretty noticeable when he was at the house, and when I asked my dad, he mentioned something about hemorrhoids. I told him that this was beyond that, way beyond it. W hates going to the doctor, so we suspect that his wife, S, bullied him into it. The word came last night and my dad told me this morning: cancer. Which is kind of what I suspected. There was likely a PET scan done, but the results aren't in yet, so no word on whether or not there's cancer elsewhere in his body. I'm not supposed to say anything to anyone because W is a very private person, so if any of you who know me in person are reading this, please keep it to yourself. Just in case. "

Then last night, I had nightmares all night. They revolved around me telling my dad that I was dying, about to die and it was okay, and I hugged him, and told him I loved him and it was totally okay but it was going to happen soon; then, somehow, I was okay and my dad had a week to live; my dad told me W had three weeks to live. And of course, my brain just kept going over and over and over it. I woke up loads, fell back asleep right back into a nightmare.

Meanwhile, the cats were chasing a mouse all over the first floor, which also woke me up. (The mouse got away, but I'm sure they'll get it eventually.)

So, I'm fucking exhausted, physically and emotionally. I did not want to come to work. I want to get rid of the cats as soon as possible. I want to find a different job - I'm my own department, and that department has become "secretary". I'm good at it, but I feel like I'm dumb and stupid and will never ever get ahead, and I imagine what it would be like to really be immersed in a job that I absolutely love and am engaged in everyday. Oh, I like my job, and my boss is truly awesome, but sooner or later, I'm going to get very bored with my job (probably sooner) and then it's just a matter of time before I hate it. And so while we were having a meeting today (about things I do not understand in the slightest), I was trying to imagine what kind of job I could do. But I have no marketable skills. Not even project management. Just a silly title.

I started looking at houses for sale online again. OMG is it depressing. Truly. I can only afford a house that's a 30 minute drive that will never ever let me recover any sweat equity if I sell it. Ever. I don't want to live 30 minutes away. I don't want much: a decent house, which can be small, in a bit of land I can plant an apple tree on, a few roses and grow some veggies, all within a mile of town. I don't need a farm. I don't need a huge 2000sq foot house. In the place I love most: Northampton. But I can't have that because the houses are all much more expensive than I could ever afford. Even if I decide to not even have a car. I'd never get the mortgage.

So, I'm sad today.

Last night, I got home and discovered that the deliciously colored yarn I ordered from Knit Picks had arrived. It's so cheap that it's actually less expensive to knit my own than it is to buy a sweater! This one comes to just under $40. I ran inside, ripped open the package and was delighted in the colors. The sweater yarn is perfect and looks exactly like it did on the monitor at work. I had ordered four other single skeins in different colors just to see what the colors were - I can knit mitts or a hat or cat toys or something out of them later - and they're all perfect. Perfect red, green, and grey. I'm so happy with this yarn! I swatched again this morning having not attained the correct gauge last night, and got it perfectly with my favourite set of circular needles. So, tonight, I'll cast on. Provided I get home in time.

Must stop by Web's first to return the ski shuttle I borrowed from M who works there. It was very kind of her to lend me one! I think I"ll buy one of my own next month - I'll save up for it in the meantime.

Right. That means I have to leave now.
I really hope I"m happier tomorrow. Today was awful. Really truly awful. I feel almost as though I'm slipping into depression again.

I really hope W's cancer is curable. I can't deal with all these friends with cancer.

Ah. My first real day of...vacation? Unemployment? (Though, it is the weekend, and I will be using my vacation time next week...) Rest?

I slept in (!!!), actually shutting off my alarm and going back to sleep (!!!!!). Got up after the sun, had tea, breakfast, read email, surfed the internetz a bit, showered, dressed, poured myself another cup of tea and I'm about to start in on the day in earnest. It's a late start, but it's so nice and quiet and I'm really relishing that right now. I don't know why. Maybe all the yelling in my head has stopped?
Maybe.
It does seem very quiet.
Oooh, and there's no rushing.
There's no feeling of trying to wring every possible bit of productivity or fun out of every moment and MUSTDOITNOW.
Holy shit. This hasn't happened in years and years. Not even when I lived at my dad's. The last time I remember feeling like this was about 20 years ago, when I lived on my own but before I went to college.

I must have made exactly the right decision. To have a month off. To not stay at my dad's this weekend. To come back to my space and spend some time here.
I forgot how quiet it was.

I'm going to do what I feel like doing today, and I suspect that will include some organizing, some tidying and some making. I brought my little produce bags to my dad's house and managed to get one of them finished while I was there. I hand stitched the drawstring casing on using linen thread and a running stitch, which I figured I'd just do to get that one finished and to test running stitches. This particular thread is stronger than the polyester stuff I brought, too. And since I had it, I couldn't imagine hand stitching with polyester thread when linen was available!

Now I'm going to fold laundry and put on some Netflix. I've run the dishwasher already.

I'll also try to hop on my bike for a bit. I haven't exercised (not even a walk!) in a little more than a week, and I've been eating out of stress and boredom. I've put on enough weight that my clothes are snug and uncomfortable. The muscle is fine, but there's no need to eat out of boredom now. Hopefully, this coming month, I can get back to eating more appropriately and exercising a bit more often (and with joy, not out of OMGINEEDTOEXERCISEORI'LLPUNCHSOMEONE). I'll get the extra fat off, I will.

But I will make sure to pay attention to the quiet. 

Here's a thing. I don't understand it.

The Hunger Games. It's a story about a dystopian world where a central Big Brother-type government enforces a lottery-based execution of children of the working class by children of the same. Upper and lower socio-economic class is a predetermined and unchangeable system where the poor, who have little and are constantly on the edge of starvation, work to provide the very rich with everything.

It's not the Olympics. Kids are murdered. Starvation and horrible suffering are rampant. It's absolutely not clear by the end of the series whether or not the world will ever not be distopian. It's up there with Brave New World and 1984 (only not *nearly* as well written).

Why is it so popular with teenagers and 20-somethings right now?? Why did my ex-colleagues go off and have their own "hunger games" and pretend to kill each other? It's not funny. And, unfortunately, it's not entirely fantasy (eg, the USSR and North Korea), okay, minus the computer generated 'arena' and kids killing other kids, there's still that substantial distopian society where the government basically kills it's citizens to ensure absolute control over them. How is this a fun game to play? How is this enjoyable?

How is it so awesome to pretend you're killing your friends and peers so that you aren't killed and your family gets enough to eat?

Am I missing something???

It is Saturday.
Hopefully, I can get my butt in gear in a few minutes so I can leave at a decent hour to get to Northampton at a decent hour. My buds are going to be elsewhere by noon and I'd like to hang with them before they go. I should leave in an hour.

So, I had a meeting with the HR person at work yesterday, and it was not an exit interview! In fact, she announced that she's going to be away all next week, so I won't actually have an exit interview. YAY! I did get the paperwork for it, though, which I'm supposed to fill out. I'll be good and do that, and I will be kind and thoughtful. Critical, too, but in a good way. I don't believe anyone there is evil, not even the owners, I just think they're delusional. Not that my voice is going to change anything, but. I guess I have to try.

My last day is Wednesday. This worked out very well! I was wise not to use too many of my remaining vacation days or personal days because they add up to just about a week (even prorated), and Thanksgiving and the day after is still counted as working days!! My new job doesn't start until the first week in January, so I'll have an entire month away from a desk! This is SUCH a relief. And I'm going to have to really try hard not to dive in to the next job - I already know which software they're using for managing tasks at New Job (I need to come up with a better name) and I'll need to learn it. Part of me wants to get a head start on that because ORGANIZING, but I know that I need to REST. And try to have some fun. And maybe get some little naggling projects finished. And pack and find an apartment and move!

I'm going to really miss my apartment. It's small, and it's too warm, but it's quiet and just about the right size. I've gotten used to it, and once I got over being so far from my friends and family, I decided I really liked it a lot. I just never grew to like the location. I like the landlord, the rent is kind of high, but I've come to think that it's totally worth it for what I get. I won't find a better apartment, I know, but I'll be in a better location, and right now that's the price I'm willing to pay. Seriously, I'm starting to realize just how important location is.

I'll miss some of the people I work with. I really will. They're kind and hard-working. It's the work itself I can't stand: boring and there's too much of it. I'm sure I'll feel more relieved and more rested after Wednesday has come and gone. I spoke to my boss yesterday before I left and she mentioned having a bake off in my honor, which I found really touching! The whole time I've been there, not a single person got anything on their last day beyond a "thank you for your service, we'll miss you" pat on the head from coworkers. Yesterday, after the announcement went out (and my boss wrote a REALLY nice non-generic announcement), I was flooded by emails and text messages saying 'congratulations!' and 'we're going to miss you so much!'. Even the New Kid (who's not so new anymore) came over to give me a congratulatory hug and whispered in my ear "congrats for getting the fuck out of here". If that's not friendship and comraderie, I don't know what is. We're all so kind to and fond of each other that we root for any of us who manages to find a better position.

I will absolutely not miss driving at least 100 miles every weekend, the commute to work surrounded by crazy drivers (well, I'll be surrounded by different crazy drivers in a month), and not being able to *walk* someplace (anyplace) outside of the parking lot at my apartment without having to get in my car and drive somewhere else first. I will be able to find a good cup of coffee without having to drive halfway to work (the nearest Starbucks is off route 84, and yes, that is the best coffee around - I checked). My electric bill will be cheaper (at least by kWh). I will maybe even get to know my neighbors, where ever I move to. In the time I've been here, I've got through at least three sets of neighbors in all the surrounding apartments. Not one of them has ever said more than "hi" two or three times. Even after I introduced myself, etc.

And finally, I'll will be moving to a place where people won't look at me like I have three heads all the time. I've mostly gotten used to getting funny looks here, but it makes for quick isolation. No one wants to talk to you here if you're 'odd'. And 'odd' means anything outside the norm. I almost feel like I'm living somewhere in the mid-west (though I know that the mid west is much worse). Two of my coworkers sort of make fun of me (and have been) for living in Ellington and not doing anything here on the weekends. I have defended myself with "I need to check on my dad", which is partially true. But, the more I think about it, the more I'd really just like to say "show me a place in Ellington where I can do ONE of my hobbies with other people". Because there isn't. Ellington is a fine place, don't get me wrong. It's beautiful and full of country. But it's also full of people who just graduated high school, and I can't relate to them. I've been to college twice, in three countries. Once you get that, you can't really go to where you were before that. In short, I have nothing in common with anyone here.

I sort of feel like I've been living in two worlds. Hopefully, moving back to Northampton will be less exhausting overall. :)

Yikes! And here, I've been writing for too long. I've got to get my butt moving!!

From
http://www.ohnuts.com/blog/homemade-peppermint-patties-recipe-2/

With chocolate tempering help from
http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2005/08/tempering-choco/

I need to add more extract next time. I like mine reeeeally minty. And I need to get one of those two pronged forks for making chocolates - a regular fork keeps too much chocolate on the filling.

Anyone have any good recommendations on dress forms?

I have a Uniquely You one, and it's become the wrong shape and size for me. I can use it for things like coats, but not hemming skirts or draping tops. I thought about getting a new cover for it and going through the process of fitting it to me again, but this particular size form is at the limit for waist size - I think technically, I'm a size small now, not a medium in the land of Uniquely You forms.

So, I thought about either taking a bread knife to it, then padding it out with, well, padding. Or, seeing if I can get a new one that adjusts in all the places I might need to adjust it. But it occurred to me that someone on my f-list might have some ideas.

Anyone? Anyone?

I have SO. MANY. IDEAS. FOR. COOL. CLOTHES.

Okay, so I don't post a lot here that's public, but this is a subject that is very important to me. It's way bigger than my problems at my job or my love life. It's way bigger than me, and it's way bigger than you. Those of you who have read my journal for a while know where I'm coming from. Those who haven't: my mom died of breast cancer when I was 9. I grew up essentially without a father or mother. The cause of my lack of a real childhood is due to cancer. There were no warm and fuzzy feelings about it, and certainly no pink. Please do me a favor and read what I posted earlier on facebook (below). Then pass it along.

The more I see this pink 'breast cancer awareness' stuff, the more angry I become. Breast cancer is not cute, it's not fluffy, it's not cuddly. It's not a cheerful "look, I have boobies!". It's harsh and awful. It's full of pain and vomit and unpronounceable chemicals whose job it is to all but kill you so it can kill the cancer. Sometimes it's also full of deadly radiation that makes your skin turn black and blister. It's full of morphine and hallucinations. It's full of wondering if you'll wake up tomorrow. It's mortal fear. When I was just a kid, it was wondering if my mom would ever get better, helping her with her wig, shaving her head because her arm was too sore from the mastectomy and she couldn't stand the random tufts of hair left, watching her gleefully eat a basket of fresh strawberries because she loved them so, and then hearing her vomit them back up again fifteen minutes later. I watched her turn into a sagging pile of skin and bones. And then she didn't come home from the hospital.

Listen, people: My mom died when she was 42. We watched her die over the course of 2 years. You cannot know what that's like unless you've gone through it. Cancer is hell. It's hell for the person who has it, and it's hell for everyone close to them. It is not pink. Stop trying to make it cute. Cancer is not your goddamned friend.

Stop it with the fucking pink crap.

And read this:
http://cancerinmythirties.wordpress.com/2012/10/13/national-no-bra-day-and-breast-cancer-awareness-month-or-please-put-that-pink-can-of-soup-down-put-your-bra-back-on/

(Cross posted on facebook and google+)

I have to put this link somewhere so I can find it again, so I'll put it here:

http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2013/08/meaning-is-healthier-than-happiness/278250/

Honestly, I knew this.

In about an hour and a half, it will be exactly 31 years ago that my grandmother sat my brother and me down to tell us that our mom had died. It was a Saturday. Grandma had got the call at 3 o'clock in the morning. Mom had passed away in her sleep.

There are two things that are really horrible about this other than the intrinsic horrible-ness: a mother should never get a call that her daughter has died, and little kids shouldn't be told their mother has died.

And yet. It happened.

I dread this day every year. I am 40 years old, but on this day every year I am 9, and I remember the shock and loss I felt when grandma told us.

Things are sort of vague after that. The next memories I have are of the funeral and the burial. My dad being utterly sad, which was maybe the most startling thing. What do you do to make your parent happier when they've just lost the love of their life? When you're a kid, you can't grasp this. You just stumble around feeling helpless.

Then school in the fall. That was the year with Mrs. Campbell, who I'm sure I've written about before. Because I didn't do much in class but sit around and stare at the wall or draw, she used to come by and practically yell "woe is me, Katie! Woe is me! Oh, woe!" in my face, in front of everyone. It was her way of telling me to just get over it. With those words, she made me feel guilty, weak, inadequate and very, very confused. I hated her deeply then, and I hate her deeply now. I'm not the kind of person to really hate anyone. But her? She was just mean. Mean to the core.

I wasn't looking for sympathy. I wanted my mom back. I wanted my normal life with my family back. I can't properly express how the death of a parent when you're a kid suddenly turns your life upside down. Your whole reality is shifted and in many ways, you're not sure how things are supposed to be. Nothing's stable anymore. You realize you have no control over anything, you've just lost your best friend, your other parent is absent because he's going through his own private hell, you feel helpless. You flounder. You wonder how the hell you're going to get through the day - for years.

I can't properly explain how things changed when I lost my mom just as I can't possibly understand what life with two parents alive and happy would have been like. You would think I'd have "gotten over it" by now, but now. Today, I am still 9. My grandmother is sitting on the couch, arms around my brother and me, telling us the news.

The logical part of your brain says you can go on and it'll be fine. You need to learn to be normal. But I can say with no small amount of authority that this is impossible. You can't. You just can't. It's not fine. And it hasn't been fine for 31 years. And I've been to therapy and I've talked to doctors and I've sat with mom's friends. And really, truly, I'm about as normal as it gets in my situation. That's it. You lose a parent when you're a kid, you grow up carrying a bottomless pit of hurt when you still haven't learned how the world works yet. And I will absolutely admit that I am angry and jealous of everyone I meet with two parents - perhaps not as much now, though. If they're divorced and there's complaining, I bite my lip not to point out that at least they're both still alive. If a parent dies when the son or daughter is grown, I bite my lip not to say that at least they grew up with both parents. Perhaps I am mean. But I am jealous.

Recently, I got to hear a story about a girl in high school who had lost her mother a couple of years before. She had apparently been "acting out" and was being a general bitch. At least one teacher had real issues with her because it seemed like she couldn't come to grips with how this 16 year old hadn't gotten over her mother's death yet. The world is a harsh place, and the student should realize that she's not going to get sympathy.

To that I say: please, please, please have some compassion. Please. Do not be a Mrs. Campbell. You do not know what is going through this kid's head, and in all likelihood, neither does she. Her world has been altered in a way that you can't imagine. She has to work out how to go on in life without her mom. Her life is no longer stable. She may look fine on the outside, but believe me, inside, she's a mess, and she's going to be a mess for years. She's angry and hurt. So, so angry. You can't imagine the level of anger - it's deep, it embeds itself into every fiber of your being. It's with you every minute of the day and night. She doesn't want sympathy, she just wants her mom back.

Death makes people do strange things. Well. Strange from everyone else's perspective. You sort of expect people to be sad and do sad things like get depressed, withdraw from social life, mope, cry a lot... sometimes, distraction seems better. There's a need to forget at least for a while. So you drink, or you yell, or you "act out".

My mom was 42 when she died. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 40. The subsequent two years were filled with chemotherapy and radiation after the mastectomy, which left her a mere husk of what she'd been. She couldn't eat because she'd just vomit everything back up. She wouldn't take the morphine because it made her hallucinate, so she was either in pain all the time or passed out from some other drug. Her hair fell out, and when it grew back in, it was white. The side of her chest where her breast was missing was blackened and covered in blisters. Yay, radiation. She stayed on the couch or in the hospital. The doctors did the best they could. I remember when my dad got the call that her cancer had metastasized and she'd been given about six months to live.

She had the sunniest personality. She made me pretty dresses and put ribbons in my hair. She was always making something. She could draw better than anyone else. She was the best cook in the whole world. She read us the best stories. She was friends with everyone - every once in a while, some random person asks me if I am Carolyn's daughter because they say I look like her. There are tears and there's conversation, and I am so happy to have found someone else who knew my mom. She always got out the silver and linen for holiday meals. Christmas was wonderful. My mom was wonderful. Wonderful and perfect.

I miss my mom, and I just want her back, goddammit.