creative.mother.thinking

explaining my life to strangers

Archives for September 2008

And once again I don’t quite know what to write about

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And as everybody knows a post that starts like this can only be more than a thousand words, not less. I am, again, in mild panic mode. In fact this may well become my new “normal”. This time it’s because I will be away for the weekend. Yes, you heard right, I, a capable, somewhat intelligent woman, am completely flustered because I will be going on a trip from Thursday to Sunday. Alone. On a train. In fact, all I have to do is to remember to take my wallet, ticket, and toothbrush and be at the station on time.

I really despise people who make a big deal out of nothing but, sadly, I appear to be one of them. I have been thinking about what to wear since June, and have gone into more detailed planning mode since two weeks ago. I still don’t know how the weather will be. So, I asked my husband to please wash all my clothes and hang them up to dry today because I had a very urgent hair dresser appointment.

I’m sorry to say that I spent hours of my life debating which purse to take, and – much more important – which books, and which knitting projects. I decided not to take a drop spindle though. (And I won’t take my spinning wheel. I’m sure you’re happy to know.)

So, where am I going, you might ask? Well, it’s a family reunion. Cousins of my father will meet and I thought it might be fun and/or interesting to meet a whole bunch of relatives that I’ve never seen before. There aren’t even that much stories about them. They are all descendants of my maternal grandmother’s siblings. Of her many siblings (and I don’t know how many there were) none is still alive.

Since most of my father’s relatives come from Saxonia there was a long time after World War II when it was very hard to meet. They lived in the GDR, and we lived in the FRG. Nowadays there is only one German Republic again, and so, some years ago, my father went to see his relatives again. That family reunion seems to have been a success and so they planned another one. Which I’m going to attend.

At first I was all excited, and then I realized that I would spend a weekend with my parents without my son and husband as a buffer between us, and that – because my son will stay at home – they will be smoking constantly all day long. Also, I’m nervous about the 25 or so people that I will meet for the first time. I want to make a good impression. On the other hand, these are people who have known my father for more than sixty years, and they still want to meet him.

I wonder if these relatives of mine will look like me. I’m looking more like my father than like my mother, and I have been told by my grandmother that I resemble her grandmother very much. Will there be more who have heads shaped liked that of Bert from Sesame Street, who have a yellowish tinge to their skin (like Bert again, come to think of it), and freakishly small hands?

My father sent a newsletter to everyone beforehand where he misquote me, told everybody that I was excited about meeting them because I had heard so many stories, and got my whole education wrong. The problem is that I was interested in the meeting because I didn’t hear any stories at all.

So I might be facing a weekend of meeting cousin this, and cousin that without ever getting them straight.

Of course, like usual I deal with all this uncertainty by worrying about the least important things first. What to wear. And I know perfectly well that I always do this, and that I still hope to somehow magically conjure the perfect traveling wardrobe that transforms me into the woman I long to be without having to iron anything or wear heels. It’s like I still dream of this very stylish hairdo that will make my hair look much more thicker and luscious than it actually is and that only needs to be dried off with a towel, and maybe brushed casually. Just today my hairdresser reminded me – again – that she can’t work miracles and so I’m looking like I always do only without my bangs hanging into my eyes.

Same with the wardrobe. I’ll wear the same things I always wear. Though if I manage to buy a button for my new, um, cardigan, and sew said button on I might have something new to wear. My mother won’t like it though. She’ll pull at the hem every time she sees me from behind, and tell me I should have made it longer to hide my big butt. And then I had this fabulous idea of knitting myself a matching scarf from my handspun. Until Thursday. I’ll only have to wash and dry the yarn, and then knit about a hundred hours or so. That shouldn’t be a problem, shouldn’t it?

So I keep telling me that there is nothing to get nervous about, and that I just pack the same things I always pack, and that everything will be alright.

You know what I’m looking forward to the most? On Thursday and Sunday each I’ll have eight hours on the train. All by myself.

No more mushy brain

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It all started when I got pregnant. My IQ dropped by about 30 points at least, and my memory, once razor-sharp, resembled a sieve. I found this quite inconvenient and irritating but not as much as my husband. Well, once I figured out that it was because of hormones I thought I could deal with it, and surely it would all miraculously be reverted once I had the child, right? Um, not so much.

I had the child, and, as a lot of you know already, there still were hormones. breast-feeding hormones that make you not only a bit dumb, and forgetful, no, you also start to burst into tears for no apparent reason. (On the other hand I was like that when pregnant too.) Top that with serious sleep deprivation, and you end up with a woman quite different from the one I was before.

Still, a year later, breast-feeding was over, I was sleeping a bit more – not enough of course – and so I waited for myself to turn normal again. You know, with a functioning brain. One that didn’t forget everything. I felt foggy and mushy, as if I had to make do with a blunt mind. Since it clearly couldn’t be the hormones anymore, I blamed it on lack of sleep.

I already told you that I went to my doctor because I started to have my period about every three weeks which is a bit too often, and that I started to take medicine for it. Agnus castus to be precise with a helping of Vitamin B for additional help with PMS. Well, imagine my surprise when, after a while, my brain went out of its foggy, mushy state. For the first time since April 2002 I almost feel like myself again.

So it seems that indeed hormones had been making me dull, and forgetful, and put me in a low mood for six years.

It’s a bit embarrassing to be so driven by hormones. I feel that my body shouldn’t work like that. It should just function properly without me paying much attention. Please?

Notice, too, that I said “almost myself again”. I fear I will never regain all of my mind power back. And I’m a bit scared of menopause. The time when hormones will go wonky again. I feel that almost 30 years of PMS is enough.

I thought, I’d share though because there might be others out there blaming their foggy brains to lack of sleep when there might be other things responsible too.

At least it isn’t boring around here

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I might have had my first ever asthma attack on Saturday. But then, I might not.

My husband and I were going to mindfulness day again, and we were a bit late for the train. So we started running towards the station. Down the steps, up the steps, and along the platform. It was seven in the morning and winterly cold. So, I started running down the stairs, and halfway down I get winded and think, “That’s weird. I didn’t know I’m that unfit.” Halfway up the other stairs I started wheezing. And my legs felt heavy. And I thought I’d better stop running because I couldn’t anyway and somehow I didn’t feel that well. And then I walked as fast as I could seeing my husband running away from me towards the train, and then I started running again, and then my body did this weird thing where after each exhale it just went on exhaling spasmodically with a sound like a coughing.

I made it to the train (which then sat there right at the station for the next two minutes or so), plunged down on a seat, and went on to breathe like that for the next few minutes while thinking, “Well, that is odd. what is that? Oh, maybe I’m having an asthma attack.”

Somehow I wasn’t especially mindful for the rest of the day. I didn’t quite know what to do, or where to go but then I thought I’d better see a doctor. So, today in the morning I rang the office of one of my husband’s students who happens to be an internist, and when I told them, “I think I had an asthma attack.” they told me to come in immediately. The doctor first asked me a lot about heart conditions in my family (there are none), and I was thoroughly checked. So now I can say that as far as x-rays, ultrasound, blood tests, cardiograms, and that test where they see if your lungs work properly go, I’m perfectly healthy. While I’m happy that I didn’t have a heart attack, and that all the tests for asthma showed up negative, there still is an odd feeling to my breathing. And it feels like somebody is sitting on my chest.

So, I’m either a hypochondriac, or it’s like it often is, I go to the doctor and say that there’s something wrong, and they don’t find anything, and then I go back the next year, and they don’t find anything, and then I go back the next year, and after a few years of this finally they see that there might be something off after all. Or it might be like with my thyroid problem where I had my thyroid checked once a year for about twenty years before finding out that the only thing wrong with my thyroid is it’s unusual shape that leads doctors to think that I have a thyroid problem.

I think I won’t be running in cold weather again soon. And I think that I want to know more about allergic asthma. The doctor sent me home with, “Maybe it was an asthma attack but I didn’t find anything. If you don’t feel better in two days, come back. If you feel like you’re having an attack, come in immediately.”

At least he didn’t tell me I’m imagining it all. But then he has to take me seriously. I have been his singing teacher after all.

How was your weekend?

I got my spinning wheel!

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As I told you I ordered it the day that I sold my congas. And then I waited. And waited. And waited. And after a week I considered asking the shop where I had ordered it (online, there is no such thing as a spinning wheel shop near me), and then I waited some more. Ten days after my order I sent an e-mail, and got a very nice reply saying there had been problems, and that it would be shipping the next day. The next day it was here. Weird.

Sometime I suspect that online stores who happen to forget your order never say so but they’ll tell you something along the lines of “We thought we had one in stock but then we hadn’t.” or “It took our supplier a week to deliver.” Which can happen. I’d just like to know instead of hanging around the house each morning for eight days in a row hoping not to be out when the postman rings.

But I won’t complain, here it is:

box

I had the opportunity to take the whole morning assembling it because my student didn’t show up.

Then I de-assembled part of it again because I had managed to screw some things together the wrong way, then I tried to treadle it, was happy, and then there was this noise. I dis-assembled another part, oiled everything twice, re-assembled and started to – try to spin.

It’s as if I have to learn it all over again. Even though I’ve set it to the slowest setting it’s much too fast for my fumbling attempts at drafting. But I can see that it will be fun once I get fast enough. I like spinning with a drop spindle but always feel that I spend more time winding the yarn onto the spindle than actually spinning. Well, that won’t be the problem with the wheel.

Here’s a picture of my new “spinning corner”, the place where my congas used to stand:

Here’s the wheel, an Ashford Kiwi (she’s more beautiful in real life):

And here’s my bad handspun:

This post took me three days to write. That’s not because I spun so much, it’s because I’m easing back into teaching and normal life mode. The good thing is that today’s 15-minute-attempt at spinning on the wheel went much better than the two days before because I actually had taken the time to look into my spinning book under “when you have the feeling that the yarn is pulled away from you”. Aha, I eased the brake tension, and it went much better. Also, fluffing the roving before spinning it is highly recommended. Also, when I treadle more slowly the yarn gets less kinky. Revelation after revelation.

It’s too bad that I don’t like art yarn at all. Now I have about 250 grams of it at home.

Celebrating the last day of summer break

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It’s a quiet celebration but a celebration nonetheless. (And there will be champagne. And salmon.) As much as I like not working I also love to start teaching again in fall. It really feels like fall today, the temperatures just dropped from “warm enough to swim in a lake” to “maybe we should turn on central heating again”.

I also love going back to a more regular life, I only hope that it won’t turn out to include only housework and teaching. We’ll see how that goes.

At the start of summer break I posted my to-do-list here on the blog. I thought it might be interesting to see what I managed to do. Here we go:

1. I did not read the books I borrowed from a friend (“Those Left Behind”, and “Quicksilver” by Neal Stephenson) but I read all the books of the “Twilight”-series (sorry, Mad), and a couple of mystery novels.

2. I did play my piano once or twice.

3. I did play my guitar a bit more often than the piano.

4. I spun 200g of combed merino top with my drop spindles. I’m quite pleased with how it went in the end. I would have spun more if I hadn’t decided to get me a spinning wheel. I’ve been waiting for that for ten days now, not wanting to start spinning something on the drop spindle.

5. I almost sew the dress I have been wanting to make since last summer. I spent an afternoon sewing it, then I found that the part where the top and the skirt connect (you know, the waist seam) are not the same width (that’s what happens if you just eyeball everything, especially seam allowances), and use marker that fades over time), I got frustrated and since then I have been waiting to have a bit of free time together with enough patience to fiddle with the seams for as long as it might take to somehow make those two things connect.

6. I sew two reusable grocery bags. One for a friend of mine, and one for me. Now I only have fabric and notions for one more bag around, a bag that will match the summer dress.

7. I went on vacation.

8. I didn’t take my son to the zoo. But we did a couple of other things together.

9. I didn’t visit the botanical garden (I wanted to see the roses in bloom, in fact I have been wanting to see that for years now but never managed.) I think the roses will be blooming again next year…

10. I went swimming two times. In actual natural water.

11. I had my eyes checked, and had my contacts cleaned so that I can wear them again.

12. I didn’t finish the red and the green cardigan I’m working on. But I finished another lace shawl.

13. I didn’t design socks for red cotton yarn and knit them. But I knit my “Poisoned with Chili“-socks, and I even got an award for them. I belong to a ravelry-group for German sock knitters who have a competition for “sock of the month”. What can I say, the winner got one more vote than me. But I’m happy and proud.

Socke des Monats August

14. I didn’t have dinner at the Osteria Italiana.

15. I didn’t see a movie with my husband in an actual movie theater

16. I did more exercise but not quite as much as I had wanted.

17. I didn’t read my two NaNoWriMo-novels

18. I wrote two stories that might turn into something longer. I’m really excited.

19. I did get back into the habit of doing housework but not cooking.

20. I didn’t sing and record any improvisations.

On my husband’s list there was also:

1. We didn’t go to the mountains with our son but decided to postpone the mountain hike until next year.

2. We didn’t go to the Olympiaturm with our son, but we went to a Buddhist celebration.

3. We did harvest our own potatoes. They are already eaten up (and they were delicious).

4. We did take a walk to the Andechs monastery with our son (and have some of their delicious beer of which our son doesn’t get any). We had considered this something like a long-ish stroll but to our son it was enough for one day. That was the reason we didn’t go to the mountains this year.

I did spend an awful lot of time dealing with my broken computer, first making sure it was broken, then taking it to the shop, getting my old computer out, setting that up again, looking for backups, and software, and updates, then I had my new computer fixed, and had to do the whole software, update, backup routine again since all data on my hard disk was lost. (Folks, please backup. Everything. regularly. And see if your backups work. I have a nice DVD labeled “iTunes music May 2008” that won’t load.)

Computer problems not withstanding these were about the best summer months we’ve had in years. We also bought a new bed for our son, spent quite a bit of time as a family, sat in beer gardens, and took it easy. It’s summer break, so it isn’t so much about to-do-lists.

Now I’m ready for fall.

And today isn’t only the last day of summer break, it’s also De‘s birthday. Happy birthday to you, De.

I didn’t quite know what to write about her but then I found I had said it all when I wrote her a letter last year. So, let’s drink a bit of champagne again, to a new school year, and another year of bloggy friends.