Erm. . . .

So, the posts are pre-set to run over the next few days, as I will be off to Jasper, to knit and drink wine and generally enjoy myself. I'm at a knitting retreat with a friend.

I thought you might be interested in my to do list.

I will attempt to update it through the day.

1. Wake up (I'm not expecting this to be a problem. . .)
2. Paint Sewing Room - 1st and 2nd coats of second colour. Decide if roller is the problem, or if it is paint. Be cross either way, that the paint is not going on smoothly.
3. Go and buy PJ's for sake of roommate's sensibility on knitting retreat. (I do wear night shirts, but, believe in, ahem, airing things out. So, because I like Kuri, and I want her to stay friends with me. . . )
4. Dig up carrots. Finally. Also, consider the problem of the fridge again.
5. Remove evidence of dead mums, possibly by burying them in the compost heap.
6. Determine if the knitting classes have homework. Do homework if required. Also, figure out where I have to be when, so that I can actually catch the train on time.
7. Pack knitting projects, also, clean underpinnings. (Honestly, the knitting is more important than the clean underpinnings. Underpinnings can be swished out and hung over the shower rod to dry. Knitting on the other hand, must be brought)
8. Think about what sorts of things Mr. Spit could cook while gone. Possibly purchase something for him. Also, remind him, that he might be feeding his Mother in Law's cat.
9. Find pumpkins for front door.
10. Mail things to Alicia and Jen and Martha.

Finally, as they walk through a valley, would you keep Jenell and Rob and their wee twins in your heart? She's one of ours, and could use all the love they can get.

Silent Communion

She's been struggling with infertility for 6 years. The latest cycle failed. Again. Still. Always.

I didn't bring my son to work for others to ooh and ahh over. I can't even bring his photo to the office.

And I walked over to see the new baby, to ohhh and ahh, and coo. To tell his mum that he is the most beautiful baby ever. To rub his cheek and clasp his finger, and wish that my son had been like him.

I looked in her eyes. She looked in mine. My hand rested on her shoulder, for just a second.

No false promises that this time next year we will have children, no promises that things will get better, no stupid exhortions to buck up little camper.

Simply an acknowledgement that this was hard. Gut wrenching, heart breaking, head bowing, hard.

The pain in my heart, mirrored in her eyes.

Silent communion. Abiding. Strenght for the journey in what places we can find it.

You Just Don't do That

" You just don't do that, you just don't.

You have no idea who I am, or what I could have done to your child."

I was sitting, in the midst of my study group, when I watched this mother. She walked around the corner, had a hissy fit, put her 9 month old baby on the floor, walked away and left. She was all the way around the corner, way out of sight of this wee one.

This, in a busy downtown office building, on the mezzanine floor. A concourse, with the office towers above, and the entrance to the subway 200 feet away. With the street people and the homeless, and the odd drug addict, and busy office workers in suits. And no one looking down on the filthy floor, for a 9 month baby.

And I leaped out my chair. I stood there in my suit and heels and not even debating, I walked over to this baby. Who was sitting and crying on the floor. I knelt down and picked her up. Snuggled her up against my hip.

Began walking the 100 feet to where her mother was.

And her mother was heading towards me.

"That's my baby", she said.

"You don't know who I am. I could have grabbed her and run, and you would have never seen that. You just don't leave them like that. You just don't."

"But I had to get my son." I'm watching her. She put her daughter down out of sight, in the middle of a busy concourse, in an office tower, to go and get her son, from the same place she picked her daughter up.

"You just don't leave them. Children are precious. You never put them down and walk away. Never." I thrust the baby at her, and walked away. Back into my real world.

I wanted to say "His name was Gabriel, and when the time came, I had to put him down. Dressed and washed and loved. Rocked and sang to, I had to lay him down. And every morning I remember. And my heart breaks again. Please, for the love of all that's holy and true and real in this world, please, she's a beautiful little girl, and you just don't leave her. Ever."

Tonight is one of those nights that I'm screaming "Why me, and not her?"

Thank you

One of the challenges about being a dead baby mum is that you can't put your baby's photo up at work.

Or, more accurately you can, but it's going to cause problems. And while I'm always up for a fight, the fact is, that would be my son that someone is finding repellent, and I'm sorry, but I don't have that much of a fight in me. I don't want my beautiful and sweet son to be a fight.

But, as I look at desks with pictures of children on them, I am, again, still, always, left out.

Thanks to these guys, I can have Gabriel with me at work. There are no words to say how much this means. To both Mr. Spit and I.

Monday Miscellany

Ok, we have to break this into sections:

Domesticity:
Ok, I admit it. I have flunked domesticity 101, 201, 301, and 401. I'm hopeless. I don't iron my pillow cases, there are still carrots in the garden, and if I don't find the time to dig them up soon, they are going to rot. I had beautiful mum's for fall, but I forgot to water them, and they died.

But, my fridge, it still smells. And I CANNOT get rid of the smell. Someone please help. I swear, I am going to go and buy a new fridge. Honest. And my thrifty and ecologically sane mind cannot countenance getting rid of my fridge, just because it smells. But I can't handle it.

The Home Reno Front:
- Another weekend spent painting. Well, actually, it was spent napping, with brief spurts of painting.
-I went to the woodworker's show (With Mr. Spit, face it, can you actually see me using power tools?!).
- I have shower taps. They came in the mail. I am beyond excited. Now, I just have to book in the tub re-glazing guys, to get them to come and do the tub. It may be, perchance, that in a few weeks, I can have my first shower in 8 months!
- I should be done my sewing room by next week.
- The dining room should be done in about 3-4 weeks. We are almost at the painting stage.
- Which means, by the end of November, we should be home reno project free. We could actually spend our weekends without power tools and paint brushes, doing whatever it is that normal people do on weekends (Quick: someone tell us what normal people do, please!)

So, what were we talking about at dinner last night? Yes, that's right, what we wanted to do to the kitchen. Someone, for the love of hammers, take away our tools and paintbrushes. We promised ourselves, no more home reno projects. None. Not for an entire year. Maybe even two.
(But we could do the kitchen in stages, and it's so ugly and dysfunctional and we need to insulate the back entry and put a heating vent and a proper window in there, so that we can remove the door, so it looks better. . . . )

The Pet Front
Delta wants you to know that the dog in the picture on Friday Was. Not. Her. She's an apricot brindle, and that was a fawn, and she's MUCH PRETTIER. But the cats still don't like her.

The Bling Front

I got awards. Thanks so much to Busted and Nikki!

Saturday's are For Quotes

There are many men of principle in both parties in America, but there is no party of principle.

~Alexis de Tocqueville

A gentle reminder from the mists of history.

Hi!

I'm here. My Internet was down and I got home and, yeah, I didn't write a blog. (To be honest, I had no original thoughts either. Macro's. Cell formatting. Concatenate formulas, VLookup)

I thought I'd share a pictorial representation of how it's going with Delta and the cats.