How Did THAT Happen?

I went through some of my older posts because I noticed that they didn't have tags/labels.  So I tagged/labeled them.  When I exited and went to view blog I saw that it had totally rearranged all my posts!  I have tried and tried to get them back in order, but was unsuccessful.  So have fun trying to figure out what post came first, or second, or even what year it was written.

*sigh*

So this post is not a total waste I will put some adorable photos of some of my grands and their reactions to my little chicks.  Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

And here is a photo of my poor traumatized chickies trying to get away from the little peoples.

Christmas

Gathering and smiles

...and watching and waiting

....time to relax

....babies to cuddle

....Grandmas to visit

.....sisters to Skype

....dinner to eat

 

Getting Down and Dirty

Guess what we did last night for fun........

Not Gone. And Not Forgotten.

On Sunday, April 3, 2016 at 9:00 am I met my daughter Joni and her family at my sister’s house.  We were there to visit my mom who had just come home from the hospital the day before.  I took a photo of Joni’s family next to the bed where my mom lay.  She visited with us and seemed like she was in such a good place.  She commented on how well the doctors and nurses had treated her in the hospital.  The visit was short, but sweet.

At noon I returned to visit my mom with my other daughter Lisa, and her family.  Mom seemed a little more distressed at this visit.  She was reaching toward the window when we arrived and asked me to open it.  Still, she was very conversant and happy and seemed to be very peaceful. 

That night at about 9:00 I started communicating with my sister about my mom.  She informed me that mom was having a very hard time breathing.  After a few texts back and forth I asked her, “should I come over?”  Her answer floored me.  “If you want.  I don’t think she’ll be here in the morning.” 

Of course I went right over.  My mom was already gone.  Her body was still there, heart beating, lungs breathing and tissues living, but I could tell at first glance that the essence of my mom was gone. I arrived at around 10.  She died right before midnight.

I think you always look back at situations like this and think of things that you should have done differently.  One thing that I regret is not letting all my kids know about their grandmother’s death sooner.  I sent a text.  I think part of me just couldn’t deal with physically speaking the words.

But because I just sent a text we had a sweet little experience.  The next day I was talking to Lisa and she told me a story.  She was in bed asleep and a few minutes after midnight her boys both started laughing and talking.  Lisa just laid in bed hoping they would go back to sleep, which they eventually did.  The next morning when Lisa got up she saw my text and realized that Grandma Haroldsen must have been the one who woke up the boys.  She just stopped by on her way out to say goodbye.

Another sweet blessing came on Tuesday morning.  My niece’s 2 year old daughter came crying into my niece’s bedroom.  “Someone was here,” she said. The mom asked who and her daughter said, “Grandma Haroldsen.  And she said she lives in heaven now and had to go.”  Then the 2 year old started to cry because she missed her.   

Some things happened when my dad died.  I had 4 or 5 dreams that were especially significant and kind of surprising.  But things also happened when I was awake and just living my life.  The TV I was watching would randomly keep changing channels, when washing my hands in a public bathroom the drying towels dispenser would suddenly turn on and spew out paper towels, lights would flicker on and off when I was trying to paint.  One morning when I had just awoken I felt my dad’s hands pat me on top of my head, just like he used to do. One day while standing in the kitchen with my sister and talking about dad, a fake bunch of flowers fell off the top shelf of a bookcase and landed right between us.  In each instance I immediately knew it was dad. 

I’m not sure if I’ll have those same kinds of experiences with my mom now that she’s passed, but I wouldn’t be surprised.

We may not be able to see them, but they are not gone.

I can't wait until I see them. 

Wensleydale Experiment

I am the first to admit that I'm not a very proficient spinner.  I bought a wheel off of Craigslist, and had to drive 200 miles to pick it up.  I didn't know the first thing about it.  I wasn't even sure how big the wheel was going to be and hoped it would fit into my car.

I had nothing to worry about.  When I first laid eyes on my "baby"  I was slightly shocked at how small it was.  

And how cute it was!  The lady I purchased it from told me it was handmade by a Mennonite man who made one for each of his daughters.  He didn't want the art of spinning to die out so did his bit to encourage it. 

I love my wheel!  We had about a year of getting acquainted and with me learning her little quirks and nuances, but she and I are really pretty good friends now.  A big thanks goes to my niece who has been spinning much longer than I, for showing me a thing or 2 about the whole process. (Thanks SpinninAGoodYarn!)

Back to my Wensleydale......

Wensleydale wool has a pretty long staple (length of the fiber) and is kind of wiry and coarse.  When I attended a fiber fair I was entranced with all the billowing clouds of fluffy fiber.  I was drawn to a table that had this wool, all combed and carded and ready to spin. I really had no clue what kind of wool it was, but  I loved the beautiful grey color and the spongy soft feeling of it. I bought a bagful of the stuff. 

That was back while I was still getting to know my wheel, so the bag lay mostly undisturbed for over a year. 

A couple of months back I decided it was time to spin the beautiful grey cloud of fluff. 

 

It was a joy to work with.  I think the perfect wool for a beginner spinner like me.  It seemed to hang on to the other fiber as I was drafting it out, and didn't let me pull it apart like some of the other slicker wools.  As I started spinning I decided to add a little element to my yarn. 

I had previously dyed some Alpaca fiber, using Kool Aid, and wanted to introduce some of that.  I would spin some wool for a while and then switch to colored Alpaca for a while, then back to the grey wool, and back and forth. 

I wasn't sure how I was going to be able to ply this with another strand and have the colors match up, but soon solved my problem by determining to ply with a solid strand of grey. 

I really loved how it turned out!  Kind of heathery and muted.

With the plying done, I set the twist by washing the wool gently (as I could tell it would felt if I was vigorous), and hung it to dry.

After drying I used a bit to knit up a swatch.  I love how it knits, how it feels and how it looks.  It will make a great pair of socks.

Synchronicity

A coincidence?  I think not.

About 4 days ago I  all of a sudden started thinking about a doctor that we used to go to.  I thought about how I really liked him, how he cared for my kids when I took them in and how comfortable I felt there (not a normal feeling when going to the doctor), and how he had done a small surgical procedure on Mike back when I was about 4 months pregnant with Andy.  A procedure that virtually assured that Andy would be the last of our children. *wink* I knew there was some issue with him.  Something he was struggling with, but I didn't care.  I liked him!

I like him so much that I remember I painted a cookie jar lid for him to use in the office.  It was cut from wood and was painted to look like a bear wearing a lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck.  I also painted his name badge on it.  Dr. Spaulding.  

Today I saw this.

I think Dr. Spaulding must have died about the same time I started thinking about him.

Synchronicity in action.

Cross Patch

 

This kept going through my mind this morning.  It looks and feels nasty and cold outside.  I was putting on my shoes for work and kept looking at my spinning wheel just sitting there looking all cozy and warm with it's woolen homespun wound around the bobbin. 

I just looked up what Cross Patch was.  Apparently its a grumpy person.  Fitting somehow, because I didn't want to go to work.