Thursday, 17 September 2009
Yes, in 1968, my sister and I were Irish Dancers. I'm not quite sure why, on the day this photo was taken, she (on the left) is resplendent in Irish Dancing costume and shoes, and I am not. Maybe I was getting a bit too old for it. Or maybe she was just better than I was and went in more competitions. She did win way more medals that I did.
Nowadays, we are no longer competitive. We are closer than we have ever been - even though we live so far apart. And so, a few years ago, we declared our very own Sisters Day. We picked a month that was about half way between our birthday months and xmas, and a date that was half way between our birth dates. We send each other something lovely on Sisters Day.
This year she sent me a delightful mix of the old and the new - knowing how much I would love both. Purple hand-crafted pot holders, wrapped in a vintage scarf, with a vintage card.
Well, not exactly a vintage gift card, but more a vintage card of hooks and eyes that cost 15c for size 1. How cool is that!
Happy Sisters Day to my favourite sister.
Sunday, 13 September 2009
It's a lovely easy pattern for a beginner lace knitter like me. I knit it with no mods to the pattern as written, and it makes a lovely wide but shallow shawl that can be wrapped around the neck like a scarf. Knit in Naturally Haven 4ply from NZ - lovely and soft, and very purple!
Saturday, 12 September 2009
I have made these felted clogs for myself as well. Love 'em.
Friday, 11 September 2009
But the strangest part about grief is that you never know when it is around the corner, waiting to come at you like a train, mowing you down with the devastating sadness that you thought you had left behind. Making you sob. Sob like you may never stop.
My Mum died three years ago yesterday. This year, I was wise enough to take the day off work, just in case that old companion, grief, caught me unawares again. It did.
I wonder about the strength of this emotion, that it can make me weep so.
The funny thing is that my Mum used to drive me crazy, as mum’s often do. But, hell’s bells, I loved her so much.
Yes, I know that Mum was old (well, not that old, in my opinion), and that she wasn’t really well. She wasn’t very mobile and had a lot of chronic pain. But those who once said to me ‘at least she’s not in pain anymore’ just don’t understand. That doesn’t make me miss her any the less. And I do miss her, so very much.
While my day yesterday was saturated with tears, I knew that calmness would eventually return. I made myself go out on a pre-arranged date with wonderful girlfriends who didn’t know Mum, who didn’t know it was any sort of anniversary, and who make me laugh and laugh. What good medicine that was.
And next year? It will probably be the same. And the year after that. Grief keeps waiting just around the corner, ready to bowl us over.