Carole Knits

october zinnia
october zinnia
martinis with a view
martinis with a view
gettysburg fence for
gettysburg fence for
germinate shawl on rocks
germinate shawl on rocks
field of flags 2
field of flags 2
color affection with edge
color affection with edge
cedar leaf shawlette 2
cedar leaf shawlette 2
3_27_2014
3_27_2014
3_18_13
3_18_13
2_24_2014
2_24_2014
1_11_13
1_11_13

Weekending

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Can I tell you a secret? (realizing that it’s probably not a secret and it definitely won’t be a secret once I tell you) I never left the house all weekend and it was fabulous.

I did some errands on Friday including a visit with the head of the retirement board for my county (I have a 6 year plan, friends) and a trip to the grocery store where I laid in supplies for several days. I was home by 2pm on Friday and other than going out in the yard for some fresh air I was able to just.stay.home.

It was heavenly.

I still did stuff, of course. I finished a pair of socks. I finished 2 books. I did yoga every day. I watched Oscar nominated movies. I entertained friends and made a fabulous boeuf bourguignon. I puttered and did some journaling and deep thinking.

Mostly, though, I laid in a good bit of time to myself which I know I will have to draw on in the days to come because this coming weekend I am going to a really big municipal government conference. And it will be people-y. So people-y.

Isn’t it amazing when you reach the point where you know what you need and you do it? I hope your weekend was just what you needed, too.

A Month of Photos and A Video: December 2019

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January is practically half over and I have yet to post December’s media stuff! I decided to put the one second video first this time just to mix things up. And also because I have things to say about my photos this month and I wanted those thoughts to be at the end of the post.

So. First the video:

And now the photos:

Here’s the deal.

Frankly, it’s been hard to go back and look at these and get them ready to share with you. There’s nothing that indicates that our lives fell apart in the middle there, but in my head the month is very clearly divided into before Randy died and after Randy died . . . exactly one month ago today. I honestly don’t think it’s reflected in the photos . . . no one else can probably tell that anything changed . . . there are still twinkle lights and cookies and all that’s lovely about December. But.  The photos at the beginning of the month feel joyful to me. There’s Dale in the snow with his new hat. There is a silly outtake from our Christmas card photo shoot. There is the joy of our town tree lighting. And then there is the rest of the month. When I look at the photo from December 13th, I remember taking that picture of our Christmas tree before we headed out to a party, only to be called back home shortly after we left because something tragic had happened. When I look at the photo of our town gazebo, I remember walking down there with Dale, hoping to feel the peace of the season despite our sadness.  When I see that photo of Jackie asleep on our bed, I remember that as I was taking it Dale was in the living room with Luke and they were telling Randy stories and trying to make sense of what had happened. I love to document our life events with photos but this event . . . this before and after . . . it’s a story I don’t know how to tell in photos.

There are feelings behind those photos that aren’t directly reflected in the photos themselves. But they are there. And they are sad. Those feelings are relentless and heavy. But it’s life and sometimes life breaks your heart. And you take photos of twinkle lights and cocktails anyway.

You carry on.

Thanks for listening.

 

Sometimes Mondays

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Are the start of the 2nd week of Christmas break. And that’s just fine with me.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were lovely times with our family and friends. There were moments that were sad and difficult, as I knew there would be, but the love of those who matter most in the world was all around us and it made all the difference.

Since then we have been hibernating a lot. Reading books. Knitting. Listening to music. We did venture out on Saturday to see Bombshell and then we went to a local restaurant afterwards. I almost said let’s just go home because I knew we’d see people that would want to express their condolences and I sort of didn’t want to face that. But I decided it would be better to be present, to open myself up to receiving kindness, than it would be to hide at home. I was right and we saw a whole bunch of people we know and it was fine. Comforting, even.

I’ve got things on my list that need to be finished this week. Errands to run. A New Year’s Eve dinner with friends to prepare for. Thank you notes to write. Catching up on end-of-the-year stuff like updating Ravelry, sharing the books I read in 2019, finalizing my 20 in 2020 list, you know the drill.

It feels good to share with all of you again. It feels right to be back in this space. It makes me feel like me again.

And that’s a really good thing.

Merry Christmas

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This is the photo that was going to be our Christmas card this year. And those cards, well, they didn’t happen. We didn’t forget, we didn’t run out of time, we made a conscious decision this year to not go forward with the printing and sending of this particular card. Instead, we will send a different card. A card wishing everyone a Happy New Year.

It’s the right decision for Dale and I at this time. And it’s not because we don’t wish everyone a Merry Christmas because of course we wish that for all of our family and friends. It’s because this photo and those smiles are from . . . before. Before we lost Randy. Before we began a walk down a road we never wanted to take. Before we saw grief ravage our lives and the lives of those we love most in the world in such an all encompassing way.

Right now we are being held together by the love and support of our family, friends, and community. Everywhere Dale and I have gone this week . . . the grocery store, the liquor store, Town Hall . . . we have seen people who have stopped us, given us a hug and a sad smile, shared our tears, and told us how sorry they are about Randy. Our friends have flooded our house with cards, flowers, and food. They have dropped off thoughtful gifts and taken over tasks that are generally no big deal but right now feel overwhelming. They have supported us and prayed for us and held us in their thoughts and it has been incredibly comforting.

Randy was a firm believer in the show must go on and so, we are having our annual Christmas Eve party tonight. We will eat Swedish meatballs and other delicious Christmas foods, we will drink wine and toast the holiday and be together. We will sing and laugh and do all the things we’ve always done. There will be a layer of sadness to all of this and I know there will be tears and hard moments. But I also know this: we will be able to handle our sadness because we will be with people who share it with us.

Merry Christmas to all of you. Wrap your arms around the people you love. Hold them close and appreciate every moment you have with them. Find the hope, feel the love, and celebrate with joy.

As We Move Forward . . .

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I cannot thank you all enough for the outpouring of love, compassion, understanding, and sympathy in the comments on yesterday’s post. It means so much to me and I have truly savored every comment and have felt surrounded by your love and kindness. I will try and respond to each of you individually but in the meantime please know that I have read them all and shared them with Dale. When the time is right I will also share all of them with Mary.

For right now I think I might need a little space from blogging. It just seems . . . odd . . . to start talking about regular stuff like knitting and reading and what we’re eating around here – which is actually amazing since the food has been pouring in from friends and it’s been very very good – when Randy’s death is still so fresh and painful.

In the meantime, you might enjoy reading this article that was in our local paper, the paper Randy wrote for, the paper Mary wrote for, and in fact the paper my brother worked for as an advertising executive for many years and my nana worked for as a bookkeeper. It illustrates just how special Randy was.

I’ll be focusing on happy memories and I promise I’ll be back soon.

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