big luck

September 21, 2010

my life seems to happen in bursts,
as if i’m riding the back of the fabled hare.
waves of luck come at me and
all of a sudden


this week, i was given (what i consider to be)
a great honor; i was asked to test knit for stephen west.

i admit i squeed.

then i used my lovely monday off to knock out the first project.
(which i can’t really show you but it is very cute).

late into the night,
after binding off,
my mom calls veronica.

this is obviously very odd
what with her being my mom and not veronica’s.
during my happy day off,
one where i didn’t care where my phone was,
my grandma had a heart attack.

she was doing better but at eighty-eight,
you don’t bounce back easily.

the doctors were completely surprised by how well she pulled through,
and the next 24 hours would determine whether she lived or died.

my mom assured me that there was nothing i could do,
that i should just stay home,
go to work,
and she’d call if i was needed.

i popped a little more xanax than i should,
so when my pillow hit my head,
my eyes might close.

(i did somehow manage to do a single crochet edge to finish “stephen west test knit #1” while out of my mind on xanax. but weaving in my end took me a solid 30 mins).

taking more than the recommended dosage of xanax meant that i was out of it this morning, and didn’t hear my phone frantically ringing. it was my lovely coworkers wondering why in the hell i wasn’t at work nearly and hour after we opened. (i do also blame google calendar for not updating my ical correctly. it says i was to come in at 3 but i digress).

they then sent my good friend/loyal customer/neighbor lisa b over to make sure i wasn’t dead. (HUMILIATING from a work ethic standpoint)

i wasn’t.

i was in the shower.

dripping wet in my comfy robe,
veronica tells me about all these shenanigans.

i find my pants,
then my keys,
and operate heavy machinery while shaking of a prescription drug haze.

my coworkers forgave me.
i went about my business.


the yarn harlot and tina announced another silk retreat.
“what the fuck?!” i said!
“it’s only money. i’m signing up again!”

so i sent my little email,
praying that somehow,
i’d get in.

i go home,
do my thing,
knit on stephen west test knit #2
and the phone rings.

my grandma is on her way out.
she’s having a lucid moment and my mom thought i should take the opportunity to say goodbye.

though she can barely catch her breath to speak,
my grandma knew who i was,
understood what i was saying,
and said she loves me too.

i hung up,
and did what any other sane person would do:
i stuffed my face till i felt better.

i don’t.
she could go at any moment,
a week.

all i know is this is the end,
and i need to be ready.

now as i’m checking flights,
combining my savings and tiny bit of rhinebeck money to cover the cost of a ticket home, my computer makes that friendly little “bong” noise, letting me know i have mail.

i fucking got into the silk retreat again,
but now i can’t afford it.

i’ve sent my regrets to the yarn harlot herself,
feeling like an ass for wasting her time.

now i’m blogging.
because jesus fuck i need to remember this day.
it’s yet another life lesson from bitches get stitches:

pray for an uneventful life.
’cause god knows i’d give anything for one right now.

edit: my grandma past away right after i posted this.
she was surrounded by family
and went peacefully.

i miss you grandma.