The boy and I made our annual pilgrimage to the doctor yesterday. And it is a pilgrimage indeed, because it’s now a 100-km round trip. Find a new family doctor in our new area, you say? Ha. There is a severe GP shortage in our province, our new neighbourhood is reputedly particularly bad for GP waitlists, and I intend to keep our awesome family doctor until she retires, thank you. Besides, so long as I combine the doctor trip with other errands out west like visiting or shopping or a cello lesson, it’s fine.
The boy now weighs 42 lbs and is 110 cm tall (oh, Canada, how we love you, operating with one foot firmly in Imperial and one in Metric). I enjoyed his appointment because he could answer the doctor’s questions himself: Does he wear a helmet when he rides his bicycle? (Yes, and now he rides a two-wheeler, and the first day he almost fell off this side, and then that side, but then he did it, and he and Dada had a race, and he can ride without balancing on training wheels, right Mama?) Does he drink a lot of milk? (Yes, and Mama found milk boxes at the supermarket, so he can take milk to school! [Mama bought a small Rubbermaid straw bottle to pack milk in instead, because the milk boxes are stupidly expensive. Mama is also seriously considering investing in the dairy trade, or failing that, buying a cow.]) Does he always wear a seatbelt in the car? (Yes, of course, but there are no seatbelts on the school bus, they just have to sit in the seats and not move.)
I am not dead. I am, however, back on my fibro meds, and have a couple of tests to schedule. Back on the meds means I will be loopy for a couple of weeks before it all settles again, but hey, I am loopy without them, kind of stumbling around and unable to focus on much, so at least this upcoming loopy will be working towards something better.
I’m drawing up a proposed table of contents and a sample chapter for a new book that my editor suggested to me. I’m really interested in the idea and concept as it was presented to me, so we shall see what happens. More as that evolves.
I finished spinning the three one-ounce batts of gloriously soft black Shetland that Bonnie gave me. Some of it is overspun because I lost track of how quickly I was treadling, and I might have done better if I’d gotten to know Lady Jane with a fibre and preparation I’m more familiar with, like my standby Corriedale combed top. The Shetland was lovely to work with regardless. I might ply the resulting light fingering weight single with black silk thread to make it go farther, then knit lace fingerless gloves or something. Chain-plying it seems a waste. Whatever I do with it, I might run it from one bobbin to another to even out the twist first.
The boy helped me choose what to spin next. I’ll do the four ounces of hand-dyed BFL top from Ariadne Knits in purple and green like wood violets, and spin it finely enough to knit a light wrap for myself. I may think of doing a single plied with a silk thread binder on purpose this time, although my original plan was to spin it super-finely and chain-ply it to preserve the colour changes. We’ll see.
It’s the day of the boy’s first Terry Fox run, so we talked to him about who Terry Fox was and why we honour his memory by having a run to raise money for cancer research every year. Today also happens to be the semi-annual blood drive at HRH’s college, where he encourages as many of the kids as possible to accompany him to the collection area. Talking about these things segued into a discussion about what a hero is, a very interesting conversation to have with a five year old. I wonder how many other families plan to take their kid to the local blood bank offices on their seventeenth birthday to get their blood donor cards. The boy is very impressed by Terry Fox, and drew a picture of a fire-fighting plane for him this morning before he headed off to school.
Okay, back to work. I’ve got a document open for notes about this new book as they occur to me, and I’m about to open the repurposing project. It should be interesting, as I took an allergy/sinus pill this morning and have been in that wonky state that pseudoephedrine always sets me in ever since. Thankfully, the gastro/nausea has faded. I’ll set up a plate of crackers and the rest of the duck pâté that we didn’t finish on Sunday, put the bread in the oven, and bury myself in work as best I can till I have to meet the boy.