A Happy Announcement

If you’ve been following me here or on Twitter, you know that life has been pretty bad the past few months. There have been some major health issues in the family that we’ve had to deal with. One of those directly involved me and an awful lot of hospitals for five months. Well, we are relieved to say that this particular health issue has mostly been cleared up.

In fact, the boy has an announcement for you. He’d like you to meet his baby sister:

She’ll be joining us in late July. The boy was thrilled yesterday when the doctor at the ultrasound told him that he was indeed getting exactly the kind of baby he’d ordered.

For the past five months we’ve been struggling with some uncertainties. First of all, it took us ages to conceive again, as those of you who can do math and know that the boy is about to turn six have no doubt noticed. When we finally did conceive, we decided to be prudent and wait out the first trimester, as we’ve had our hopes raised and crushed before. My OB, after looking at my history and physical health, recommended that we skip the usual first round of screenings and go directly to the amniocentesis, as she was sending me for the amnio come what may and the first round of results (usually inconclusive for someone of my age) would just tell us to move on to the amnio anyway. So we decided to wait until we had those results back before we shared the news.

Except the results that came back were, frankly, scary, and confirmed our decision not to share the news of our pregnancy right off the bat. And the results weren’t false positives, either. There was some sort of genetic aberration that didn’t match any of the main things they test for. And so, HRH and I had to scramble and go for more tests so they could do a genetic profile for each of us to see if we’d passed something odd along to the baby. At this point we were betting on superpowers, figuring that they’d isolated the mutant X-factor gene if it wasn’t one of the immediately identifiable defects they test for. But even after the genetic profiles had been compared the results were kind of weird, so today HRH and I went in for a session of genetic counselling where they spread a bunch of papers and charts out on a table for us and walked us through the results and what they might mean. Those results told us that there is a high, high chance that our baby will be perfectly fine, which was the answer we’d been looking for. But there was still that… weirdness.

It turns out that HRH is perfectly normal. (You have to know he was slightly disappointed.) I, on the other hand, am a genetic freak in the nicest kind of way. Because of the genetic profiling of the parental DNA, they discovered that I have the same genetic aberration that my daughter does, only more of it. Now, this was actually very good news, because we (meaning all of us here plus the medical community) consider me pretty normal, so chances are stupendously good our daughter will be, too. There’s one last test that we submitted blood for today (I tell you, I have given more blood in the past six weeks than I did in the entire previous decade) that will wring the last possible bit of information from the baby’s chromosomal oddity, and give us every chance to be prepared for what it might indicate.

This has, to say the least, been very stressful. I am lucky in that I had a couple of people to listen to me wring my hands when I needed to and basically grump at them about how frustrating it was to have been held back for over two extra months from being able to share this news with confidence. We haven’t been able to fully relax and enjoy this pregnancy because there has always been the uncertainty about the baby’s development and health. There were some pretty horrific scenarios that we had to talk through and make provisional decisions about, scenarios, I am glad to say, that have not come to pass. We are thrilled to be finally able to share this news, and to be happy about our growing family. And honestly, we’d make the same decisions again about not sharing the news until we were as secure as possible about the baby’s health.

The boy is pretty happy, too.

I am still considered a high-risk pregnancy for various reasons and being treated for such, which is frustrating because I feel great. (Mind you, I felt great in the last pregnancy, too, until, well, it ended in a baby two months early.) At least I haven’t been put on bed rest, although it came close until my doctor realised that I work at home, so we’ve dodged that bullet for now. In fact, while we were worried about how my fibro would impact a pregnancy, we have discovered that it has actually eased some of the fibro symptoms. So no, I was not thoroughly exhausted this winter because I was pregnant; the pregnancy actually allowed me to sleep, something that doesn’t happen well normally, and seems to have somewhat eased the muscular exhaustion issue I deal with on a daily basis. Energy levels and mental fog were at a normal fibro low this winter, not made any worse.

There. That’s about all the news we’ve got for you. We hope you’re as thrilled as we all are.

Spring Arrives

In our house, we know that seasons don’t come according to the schedule carefully calculated and given to us by astronomers and scientists (in essence, the spring equinox occurs when the sun crosses the celestial equator that parallels the earth’s equator, and we have equal hours of day and night). HRH has been known to announce a season a month ahead of time, and then there are the seasons that dawdle. But there’s a feeling that sweeps through, a change in energy, and that’s what we mark as the beginning of whatever season is coming up. Sure, there are the exceptional days that promise the upcoming season, but one spring-like day does not make spring in a late Canadian winter.

Today, spring is sweeping through.

It’s pretty close to the vernal equinox, actually, and one of the few seasons I can remember coming just about in agreement with the scheduled time. There is sun with occasional cloud and brief showers; there is wind (warm wind, even); and the snow is falling in on itself with graceful submission, little diamond drops sparkling in geode-like caverns in the surface of snowbanks. It felt wrong to dress the boy in a snowsuit on a day that was 10 degrees C at eight in the morning, but I know how hard he plays in (what is left of) the snow, and it’s just not quite time for splash pants and a raincoat yet.

I can feel the change in my own energy, too. This winter has been hard on the fibro. The damp, the bitter cold, and the energy required to handle thick, quilted, down coats and heavy boots, and wrangle someone else into a full snowsuit and boots and accessories, plus battling brushing off and driving the car in all sorts of weather… it has been dreadful. I wonder if it might have been easier if I’d stayed on the medication, although I couldn’t for other health reasons. Blade suggested the other day that we install full-spectrum light in the attic office, which is a lovely idea, but it’s not seasonal affective disorder that runs me down (especially not since I increased my vitamin D at the suggestion of my doctor last fall, bless her); it’s the lack of energy to deal with physically draining stuff in a fibro-based body that undercuts me. Sunny days psychologically lift my mood and make me a more cheerful person, but don’t affect my energy level.

But it is spring, and I am feeling a bit more like myself, for which I am deeply thankful.

In other unrelated news, the boy marched up to me this morning at seven-thirty and said, “Mama, it is time to do cello.” Doing this practice in the morning thing is working very, very well indeed.

Spring Concert Announcement!

Huzzah, it is spring! Or so the potholes in the decrepit Montreal roads are telling us…

This means that yes, the Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra’s spring concert is on the near horizon! This concert’s theme is German Masters.

Circle Saturday the 2nd of April on your calendars, gentle readers. At 19h30 in the Valois United Church in Pointe-Claire (70 Belmont Ave., between King and Queen), the Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra will present the following works:

    Mozart’s Overture to Don Giovanni
    Bruch’s Violin Concerto no. 1 in G minor (op. 26)
    Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony

What? You think that looks like a short programme? Ha! The list may be short, but there’s meat aplenty at this musical buffet both in terms of quality and quantity, trust me. Apart from the historical and musical weight of the material being performed, we are honoured to have a local professional violin soloist, Judy Hung, performing the romantic and breathtaking Bruch with us.

Admission is $10 per person; admission is free for those under 18 years of age. The concerts usually last approximately two hours, including the refreshment break. There are driving directions and public transport info on the church website. I usually encourage people who are vehicle-less to find someone who has a car and share the cost of the driver’s admission to the concert among them. It’s more fun to enjoy the evening in the company of others, after all. And it bears repeating that children of all ages, including babes in arms, are very welcome indeed. There’s a large cloakroom at the back of the church that spans the width of the building so you can walk your baby or nurse in a quieter environment.

We’d love to see you there!

Stop Me If You’ve Heard This Before

I’m tired and swamped with work, and stressed by that raft of family health issues. I figure saying “I’m tired and I have a lot of work to do” is kind of boring to read and so rather than just write that, I don’t write anything at all. It’s only fair to check in at least once a week, though.

The weather has made a marked improvement in the last week. It’s been beautiful the past couple of days, and the snow is disappearing rapidly. We are watching for robins. The sun does wonders for my mood and the generally warmer temperatures do likewise for my general fibro malaise. The time change had a surprisingly positive effect as well, although I’d already been having trouble gauging when to make dinner because it had been staying lighter longer and now it’s worse.

Cello practice with the boy got difficult. He already had an after-school routine, so trying to introduce cello into it was a challenge once the novelty wore off. We’ve switched to mornings before school instead, which seems to be working so far. He’s resisting working with the bow, and I fully understand that it’s hard to get it to do what you want it to do; I worked pizzicato for a couple of months before starting with the bow myself, and I was twenty-three. My teacher keeps reminding me that it’s process not progress at this point, and I have to keep telling myself that it’s impressive that I get him to sit down for fifteen minutes every day at all. The other issue was getting him to want to do the exercises that had been set for him instead of making things up. Part of the point of music lessons was to cultivate focus and commitment to working on an extended project, so in that respect we’re doing just fine.

My teacher agreed to do our lessons back to back on Saturdays, so that solves my problem of losing most of a work day to my cello lesson on Tuesdays. I have so much work to do that I’ve been having to slip work in on the weekends to cover for cello and doctor’s appointments and hospital visits for tests lately. Right now I’m checking the proofs of the repurposing project I handled last fall, which means the bird book is on hold for a couple of days yet again; I had paused on it while waiting for feedback from the publisher’s review of the almost-half and then again for a copyediting project, which proved to be lucrative but time-consuming.

HRH has been working on the what-will-be-the-stairs-to-the-attic, tacking the stringers up, taking plasterboard down and measuring to see where beams and joists are. He bought all the stairs on sale a couple of weeks ago, so now we just need the risers so he can actually start putting them in one by one. He hung an unused door in the doorway too, which helps the general augh-there’s-a-hole-in-my-hallway issue I was having.

The boy has discovered Mo Willem’s Pigeon books, and thinks they’re hilarious. They’re also really easy for him to read. We read The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog aloud together, and he does the duckling in a hilarious high-pitched cute voice that makes its masterful manipulation of the pigeon with anger management issues side-splittingly funny. We have all four main books (thank you, Scholastic Book Club) plus a bonus board book called The Pigeon has Feelings Too, sent to us as a freebie to apologize for temporarily being out of stock of the four-book set.

I finished my first sweater ever, a child’s cardigan in garter stitch. I used KnitPicks Comfy cotton in a worsted weight, merrily adapting a pattern I’d never used before that called for doubled yarn to make a bigger size to use thinner yarn and make a smaller cardigan, and it turned out okay. I even found nice little wooden buttons for it. I haven’t sewn them on, so no pictures yet. I am rather chuffed, because I’ve never actually knitted an article of clothing other than a scarf before, so I am rather proud of it, twisted stitches and weird increases and all.

No spinning this week. I’m waiting for a shipment of Wensleydale to spin a special yarn. This was originally supposed to be done in the wool-bamboo blend, then I realised that I’d have to dye it twice to get a solid colour, one round of acid dye for the wool, one round of fibre reactive dye for the bamboo, so I’m going a different route for the special yarn instead. This means I will have a pound and a half of wool-bamboo blend all for myself. I am dizzy with the potential. Last night I pulled out some organic Merino to sample for a two-ply yarn to use as warp for a new baby blanket (the weft will be a lovely Manos Clasica thick-and-thin in a discontinued pale green colour, so pretty!). I tried the second-to-last fast ratio on the flyer pulley plus the faster bobbin pulley on the new wheel, and I made a thin, thin thread like magic. Wow. Also, the organic Merino is like a soft fluffy cloud that drafts like a dream. I just need to decide if I want a really thin warp yarn to create a weft-faced blanket, or something akin to the Manos weight for a balanced weave. I’m leaving the Merino in its natural off-white state. This may call for a sample of both a really thin yarn and a loftier yarn, and a tiny sample woven on a card or something to get a better sense of my options.

That’s enough for now.

In Which The Polworth Is Put To Bed

It is done.

Way back in September 2010 I acquired 4 ounces of yellow-orange Polworth in a Ravelry destash. I couldn’t remember ever spinning Polworth (checking my notes might have reminded me that I’d had a Polworth sample in the January 2010 Phat Fiber box, which I did indeed spin up; my notes tell me that I had the same issues with the drafting being uneven and the fibre being too spongy for my taste, but discovering those notes came after I finished this 4oz braid, alas), and the colours were outside my usual green/blue/natural comfort zone, both good reasons to buy it, I thought. Besides, I said to myself, if I do not fall madly in love with it and need to stash it for midnight cuddling sessions, like I do with so much of my handspun yarn, I am sure there will be someone out there who can use it.

In No-Light No-Love No-Hope November I reached for it, desperate for something sunny and new. And I decided to give myself a challenge. When I spin four ounces of something I usually don’t end up with anywhere near enough yarn to do anything with, because I spin thicker singles and then chain-ply them, cutting my yardage by three. This time, I decided, I would spin as thin as I humanly could on the equipment I had, and make a two-ply laceweight yarn!

Ah hah hah hah. Hindsight, you are so informative.

It took me a month to spin the first half of the fibre. Four weeks to do two ounces. I have been a strong proponent of Louets Can Do Anything Even Laceweight since I started spinning with one, but I have very firmly learned the lesson of Just Because They Can Does Not Necessarily Mean They Should. The single I spun on it was about the thickness of sewing thread, and it took so long, long, long.

It was frustrating, partially because I was at the limit of what my equipment could do at my skill level, and partially because the fibre and I do not fully get along that that blissful, harmonious happily-ever-after way every spinner envisions their relationship being with whatever fibre they’re handling on any given day. This Polworth was cranky. It did not draft smoothly. I felt like I was fighting the crimp every step of the way.

But halfway through December I had this to show:

I decided to spin some beautifully dyed fluffy Merino afterward into singles in a Manos Clasica style, and blissed out on that as an antidote. And I decided that as I was planning to buy a Saxony wheel with twice the ratios my Louet had, I’d wait till I’d acquired that before continuing with the Polworth, so as to make the experience the least painful it could possibly be.

The Kromski Symphony wheel was purchased in late January, stained and waxed in early February, and ready to go by mid-February. I broke it in by spinning that lovey wool-bamboo blend, and then picked up the Polworth again with renewed vigour and optimism.

Well, at least it went faster. I still had the drafting issues. Polworth and I may not get along, or maybe it was this particular example of it that I didn’t get along with. (Again, those notes tucked away in my sample skein box would have told me that no, it’s just Polworth in general.) What didn’t help was that while it was very cheerful colourway and bright in the drear of winter, it wasn’t a colour I was in love with. I had no attachment to the yarn I was spinning. I wasn’t going to keep it, or use it, because I wasn’t a fan of the colours.

I finished spinning the second half into singles at the beginning of March, then went right into plying it because even though the first bobbin had sat there for two months, I wasn’t waiting any longer for the second single to rest. I plied and plied and plied for about six straight hours this past weekend. My first bobbin had two hundred more yards of singles on it (I swear that I weighed the fibre into equal halves), which meant I had to wind the remaining single off onto a ballwinder and then ply from a centre-pull ball (that newly acquired skill, huzzah and go me). And then I had to skein the damn stuff, which took two sessions because my arm was hurting from turning the skeinwinder.

Almost exactly eight hundred yards, give or take a yard or so. It’s a two-ply laceweight yarn, which means sixteen hundred yards of thread-thin singles spun. I wish I liked it more, because that’s the most impressive yardage I have ever achieved from a four-ounce braid of fibre.

I can aesthetically and objectively admire this yarn (it looks like sunlight! and marigolds! and lots of other lovely similes that my Twitter list came up with!), enthusiastically appreciate all the hours of work that went into it, and the skill required to produce it. I am very proud of my yardage, and the overall consistency of my singles and finished yarn. But I do not like it very much. I really, really wish I liked it more after investing so much in it.

My Twitter fibre-friends (spinners, knitter, and crocheters, bless them all) saw me through this whole process, sympathising with me and cheering me on as I posted pictures of the yarn in progress over the past four and a half months. Much support was had in the SpinDoctor What’s On Your Wheel? forum on Ravelry, too. Did I learn a lot? Sure. Academically, did I enjoy and appreciate the experience? Mostly. Do I like the product? Well… not very much. It’s just not my thing. I am sure someone somewhere will love knitting it up into a delicate lace shawl.

Next up: Wensleydale! It should be arriving this week. I shall spin it, then cable it, and then dye it for a particular, special project which is to be a gift. Have I ever spun Wensleydale? No! Have I ever cabled yarn? No! Is this going to stop me? Heck, no!

LATER: Just out of curiosity, I converted 1600 yards to kilometres, and got 1.46. I spun a kilometre and a half of Polworth singles. Wow.

For The Fans

I have had requests for pictures of the boy and his proper-sized cello. So without further ado:

That thing on the floor under his feet is a mat/map showing where his feet go in two different positions, where the endpin goes, and where the chair goes. He got to decorate it (and chose rockets and arrows and alien script, as you can see).

We both survived March break together last week, and I made my noon deadline on Friday. In general, he was very good at understanding that when Mum was working, he was to be doing Other Stuff. It was hardest at the beginning of the week, when he interrupted me pretty much every ten minutes asking for help or entertainment, but it got easier. HRH took him to work on Thursday to give me the entire day to work on my own, and he had a blast there helping HRH cut out the stringers for stairs, buying wood, eating in the cafeteria, and playing with clay.

Today HRH cut out what will be the doorway to the attic stairs. It’s framed and has molding around it and everything, and tomorrow, a door will be hung in it to contain the workspace while the attic is being built. At the moment it goes into my office closet, but once the plasterboard is up, the stringers can be mounted, and the stair steps (also purchased on Thursday) can start being placed. That should come in a couple of weeks. We think it should be warm enough to punch through to the attic itself in April, when all the work on lifting and strapping the insulation can start. Somehow, the new doorway makes the hallway look much bigger.

I finished spinning the Polworth, and then finished plying it this morning. I’m skeining it now, and it’s taking forever, because it’s turned out to be real laceweight, and so far I have 400 yards of plied laceweight yarn. And it’s not even quite halfway done. I’m boggled. There will be pictures when the pile of skeins are done.