If you’re going to be bewildered, at least have it be by something that doesn’t matter in the slightest, right?

I wanted silver. I settled for gold because I finally had my new post-op prescription in hand and I wanted my new, clearer eyesight and I wanted it now.

Oh Costco. Rose gold? With pink temples? That is not what I saw in the store. How did that happen.

I picked them up Wednesday night and waited till Thursday morning to start wearing them because the lenses were so different; I could have New Year’s Day to get used to them.

Today I saw more. Wait.

Who–seriously, who???–thought that a pair of women’s bifocals needed the joints where the temples meet the frame to be covered by–

I mean seriously–

metal teddy bear faces??? (I held them out to Richard and said, Please tell me at least those aren’t cats, no aspersion on cats but on stereotypes.)

No, those are teddy bears, you’re right.

I am dying to know who thought that that was the best possible idea to do to sell their product. It feels like a UC Berkeley prank in Stanford country: Go bears! Go Tree!

So, (whistling innocently) what are their cat’s-eye frames doing for their side hustle?

Eight more rows of seed stitch to go.

It was past time to decide what the next baby blanket is going to be because there’s another baby due about the same time and I need to get to it.

When you can make anything at all, how do you narrow it down to a single idea?

(Say the obvious all together with me now: Ravelry!)

Under Patterns, search: baby blanket.

Fifteen thousand six hundred fifteen matches.

I got through fifty pages of results, and I definitely got some inspiration and no I still don’t know what I’m going to make, but it left me wanting to ask–waving a sweeping arm out there–why? Why was there an elephant pattern on just about every page for the first thirty or so, till they finally started to peter out? Two rhinos, one giraffe, (hey, giraffes are a big thing with babies too!) and elephant elephant elephant elephant elephant elephant elephant elephant.

Scroll…scroll… You know you’re getting into the category of only one or two people besides the artist have actually made this one when the raccoons start showing up. (Nods to self, Bought that one awhile ago, maybe I finally will.)

I mean, I get the metaphor: babies are tiny yet before you can begin to comprehend it they’re all grown up and probably towering over you, and certainly over their original sizes. Yes babies and elephant motifs are a longstanding thing.

But I’d be an a** not to consider how it might be interpreted in today’s political climate.

I look forward to the day when things can be normal again and a cute baby blanket is just a cute baby blanket and can comfortably look like anything it wants.

Yesterday. Doctor appointment. Routine stuff. Done. We took a brief moment and caught up a little on each other’s kids; he told me with a worried sigh that one son had been laid off from his tech job right before Christmas. He has little kids….

I’m so sorry.

He appreciated that. Then said, Oh well. Back to work, and headed out the door.

I picked up my purse to leave–and thought, WAIT!

Already out of sight.

I stood in the hallway unsure of myself or what to do.

A nurse leaned her head out from around the corner, maybe at the sound of the exam room door closing behind me? And briskly walked over to see what she could do to help.

I pulled out the 1×1 ribbed beanie in Rios merino and told her I’d forgotten to give it to Dr. H and could she for me?

Her face totally lit up. YES! Of course! But as I was turning to go she exclaimed, Wait! What name do I give him??

(Oh. Yeah. Right. It’s knitted and he knows which patient always has needles going, but okay) so I told her, and off she happily went to go play a late Santa’s elf on a day when I knew and she probably did too that that very good man could definitely use that.

How’s the weather up there?

Do you play basketball?

How tall ARE you?

I get that people try to strike up conversations with those around them while stuck in lines, etc, but those same three questions across a lifetime, over and over and over and over and over…

I pulled out my phone and typed, Seven people in line in front of me.

Ouch, he texted back, I’m sorry.

I figured everybody was trying to pick up their prescriptions before the next week-long atmospheric river hits tomorrow.

A fairly tall guy was just in front of me. A taller one came up behind. They chatted a moment over my head. The one behind kindly offered to let me go sit down on that chair way over there and he would hold my place for me; I thanked him for the offer but was fine being where I was. We all went back to quietly waiting and reading our phones. I debated the ribbing of a hat but settled for the New York Times.

The one behind looked away from his screen for a few moments with a little bored sigh in his shoulders.

So I looked him in the eye and said with a grin, When we remodeled we put in extra-tall doorframes so my husband and son wouldn’t have to duck.

Instantly I was in the in group: I clearly knew what it was like even if I wasn’t tall at all. He laughed as *he* asked *me*, How tall are they?

6’8″ and 6.9″.

More laughter, then, I’m not that tall, I’m only 6’6″!

How often does he get to state his height with the word ‘only.’ Non-ironically, no less. He was having a good time.

The CVS clerk motioned me over, we got that done, I turned, and the man caught my eye and said warmly, Have a wonderful holiday!

You, too!

Michelle’s home, Michelle’s home!

He’s in college and home for the holidays. His mother was one of the speakers in the main meeting in church and so his grandmother, whom I know a little bit, was there, too.

After the second meeting I went up to the two women: the younger one, to thank her for her remarks.

She had gone through multiple surgeries, she’d said, and was trying to sleep one night while fighting fierce, unrelenting pain. She’d finally prayed, I just want to sleep!

And felt the answer, Be willing to feel the pain. Acknowledge it. Live with it. Give away the fear of it to Me.

That was a reset, for sure, but as she tried to do that, knowing her Savior had felt all our pain for us, she was able to find peace at last and slept.

I thanked her for that because I knew that scenario well and that her words would be remembered and offer guidance to those who will find themselves there someday. It was a powerful talk.

But I had one other thing I wanted to tell her and her mom:

I explained losing my balance 25 years ago–and that with my foot in a boot, the tactile half of the visual/tactile feedback that realigns my up vs down was thrown off. I was trying to walk out of the chapel with a lot of people moving around me and nearly falling over at every step, holding onto the back of each pew carefully step by step. (Richard was in a conversation and didn’t see.)

Her son noticed. He stepped forward and asked if he could do anything to help. I explained my little weirdness to him and he asked, a little hesitatingly not sure he was reading this right if I needed an arm?

It took me a split second, but yes that’s exactly what I needed. I didn’t need to hang off his arm or anything and didn’t, I just needed to lightly touch it as we walked steadily together across the building. Piece of cake. I flashed back to the brain rehab of long ago.

He saw, he noticed, he offered, he meant it, and he made all the difference and I wanted to be sure his mother and grandmother knew that.

They were so proud of him.

Rightfully so.

Do you remember how, at the very end of high school, everybody felt so close to each other because we saw now how much even our more casual friendships meant to us and knew that we would never see some of those friends again, maybe even the closer ones, we just couldn’t yet know who those would turn out to be across the future?

Like that.

Post-Christmas gifting I looked at my boxes of apricot slabs, did the math on how fast I go through those, and knew they wouldn’t hold me till Andy’s Orchard opens again in May. And nobody sells apricots like his dried-while-dead-ripe slabs. Plus I wanted to pick up something someone else wanted who was going to have a hard time getting there.

Three years ago there was a cherry orchard next to Andy’s. The new houses are big. They kept the name of that farmer on the development but I don’t think they left a single fruit tree in place.

On the other side of his farm, driving down that newly widened and piped road, the open field to the right was rapidly turning into apartment buildings and closely spaced houses. So much change in a month. I turned the corner to the left around the end of Andy’s towards his store and thought, That cannot be good. That’s too many gone.

Stumps…

As I filled up my basket, the guy on duty laughed when I said, These are for my cousin-in-law’s mother-in-law… I laughed too and said, But she’s a really nice person, I love her! She’s flying today from Germany to her son’s house an hour away and is hoping to be able to get here before you close next week. I’m not sure she’ll make it in time, so I’m making sure she’ll be able to get what she wants.

One of I believe Andy’s crew had come into the little store in the middle of the conversation; the two men clearly meant the world to each other, and in those moments they included me in that palpable love, too.

Together they told me.

The closing isn’t just next week.

Andy will do one more season.

And then that’s it. The land is in the process of being sold. The neighbors who complained about being next to a farm, well…

But they bought houses next to a farm! I exclaimed.

They appreciated that I appreciated the absurdity of that. I mean, fruit trees! How intrusive is that!

I had had a feeling this entire year that this was coming, and soon.

I just didn’t want it to be ‘soon’ as in ‘it’s actually happening now’.

I’m just grateful we get to have one last year.

Before I get to what I’d planned to write about, Barbara Walker, author of all the knitting stitch treasuries that together are the knitters’ bible and inventor of the SSK stitch, passed away Sunday at 90 with her son by her side. She gave our world so much.

And on a different tangent.

It’s a little big (let’s be real: it’s huge) but I liked it. The style is a down-to-earth classic. The strap is wide enough not to dig into your shoulder, and, as it turns out it doesn’t grab and pull my hair like my current purse does. The organization, the softness they claimed (rightfully so–yay), its full grain…

I measured and checked sizes again and again. I was glad they said family-owned, not a big corporation, so I could order it in good conscience during the Black Friday sales. Because protests.

The zipper went across the whole freaking top, not just the middle third section like my Kate Spade. Finally! No spilling! And there’s a mesh holder for a water bottle, along with all the other little details inside.

But: Christmas morning I told him I’d bought that bag for him. I explained why.

I carry a purse everywhere. I want one stuff doesn’t fall out of, not just to have my wallet be protected but my knitting. (Which got dumped in the muddy driveway last winter when I pulled my purse across the steering wheel getting out of the car.)

A bag with its strap over your shoulder is the last thing he ever thinks of because that’s just not his life.

And that is why he has twice now left his travel cpap machine behind while flying. Both times we’ve gotten it back but that last time especially was a near thing.

It fits into my humongous new leather zipped tote. So still does enough of the stuff that I would need to carry on board a flight that it will definitely do. I will never ever leave my purse behind. We’re good here.

We mostly pick out our own gifts at this stage and tease each other that it’s from them, but, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my husband so grateful that I bought myself a present.

You could buy four of those and a fanny pack for one CPAP replacement.

The perfect Christmas comic, here. My thanks to all who work on the one day they’d rather not simply because people out there need them.

Edit: Let me add the text here. Picture four kids on a toboggan racing down a snowy hill, talking:

She was fairly confident the x-ray would show a hairline fracture, but it proved a 404: Not Found. Swelling only.

She exclaimed over my green Mecha hat on the needles, and I thought with a grin, now I have motivation to finish it.

She very much approved my Birkenstock clogs (she has the same ones.) Nice and solid bottom to them, good for this. But even better, this boot would keep me from flexing my foot while walking around and yes I should wear it to speed up the healing quite a bit. She diplomatically did not say I should have come in two weeks ago.

So I’m wearing it. My gift to Near-Future Me. It looks like a mini black snow shovel with straps.

Happy Birthday to our Maddie, and a Merry Christmas to all!

We’re supposed to get an inch and a half of rain overnight. That’s a major storm for us.

They had tented the drop-off area but it wasn’t needed just yet.

There had been two piles of stuff, good stuff, useful stuff that someone will love that I had deliberately placed in view of my knitting perch.

It was stymying me to have this thing that I wanted to get done left undone. With clouds low and darkening and after checking their times, I loaded up the car and finally made that Goodwill run. Nothing gets one going like a deadline. I did it! I beat the rain!

Look at all that cleared space to look at, opening up those creative juices.

At last I can really go knit.

My childhood self is feeling as gleeful as those little kids with their bells yesterday: look what I found! No Christmas is complete without a dose of Snoopy and the Red Baron. I bet one of my siblings can tell me which one of us officially owned that record but we all played it over and over.

The incoming storm was dark yet the yard vividly bright in contrast. I found it a surprisingly hopeful metaphor.

And there is nothing like a group of small children given bells to enthusiastically ring as they sing their best Christmas songs up on the stand in front of everybody. Their arms go, Look, I can hold mine higher than you! Well I can hold mine wider than you! Well my stuffed bunny can ring mine better than you can! Well I can sing louder and roll my eyes better at you because I’m two years older!

The adult grabs their attention by waving her arms a little more vigorously and they all focus a little more on Silent Night-ing with their voices and un-Silenting their enthusiastic bells. Rrrring!!

Little kids. They’re so human, and so funny.

A grandson’s 15th, my mom’s 95th, my cousin’s (who was named after my mom) 67th: Happy Birthday!

We just hung up and I walked away feeling incredibly privileged. How many people get to spend an hour on the phone wishing their mom a Happy 95th?

So the latest and greatest in the tire world is that you order what you want for the car you have at costco.com, they ship them to that Costco, and you wait for an appointment. No more of their stocking random everythings and hoping they’ve got people covered.

Seventeen days.

I showed up 40 minutes early, which confused the guy but I wanted to drive there before the projected eight straight days of rain began. I wanted only dry pavement under those old tires, glad for the heads-up from my mechanic that they needed to go.

Man, it felt good to have that taken care of.

I sent off a couple of texts and got no response. C’mon, pick up your phone, hon.

I came home to news of an ambulance ride hastily followed by (he’d just gotten off that phone) And everything’s okay now. People had gotten a little overexcited at a fainting over a needle draw.

Okay then!

Suddenly, sitting in the chair at Costco’s Optical Department knitting for two hours while people wondered who the heck you were and why you were  sitting there demo’ing green yarn didn’t seem at all like a hard way to have had to spend the time.

I guess it was the day to be a spectacle.