Adventures in cranberry sauce

When it comes to cranberry sauce, I love the made from scratch kind. The one I make has a lot of orange in it, and it’s sweet and tart and amazing. It’s super easy to make, so buying the icky canned stuff seems wrong. The kind I make can be used with turkey, mixed with some mayo on a sandwich, as ice cream toppings. Or–if it was a particularly good batch and I’m living by myself and not sharing–straight out of the jar with a spoon.

My mother, however, loved the canned kind. She loved the sound it made when it came out of the can; she loved the lines in the sides; she loved that she could slice it with a knife.

Mom was weird.

When mom was first admitted to the hospital, and they finally found the cancer and started treatment, she was there for over a week. Her blood pressure was naturally very low, and other than the cancer riddling her body, she was pretty damn healthy, so she wasn’t on a restricted diet. The food was pretty bland, so on the first day she was able to keep food down, instead of bringing her flowers I brought her a baggie with salt. She always said that was the best gift I ever gave her.

One day she decided she’d take a chance and ordered the “Turkey Dinner.” It came with turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, veggies and “a side of cranberry sauce.”

She gets served a plate with the turkey and all the other stuff, and a “bowl” of cranberry sauce.

A bowl approximately the size of a cereal bowl and in it is a small square packet of Cranberry Sauce in a packet like jelly in a restaurant.

You know when you go to a restaurant and ask for jelly and you get those little packets you have to open? That’s what this was. Maybe a little thicker, but not by much. If it was more than a teaspoon, I’d be surprised.

We always wondered WHY they served it in a BOWL? Was mom supposed to open it up and dish it up into the bowl? Or did they think it looked more festive? Either way, it was ridiculous. Especially as the bowl was about the size of a cereal bowl, so that should give you a better sense of scale.

Whatever their thinking, we laughed until our sides ached. The nurses came and checked on her because her vitals were going haywire and we were making a racket. All we could do was point and laugh even more.

I have very few good memories of that week, but that was one of them. And it still makes me laugh.

Lynda the Guppy
aka No Ridges For Me
aka The Fish With Sticks

Eight Years Ago

Eight years ago today Barack Obama became the first African American president in our nation’s history. I think about that a lot, and I wonder if the Obama’s celebrate this date. I wonder if they even remember what the date was, as at that point a presidential campaign is so insane they may only know what day it is because it’s election day so it must be Tuesday.

I remember this day eight years ago so very clearly because it was my mom’s 60th birthday. The last healthy one she had. I remember I gave her 60 beautiful roses and had Indian food delivered. She didn’t want to go out because she knew history was being made no matter which way it went, so we ate in front of the tv and watched the election results. After growing up in the 50s and living through the 60s, she was amazed. She voted for him, of course. But she honestly never thought she’d see the day where we had a black president. She was so proud of how far our nation had come that we would elect him.

Four years later she had been gone only three months, and I spent Election Day working my first election and once again hoping for an Obama presidency. I was nervous and scared about working the election, but it was an amazing experience. I was so grateful it was after her birthday that year, because I was a basket case for all of October. Things were Really Not Good for me then, and I basically cried when I breathed for weeks leading up to her birthday.

This year for her birthday I’m going out with a friend to see a fun movie. I can think of Mom’s birthday now without wanting to sob uncontrollably, but it took a few years. It’s still the hardest day of the year for me. I remember the date she was diagnosed with cancer. I remember the date she decided to start hospice care. I remember the date she died. I remember all the amazing Christmas Eves we had together, and all of my birthdays, but her birthday has always ALWAYS been, for me, the hardest day of the year to get through.

I’ll be working the election again, as I have every one since 2012. It’s still an amazing and humbling thing to do. I’ll be honest and tell you I’m more than a little worried about something happening at the polls, but I also know Mom’s watching. And pretty pissed off she wasn’t able to vote for Hillary. She would have been ALL OVER voting for her. And if she was retired by now, I’m sure she would have volunteered for the campaign.

But I know when I cast my vote, she’ll be in the booth with me. She’s the one who taught me how to vote when I was little and we walked to my parents’ polling place. My parents and I are of a similar mind politically, and as the only Democrats in a family of Republicans, it sometimes gets a little dicey. But she’s the one who taught me to think for myself. To look up the issues. To not just be a voter, but be an INFORMED voter. If I had questions, she’d answer them. If I wanted to know how she was going to vote, she’d tell me, but always with the caveat that I should make up my own mind, and not just vote the way she and my dad did.

All during this campaign I’ve ached to talk to her, and I know she would have had a LOT to say about the shenanigans. Most of it would have been colorful. Who do you think taught me how to swear?

So today, on her birthday, I miss her so much. And on Tuesday when I vote, I’ll miss her even more. But I think she’d be proud of what I’m doing and how I’m going on without her. At least I hope so.

Happy birthday, Mom. I wish you were here.

A picture of me on the left with my mom on the right. All you see are our heads and shoulders. I have my arm around my mom and we're in matching blue windbreakers. Taken in 1984.

And don’t haunt me because I posted this picture.

Lynda the Guppy
aka The Bear’s Daughter

Santa, dear, I’m in a hurry

Haul out the holly
Put up the tree before my spirit falls again
Fill up the stocking
I may be rushing things, but deck the halls again now

I think this year We Need a Little Christmas is going to be my holiday fight song. I’m looking forward to Christmas this year, especially getting to spend it with a dear friend, but it’s still a little hard for me. It also doesn’t help that Thanksgiving day it was 90 degrees. So I’m feeling at turns really excited and…really…meh. It would be easier if I could pick an emotion and stick with it.

For we need a little Christmas
Right this very minute
Candles in the window
Carols at the spinet

Yes, we need a little Christmas
Right this very minute
It hasn’t snowed a single flurry
But Santa, dear, we’re in a hurry

I have fantastic friends who bring all sorts of happiness and laughter and support into my life. My dad and I are making more of an effort to see each other face to face instead of texting all the time (Yes, Dad texts. I know, right?!). My mom’s best friends from college have all adopted me into their group (I’m Nancy 2.0)  and are wonderful amazing women who have known me literally my entire life and love me anyway.

So climb down the chimney
Put up the brightest string of lights I’ve ever seen
Slice up the fruitcake
It’s time we hung some tinsel on that evergreen bough

I still miss mom every day, and I can’t really see that changing any time soon, but that’s okay. This past year I’ve started dealing with my feelings towards some family drama that has gone on since she died. And I’ll be honest. It hurts. A LOT, but I’ve made a few decisions about what I need to do and how I need to deal with it, and while I’m sad, I feel…lighter…after making those decisions.

For I’ve grown a little leaner, grown a little colder
Grown a little sadder, grown a little older
And I need a little angel sitting on my shoulder
I need a little Christmas now

I don’t say any of this for sympathy. I’m not looking for any nor do I want it, but I have no decorations up for Christmas for reasons, (I’ll fill you all in on why later). It doesn’t feel like Christmas here at Chez Guppy. And while I certainly haven’t grown any leaner, I’m pretty sure colder, sadder, and older are definitely checked off on my list this year. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, either. To do what I needed to do for my own peace of mind and happiness I HAVE had to be a bit cold. So I think I need a little Christmas. Damn it.

Haul out the holly
Well, once I taught you all to live each living day
Fill up the stocking
But Auntie Mame, it’s one week past Thanksgiving Day now

I’m honestly in a good place overall. I’m starting to do some proofreading work and will hopefully eventually get into copy editing and proofreading full time. Honestly, work should not be this much fun. It’s stressful, because I want to do a good job, and meet the deadlines, not to mention I worry I miss stuff, but seriously? I LOVE it, and I think I’m good at it. I hope I’m good at it. 

So climb down the chimney
It’s been a long time since I felt good, neighborly
Slice up the fruitcake
It’s time we hung some tinsel on that mayberry bough

Everything’s pretty much great, but I have moments of sadness, too, and am not QUITE getting into the spirit of Christmas yet. So I’m gonna do what everyone does. Fake it till I make it. In the meantime….

We need a little Christmas
Right this very minute
Candles in the window
Carols at the spinet

And we need a little Christmas
Right this very minute
We need a little Christmas now

We need a little Christmas now
We need a little Christmas now

Lynda the Guppy
aka Grinchy Guppy
aka The Fish With Sticks

We Need A Little Christmas, Mame soundtrack
Book by Jerome Lawrence and Robert Edward Lee
Music and Lyrics by Jerry Herman

Mom Stopped By

Want to hear read something weird? All my life people who knew me, but didn’t know my mom’s name, would often call me Nancy. And people who knew mom, but didn’t know my name, would often call her Lynda. We have no idea why. It was one of those weird things that made us laugh, and it happened often enough that we would just respond without thinking.

I went to get my nails done early in the morning the other day. I’ve been going to my manicurist off and on for 7 years or so, and she KNOWS me. She does not know mom’s name. I walked in and Tracy looked up at me and said “Hi, Nancy!”

Want to hear read something even weirder?

It was dad’s birthday.

I suspect mom was stopping in to say HI, and also to remind me to call my dad. Don’t worry, mom. I didn’t forget, but thanks for the laugh.

And of course I miss you more than anything.

Lynda the Guppy
aka The Fish With The Silly Mom
aka The Fish With Sticks

Already a Year

This post is cross-posted at Wicked Lil Pixie
on July 31, 2013

Mom at Six Flags

This past Saturday was the 1-year anniversary of my mom’s death. In some ways it feels like it has been 5 minutes, and in others it seems like it has been forever. The year since she died has been interesting. I’ve done new things, such as attended my first ever conference. I’ve started my own business. I’ve taken chances and opportunities I’m not sure I would have before she died.

I’ve also been standing still. Nothing of hers is gone yet. I’ve packed up exactly 2 dressers of her clothes. Everything else is as she left it, except maybe a little messier. LOL. The only thing of hers I’ve actually given away was her fabric. She was a quilter, so she had The Fabric Stash Closet. LOL It was a towering beast of fabric crammed into every single bit of space, and it was impressive.


I’ve turned it into my Yarn Stash Closet.

Stash Closet After

Other than emptying those two dressers and cleaning out the fabric, I haven’t done a darn thing to change the house from Chez Bear to Chez Guppy. For the longest time I couldn’t figure out why every time I went to clean out her clothes I just couldn’t make myself do it. Honestly, she TOLD me to get rid of her clothes. She said to do it first thing. There is no sentimentality attached to the clothes, so just give them to charity ASAP. It’ll open up so much more storage space for me. (Seriously. The woman was a clothes horse. 2 closets (1 a walk-in), 1 large armoire and 4 dressers!) Every time I went to do it, though, I’d find something a lot more interesting to do. Like clean the kitty litter or organize the spice cabinet. I couldn’t understand why I was so against cleaning out her clothes.

And then it hit me.

Mom used to buy furniture–antiques–and then give them away later. She used to do it all the time. Her house was small, so she’d buy a piece and live with it for a while, and if she found a piece she liked better, she’d get rid of the old one. She gave stuff to friends, family, co-workers, etc. She did it all the time. So if I get rid of furniture, or even knick-knacks, it wouldn’t be strange. Things were in flux at Chez Bear all the time. But her clothes. Ah, her clothes.

If I get rid of her clothes, she’s not coming back.

And that’s why I’ve been so hung up on cleaning out her clothes. Obviously, I’m well aware of the fact that she’s not coming back, but emotionally I just haven’t been ready to face that fact.

As for the rest of her things, well, I’ll get there eventually. The biggest problem is all my stuff is in storage, so until I start unpacking some of it, I don’t know what I’ll keep and what I’ll get rid of. Now that it has been a year, I think things will start moving forward again. I’m already looking at couches. LOL.

I’ve battled with some depression this year. I’ve more or less worked my way out of it, but it has been difficult. Especially as I didn’t recognize it for what it was for a long time. Longer than it should have taken me, but I think it was such a gradual slide, it never really occurred to me. Her birthday in November was the worst for me. Some days I couldn’t even breathe without crying. I’ve still got some family issues going on, and an unhealthy amount of anger over it, too. I know if I set up an appointment to talk to somebody chances are good I’d feel better, but I just don’t know if I’m ready for that. I do know I’m tired of being the evil villain in the family.

Saturday was obviously difficult, too. My friends have been amazing. I know. Like that’s news, right? I went to an event with a bunch of my good friends and they all started out asking how I was and if I wanted to talk about mom or pretend Saturday wasn’t the anniversary. They did everything they could to make sure I was okay and had whatever I needed emotionally. These friends are some of the best women I know, and they always amaze me with their willingness to reach out and help however and wherever they can.

So all in all, it’s been a rough year. I’m getting through it. I have some exciting plans for this year and next, and am moving forward. Slowly, but surely.

I still miss her every day. I still talk to her every day. I still cry when the grief overwhelms, as it does at the oddest times, but it is getting better.

And I want to say a giant THANK YOU to everyone who has offered condolences or support this past year, to everyone who has made me laugh, given me ideas, and helped me plan adventures. Whether you knew about mom or not, you all have helped me get through the rough days this past year, and I couldn’t have–WOULDN’T have made it without you.

Lynda the Guppy
aka A Better Guppy
aka The Fish With Sticks


I know it seems like I’m all about grieving over here, and I guess I kind of am. But there are a number of things I’m thankful for this year which I feel need individual acknowledgment.

This year I’m most thankful for…

1. Every moment I had with my mother. No matter how difficult or emotionally heartbreaking, I wouldn’t trade a moment of it for anything.

2. My aunt Karen who pretty much moved right into my house for nearly a week. Without her there is no way I would have been able to honor my mother’s wish to die at home. Without her teaching me how to care for someone in a bed, I would have had to hire strangers to take care of mom at the end, and I’m so grateful, so INCREDIBLY grateful that Karen’s help allowed me to keep mom at home and be cared for by family and not in a cold hospital bed surrounded by strangers. Karen was a rock and I will be forever grateful for all she did, without me even having to ask. She just called one night and said “why don’t I spend the night,” and then stayed. And for making sure I’m “doing things” and not just wallowing here at the house.

3. My uncle Jimmy and cousin Allison. Without their support of Karen, without their help with things like grocery shopping for popsicles and bringing whatever Karen needed from home, without them stepping up, again without being asked, things would have ended differently. Especially Allison who makes sure to drag me out to lunch on a regular basis. Even if she doesn’t listen for a YEAR when I tell her she’ll love the Kowalskis.

4. My cousin Chris for flying in for mom’s funeral. I wasn’t sure he’d get the time off, but he did, and it meant a lot to me that he was there. Congrats on your promotion!

5. My mom’s best friend of 40 some odd years. When Karen couldn’t stay any longer because she had to work, I called Susie and all I said was “I need help. Can you come?” She was camping in Mammoth that night, and without hesitation said “I’ll leave in the morning.” She drove from Mammoth down to Irvine to pack and then back to my house. She was with me when mom passed away, and I will forever be grateful she was. She was able to help me in ways I’m not even sure my family could have, because they were dealing with their own massive grief. I will always be grateful for Susie’s presence and support that night.

6. Janie and Robbie, my Godparents, for giving me a place to go when I want to run away from home. For treating me like another daughter and just doing normal things while I’m there and not making me feel like I’m a guest. Also, thanks for letting me cuddle the grandbaby Kalea. She’s adorable and will be the wooliest baby in town. LOL I know how hard it is for grandparents to hand over the grandkid, so thanks.

7. Heather for the Day of Kittens.

8. Barbra for the Day of Puppies. (Yes, the same day.)

9. My knitters Barbra, Heather, Amy, Maridee, Kara, Alyson, Robyn Robin (Sorry!), Elizabeth and Thom for being willing to listen no matter what. For not telling me to be quiet because they’re tired of hearing about my craziness. For taking time off from work to come to my mom’s funeral and when I said it wasn’t necessary, all looking at me like I was crazy and replying “Well, of COURSE we’re coming.” Thanks, too, for not vocalizing the implied “you idiot!” For being there through good, bad, and moths.

10. Alyson and Bob. OMG, dudes. You have done SO MUCH for me through the years I can’t even begin to repay you both.

11. Marilyn. For everything. For making me quilts, for taking me on vacation, for making sure I get out of the house once in a while, for volunteering to help me with anything I need help with and for not judging when “my” house isn’t as clean as “mom’s” house. Yes, I cleaned the kitty litter today. *grin*

12. Cynthia for…well…being Cynthia. For giving me space when I ask for it and realizing I’m not snubbing her. I just need space. For the tissues at the graveside and for the herding of people when I needed a few minutes. For listening when I call her crying because of an e-mail and being ready to rip people’s faces off because they made me cry.

13. Nat. My “sister”. She knows why.

14. The Magnolias. When I said I couldn’t review books for a while EVERY ONE OF THEM stepped up and asked what they could do to help. They listened when I wanted to talk, and didn’t even hate me when I made them cry. LOL. Love you, girls!

15. For all the friends I’ve made this year, both online or IRL. You have all made this year so much more bearable. You’ve made me feel like I’m not alone and have entertained me while my life seemed to be out of control. You’ve all kept me busy with new books and have made me laugh on days that truly sucked.

Lynda the Guppy
aka A Grateful Guppy
aka The Fish With Sticks

Guppy Talks Grief at WLP

As some of you may know, before mom died I had started reviewing contemporary romance books over at WickedLilPixie for my friend Nat. Nat and I lost our moms within days of each other. It’s amazing how something that traumatic could bring about such a wonderful source of comfort.

I wrote about our mutual grief and things people can do or say to help, and you can read my post HEREYou might want to grab a tissue. It seems I’ve made everyone cry. Not my intention! I swear! 

In the meantime, my dad came over for dinner last night and we talked about everything, as we usually do. This morning he called me and we had this conversation:

Dad: How are you doing today?

Me: I’m doing okay, I guesss.

Dad: I’m going to keep calling you every day until you answer “I’m doing GREAT!”

Best. Dad. Ever. He’s been my rock through this entire ordeal. One day I’ll tell the story about getting my mom Last Rites. LOL. Believe it or not, that’s a funny story. ESPECIALLY if you know my dad. 

Lynda the Guppy
aka The Fish With Sticks
aka A Still-Grieving Guppy

Questions Without Answers

I’m sitting here on the sofa and I took a look around and thought…where do I start? This house is filled with my mother, and I don’t know what to do or where to begin. Yeah, I know where to take her clothes, and I can find a home for all her books, and she told me what to do with important things like her jewelry and certain family heirlooms, but…what about the rest of it?

What about the blue vases in the cabinet in the dining room? Should I get rid of those and put my cows in there? Or maybe my music box collection? Do I keep the porcelain cat which is by the stove because I bought it for her one year for Mother’s Day? Should I leave the copper molds hanging in the kitchen? Or find something to replace them with? 

Do I take down the antique mirror over the fireplace and put up an original piece of art of my own I’ve had for years? Can I replace the sheets for her bed? Her duvet covers? What about the opera glasses she bought herself after giving me my own pair for my 16th birthday, should I give them away? What do I do with her high school yearbooks? Her DVDs?  

What do I do with all her genealogy books? Her half-finished needlepoint canvases? Her purses? What about her christmas ornaments? What should I do about the fabric sample hanging over the kitchen sink that she put there 3 years ago to “live with” before she made a valance out of it? 

We had the same coloring and often bought the same makeup. Is it okay if I use hers? Or should I just toss it all? Can I wash the makeup brushes and use them? What about the carpet in the living room? The silver eyeglass case on her bedside table? The dresser in the entryway? Do I keep her dishes because they’re better than mine, even though I’m not crazy about the pattern? What do I do with the antique doilies she bought to make into pillows? The shawl I knit her which she never wore because it was too big? 

Do I keep these things? Do I give them away? To whom? Do I take them to Goodwill or The Salvation Army? Do I sell them on E-bay or take them to a consignment shop? Do I put all these things in one room and have family and friends come and take stuff?

Do I try and do a little each day? or try and cut swathes through this all in large chunks? Should I try and do some on my own? Should I call my friends or her friends and have them come help? 

How will I know what to keep and what to let go of? What to change and what to leave?

How do I get rid of all her things and not feel like I’m getting rid of her?

And how do I do it all without missing her so much it hurts to breathe?

Lynda the Guppy
aka A Grieving Guppy
aka A Fish With Sticks


Yesterday I buried my mother. She was 63.

Nearly 2 1/2 years ago, on February 12, 2010, the same evening as the Opening Ceremonies of the Vancouver Olympics my mother went to the emergency room.

And on July 27, 2012, the same evening as the Opening Ceremonies of the London Olympics, my mother took her last breath.

She went to the emergency room that long ago February for what she suspected was a hernia. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she told me. “I’ll be in and out in no time. Won’t even have to spend the night….Well, unless it’s cancer. Ha ha ha.”

It was cancer.

And it had metastasized.

By the time they caught it, her body was riddled with tumors and she had 8 POUNDS of tumors in her liver alone. And not one large tumor, but lots of little tiny inoperable tumors.

Did I mention my mother was a big muckety-muck at a major University and was Director of a world-renown cancer research network? And her boss was one of the top cancer researches in the WORLD. If you go to a cancer research lab and mention his name, they practically genuflect.  

And there was nothing they could do.

They tried everything. Her Oncologist was AMAZING. He was also my grandmother’s oncologist for many years, and he worked directly with mom professionally for nearly 13 years. He threw everything at this cancer. And I mean EVERYTHING. If he could get it for her, and if he thought it had even the tiniest chance of working, he gave it to her. And I know it wasn’t because of her connection to him. Cancer offends him, and I think he does that for all his patients. 

At her funeral yesterday, I told him that I thought he was incredible. I told him there was no way…NO WAY…she would have lasted as long as she did if it wasn’t for him. You know what he said to me?

“We didn’t do nearly enough. We should have been able to do more.”

Mom did everything she could. Her tentative diagnosis was 6 weeks. Her confirmed diagnosis said 6 months. She lived 2 1/2 years. And I do mean LIVED.

We went on a month-long trip to Vermont last summer, and drove home back to California after making it through Hurricane Irene.

She saw Niagara Falls for the first time.

We went on an Alaskan cruise with the entire family.

She went and visited with friends more frequently.

She made time for everything she thought was important.

And she fought for her life. Every moment of every day.

A few weeks before she died she asked me if I resented having to take her to the doctor every week and spend so much time taking her here and there all the time, having to do everything because she was too weak to help. Did I wish it had been fast like her original diagnosis had suggested? 

I had to think about it for a minute. Not because I didn’t know my answer, but because I wanted to be sure to say it correctly. For her sake, and the amount of constant pain she was in? Yeah, I wish she hadn’t had to live through that. For me? I would do every day of those 2 1/2 years over and over and over again without complaint if it meant I could spend more time with her. Resent it? Not a second of it. I wish I still had to take her every Monday for treatment. But I’m so grateful she’s no longer suffering.

Watching her fade away these last few months has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to witness, and I’m so glad I was able to be there. It meant she never had to go into a facility. She was able to live at home the entire time. She could die at home with me and one of her best friends by her side. I was able to tell her I loved her one last time. I could kiss her and stroke her hair and tell her it was okay to let go. She had fought so hard and it was time for her to stop fighting.

I was there to hold her when she took her last breath.

Yesterday was a day to share my grief with those who loved us both. Yesterday was a day to wear the outfit she loved me in best. Yesterday was a day to wear her pearls so I could feel closer to her during one of the hardest days of my life.

Today is the day after. And it was a lonely day. Those who love me have checked in to see if I’m okay. Really I’m not, but I pretend I am, and they pretend I’m not pretending. I know eventually I will be okay, but not today. Today was a day to recover. Today was a day to really feel her loss. Today was a day to wander around and poke into closets and open drawers and touch the pieces of her life.

Today was a day for me to remember her. Privately.

I know it sounds like I just moped around the house, but really I didn’t. I slept and read and watched some Olympics, too. I just felt like today was a day I needed to be alone and take a break from everything going on “outside” and really just let myself feel what I needed to feel when and how I needed to, without worrying about anyone or anything else.

Tomorrow…Tomorrow will be better, or so I’ve been told. Maybe it will be. Maybe it won’t, but either way, eventually I’ll be okay.

After all, I’m my mother’s daughter.

I’m too strong not to be.

Lynda the Guppy
aka The Bear’s Daughter
aka A Grieving Guppy

I’m Late! I’m Late!

For a Very Important Date! No time to say “hello” Good bye! I’m late! I’m late! I’m late!

Well, no, not really, but it’s going to be a Very Close Thing. See, I have deadline knitting on the needles, and it’s all coming due in May.

Due Next Week:

I have a baby sweater I have to finish today so I can give it a wash and light block before I have to gift it Wednesday. It’s worsted so it’ll take a day or two to dry. There should have also been booties and a hat, too, but I doubt I’m going to make it. Well, the booties might make it. Maybe. We’ll see.

I have a Very Large Special Project which needs a lot of work done to it this week. And it’s being gifted on Thursday.

Due May 26:

I have a pair of fair isle mittens (my first colorwork ever) which need to be finished. I’ve knit the first and am about two-thirds of the way done with the second.

At least one cowl (hoping for 2, but it should be 3) out of worsted, but I don’t have a pattern for them. Might be winging this one. How hard could it be? Why are you laughing?

In my fantasy land, I’m also knitting 2 hats. Really. Stop laughing. It’s rude.

A Shaelyn shawl in black which also needs to be washed & blocked so it’s dry by the 26th. I have 1 1/2 more pattern repeats to do.

So the upshot is once I get through next Thursday, if I manage to get everything done I need done by then, I’m in good shape. The mittens will only take a few more days of concentrated knitting, and the Shaelyn is my purse project, so it will move forward steadily. The cowls & hats SHOULD only be about 2-4 days of knitting each, so…*fingers crossed*

And on top of all of this, I have school, appointments, and a number of books to review.

Of COURSE I’m not slipping into Holiday Knitting Delusions. What makes you think that? This is totally doable, right? 




Lynda the Guppy
aka Delusional Guppy