The orthopedic appointment on Monday gave us good interim news. After eleven days, there was no sign of infection. The skin over the worst part looked alive and well. The surgeon thought the repair was solid. He didn't think an xray would give us any new information, so that will have to represent some delayed gratification. I can't WAIT to see those little feathers of bone starting to form, and to bridge the gaps.
I don't think I've ever seen that many incisions on a leg. Eight. One of them was about 12" long. I took more pictures, but someone thinks that might be TMI. We bought a cup of coffee from the Roach Coach outside the hospital entrance to celebrate, and returned back to the home nest.
My wounded bird is beating his wings against the walls, cheeping for attention, and then "manfully" trying to "do it without help". Testosterone is a potent hallucinogen.
The house is still is disarray. Not dirty, cluttered or broken (at least not beyond usual bounds), but rather in psychic disarray. My therapy has been spinning. That fluid alignment of fibers, and the order created that is called yarn, seems a perfect counterpoint to the chaos that is my life right now. It is the process, flow, hand movement that seduces. And I've needed that. Whirr whirr wheel song finger magic.
I purchased a small bag of chocolate alpaca at SPA from the swap on Sunday. The woman was destashing. She was one of the SPA participants, unnamed, untraceable. The bag had 2 ounces of fiber, $6. That wouldn't hurt too badly if I totally messed it up learning to spin alpaca.
I pulled it out when we got home last week, fully prepared to spin it into junk.
Oh. Ohmigod. Mr. Etherknitter looked up from his laptop. "Should you be making those sounds without me there to help?" That's how good this fiber is.
I despaired. Only two ounces! Untraceable seller! I picked up the baggie. It looked like this:
I googled "Toby Anne Wallach". Nothing. I had little hope that googling "Pacajama County, NM" would yield anything.
I was delightfully, happily wrong. Pacajama COMPANY is the name of the alpaca grower. I have been spinning Chloe's fleece. Toby is Pacajama's fiber prepper, and cousin.
Do I even need to tell you that I have reserved Chloe's 2006 fleece for my avaricious little fingers? Yes, Mr. Etherknitter is almost jealous.
Those two ounces disappeared SO fast. Too fast. It asked to be laceweight, and I said, "Yes, oh yes, please, let's." I felt positively like Juno.
Knitting has been chaotic. Eric's glovelet lacks only a thumb. The Trekking sock lacks a kitchener'd toe. The WIP that has made the most sense for this interval has been the afgh**. That lacks all knitting allure, so I'll wait on a picture until it is done.