Knitworthy

On November 12, 2015November 12, 2015 By aftheadIn Knitting3 Comments

A friend of mine coined a phrase that has stuck with me. She said that in order to hand-knit something for a friend or acquaintance they had to be knitworthy. Knitworthy is not an overall measure of the quality of a person, but a judgement on their ability to appreciate handmade gifts. Gifts that usually cost more to make, in materials alone, than it would cost to buy similar objects. Gifts that take your time and effort to produce. Gifts, to be fair, that are sometimes lopsided and funny looking but come with all kinds of personality built in.

Lots of wonderful people are not knitworthy. Let me provide a parallel example. I am not foodworthy. Inviting me over for a fancy four-course meal is an utter waste of your effort. I am a simple eater and cannot tell the difference between a meal that takes 4 hours of sauteing, braising, and chopping and a crock pot meal. Do not waste your culinary wizardry on me. Invite over another friend. Oh, and if you are serving fancy wine, just pour me some water and enjoy it yourself. $15 and $50 bottles of wine are the same to me. I am a nice, good, lovely person who does not have the palette to appreciate fancy food.

Knitworthy means that the person you are giving your knitted item to will gush over it. They will treasure it. They will pay attention when you give them washing instructions. They will take pictures of themselves, their children, or their spouses wearing your knit item and send those pictures to you. They will brag to their friends that “Someone made this for me.” They will treasure baby hats and pass them on to other babies that they love. They will tell you that the blankie you knit is their child’s absolute favorite and they hope you have more yarn like that in case it ever gets a hole. When they accidentally miss the washing instructions and their beloved hat shrinks into a fuzzy ball and they will beg you to make another, “just like it, but maybe in green this time.”

Today, I presented one of my dearest knitworthy friends with three hats for her kiddos. When baby number one was born she got a teeny sweater. When baby number two was born the new baby and her sister got coordinating hats. Now that baby three is here, the only option was to make all three girls hats.

They were so fun to make and give. I loved thinking about each girl and customizing the colors and the topper for her individual hat. I loved giving them to my friend the day after the first big snowfall of the year and knowing her girls heads will be warm all winter. I love that she slipped the teeny one on her baby’s head before they went outside, so she wore it home. She is totally knitworthy. Spending my time and energy making her kiddos stuff makes me so happy, makes her happy and makes her kids happy. I can’t wait until they are teenagers and she and I can torture them with “another batch of hats from auntie Johanna”. I think then I’ll make sure they are really itchy too. She and I will then appreciate how my knitting skills can be used for good and evil. Hmmm, I should start learning about GPS trackers too. I could embed them into the hat so we can see what trouble her girls are getting into.

Signs of less than the apocolypse

On November 11, 2015November 12, 2015 By aftheadIn Tickles my afthead4 Comments

It’s been a rough few days at the Afthead house, so today I bring you my favorite sign from a local water park, so we can share a laugh. Every time I see it I want to jump in the pool and stay under as long as I can, swim a lap without coming up for air, or just stand in front of the sign and hold my breath like a petulant child. That’s the kind of scofflaw I am.

Now, let’s all just take a deep breath …and hold it.

Bittersweeter

On November 10, 2015January 30, 2016 By aftheadIn stories28 Comments

Dear Sneaker Squeaker,

Today I got a terrible, but not unexpected phone call. It was the shelter letting me know that your heart murmur wasn’t just a murmur, but heart failure. When they took your chest x-ray, nothing was right. Your heart wasn’t right. Your lungs were full of fluid. At 3 months old you had reached the end of your life.

I always thought that something wasn’t right with you. Your meow was strangled and squeaky, thus your name. You panted at odd times. Your eyes never quite opened. I had hoped it wasn’t a terminal “not right,” but it was. The news was a blow to my already bruised and battered heart.

When we took you from the shelter you were so tiny and so sick. I would work on the computer with you in my jacket close to my heart. I was committed to you even though I wanted to keep my distance. I didn’t think you’d make it through the first week. I ran steaming water in the shower and sat with you in the kitten spa to try to make you well, and it worked. Yesterday you weighed enough and were healthy enough to go in and get adopted, or so thought my untrained eye.

I knew when I saw messages from the shelter that you were sick. I hoped it was a “we need you to foster him a few more weeks” sick, but it wasn’t. When I called and they told me the horrible news, I wept. When they asked if I wanted to come in and say goodbye I paused, and then said “No.” I had said my goodbyes the day before. I had kissed your soft fur and told you I loved you. I couldn’t do any better than that.

I loved your brown and black stripes that had started to grow down your back like a monochromatic skunk. I love the trusting way you flopped down when you sat on anyone’s lap, certain that they would support you wherever you landed. I loved how you would play with your sister and the big cat. I loved your sweet purr, a whisper of your sisters big engine. Because no relationship is perfect, I need to acknowledge that I didn’t love how you peed all over the house, but that flaw wasn’t enough to keep me from loving you completely.

I had hopes for your forever home, but it turns out I was your forever home. Your forever was 13 short weeks. I loved having you here, and I know you loved being here. Thank you for sharing your life with us. I hope you and your three siblings are somewhere sharing a sunbeam together. Know that part of my heart is still with you.

With deepest affection,

Johanna

P.S. I do want you to know that when I heard you were dying I adopted your sister. I hope you don’t mind, but I needed some joy after so much loss. The sadness was overwhelming. Her whole name is now Adventure Sneaker-Squeaker Blackie Tiny No-Name as a tribute to you and your brothers and sisters. It’s a big name for her, but I think she can carry it. We love you always!

Bittersweet

On November 9, 2015 By aftheadIn Uncategorized5 Comments

Today was a hard day, but a good day.

The Afthead family foster kittens went back to the shelter to get adopted after two months in our home. It is sad and quiet now, but there is joy in the fact that they survived and now have a chance to find their permanent home.

Last night, when my daughter and I talked about the kittens going back she said, “Do you know what word describes this feeling? Bittersweet.”

“That is the perfect word, sweetie. Where did you learn it?” I asked, giving her a hug.

“My teacher taught me.”

Today, I sent my kiddo to school with a note to her teacher that said:

Our kittens have finally gained enough weight so they can go back to the shelter. Little Afthead wanted you to know in case she is sad. This is a bittersweet day, and we thank you for giving us the word to describe how we feel.

After reading the note my daughter’s teacher made the word of the day “bittersweet” and asked if she could read our note to the class. My daughter said “Yes,” and was so proud to share her foster story with her class.

Today is bittersweet.

Nature Wonders

On November 8, 2015 By aftheadIn Uncategorized6 Comments

Yesterday was a heavy blog, so let’s have a little simple wonder today. I have lived around cottonwood trees my whole life. We have lived in our house, that has a hundred year old cottonwood tree in the backyard, for 15 years. I have probably picked up thousands of fallen twigs before my dad, my husband, my brother, or I mowed the lawn, because cottonwoods drop sticks constantly. It wasn’t until last year when I learned there are magic in those sticks.

A friend of ours showed up to pick up his daughter and we were playing in the backyard. He looked at our tree and asked, “Is that a cottonwood tree?” Before we could answer he picked up a stick broke it in half and said, “Oh, it is. Look at the star.”

Folks, there is magic in cottonwood sticks. Look for the ridges on the surface and break the stick between them. If it breaks cleanly you will always find a tiny perfect star.

Isn’t nature awesome?

You play the hand you are dealt

On November 7, 2015March 10, 2016 By aftheadIn Uncategorized20 Comments

My dad is a poker player. He has been a poker player for as long as I can remember. When I was a child he played in various neighborhood games. Then gambling was legalized west of Denver and he added Texas Hold’em to his repertoire. While I am not a poker player, lacking the poker-face and calculating-odds-on-the-fly genes, I have always enjoyed watching my dad play the game. When I was in my teens I would go up to the mountains with him and watch him play against the other players at the table. I’d watch reckless players flamboyantly going against the odds, and methodical players never deviating from what math would tell them to do. The good players, like my dad, would know the odds, but play the game to maximize the hand they had and the players at the table.

One thing you learn from poker, especially Hold’Em, is that you have to play the cards in your hands. In draw poker you can trade in the cards you have for other cards that might make your hand better, but once you get those cards, you don’t get other ones. In the end, you always have to make the best hand you can out of the cards you have.

I think life is like Texas Hold’Em. You and your family sit around a table and each are dealt cards and you have to play those cards. Maybe the rules are different because you get more opportunities to trade in your cards, and the stakes are higher, but one thing is the same: once you are dealt a card you have to play it. You can’t untake a card.

Let’s look at my life. When I was 23 I traded in my “single gal card” for a “live with a guy card”. I still had my “loves bad boys who ride motorcycles” card, just in case living together didn’t work out. Seven years later, the bad boys got traded in for a marriage card and my mate hand was set.

What I didn’t know, and my husband didn’t even know, was that he had a depression card in his hand. His first episode hit right after we were married. It took months to diagnose what was going on. His symptoms manifest themselves physically and he went through a barrage of medical test to determine what was wrong. In the end there was only one possibility left: that his sickness was in his mind. Therapy, time and medication eased his symptoms and eventually cured him a year later. We were told that there was a good chance this would be a one time episode, but if he had another it was probably going to plague him throughout his life.

So he had the depression card. He couldn’t trade it in. Maybe he was lucky and just had the “one episode” kind, but maybe not. I had joined my life to a guy who may or may not have another breakdown. Sure, it wasn’t my card, so I could have left him. I could have decided that staying with someone who had a chance of another breakdown wasn’t worth it, but I didn’t, because I loved him and I wanted a life with him.

We had a baby together, and when she was four, it happened again. Now I had a new card, a mom card. That’s one powerful card, and I spent almost a year keeping her alive as my first priority, and keeping my husband alive as my second. Again, he has the depression card, not me, but with us drawing the parent card together I was permanently tied to him. I could help him get well again, or abandon him and risk being alone, divorced from my husband, fighting some future custody battle. I wouldn’t be married to him, but I would know that he could get sick again and if we weren’t together I couldn’t help him or my daughter. Worst case I’d have a child whose father killed himself. I loved our family too much to not try, so I spent another year fighting and we all came through together, but this time I know that it will happen again.

I was frank with my colleagues, family, and friends with the second episode because I needed all the help I could get. Some asked “How do you do it?” “Why do you do it?” The reality of the situation was that I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to be married to a man with depression. I didn’t want to worry day and night about my daughter and him. But I had to play the hand I was dealt. The words that meant the most to me while I was struggling was, “This just sucks.” It didn’t do any good to think about “What ifs” “What if he hadn’t gotten depressed?” “What if we hadn’t had a kid?” He was and we did and we had to do the best we could. The words that meant the second most were, “How can I help?” “Can we have you over for dinner?” “Can I take him out to give you a break?” What didn’t help were suggestions from people unwilling to jump in and get dirty with us. “You should” and “Why don’t you” drove me crazy. Those are words of judgement made from the outside and weren’t worth my notice. No one who didn’t have my hand could really understand what our family was going through, and if you don’t understand you have no right to shout advice from the sidelines. Trust me, in the World Series of Poker the audience doesn’t get to shout “You should fold” to the players. The players make the most they can out of the cards they have and the people at the table.

I hate that our family has these cards. I hate that the cards we have make us fearful of other cards: my daughter becoming depressed; me dying and my husband falling apart; another episode of depression. We do what we can to arm ourselves against those possibilities. My husband visits a psychiatrist every 6 months so he has an active relationship with her in case he gets depressed again. We’ve learned to teach our daughter to stay away from hard drugs as she gets older, because that’s a huge risk to damaging her brain chemistry and causing her problems in the future. We have a will set up to protect her in case something happens to me and my husband can’t make decisions anymore. All of that sucks, but it’s part of making the most of the hand we’ve been dealt.

The one thing that makes me grateful for what we’ve been through is the empathy I have for others. Friends of ours just had their child diagnosed with a terminal illness. She probably won’t see her third birthday. I could hide from their sadness. I could ignore their plight, or I could tell them what they should do. I don’t do any of that. I do whatever I can do let them know that this just sucks. Sucks in a way I can’t imagine, because I don’t have that card, and I can’t imagine having that card. I can’t understand a situation I’m not living, but I can interpret from the pain of my past the pain of others. I can acknowledge their anguish, and do what I can to help. I can’t make it better. I can’t take their card away. I can’t make the card never happen. But I can use what I have in my hand to make their hand the best it can be. You live the live you are dealt, and sometimes that sucks so bad it’s unfathomable. You sit at the table with all your friends and family and you do what you can to give everyone the best hand they can get, because unlike poker, there isn’t one winner and everyone else loses. The players make the most they can out of the cards they have and the people at the table, but in life the winner doesn’t take all. We are all in this game together.

The Partly Cloudy Patriot: Should You Read or Listen?

On November 6, 2015November 6, 2015 By aftheadIn Read or ListenLeave a comment

“Being a nerd, which is to say going too far and caring too much about a subject, is the best way to make friends I know.” – Sarah Vowell, The Partly Cloudy Patriot

My weekly post to help you decide the best format to enjoy a book. Without further ado:

Should you read or listen to The Partly Cloudy Patriot, by Sarah Vowell?

The Afthead Summary:

You should read The Partly Cloudy Patriot if you meet any of the following criteria: you like history, you are a nerd, you are a twin, you know a twin, you like playing arcade games, you enjoy politics, you vote, you’ve heard someone inappropriately compare themselves to Rosa Parks, you like Tom Cruise, you dislike Tom Cruise, you like antique maps, you like paper cups of pickles, or you have conflict with your family on major holidays. This little book of essays is a favorite of mine, and whenever I’m feeling down or want to feel smarter I re-read it or re-listen to it. Sarah’s take on every topic is witty, intelligent, and enjoyable. Full disclosure, I’d like Sarah Vowell to be my friend. We are about the same age, and enjoy many similar things, but she’s way smarter than I am. I like having smart friends. We could spend hours together going in depth into nerdy topics we care too much about. Bliss.

Read:

This is a great read. It’s also a great book to have on hand for random gifts for random people. Forgot a housewarming present? Need a graduation present? Hostess gift? Just pull out a copy of The Partly Cloudy Patriot and you’ll delight the recipient. Regardless of political orientation there is something in here for everyone. (Well, you may want to take out the chapter on the Bush inauguration for die-hard Republicans.) Because it a set of smaller writings it’s easy to enjoy a quick tidbit about history, politics, careers, and families. I recommend this for everyone.

Listen:

The audiobook is an even higher level of awesomeness. Sarah reads the book herself, and her nasal voice lends a perfect nerd feel to the book: you’ll learn about the importance of the nerd voice if you read. Then, she has a series of guest readers for the famous characters in the book. Perhaps you’ve head of some of them: Conan O’Brien, Seth Green, David Cross or Stephen Colbert? Oh, and They Might be Giants did all the music for the book. It’s a cross entertainment genre bonanza!

Recommendation:

Listen

I must say that I’m not enough of a history buff to really enjoy the other book I listened to by Sarah Vowell: Assassination Vacation. Her history is entertaining, but too thorough for my enjoyment. However, nonfiction is not really my favorite, so don’t make too much of my opinion on her more historical works.

A Review of Modern Halloween Traditions

On November 5, 2015 By aftheadIn Uncategorized7 Comments

I love holiday traditions, but I’m a bit of a classical traditionalist. (For example, I hate that creepy spying elf on a shelf character.) For me, parenting in 2015, there are two newish Halloween traditions which result in diametrically opposite feelings.

Candy Fairy/Candy Witch/Halloween Witch

This new myth was designed by the parents who follow Jamie Oliver and his kin as their lord and savior. These parents find candy to be evil, sugar to be evil, food coloring to be evil, and seek to end the cavity causing, upset stomach Halloween tradition. They are the parents who blithely tell their children that they can have “just one” piece of candy Halloween night. If these children are lucky they may get to pick out a few pieces of candy Halloween night to enjoy after the holiday is over, but if they aren’t lucky, that one piece of candy (plus the 82 they snuck when their parents weren’t looking) is the only candy they will get. Why?!?! Because the Halloween Witch comes the night of Halloween and takes away all their candy and leaves them a present like a toy, or a toothbrush, or a vegan cookbook. What kid doesn’t love waking up November 1st to no candy and some lame present from a witch/fairy?

Am I exaggerating? Maybe a bit, but here’s my real issue with this idea, and it’s the same issue I have with the elf. (Well, I have LOTS of issues about the elf, but this is a big one.) The childhood myths are tenuous. There is a short period of time when our children believe with all their hearts that a big guy in a red suit brings them presents, a giant bunny hides eggs, and a tiny fairy takes their teeth and leaves them coins. These childhood beliefs are interconnected. The first time the tooth fairy forgets to take a tooth it calls all of the beliefs into question. One misstep and childhood innocence ends. Randomly creating new myths that other kids don’t believe in creates that kind of doubt event in a child’s mind. When two of your friends have candy witches and you don’t it makes you wonder, doesn’t it?

Also, the candy witch is a selfish construct. Parents don’t want to be the bad guy and tell their kids things like, “In our family we believe our bodies are a temple and we don’t eat candy.” They don’t want to teach messages like, “We are going to give all of our candy away because we would rather make the people at mommy and daddy’s office get diabetes so we can move up the career ladder.” So I say end the ridiculousness of the Candy Witch. Own up to your family’s values. Tell your kids that you are getting rid of the candy. Don’t create new constructs that damage the kids myth systems too early. In time they’ll learn it was all a farce, but don’t ruin it because you don’t like your kid eating candy and you are afraid that if you own up to it your kids won’t like you anymore.

Booing

The process of Booing is similar to may baskets on May Day or Secret Santas. The weeks prior to Halloween, one family starts the Booing by making a treat for two sets of friends. The treats aren’t anything big. Our Booing gifts this year had an 8 pack of crayons, a ring pop (that you could give to the Candy Witch later if you wanted), some plastic fangs and a jeweled spider ring. You also provide a sign that says “We’ve been Booed” and Booing instructions. The instructions tell you how to move the Boo along:

Enjoy your gift
Copy the Boo instructions and “We’ve been Booed” sign
Put the “We’ve been Booed” sign on your door, so you don’t get Booed again
Make a gift for two other friends
Put copies of the sign and instructions in their gifts
Sneak to two front doors and leave your Boo on the doorstep

I love this tradition. It is a fun way to surprise your friends. It builds a great sense of community with the families in your neighborhood. It teaches kids that sometimes when you do nice things, they come back to you. My daughter was floored when we got Booed this year and the instructions were exactly the same as the ones we sent out. We had a great discussion about how that didn’t mean that the people we Booed were the same people who Booed us, but that every Boo in the chain had copied our instructions. We had no way of knowing how far our Boo traveled before it came back to us. It’s also fun to see the Boo signs appear on doors throughout the neighborhood as the weeks go by.

Is there a downside of Booing? Of course. Some kids don’t get Booed, and that hurts. Some families don’t like the junk on their doorstep and they end the cycle. But I love how it teaches values I believe in to my kid. I was so proud of her when she picked two kids to Boo who weren’t her best friends, but were kids she thought would really appreciate it. It’s a good life lesson to really think about where to best spend your time and effort when giving gifts or making a special effort. I love how it builds a sense of community with my daughter. I love how she sees how good things can travel, and I even like how she can see that sometimes your good deeds don’t get returned. Those are all real life lessons taught in a way a kid can understand.

I’m waiting for the Candy Witch questions to start after my daughter goes back to school and I hope this round isn’t the one that makes her question Santa, because I really want at least one more pure magical Christmas at the Afthead house with total and complete belief in the myths of childhood. Hopefully when the belief ends the lessons of creating wonder and surprise through Booing will help her understand that the magic can continue in a real person-to-person way, even when the myths evaporate.

Ack! Spider!

On November 4, 2015January 30, 2016 By aftheadIn stories14 Comments

The warm water ran down my back, rinsing the shampoo from my hair. I turned and picked up my bottle of conditioner. As I lived it from the shelf an enormous wolf spider fell from the bottle and onto the shower wall. I jumped, then started processing options. Squish it. Bad luck. Rinse it down the drain. Dear God, it could land on me or crawl up my foot.

Then I looked closer. The little guy was slipping on the shower wall, his tiny hairy legs trying to get purchase while his mandibles flexed. He was scared too. I sighed and in my very vulnerable state looked for something to catch him in. Shave gel top? Perfect. I coerced the spider into the lid and once he was firmly captured I opened the shower curtain and flung top and spider into the sink.

Once I was dry and covered, I took Mr. Spider in his lid to the front door and set him outside in the plant. Good luck with the snow tomorrow, and stay out of my bathroom!

Fostering Kittens is Humbling

On November 3, 2015 By aftheadIn Uncategorized10 Comments

We are days away from the end of our kitten fostering adventure. Two months ago I picked up three kittens from the Denver Dumb Friends League. Of our original three we have one left, and ended up fostering one additional litter mate when his sister died in the shelter. Five kittens were born together, and this week two kittens will go back to the shelter to find their forever homes. The experience has been humbling, sad, and full of love and joy. These fragile creatures are so tiny, yet so big in our hearts. Reflecting back on the experience, we have learned so much.

The Sorrows

Stray kittens have a rough start at life. In the family of five kittens three died. One of the living had a bacterial infection and the other had a parasite and both diseases threatened their lifes. I learned how to give IV fluids, antibiotics, immunizations, and anti-parasitic medicines. If my job goes south I have many qualifications of a vet tech now.
Even with all my dedication, hard work, care, and the wonders of modern medicine accidents still happen and kittens still die. There is a very, very good reason that they stress keeping your toilet seats down when fostering kittens. Of all the life lessons I hoped our family would learn from this, I never hoped to learn that one. Life is fragile. Never doubt it.
When you tell your daughter that the kitten drowning is “family business” she will still tell her friends, who will tell their friends, who will tell their parents, who will ask you point blank at awkward times if a “kitten really drowned in your toilet.” They are judging you, but you don’t need to judge yourself again. Horrible things happen and people who don’t risk taking care of the sick and weak will never have to answer such questions.
The animal foster community is amazing. The foster coordinators who work at the shelter saw me at my worst many times. They were always loving, took my concerns seriously, and gave the best care to the kittens. The other volunteers and foster parents were a resource that this new foster parent drew on daily. Once we were over the hump and the kittens were healthy and growing, the community rejoiced with me.

The Joys

Our kittens were technology wizards. They quickly learned that heat comes out of laptops and modems and always found the warmest place to sit.
Kittens do not make good bookmarks. They are too lumpy.
Anytime you put something on your head that a kitten hasn’t seen before – earrings; hats, sunglasses, glasses – those objects must be explored and tasted.
If you are not a good housekeeper a kitten will reveal every bookcase that hasn’t been dusted under, refrigerator coil that needs vacuuming, and errant spiderweb in your house. They will clean these areas for you, and then you will clean the kitten.
Baby kittens do not have hair on their bellies at first. This makes kittens attractive from the top, but unattractive when rotated 180 degrees.
After 7 weeks of hesitant interactions kittens really taste good.
There is only room in any sunbeam for one kitten, regardless of the size of the sunbeam.
Big eyes help kittens get away with a host of transgressions.

We’ve decided that these are not our cats, and giving them back is going to break our hearts for the hundredth time. When they leave us I hope they find love, patience, a big cat to play with and a bad housekeeper to love them. If you ever find yourself in need of a new pet, I encourage you to adopt from a shelter. You never know the kind of love that may come with your new pet.