Saturday, October 28, 2006
Patrick
First I want to thank you for the well wishes on the death of my grandfather. It's been difficult in the sense that the family is now just about gone, I only have my dad left. Holidays haven't been the same since my mom had her stroke and died 4 years ago and now it's only a reminder than I'm one step away from being alone in the world. I haven't been the same man since my mom died and this year has been hell, the past month or so has been unbearable. No wonder I've been driving everyone around me absolutely mad with my constant cries for Valium. I don't know how else to describe what I feel other than it's a constant state of anguish that I just need the edge taken off but it won't happen without Valium. It's a band aide, I know that....but my idea is if I could get a goddamned doctor to give it to me for a short time to bridge the gap so I can get from the state of constant turmoil I'm now in to a sense of normalcy but it doesn't look like it's going to happen. I'm well on my way to a stroke or heart attack myself if this keeps up, I cannot continue this way. It hit me in bed the other night why Valium is not given anymore and risk of addiction is NOT the reason.
ANYWAY.....enough of my inane rambling. THIS is what I've been working on, or trying to. It's a sweater from Rowan's now discontinued book, Denim. Let me say right now this is the most complex sweater I think I've ever attempted. There is so much movement with the cables that you can't let your guard down for a second. It's a great challenge. It took me a while to get going-it's a bitch to establish but it's really cool. I love the "ribbing", think that is just awesome. I'm hoping that once it's washed and assembled it'll tighten up a bit. This is one reason I don't like working with cotton yarn, your tension has to be spot on or every little variance shows-cotton, I find, is very unforgiving that way.
This is 38 rows, there's 60 to the repeat. I guess this means I won't get to make my black, cashmere turtleneck this winter. Oh well...there's always next year I guess...if I'm not in an asylum by then.
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