The Worms Crawl In, The Worms Crawl Out: They Take Your Joy and Spit It Out.

I touched on this in my last blog post, I felt I needed to get all my thoughts on this topic out, as sometimes writing is the only way I can rid myself of things that float in my brain.  

I always knew how words can hurt.  I've been hurt by them many times in my life.  But I have come to feel that one small voice that is negative and or cruel  is like a black imaginary worm digging and weaving its way through your soul, brain and heart.  Even when you are desperately trying to stop the worm, telling it to go away and that it has no power because it is not real and does not belong to you-it is inside you becoming a part of you.  That is the way I can best describe the way these hurtful things make me feel.  Even someone that has a great support system and many more voices of encouragement and joy still feels the effect of these worms because the good words don't get inside your soul like the worms...those are just teeny tiny plugs, they can only fill the holes, and it may take hundreds of these kind words to fill up the holes of one nasty worm.


I live my life in such a way that I am happiest when I am making others happy. Maybe this is why words hurt me so much?  I am so envious of those that don't seem affected by negativity or criticism.  I have a hard time imagining how someone would take time out of their lives to make someone else feel like dirt.

When I was in Junior High I had a mean girl walk up to me as I was sitting at a desk.  She was just someone in my class, we'd never had any conversations or interactions.  She walked up to me and whispered in my ear, "We must...we must increase our bust..."  she continued with the whole song nice and quite and slow.  It was the epitome of meanness. There was nobody egging her on.  She wasn't recording it (this was long before cellphones haha!).  She just did it to be mean to me personally.  No witnesses except her and I.   That was so many years ago and I can still feel her breath in my ear.  I can feel the tears stinging my eyes.  I can see the rest of the class completely oblivious to what was going on.  It wasn't the words she said.  Lord knows I knew I was flat chested.  I also had a giant scar running down my chest from my open heart surgery just a few months before.  What really hurt was that this evil was in my world.

People ask me all the time why I crochet.  The simple answer is that it makes me happy.  Well, it is more than that.  My yarn and hook don't hurt me.  They only bring me joy, and I love it when they bring joy to others as well.  I'm filling wormholes ya'll.  I don't know if there is enough yarn in the world to fill my wormholes but I'm trying.  I'm really really trying.  Sometimes though, it just seems that there is never enough yarn.  I share my yarning world with the world because I hope it brings people happiness, not because I want to be famous or known. I much prefer to be a nobody-there is far less stress that way.  I am not a strong person.  I really am not.  How can someone be strong when their heart and soul is full of wormholes?

I can only continue to live my life throwing out as many compliments as I can.  A compliment is such an easy thing, and makes the giver just as happy as the receiver.  At least it should.

A Haunted Hook: Tessellating Stained Glass Afghan

I have long struggled with religion in my life.  When I was younger
we went to church, just a regular little church-I was baptized,
confirmed and all that jazz. Our pastor wasn’t a very nice man-
he wasn’t mean either, but I always had a weird vibe from
him, like he would prefer I not be
there so I guess I always had a sour taste in my mouth
when it came to religion after that.  

I went through periods in my life when I was in some very dark
places and I knew that
there could not be a God.  Throughout the years I’d eventually
morphed into thinking,
“if there is there is if there isn’t there isn’t and any God I
believe in understands why
I don’t believe.”

One day, I had the opportunity to see two mediums that
worked in tandem.  It was through a friend of a friend and none
of the people attending knew
anything about me, so I felt this was the perfect opportunity to prove to
myself, once and for all, that all of this ‘otherworldly’ stuff was just nonsense.  
I can only say that my life changed forever that day. I definitely believe there
is another place for us to go when we leave these shells we call bodies. The
things these guys knew about me was beyond any explanation. They knew
things that nobody outside my family knew, and they even knew things
that I did not know at the time-I had to get verification from family once
I got home.  I know that sounds crazy, just as I always thought others sounded
crazy when they would say things like that. I gave them no clues or hints,
no body gestures or words. I only sat there and shook my head.

For weeks after that I could not shower without my bathing suit on.  I would tell the
spirits to leave the bathroom because I was convinced they are all around us all
of the time.  A great take away from that day was that we were informed
that when you dream about a loved one that really is them communicating with you
because our minds are more open to that when we are asleep.  

Ever since that day, probably ten years ago now, I’ve struggled with wanting to go to church, but not being
brave enough to step foot into one.  I am not sure why I am so hesitant and scared but I am. I do know that
I love the old-fashioned churches and their stained glass, I love the old school hymns, and the feel of the
hymnal.  I love hearing everyone sing along, even though not all the voices hit the right notes, to me, that is
peace.

I’ve always wanted to design a stained-glass style afghan.  I wanted to make it unique without being too
complicated. Ever since I started designing my own patterns, that has always been my ultimate goal, but
I was never really confident enough to even try.  I had it in my mind for so long that I just thought it would
always just be there with me, never really coming to fruition. One day, as I was waking up from a night’s
sleep, I was jolted with a vision of exactly how I wanted my stained-glass afghan to look.  It was in my head
as if it had always been there. It felt like a familiar friend. I didn’t even sketch it out, I just went about my
morning, went to boxing, took a shower, took my daughter to school, and then did my chores. All the while,
this afghan was still brightly shining in my mind.  Not like one of those dreams you have that seem so vivid
that you know you will never forget it, but then about five minutes after starting your day you can’t even
remember what you dreamt. I decided to let it play out. I sat down with my hook and yarn and this afghan
happened. I’ve never had a pattern come to me with such ease.  I am sure someone was helping me, although
I don’t know who it is. I can only hope that someday, I will find out who was guiding my mind and fingers and
that I can give them a big hug. I know that my house is haunted, well just one room is, we all can feel it, and
have seen evidence of it, of course that is the room I crochet it, so I wonder if it is the spirit of that room that
has helped me or maybe one of my own guiding spirits.  

I feel this afghan brings me just a little step closer to church.  I really hope that one day I can overcome my
fears and walk into that little church that is not too far from my house and just sit down on the pew, feel the
hymnal, and be at peace.   

The photographs I took of this afghan are supposed to represent the feeling of life after death….I’ve been
attempting to explain why I chose to use such morbidity to those that ask me, “WHY?”.  We all die.
That is one fact you can count on in life...that it will end. Maybe it will end badly and maybe it will end peacefully. However, I do believe that no matter how it ends, we are all going to a better place. What you do with your life whilst it exists is where we can go right or wrong and make differences-good or bad. I wanted to take some eye-catching photos, to prove to myself I could do it when I realized I couldn’t afford
a real photographer who could.  These images were taken by my 16 year old daughter who listened attentively
to my vision, applied her own artistic eye (and even applied my makeup) and then took the most stunning
photos even I could not have imagined. We had a fabulous time together in the woods with that camera,
our props and this lovely afghan. Of course, we both  love murder shows-I love to crochet in my
haunted room while watching Snapped. When our little photo shoot was over, I traipsed through
the woods with her and we practiced throwing knives. Because, after all, what else is a
girl to do when covered in leaves, fake blood, a black lacy dress and is
wearing the most fabulous hat in the world?

Link to my newest pattern

A Haunted Hook: Tessellating Stained Glass Afghan

footnote:  My joy in publishing this pattern has been crushed by the fact that these images have offended a few people.  I am deeply saddened by this fact, and part of me wants to remove them all but the other part of me is saying to hold firm to my vision and be strong.  I know not all art is for everyone, but my soul, joyous only a few hours before, is now clouded in sadness, confusion and indecision.  I apologize is you are offended, however, at this time, I am going to hold firm to my and my precious daughter's vision.  No ill intent was meant, quite the opposite, and because of that fact alone I am trying very hard to stand firm. 

I'd also like to add that my grammy, the one that taught me to crochet, HATES gore, sad movies and anything morbid.  So much so that she she stopped watching movies after the movie Billy Bud came out.  She said she hated that sad ending so much that she has never seen another movie that she thinks could possibly be sad, scary or gory since that one.  I have no idea how old that movie is, but I have only, in my life, seen her watch three movies in my life:  Sound of Music, The Music Man and The Wizard Of Oz.  Grammy loved my photos, and if she approves, then I can try to be at peace.  I'm just really fighting the urge to take down this pattern and all traces of it.  Now, personally, I think those flying monkeys are TERRIFYING-more so than a little blood on a hand, but I did some make up for a middle school play with flying monkeys so they can't be THAT bad, can they? ;)

Update:  One day after the initial publication and reactions.  All I can say is that I am deeply humbled and grateful for everyone that has extended their support to me and my daughter's work.  I am no sure how I can make you understand how truly uplifting it is to be a part of a community where people I never knew reach out to make sure that we keep our heads high, our spirits soaring and our faith in humanity in tact.  Truly.  I am completely flabbergasted that this silly old pattern and a low budget photo shoot has made me reflect upon so many things in such a short period of time.  I always knew how words can hurt...Even if it is only one small voice-that one little voice of criticism (or whatever it may be) is like a black imaginary worm digging its way through your soul, your brain and your heart.  Even when you are trying desperately to stop the worm, telling it to go away and telling the worm it has no power because it is not real and does not belong to you it still becomes a part of you.  That is the way I can best describe it. With everyone's support I have begun filling the worm holes and have found peace with this situation. When I was in junior high a very mean girl came up to me.  She whispered in my ear, "We must...we must...we must increase our bust.." she continued that terrible song into my ear.  It was such an act of pure meanness-I mean she wasn't doing it for anyone egging her on, no one else knew what she was doing except her and me.  What a terrible thing to do to someone.  She will always be inside my brain, that mean girl...I'm just so so happy that I have so many other happy thoughts to fill her worm holes.  I hope everyone in this world is able to also find ways to plug their worm holes....

I'm stumbling across comments on other public forums regarding me as being an 'offensive chick.'  I've also been told that I should just write murder stories.  Clearly, they only took the time to judge and not enlighten.  To those that I will never please I say nothing, as I have already apologized to those that do not like my photos and I'm pretty sure that there is nothing I can say to make them realize that this was meant to be a beautiful thing.   I have since deleted many of my photographs, and can only hope that these people that don't know what they are throwing rocks at find peace in their own lives to not worry about what other people are doing.  

Deli Counter Woes

Yesterday I went to the Deli at Jewel. There weren't many people there, so I thought it was safe. The next half hour was a true test in my stamina, restraint and sanity.

First, it must have been a complete Cluster #$(* earlier in the day because there was a brand spanking new roll in the ticket dispenser, and they didn't even bother to close it back up or start the new roll...As I was attempting to figure out how he hell to get the number off some lady asked if I had my ticket (she shall be called Ticket Lady), I gave her a look and said, "No, I'm still trying to figure this stupid thing out." Ticket Lady literally nudged me away and grabbed two tickets and handed one to me-she was lucky she gave me the 00 or fists would have been thrown.

We were already on number 98, thank goodness, surely this won't take long at all! Now I can sit back and sort of people watch for a bit. Both the deli ladies were running on empty. They looked like soulless shells of humans that wanted nothing more than to go in the back and take a long nap. The way they moved those meat slicers was making me want to put my Drill Instructor pants on-"MOVE YOUR ARMS WOMEN, MEAT SLICING AIN'T FOR SISSIES! YOU WORK AT JEWEL? THE ONLY THING THAT WORKS AT JEWEL IS STEERS AND...." I'm sure that would have gone over well.

I think, when people realize there is a long line behind them, something inside them snaps. They realize they have power. They wield this power like a crazed dictator wields the nuke button. All of a sudden people were dong stupid stuff like, asking for 'one more this' and 'Oh ya, could I also get,' oooh let us not forget the ever terrifying, "do you have that one thing that' OMG!!!!

FINALLY my number is called, as I am jumping up and down like I've won the lotto-and not one of those stupid cheap ass scratch offs-I mean the multi-million lotto-I yell, "One pound of pepperoni thin sliced." Why does everyone else make the poor ladies walk all the way over to them so they can gently whisper their order? These are not some sort of top secret spy meats. As my lady is very slowly slicing my meat-OMG I've never seen anyone go so slow-I can imagine my boxing instructor saying, "SPEED ONE TWOS SPPEEEEDDDDD!!! EXTEND YOUR ARMS!!!!"

Now it is Ticket Lady's turn with the other snail behind the counter. Ticket Lady says to the snail, "After you change your gloves I want...." OMG if you want to see a snail go slower-order them to change their gloves. Actually, what IS slower than a snail? Is there anything? Maybe a snail lollygagging through quick sand.

Anyhow, during all of this my poor daughter was just sort of oozing into a pile of, "I hate you for making me come with you to Jewel." Of course the damn pepperoni was for HER stupid sandwiches that no one else eats. haha! I feel like I need a trophy for surviving this experience.

Valentine's Day: Nothing Is the Best Something

I realized that Valentine's Day is almost upon us...I turned to my husband and asked, "Are we doing the usual for Valentine's Day?" He got a weird look, as if he should know something but was drawing a blank and asked, "What's the usual?" Of course, the response was, "NOTHING."

Nothing is our usual for Valentine's Day. I like it that way. I don't like the idea of setting aside one day to show someone you love them. I love that I feel loved every single day. It may not be some grand gesture or amazing gifts, but the fact that he hasn't murdered me in my sleep (or wakefulness) has got to count for something, right?

I think nothing is the best gift you can give someone. It shows that you are confident in your relationship to not have to run out and stand in a herd of men who just got off work to fight for some crappy flowers that will be dead in a few days. It shows that you know that every day you are together is special and you don't need to make time for that one day so that all the other days are worth it. If all the other days are days of love and joy then there is no need for one day that is set aside for that. Actually, the more I think about this stupid holiday the more I hate it.

My guy lets me be me and actually does a pretty good job of pretending that he doesn't mind when I am me being me. Heck, sometimes he even encourages it!  This is so important to me because I feel like in my young years I was trying to be invisible.  It was easier than standing out.  There were different reasons for this-at home and at school, but this really left me feeling like a butterfly when I grew up and had kids.  I could finally be me, and my husband encourages this-I love him so much for this! 

This year, I will get him something really special for Valentine's Day. Nothing. I won't find some horrific way to make his life hell for one day. I can do that. It may be hard, but I'm determined to not annoy him for one full day. Because, after all, nothing is something.

Suck It Up Buttercup! Honesty Is The Best Policy

I have been raising my children in an age when children are commended for being mediocre.  They are given medals for participating and praise is heaped upon them for mundane and simple tasks or ideas. I have never bought into this.  More recently there has been more talk about trophies being stupid for participation and what not and I take that as a good sign for our race....BUT I am proud to say I am not one of those parents that praise their kids for nonsense.

I will praise my children, don't get me wrong, when they do something amazing, accomplish something that they struggled to learn or anything that is extra ordinary.  This is great, everyone needs a pat on the back...

BUT everyone also needs a little slap of reality.  Being human means sometimes you suck.  I am just as generous with honesty as I am praise.  If one of my kids has done something that I think they could have done better or didn't really try that hard at, I will be sure to tell them this particular thing isn't that great. The other day, for example, I told my mom (the good one) right in front of my daughter, that my daughter had handwriting like a SeRIal KilLer!  My mom was SHOCKED.  She said, "Shawn! What a horrible thing to say!"  This set into motion my long tirade in which I explain that my daughter is aware that she isn't perfect.  She is amazing in many areas. My daughter is the most self-disciplined person I know.  She has an amazing drive to excel and is always very responsible.  Her determination to learn new things makes her a force to reckon with.  But she sucks at handwriting and her spelling could be better.  WHAT??  I'm insulting her again??!!  NO!  I'm just being truthful.  If these things hurt her feelings, maybe she will practice her writing and spelling.  If she is OK with being less than perfect in these areas it is OK too, because being human is NOT being perfect.

In this world of facebook....errr...fakebook it is easy to pretend our lives are amazing.  You only post things that you are proud of, or things you think are funny.  Very rarely do people post things about their imperfections.  Sometimes, a celebrity will fall off their high horse and post a selfie of a naked face, and the entire world rejoices.  Why is this?  Because being regular and normal and HUMAN means being imperfect.  That is ok.

I think, however, that more than a way to encourage better behavior or instigate more practice that being brutally honest also will give credence to my praise.  Look, if I tell you that your toenails look hideous on Monday-you will believe me when I tell you that you are beautiful on Tuesday!

I pride myself in not lying to people.  I do not give praise if it is not earned (and by earned I mean if I honestly feel you are worthy of it).  Let us take an ugly baby for instance.  I hope and pray the baby has a sweet temperament or nice eyes, because I will NOT say, "Awww how cute."  I will, however say, "Aww what a sweet baby!" or "What beautiful eyes!"

Yes, I am brutally honest, but I am not brutal.  I will NOT tell you you are ugly-or say anything that insults something you cannot change.  I would however say, "You know, if you wore your eyeliner this way it would make your eyes pop more."

Maybe I am a horrible person....but that is just how I am and what I believe.  There are good reasons for it, and I'm sorry if it makes some people think I am an awful parent.

My Father's Day Wish

This is my Daddy. He raised me, long ago when dads didn't normally get custody-but he did! He let me barf on him, put bows in his hair and pick out his grey hairs (which I probably caused in the first place). Words cannot describe how much he means to me, and watching him suffer has been truly gut wrenching.

We do not know what is wrong with my dad. We need to know what is wrong with him. He has been going to doctors for so many years, so many doctors for pain that he has had and countless surgeries that never helped anything. One day, he was messing around on facebook and clicked a link about MS. Something clicked with him, when he read that article, that maybe all his weird symptoms are all related. He never really had gone to just one doctor for all the ailments before. He immediately made a doctor's appointment and began trying to get to the bottom of this. We aren't saying he has MS-but he does have SOMETHING. We just don't know WHAT.

Needless to say, one doctor's appointment turned into a few doctor's appointments with specialists with long gaps of time between (specialists take forever to see) and so far, nobody has had any diagnosis or even an inkling of what is wrong with my dad. We are begging someone to please care enough to look at his case and help figure it out. He has gotten so much worse in just a year, I am scared that whatever he has may be irreversible and if we wait too long the effects could be devastating. If this could all be treated or cured in some way, we would love to know-and if it can't, we STILL want to know!

This video is of my dad explaining his symptoms...

Video of my dad describing his symptoms

At least the ones we thought of whilst sitting there talking to the camera. Since we filmed, he probably has remembered a few more that we left out. He isn't a complainer, he doesn't want to burden people with his troubles, he isn't asking for anything for free-he just wants to find a doctor that is willing to help him get to the bottom of this. He does have insurance and can travel (with the help of his loved ones) anywhere in the US.

I am just hoping that this might click with someone somewhere. Maybe someone can share it with a doctor that specializes in this kind of stuff, or maybe just share with me the information of a doctor that may be of help to us.

Chronology of Information/symptoms as best of his knowledge (please excuse the poor formatting, but it was a copy/paste and facebook didn’t like it. I hope to edit it when I have time).

Age 5. - 1958 –I had mono. Epstein Barr virus antibodies are believed to contribute to MS symptoms later in life. Age 8 (or 9)-had an appendectomy

Age 10. - 1963 – Tremors started and continue to this day.

Age 14. – 1967 – Earaches with no sign of infection and eardrum damage. No wax buildup. Doctors can find n reason for the earaches. Continues to this day. (Common among MS patients.)

Age 14. – 1967 – rapid heartbeat and irregular EKG. Common with MS patients. Continues to this day.

Age 25. - 1978 – Tiic Dolorous started. (More common among MS patients than the general population.) Attacks frequently are accompanied with pain behind eyes, blurred vision, and / or double vision. Continues to this day.

Mid 20’s. – About 1980? – Began having serious gum disease. Quarterly visits to dentist for deep scraping/cleaning did not help. Kept loosing teeth until I gave up and had dentures put in.

Age 30. – 1983 – High blood pressure. Continues to this day even after deliberately losing 80 pounds and modifying diet. (Common among MS patients.)

Age 40. - 1993 – Developed symptoms similar to carpal tunnel syndrome. Had bilateral carpal tunnel surgery. No relief. MS can cause pain, numbness, cramping that mimics carpal tunnel syndrome. Many MS patients are miss-diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome.

Age 41. – 1994 – Ulnar nerve issues. Surgery with no relief. Same issues as carpal tunnel. See above. Continues to this day.

Age 55. – 2008 – Balance issues. Stumbling, falling, numbness in feet and legs. Pain in both upper arms – constantly! Continues to this day.

Age 57. – 2009 – slurred speech. Continues to this day.

Age 62. – 2015 – An hour or two in sun and I am totally exhausted. Legs collapse. Fall. Cannot walk. (I was hospitalized for this in 2015.) Elevated creatinine levels (common among MS patients.) Occurs periodically to this day.)

Currently – Chronic exhaustion. Daily periods of double vision. Lack of balance. Frequent falls. Although I can hear fairly well, I always have the feeling that one ear or the other is plugged up. Pain in upper arms never goes away. Numbness in feet, legs never stops, and right forearm numbness never stops. Hands frequently cramp up.

My PRK Story: I Spy With My Little Eye

Update on my corrective eye surgery: Many thanks to all those that have asked how it went...I've avoided giving an official Facebook update because I wanted to give my eye time to heal and really be able to speak about whether or not I thought it was a good thing...

So I sat and pondered the laser corrective eye surgery a LONG time. I was always petrified to do it, because I have, like everyone, heard horror stories and I didn't want that to be me....BUT I am just so sick of contacts, I never really felt comfortable in them and glasses make me a complete lunatic (ask Jaime-and yes, more so than usual).

I consulted three different places-one was Lasik Vision Institute in Oak Brook-They were terrible. They gave me the best deal but they packed people in the waiting room like cattle and then made you wait...and watch a stupid promotional video on loop...then they had you speak to a salesman to ask if you had questions...um..I had plenty of questions for the DOCTOR...Long story short, after many hours of waiting here waiting there I got to see the doctor. She was a complete ass and was so overly fake that even my husband commented on it (he's usually Mr. What'sYourProblemPants)... Another was in Seneca-they were great-just REALLY far away...I finally went with Spectrum Eye Institute...it was much closer to my home, but that is not the reason I went with them. Out of all the places, this was the only one to suggest that I could try a contact in one eye to see how I liked my vision corrected with only ONE eye being operated on...AND they suggested I consider PRK because I am so active (plus the chickens)....The negatives of PRK is that it is very painful to heal from for a few days and your results are not immediate-it can take months to fully see well...

So...Had the surgery almost two weeks ago. My eye felt like it had grains of sand in it at first, followed by a herd of MMA people having at it and popping it back into my head, followed by glass being shoved in my eye and then a boulder on top of the glass...That lasted for three days (first time I ever took prescribed pain pills and they didn't touch the pain)...Then they removed the bandage contact on the fourth day and I was a bit sad because my eye was so blurry. But it has gotten progressively better and here I am two weeks (tomorrow) out and I can see. I can tell you already it was all worth that pain. YEAH! And a bonus is that my eyes have returned to their white color-when I'd wear contacts they always seemed to look an unhealthy creamy almost yellow color.

So there you have it, my stupid summary of my eye surgery. In case anyone wanted my info for their own personal info bank.

UPDATE:  A few days after writing all that I wound up jabbing my eye with the disposable dropper (that jaggedy edge) and got an abrasion.  Instantly, the world went blurry again.  I made it to the doctor who confirmed it was an abrasion, that looked like a big blister.  IT was awful.  It hurt and I couldn't see well at all. :(  It took a solid MONTH for my vision to come back.  BUT  now that it has I am so happy and 100% thrilled with the surgery.  Just remember, when doing drops, drop them into the corner of your eye and then tilt your head to the side so it falls into your eye. :)