Two days ago I thought he’d spilled a glass of water  (“No…”) and dabbed it out with a towel. Yesterday my sock got wet again when I stepped on the edge of the carpet there. Today it was Houston, we’ve got a problem. The soaking went several feet wide now.

This house was built with the water pipes running under the slab but ours failed years ago. The then-plumber explained that the reverberations from one leak can make a weak old pipe give way in more places and in fact we had, suddenly, 16 of them. We could jackhammer the entire length of the house–or we could run new pipes across the roof.

Done.

And so here I am 32 years later, going, yeah we had a freeze, but there’s nothing under the house. The wall is dry. No sign of dripping through the ceiling. Somehow water is seeping up through the concrete from the ground, is the best we can tell, even though it hasn’t been raining. This is going to be $$$.

We tried to figure out who we should call for a problem whose cause we don’t know.

Well, a plumber would be able to pinpoint the sounds of the water if it has anything to do with pipes.

I’ve been pushing towels at it all day and the washer is running a load of them as I type. But I think at the very least we’re about to lose the carpeting in the living room.

So I did what one does in such circumstances: I went outside this evening, looked at my oldest Anya tree (2019) that didn’t get to go in the ground because it didn’t look as healthy as the other, but that could be because it’s been potted too long, and finally, a year after I bought a bigger pot and soil, did that transplant. By myself. Without telling anyone.

Those branches are fragile and so am I. It was heavy. That rootball was an impenetrable mass, no easing individual roots apart like I had intended, not while trying to keep it from falling over and crashing. I hope I didn’t leave bare spaces between it and the new soil underneath because air prunes off roots but I’m sure in some places I did. I ended up pushing the mass down with my knee from trunk to pot edge, around and around to try to connect it to below. And then threw those pants in the washer with the towel load.

It was all frankly a stupid thing to do because a friend told me he was going to get some kids from church to come do it for me, but I never got a firm time nor day. I didn’t want to pay another repairman, I didn’t want another major home repair (termites were $79k) and in that moment what I wanted most was the satisfaction of getting this one thing done that had bugged me for over a year so my plant could go live happily ever after and maybe even give me some fruit.

Besides, what are back exercises for.

It feels so good to have gotten it done.

I half-apologized and warned the friend from church so the kids wouldn’t be disappointed, and thanked them for the offer.

So, if you’re thinking about the shape of Half Moon Bay, our local coastline, and you take a classic feather and fan and stretch it out a bit and then run an outward-purl row immediately after the yarn overs so it looks like the crests of incoming waves and the closer to shore you take it the closer together those two rows come to the next set of two, while dropping one repeat to the right every eighteen rows, turning those into plain stitches (which I just did again, hidden under that needle)…

…and you graph out a starfish in purl stitches…

…and it comes out looking more like a lobster but what the heck…

…Then it turns out that, as usual for me, the more I get done the faster it goes because it’s actually starting to BE something.

The mill-end yarn (50/50 cash/cot) is not pre-washed. It’s going to bloom and look a lot softer and denser.

You might even be able to see that there’s a starfish down there near the corner.

There was going to be a Barbara Walker’s turtle, too, but it’s just too many rows to scale right in there.

There will probably be a redwood above. I’ve debated an apricot tree (they have one of mine) and even adding apricot colored apricots but you know baby fingers would put a lot of effort into trying to pull them off. So maybe. I have that color, I could. Or all just cream like it is. Got awhile before I have to decide.

An officer’s body cam footage of handcuffing an emu on the lam is the video we all need right now.

Meantime, I have a question. Macy’s was selling a cashmere turtleneck for $43 plus a $10 off coupon, in a color I liked. $33. I sprang for it. I figured it wouldn’t be the best quality but cashmere at the price of cotton, hey.

It arrived quite perfumed. I don’t know if it was worn and returned or just happened to be next to the warehouse’s moth repellent efforts, but it looked fine. I debated returning it but there were none left to exchange it for so I thought, nah, I can wash that out.

Several spots refused to get wet. On both front and back but not the sleeves. We’re talking blotches an inch and two inches high or more.

I held it under. I soaked it in unscented suds for hours. I defied the ‘don’t agitate the water’ rule of hand washing woolens and squished soapy water through those spots again and again but they stayed looking exactly how they had: bone dry. Huh. If it was mill oils repelling the water the soap would be breaking that down by now. If it was super wash treated, ie the yarns coated in the thinnest film of plastic so it can be machine washed and dried, they would have used it as a selling point (without admitting to the plastic part.)

What gives? I’m a fiber artist, I should certainly know. A fraudulently synthetic-cashmere blend that spun out into clumps of just synthetic?

I tried working water into it during the rinses, too. (Tepid water not cold thankyouverymuch.)

I didn’t spin it out–if it turned out blotchy I wanted to be able to say it had not touched the washer nor dryer.

Hours later, while laid flat to dry, those gaps slowly slowly closed up and the thing became a solid color again, darker of course because it’s wet but at least now it all looked wet.

Huh.

Well, the mill oils with their dried hair mousse effect are definitely washed out now because the sweater has softened up beautifully.

I like it. Hey Mikey.

On a different note: fifty Bavarian sheep got distracted by acorns and then, they believe, someone carrying a bag in.

A feedbag! Thus suddenly they were checking out the inside of a grocery store. I imagine automatic doors were involved. Lettuce? Nah, go for the drinks.

Meanwhile, the shepherd in the middle of moving 450 other sheep didn’t realize he’d lost a tithing of his flock.

The grocery chain, rather than going after the shepherd for cleanup and replacement expenses, knew a priceless ad campaign when they saw the viral video, laughed, and said they would sponsor those 50 sheep’s feed for a year.

Loving, laughing, forgiving. Thanking.

Man, doesn’t it feel great.

I heard from two more Minnesota friends today. Love Thy Neighbor is what this whole resistance thing is about.

One of the former owners of Purlescence, my favorite yarn store during its ten years, lives in the Minneapolis area now, as does her ex. He teaches at one of the local schools.

He posted that he is riding the afternoon school bus to the end of its route now in order to make sure every child on it makes it home. He said it’s not just fear that something could happen, it’s reality–kids have been snatched there by ICE between the bus and their front doors and as a white man and a teacher and just plain a decent human being he felt heavily the responsibility to do whatever he can to protect those kids and to spare their parents the horror of them disappearing for the color of their skin.

DHS is circulating a memo to its agents falsely stating that ICE have absolute immunity and that anyone who interferes with them in any way is committing a felony. Who decides what is interfering? They do. Ergo, you’re a felon and going to jail. American or not.

The NY Times broke down that claim: ICE are not cops and immunity was always qualified.

One agent was so horrified at Renee Good’s murder that they leaked the names and info on several thousand agents to an Irish relative living in the Netherlands. Who is not rushing to immediately publicize them but rather is checking each one out: do they still work for ICE? In what capacity? Nurses, daycare workers–leave them alone. Beating people up on the street? They want to verify that first.

Because good people have ethics.

The town paper says about 500 people showed up at that plaza last night. On less than 24 hours’ notice. Yay!

The phone rang tonight. It was our new House Rep offering a conference call to his constituents. Ask his staff to put you in the queue (so it isn’t bedlam), then when you’re on you ask him your question and we all get to hear how the guy responds on his feet. He started off by honoring the Hatch Act and made a point of not politicking, not advocating, just truthfully answering questions to the best of his ability.

People dropped in and out of the call as it went on and there were some repetitions.

Several asked, how do we get 47 out of there? The frank answer was, we can’t right now. He didn’t say Ro Khanna and I… that would be politicking… Just, We don’t have the votes. And then he told what measures he’s voted for, what bills he’s helped with, bills that would put limits and stops (to things that are illegal and unConstitutional and we all knew it.)

So, Congress. Who else wants to be able to be proud to tell their future grandkids what they did during this time in this country when it so needed their help?

We found out this morning that there was to be a protest tonight at the plaza in front of City Hall. We both wanted to go. Neither of us felt up to it this evening.

But we were there in our hearts and to you who did show up, here or elsewhere, you have my profound gratitude.

I found myself in the back yard yesterday looking at two Anya apricot seedlings to the right: they were small, but only because the pots they were in weren’t very big. There was a third one in a big pot to the left and it’s twice the height even though the same age. Those littler roots need some space!

Someone would love one if they only knew.

I found myself saying a prayer, going, If there’s someone who would really want one, please help me find them. Please make it so obvious that I won’t second-guess myself over it–because with Andy’s closing there aren’t going to be any do-overs after this year.

The phone rang today. It was Dave. We’ve known him since he was a teenager in our ward in New Hampshire; his kids are teens now. He was thinking he’d like to stop by and catch up a bit? See how we were doing? (He knows about Richard’s foot.)

Absolutely!

He was at one point asking questions about taking care of his young pluot tree.

I asked him if he liked apricots.

Dave, with intensity: I LOVE apricots!

He was certainly not expecting what happened next. To carry home an apricot tree, much less a specialty one–but he was very very glad to. Cool! Given a choice between little and easily carried or big he chose little. It’ll make up the difference quickly once it’s in the ground.

Just like that. Done.

And, selfishly, I’m delighted that I’ll get to see that tree growing up and becoming all that it’s meant to be.

Bill Gold was a columnist at the Washington Post whom I read when I was a kid, probably because they put him next to the comics, and he started an annual competition for the best funny word: one where you change or add a single letter in a given word to play off the original and offer a definition for your new one. My memory is that the contest ended when he passed, but apparently the Post’s readers insisted they bring it back.

(He also had another wordplay contest that I still remember one entry to: “I dropped the toothpaste,” he said Crestfallenly.)

Here, go have some fun.

I made myself take a good hard look at it. It wasn’t doing it for me, and spending more time on it was just going to make me avoid wasting more time on it in an endless loop of not getting it done. Out!

Doing that much had clarified what I didn’t want and what I did.

Thus the new baby afghan is 3″ long and I’m really happy with it this time. And just in time: next thing you know, I got a text.

There is another new baby on the way.

My father had an aunt who married late and had time for one pregnancy and got identical twins whom I still couldn’t tell apart when they were in their 80’s, but in this case it will just be the one. Long longed for and at long last, and she’ll have the best parents one could possibly hope for. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am for them.

I had an OB years ago who had a poster in his office with a caption that read, A baby is G_d’s opinion that the world should go on.

The news. My stars. But I feel I owe it to my country to know what is being done in our name on our dime and to speak up.

I decided to go look at something else.

The recent rains did their winter magic: there is green sprouting across the yard and, walking off to the right, the Meyer lemons are ripe and vivid yellow against the deep green leaves and perfect. When have they looked like that! Wow!

Oh wait. The cataract surgery: I can see them as they appear–for the first time in years. At a time when the other trees are standing there bare, look how gorgeous the colors of that lemon are! Cool!

Heading back towards the door, I saw the pot.

I figure critters prefer planting things in pots than in the ground because the soil is a lot easier to dig into, but why do they always go for the edges? Never ever the center. Okay, scrub jays, they perch on the rims and lean over towards their feet, but what’s a squirrel’s excuse?

About the width of a cherry tomato away from this seedling was a cluster of six or seven all sprouting together.

In January. Outside. I love California.

I’ve learned that newly sprouted tomato plants don’t thrive if you pull them out to replant them no matter how gently you do it, nor would that competitive cluster fighting each other’s roots come to much, so they’re gone now and the one that was growing by itself has the whole pot to itself. I will soak it to help hold the soil closely together around it when I move the lot of it into something bigger and then keep it as I found it, frost-free under the awning and close to the warm house for now.

It’s definitely got a head start on the brand new year. I can’t yet know if its fruit will offer the sweetness of what I planted last year but it’s veggies and it’ll be nourishing and I’m willing to put in the effort to find out. Spring offering itself in early January, how could I not.

He’s somehow three now. He needed to show me his dinosaur.

I told him, Look! It has a great big smile just like you do!

It’s put your bins at the curb night and I had stepped outside to throw one last thing in there when, it turned out, daddy and toddler were out taking a meander.

So now I know that the baby on the way is a boy. Since I haven’t gone very far with the plain generic white yet, let me think whether that changes anything.

He worked at Trader Joe’s. He’s a little bit shy and yet has the most outgoing heart. He had a kid in college when we had kids in college and we occasionally talked parenting when the store was quiet. He liked connecting with people and asking their stories and went out of his way to make clear he was glad you were there, not some store-policy fixed smile but his genuine own. He might not start a conversation, but he’d be glad you did.

Then I didn’t see John for a long time. When I finally did again he explained and I exclaimed and I was so glad he was back.

His heart had nearly done him in. I’m not sure he’d even hit 50 yet. He’d been out for months. He was moving a little slowly and carefully now but he was back and working again.

Carefully.

There were some slower times when I’d see people huff and get in a different line and I wanted to tell them what they were missing. Their loss.

My times and his have somehow not overlapped for awhile now, which is a shame because he’s the biggest draw for that particular store. I figured his health had finally required retirement.

There were errands to run today and I really wanted to get them done because that rain was promising to get bad. (No flooding yet. Yay.) Pharmacy, grocery… Logically, it made sense to go to the Whole Foods with the underground parking and stay dry.

Something in me strongly urged me not to. Huh. Okay, whatever. I headed to TJ’S instead.

Look who was there!

Been a long time, he nodded with a warm smile as he started to check my stuff out. Old times all over again, man, it was great as we caught up a bit. Where’s your other? he asked.

Working. At home, I said, which answered any question about Richard’s retiring yet for him and his being there answered that question for me about him so we were even.

The next line over went faster but the guy behind me was in no hurry; his wife made a sudden appearance, put something new in his cart, and went off to find something else. He watched her go.

Then, seeing a lull in our conversation, he spoke up and said something to John and made him laugh. Watching them, it was clear they felt a longtime kinship, too, so I said to John, You make friends wherever you go!

He looked a little bashful and as if trying to explain to himself how that could be he smiled and said, in a tone of wonderment, I just show up.

That you do, I told him. Thank you.

And pulled my cart out the door and into the rain that looked a lot sunnier than a few minutes before.

Our daughter’s flying home tonight. She picked up a bug on the incoming and spent the week wearing a mask to avoid infecting us and a lot of time asleep, but started to pick up again yesterday.

The baby blanket is at long last done and I found the yarn in the stash that I think the next one will probably be made out of. Let me do some more sketches first. Starfish in gansey stitches, what other tidal creatures would work with that idea.

The doctor that the nurse took that hat to on Wednesday?

Fastest thank you note ever. Turns out his mom was a knitter. “She used to make me socks,” and he told me how much he loved his new beanie and that it was hand knit.

Used to.

There was so much love and loss wrapped up in those few words and my heart went out to him. I am so glad he got that hat.