Swifts & Enabling

Dear John,

 

I saw this and just had to show it to you. This guy is great, but you're better. You helped me wind yard when you were home. But you got me the swift and ball winder to use when you were at work. Bless you for that!

 

You were the perfect husband for a knitter. Or you were an enabler. Or possibly both. It was always you that pushed me to get yarn that I fell in love with, even if I had no idea what I'd eventually do with it, because it would be gone when I looked for it again. And you were so right! There's not much that hasn't been used.

 

I'm still knitting caps for the Cancer Center. It's the same pattern - the one with the cancer ribbons knitted in, in different colors for different kinds of cancer. I've been making them for about a year and a half, so I know the pattern. And they're small and portable. It feels good to know that I'm meeting a need. When I get a bunch made I get to visit people when I take them in, and that's always fun.

 

It sounds crazy, but the place holds such good memories for me. Everything does except the rehab hospital. That was very hard for both of us. I know what I went through was nothing compared to your suffering. But part of what I was going through was watching you suffer - that's what happens when two become one flesh. I'm so thankful that you'll never suffer again.

 

And speaking of suffering, the dog is trying to break my left wrist. It's storming again - of course - and he has his big German shepherd head on my left arm while I'm typing. It stormed last night, and I woke up with him wrapped around my head and all four legs lying across my face. I stretched out my right leg, and kicked the cat who promptly bit my big toe. As I've said before, aren't you sorry you're missing all this silliness?

 

I'm going to try to head off to bed, if the dog will release my arm. I don't know when I'll be able to get him to sleep. But I can sleep in tomorrow morning, so it doesn't matter. This is why God made Pinterest!

 

Love you so, so much,

Joan.