Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose.
Add a lot of diacritical marks that I don't know how to make, and it says "the more things change, the more they remain the same."
So, 2026. On week into the new year.
Someone on the Highway 20 FaceBook page said that they had a loaded grapefruit tree, and people could come pick them if they liked. In the comments, I said I had the same offer my Meyer lemons. Two people responded with "yes, please." I told them to send me a message to get my address, and that was that. Crickets.
A member of the Weaver's Guild sent a group email saying that she had gotten a table to do demonstrations at the Tally Highland Games - who could join her? I replied that I could. That was five days ago; no response yet.
I've posted recently about missing going to the silent book club meetings - two because of Bug's surgeries, one because I had a cold, two because of the holidays. I was really looking forward to starting up again in January. But the woman who organizes and runs it just posted that she was stepping down. If no one else steps up - well, then it's over. I like it, but not enough to go to the evening readings as well as the Sunday one, coordinate with the meeting venues, run the FaceBook page, etc. etc. I just wanted to go and read and still be a little social.
So it looks like 2026 will follow the pattern of previous years.
On the plus side, RedBug is spending more time out from under the bed. He still stays in the bedroom, ready to duck under, but is mostly just hanging out, and often on top of the bed. He also stretches out and relaxed instead of being hunched up and sulky. It's a weight off of me. From when I was first making the gut wrenching decision to either lose the leg or have him put down (I kept hunting for a third option) to this past week, I questioned if I was doing the right thing, or doing this to him just because I couldn't let him go. But he's seeming happier now, and I can breathe a bit.
Breathing is harder these days. I try not to dwell, but two days ago was when Bob went out Shands. The last time he ever saw his home, his land, his cats. The last time he didn't feel sick. It still hurts. I seem to have taken to sleeping on the couch again. I don't plan on it - I just lie down to watch a little TV and at some point I've turned it off and it's the next day. It's fine - not like it bothers anyone.
I recently posted about taking a picture and trying to make dye colors to match. My process for dyeing was pretty convoluted, but the resulting yarn is gorgeous, and so far the shawl-in-progress looks like something I could wear in that picture. It's not often that something in your mind even comes close to resembling the final project. The knitting is becoming addictive - I keep wanting to see the next color come up and how it swirls with the others. I say that now - I've done two panels. I was planning on doing seven (which would give me about a 3/4 circle shawl) but I might have enough to do nine for a full circle. The novelty could wear off.
Do I need another shawl? Of course not - I have several, and rarely a chance to wear one (and draping one decoratively over the couch is ill-advised with the cats). I don't go out much at all (and now even less without the book club) and even though it's January it was almost 80 degrees yesterday. But it's just soothing knitting, and unlike a sweater or even a hat, size doesn't matter (and in this case, that's true).
First week down - now for the rest of the year.
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