Is even better...
Really? My wife is seriously into knitting and fibers. How come a package
from Ontario takes a week to get here (6 days to the border) while a package
from Australia, UK, or China takes 3 days maximum? This is not just a one
time happening, but quite frequent. The Canadian senders also complain about
their service. I like Canada but would not brag about the postal service.
Same here, but my point wasn't to brag about the postal service. (I used to
be one of those striking postal workers before I went to university. Canada
Post was a nightmare back then.) It's just that the thought of a Christmas
postal strike has a very nostalgic tone to it. It was common in the 70's for
sure, but (without researching it) I can't remember more than one in a
couple of *decades*. I asked my wife, has she has the same sense of it.
That's anecdotal, for sure, but we don't have an 'annual Christmas postal
I stayed in Canada for a period. Gotta agree with you on the postal
system plus it is rather expensive, comparatively speaking.
By the way, it was very touching your sharing your experience with your
daughter. May her memory be eternal and may she commune with the
One time when I was pregnant, pretty far along, I lived in a condo
townhouse across from its mirror image where another woman was
pregnant. I lived with my little family and a gerbil and she lived with
a drug dealer. One time, with about a month to go, I was looking out
the picture window in the kitchen/dining room while munching on an
apple. She was standing at the window , too, looking out and eating an
apple as well. She patted her immense tummy and I patted mine and we
did a funny little pantomime where we would mimic each other's
movements, for example, I would raise the apple in my hand as if it were
a power salute. She would do the same in reverse. She would hop. I
would hop. I would bend at the waist. She would bend at the waist. I
would step sideways...an so on. She held out her fingers to let me know
she was 8 months pregnant. I nodded and also held out eight the same
way, tucking my thumbs in, which was bright of her as seeing the
individual fingers might have been difficult across the divide between
the windows. The pure joy at such a stupid thing as that pantomime!
I saw her once more after that, doing what she often did, serving
dinner to hubby or boyfriend or whoever and showing him some affection,
something he never showed her. He more or less soaked it up but did
nothing in return. You could see but not hear him yelling at her. You
could imagine that nothing she did was ever accounted worthy enough to
return her affection from what was seen. One day he slapped her and I
saw her cowering. Then he lowered the blinds so no one could see what
was going on. Because the phone was on the wall in that room and
visible, I went to anotehr room to call the police who I also begged not
to show up at my house as I didn't want to be a target myself, and I
also called a neighbor who called. When the police got back with me they
said that they found her hung on a hook in the closet with the hook into
her body. He had shoved her onto the hook somehowand beaten her black
and ble besides. He had done other things as well, and she died. There
were drugs all over the place, even in the toilet tank, reportedly.
I had intervened but too late. I had not really known how bad it was.
Now, if I only suspect something has gone wrong, I call and say exactly
that to someone that might effect change. At the least, I offer a safe
place or to call or to write or to help articulate or to give a shoulder
or a hug. I feel in society, however large you conceive that society to
be, that if you do not engage against atrocities, you engender them,
whether in a nuclear relationship or a village or some insittution or
You , too, tried to do what you could for your daughter. Sometimes
strong women think they can endure for a while until things get better,
or that they can even effect change in their relationship, often
counting some way on the amount of time already invested in the
relationship. Some women count on what they hope is a natural respect
for women in men, or that things will just magically get better if only
they do this or that or the other thing. Whatever places a woman in
danger (or the rare case of a man abused), that danger can only be
defused and that woman helped only by action. I have noticed that
bullies quickly stop their bullying once someone is able to actively
How frightened you must have been for your daughter trying to help her
out of her too common situation! I wish for you to remember the bright
and lovely and living moments you shared with her and not what she had
to endure. But if she had one last thought, it must have been of her
Thanks. Yours was a very rough story, but all too common. I have never
understood where men like that come from. I hope the guy was permanently put
away. Our Hester was a great person, 6 feet tall, slender, with a great
smile and gift of the gab, but poor choice of men. She had phoned my wife an
hour before it happened, to tell us that she was coming home. She had
already sent her 3 dogs, who we still have. She was in a coma for 10 days.
When we were told what had happened, I was on a plane within 4 hours and at
the hospital about 7 hours later. I rushed to her room where they were
giving her an EEG (?) and shouted her name. The flat line jumped, but for
the last time. We were at her bedside for the next 9 days until it was
determined that she was brain dead.
They get reinforced, my opinion. They get away a couple times with
being out of control one way, and antisocial behavior escalates. It is
hard to know why meanness occurs when being loving is easy, or why some
people are so insecure that they feel they have to consistently
denigrate others in order to feel good.
Sometimes the young can feel invincable, that they can solve anything
and everything. It sounds like she had been resolved to change her
situation, that she knew it was dangerous
According to my religion, she would have been with you most of that
time, waiting for passage. It is good you got to be there for her. It
is sad there was no justice.
We are not church goers, but the morning she died (and her organs harvested)
we went to Wren's St. Pauls church. There was cerimony going on celebrating
300 years of sending out missionarys. We were allowed in to pray. The
recessional began, Zulu warriers with spears, Afgans with long rifles,
Indians, Aboriginies, a huge Carabian steel band, etc. The organ and choir
segued into the steel band. We stood weeping within that magnificent
building among thousands of varietys of people with "A Mighty Fortrace is
Our God" soaring over our heads. Somebody shouted "look up" and 3 blazing
shafts of sunlight flashed through the lantern windows for just a few
seconds. Somehow I snapped a picture of it. Hester was there. That is the
only religious experiance we ever had, but enough to believe she will be
waiting. St. Paul's is a special place for us.
Thing is, I don't think they ever really do 'feel good.' They were likely
abused in a variety of ways, and are just passing it on... No one protected
them, so they feel no responsibility for others. The fact that there is
always a potential fresh start with every moment, *you* might call it
'grace', is lost on most of us most of the time. It's so much harder for
them to realize it because they are hurting so badly.
Perhaps it's "terrorism"-related. A disk drive and panoramic head I
ordered from the US each took awhile too.
Say hi to your wife for me as a knitting colleague.
As a previous novice, I finally began knitting again after an injury,
and am in the process of making a simple ribbed (knit one/purl one)
chunky knit scarf, using this yarn;
http://www.modadea.com/tweedledee.htm and for the first time in
Apparently you can knit not just using bamboo needles, but also with
It's amazing what you can do with bamboo.
A few years ago, I vowed to myself to never buy another ready-made
retail sweater again until I could knit my own, which I'm hopefully
about to do after the scarf...
Now that I think about it, if your wife might have a ribbed raglan
crew-neck pullover sweater pattern lying around anywhere that she'd like
to share I'd be greatfully obliged.
Starting with rectangles, eh? Maybe a toque next? I never got past
rectangles (tablecloths, curtains, napkins etc.) when I tried to teach
myself to sew a while back, but I now have considerably more respect for
people who make clothes. I still idly think abut trying experiments in
fashion for my dog, (he's such a cartoon) but the work load's a bit much,
and there's all the unfinished renovations around the house to get to
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