365 Days Handmade

Making life a better place, one day at a time

Tag Archives: knitting


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Day 158/365: Third Day of My Mama’s Visit

It was foggy all day today.  My mom and I spent most of the day at home; she crocheted and I got started on a project that I’ll share with you in an upcoming post.  I still had to run my mile for the 2015 summer run streak, though, so when late afternoon rolled around, I drove us down to the Embarcadero, where she sat on a bench on the promenade and I went for my run.

6.7.15D

June gloom in Morro Bay.

When I got back, she asked, “Aren’t you cold?  I’m freezing.”

But at least her feet were warm.  She was wearing her new favorite pair of hand knitted socks.

6.7.15BB

6.7.15B


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Day 156/365: First Day of My Mama’s Visit

My mom arrived in Morro Bay safely.  This afternoon I took her to the beach to look at the ocean and the Morro Rock.  She was very pleased with her new pair of socks and wore them on our little jaunt.  Unfortunately, this was the only photo I took, even though there were a lot of other nicer ways I could have staged a photograph.  Oh well.  Knowing my mom, she will wear those socks all weekend, so you may be seeing more of them in a different setting.

6.5.2015


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Day 153/365: Unexpected Cake

6.2.2015

Almost done with this pair!

When I arrived at my office this morning, I discovered that someone had placed, smack dab on the middle of my desk, a sealed plastic box containing one huge serving of chocolate-frosted double-decker fudge cake.  Since yesterday was my regular day off, I wasn’t sure how long that cake had been sitting there.  I went into the office next door to ask the office technicians if they knew anything about it.

“I got it for you this morning,” Ms. D told me.  Her job included scheduling my appointments and entering my caseload data into the computer.

I was puzzled.  “Did I do something that deserved chocolate cake?”

“It’s not for anything that you did,” Ms. D said.  “It’s for what you’re going to have to do.”

“Oh no,” I said.  “I drove by the prison on Saturday and I saw about seven transportation buses in the parking lot.  Did I just get a bunch of new arrivals?”

Ms. D gave an apologetic smile.  “You’ll see,” she said.

I went back to my office and turned on the computer.  I waited for my emails to load and then I opened the one with the attachment for the Monday Movement Report.  And then I couldn’t help shouting.

“Five new arrivals!  A level of care change!  That’s six initial intakes!”

Since the tracking system showed that they arrived over the weekend and were officially added to my caseload yesterday morning (by Ms. D, I suspected), I now had nine working days to see them.  Today was already too late to add any of them, and the rest of this week was full– because I would be gone next week Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday for my mom’s visit.  So basically I had to fit six hour-long appointments into my schedule some time between now and next week Friday.  And find the time to read their files and complete each patient’s treatment plan and suicide risk evaluation.  I would definitely be staying late at work every day this week.

“Enjoy the cake!” Ms. D called back.


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Day 152/365: Sock #2 of the Color #25 Pair, In Progress

6.1.2015

Turning the heel.

Right now, my mom is on a plane headed to California.  She’s coming out for my nephew’s high school graduation.  She’ll stay with my older brother and his family for a few days, and then she’ll be coming down here to Morro Bay to visit for a few days.  I’m knitting this pair of socks for her.  As you can see, I just have to turn the heel and knit the cuff, and the second sock will be done.  My mom has very small feet and can wear shoes from the children’s department, so whenever I knit a pair of socks for her, I’m usually done in no time and I get to feel like such a fast knitter.  Anyway, I’ll have her model the socks for photos when she gets here– if I can just get her to sit still long enough.


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Day 151/365: Sock #2 of the Color #25 Pair

During the week, my job at the prison involves a lot of talking and social interaction with inmate-patients, custody (including yard officers, tier officers, sergeants, lieutenants, and the captain), psychologists, psychiatrists, social workers, nurses, teachers, and psych techs, to name a few.  I’m also at work four days a week for 10-hour days, so when my three-day weekend comes, I’m happy not to do any socializing or talking.  With Sean on the East Coast doing a motorcycle trip with his dad (they’re visiting with family in Susquehanna right now), I pretty much have been happily keeping to myself, mostly parked on the couch with Netflix and alternating between knitting a sock and crocheting more rows on the Cherry Cola afghan.  The only time I left the house today was to go run my mile for the summer run streak.  If you don’t count texting and emails, I did not speak to a single person today.  And I am perfectly okay with that.

5.31.2015


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Day 149/365: More Progress on My #25 Sock

Usually I refer to my projects according to the name of the color on the label, like my Red Hots Sock, the Bubblegum Afghan, or the Cherry Cola Afghan.  But this one was assigned an unimaginative color, according to the label:  25.  So the #25 sock it is.

The heel is turned, so now I just have to knit a few rounds in stockinette and then start the ribbing for the cuff.

5.29.2015


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Day 147/365: Two Letters Make a Difference

5.27.2015

At 9:20 AM, I went outside to talk to the podium officer.  “My 9:00 appointment isn’t here yet,” I said.  “Would you be able to track him down?”

“We’re looking for him,” the podium officer assured me.  “I’ve been paging the yard.  I called over at his job in the dining hall, and I just called Education.”

9:30 came, then 9:45, 10:00, 10:15.  Still no inmate-patient.

At 10:20 AM, my patient arrived.  He was brought into my office by a correctional officer, and he looked sullen.

“Mr. Z!” I exclaimed.  “You made it!  Where were you?  Didn’t you hear them paging the yard and calling your name?”

“I was on the yard,” he said.  “I heard them paging.  I heard them calling for Frances, and I didn’t pay them no mind.  That’s not my name.  My name is not Frances.  That’s a girl’s name.”

Later, after our appointment was over and he was gone, I went back to the podium officer.

“I found out why he was late,” I said.  “He told me he heard them calling for Frances, and that’s not his name.”

The officer showed me his list of the day’s appointments.  There was Mr. Z’s name, except the last two letters of his first name had been cut off. There wasn’t enough room on the page, so instead of “Francisco,” the printed name read “Francis.”

Whoops.

“I just call ’em how I see ’em,” the officer said.