I have not written much about my knitting and crocheting lately. So the next few blogs are for my fellow yarn addicts.
The last few weeks have been challenging. The craft fair I was going to got cancelled due to family problems. My husband and I also got the flu.
I threw all my guidelines out the window. My normal rule is: only two projects at a time. I had four. I just finished one, so I am back down to three . My normally organized craft supplies are everywhere.
Now I am regaining control. I have tried a few new stitches and am looking forward to sharing those with my faithful and patient readers.
Thank you all for sticking with me.
This brings us up to date with Scout.
Scout now gets a lot of floor time now. He gets to run off all his extra energy and we love to watch him run, climb, and explore.
We are now working on cuddling . Ok, we are working on it, Scout not so much. He will sit on my lap and even snuggle up to my side, but will not go for holding.
Our goal at this point is to get him to just tolerate being held long enough to remove him from the carrier. He loves to go with us and gets real excited when we get out the car carrier. I would love to be able to reach in and take him out of it to show him off.
So all my guinea pig readers : I need ideas! Help us out.
Let me start by saying that Scout is very strong willed (read : stubborn). It is one of the things I love about him. A lot of personality stuffed in his little body.
In our house, we have certain rules. One such rule is : to get floor time, piggies have to come when called. Scout decided that he was NOT going to comply .
We started out with him playing on my bed. I would sit at one end and call him. He would stare at me, chatter and go the other way. This went on for weeks.
One day, after I had pretty much decided that he was never going to get floor time, he just decided to come over when I called him. I was so shocked I almost forgot to give him excited praise. (We don’t use treats in training.)
We worked on this a couple days and then put him on the floor. He really loved having the living room to run.
He still comes when called, but doesn’t always volunteer to get in his tube (don’t want to go back to the cage). Honestly, I love having him out as much as he likes being out.)
Watch for part 3 : Scout’s anti-cuddling campaign.
This is part one. There is a previous introduction
We get home and the biting continued. Scout bit my husband once and bit me several times a day. Every time I fed him or put my hand in the cage for any reason, he would strike like a snake. I started wearing gloves, the thick kind.
After a while of glove wearing, I was in a hurry and just reached in. He made a dash for my hand and in the voice used for small children and pets, I said “Scouts don’t bite”. He stopped, looked confused, then started jumping around. This became our game.
Then I decided it was time to get him out of the cage. As I tried to lift him, he bit HARD. I couldn’t figure this out. He knows me.
One day while cleaning his cage, I found if I moved one mat to clean the other, he didn’t mind. Ok, maybe he doesn’t like being lifted. I got him a tunnel. He crawled in it the first time I put it in the cage. I lifted him, in the tunnel, with no problem.
We still use the tunnel (now called the transporter ) to get him in and out. This system works well unless he decides he doesn’t want to go back to the cage. Then he pretends not to see it.
Next Report: Scout earns privileges.
This is the start of a series on my baby guinea pig, Scout. He has come such a long way!
I went to the pet store to pick up supplies for my three female guinea pigs and my rabbit. As I passed by the guinea pigs, I glanced in and saw this little piggy with impossible crazy fur showing off.
I stopped and talked to him and he ran all over the cage. I assumed he was just bored, and walked away. This other lady walked up to talk to him and he just laid down. I thought he must be tired, but when I came back by, he went crazy again.
Remember, I have three females. I don’t need a male. I asked the worker if he could check and make sure the piggy was male. (Pet stores are notorious for making mistakes sexing baby guinea pigs.) We found out the piggy was indeed male, but not before the worker got bit. Have I mentioned, I don’t need a male piggy? The lady from before wanted to hold him, but the piggy bit her as she tried to take him.
I left the store. All the way home my husband reminded me of how we don’t have room for another pig, or a cage, and about our three girls. I couldn’t stop crying. I called the store. The pig was still there.
Back to the store we went. I found another worker who reached in for my baby boy. Scout, named on the way back to the store, struck like a snake. The staff was not happy. They did not want to sell him. Scout had now drew blood three times. I insisted and they made me sign papers saying that I knew he was a biter.
That is how Scout chose us and has been playing us ever since.
Check back to see how Scout went from a biter to my sweet boy.
Honestly, when I first received this prompt , my first thought was “because I can’t draw”.
There are several reasons why I write.
- I have always been one of those people who is good at taking a story and making it fun . (I am not the one you want to be a witness. It would take me hours to tell what I saw for two minutes).
- I like my own spin on things. Even if something bad happens, by the time I write it, it has at least a few lighter moments.
- I like thinking that readers enjoy a lighter version of life.
Actually, I think it boils down to I like to talk and tell stories. By writing I can reach a lot more people than I can any other way.
By the way , I really can’t draw.
Three years ago I had an accident. I was in a coma for 34 days. When I woke up, I couldn’t move my arms or legs.
With a lot of therapy, I regained movement in my arms, hands, and fingers. I was ready to crochet!
The nurse got my partially finished scarf, my hook, and scissors out and I was excited, for about two minutes. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t remember how to make a stitch.
I started crying. I don’t mean little boo hoo tears, I mean can’t breathe, messy crying. And I couldn’t stop.
The nurse called in a psychiatrist , a psychiatrist who crochets. We talked ( between my hiccup crying) about how important crochet is to me. Then she did a crazy thing; she told me to close my eyes. Keeping my eyes closed, she told me to crochet.
And I did!! My brain had forgotten , but my hands remembered!!!
Since then, I have regained normal movement. I am still amazed at how the body remembers and repairs.
This is part two of Saturday’s feature.
I was a die hard crocheter from an early age (see part one). The kind that had no desire to knit. It looked hard and slow so why do it? (Stick with me knitting friends. I had a lot to learn)
Then I had a work place accident which tore my muscles and ligaments in my right shoulder. The doctor said absolutely no crocheting. I was crushed.
After hearing me whine about missing my yarn and hooks, my friend suggested knitting. Had she been listening. Busted shoulder. And I don’t knit.
She convinced me to give it a try. She said I could knit left handed. I had never knit before so it wouldn’t feel weird, and I could tuck the right needle in between my arm and side.
She sent me books and YouTube videos. After a few false starts, I got the casting on down. After that, I was hooked (bad crochet pun).
The shoulder is healed and I continue to knit. Knitting is my go to when I need to concentrate on something to get my mind off something else.
Crochet is what I do to relax.
Btw: I still knit left handed.
This is part one of a two part blog. How I Came to Knitting will be ready by Monday.
When I was a child (let’s guess around ten), there was this old lady who lived in our town. She lived alone with the obligatory visits from the grandchildren at holidays. She was not political, not very social, and definitely not rich.
So when she died and every available police officer and rescue personnel showed up to her funeral, there was some surprise. The local newspaper interviewed one of the officers .
The officer told them something no one else knew. For a decade, this lady crocheted blankets to keep in police cars and rescue units. They were to be given to domestic violence victims that were removed or forced to leave their homes.
The officer said the lady always kept them stocked and he explained how much it meant to people forced to leave with nothing. She never wanted recognition so not many knew how selfless she was.
When this came out, my Mom and three of her friends set out to fill this need. My Mom learned to crochet granny squares and taught me. I have been addicted ever since. When I crochet, I feel the connection to my Mom and in some ways, a connection to this lady I never met.