Chaotic Neutral, at best

Well, we survived the six hour (each way) drive to visit my family for my grandmother's memorial with a toddler. Our secret? Sticking one of us in the back with the toddler so she wouldn't scream the whole way, and a couple of Terry Pratchett audiobooks so we adults wouldn't feel like screaming the entire way. We didn't do that last time we headed south and E. ended up screaming for the last two hours on our trip to Seattle (her way of saying Happy Thanksgiving, perhaps?).

It was a strange visit. Visits to Portland are typically filled with visits to Powell's; a wander through Saturday market to admire all the breakable pretty things; a journey to my favourite tea shop, the Tao of Tea; a trip to one of the McMenamin's movie theaters if they have anything good playing; spending time with family and friends that we don't see very often; and usually a pilgrimage to Mill End (as much as I love Fabricana, Mill End was where I first started fabric shopping on my own and holds a special place in my heart). Next Christmas we plan to take E. to the Oregon Zoo. J. and I tend to go for walks in downtown or around Hawthorne and play Hipster Bingo (yes, it's probably rude, but there are so many people with spectacular beards and glasses).

This journey was different. Oh, we made it to Bob's Red Mill and Dave's Killer Bread, since my parents live nearby, and I stocked up on a few alternative flours (more on that later, once the batter for the injera finishes fermenting), but most of the time wasn't about having fun playing tourist in the city where I grew up. My youngest brother was off at university most of the two weekdays we were there, though he was around on the weekend days; my oldest younger brother was busy working and we only saw him briefly a couple of times; and my middle younger brother was only able to come for the memorial service and had to run back up to Seattle for work before the reception had ended.

J. and I usually go to my grandparents' house for dinner one of the nights we're visiting. Last time we brought a tiny four-month-old E. over to their house. This time, my grandfather came over several times, and it was strange to see him without my grandmother, because they are always together. Just not anymore.

As it became more real to me, I started to cry more. I cried through most of the service. I kept crying at the reception because it felt like all I had to do was turn around and she would be there, except she wasn't. I muddled my way through an anxiety attack that night, one that kept me up well past midnight, and then stumbled through another one at my parents' church the next morning.

I was pulled together enough to drive part of the way home and not succumb to anxiety about driving, and I feel on a slightly more even keel now that I'm a bit removed, but as always, it's taking a few days to settle back into routine here at home. Everything seems a bit off, and I think most of that is related to the grieving process, however long it's going to take. I'm back to feeling a bit sad, a bit flat, and unsure what to do about that.

While we aren't exactly horrendously busy, life does feel strangely chaotic. I suppose it will sort itself out, but in the meantime, I'm finding ways to cope with the weirdness.

middle of the night musings with red wine

As the title suggests, I am writing this while consuming red wine. It's a fairly inexpensive Malbec. Malbec's probably my favourite type of red wine, although I am quite partial to a good port (but that's in a different class, since it's more of a dessert wine). I dislike Cabernet, which, for a while, made me think I didn't like red wine. I've since changed my mind.

I was thinking more about knitting than about wine, though. We're off on a trip to Victoria in a couple of weeks, and while I've done the arranging to get to the ferry and the booking of the B&B, the things that need to be done in advance, I'm now thinking more about the knitting I should bring. Makes me feel an affinity with the Yarn Harlot, based on one of her recent posts regarding travel knitting.

Last time I had travel knitting, I had the bright idea of bringing a cotton sweater to work on, which really wasn't pleasant. My hands began to hurt quite quickly, and switching to socks only helped a little. Socks are one of those natural things to bring on a trip--small, portable, and perfect in pictures. I've got a number of sock projects slated for the summer, so it's just a matter of picking one to accompany us. We have an hour in the car on the way out to the ferry, at least an hour and a half on the ferry, and probably another hour and a half from the ferry to downtown Victoria on the bus. Then we spend the day wandering around downtown with my family, who's going to be visiting (they'll be camping on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington and then ferrying up from there), spend the night at a B&B, and head home sometime in the morning. That's a lot of hours in transit, especially given that I have to be at Maker Faire the afternoon we get home, and will probably be going straight there from the ferry. That's a lot of knitting time.

Still, I have to say I'm looking forward to the adventure. And the knitting time. I could bring a hat to work on. A hat and a pair of socks. Plus I have plans to stop in at a yarn shop over there, just in case.