Has anyone found my crochet hook?

Let’s see…

A couple of months ago, I decided to crochet a blanket for my boyfriend’s queen-sized bed. I found a terrific pattern that wasn’t so much about “traditional squares” or colors, but incorporated incredibly bright colors into this blanket.

However, the yarn that was suggested is…well, quite pricey. Three skeins cost thirty dollars, and believe me, there’s nothing like “Koigu” hand-dipped coloured yarn.

So, I’ve been buying yarn at the usual suspects like “JoAnn’s” or “Michael’s”.

You know, the stuff that won’t need to be dry cleaned!

I haven’t crocheted in years, but all of this is coming back to me.

It’s a great skill to have!

TO?

You see, there used to be a time when I would have dismissed Terrill's antics as just another excuse to get attention.

You know, the very public slams against Donovan McNabb, his teammates and his coach while he played for the Eagles, and as many fans were, I was just one very happy camper to see him go.

Of course this man has problems...it's been documented that both the 'Niners and the Eagles have offered him counseling, which he's refused.

Which shouldn't surprise anyone...no one wants to admit that they're depressed. There are not a lot of big, hearty NFL players who will go out and gladly lose a limb for their teams while all they want to do is cry because they're "depressed".

I know this, because I've gone through depression myself.

And, I will tell all of you right now...you'd never, ever wish that deep, dark black hole of a so-called life on your worst enemy.

We may never know what happened, or even like this guy or the team he plays for.

But, if we're compassionate human beings (which I know we are!), let's just hope that he gets the help that he needs.

Friends and Family

I don’t believe I need to remind anyone that today is the fifth anniversary of that one defining moment that crosses many generations.

Yes, it’s an awful anniversary that’s remembered by everyone. We all know where we were when we first heard the news.

That senseless loss of life…the husbands, wives, partners, friends.

I almost lost a long-time friend during 9/11 five years ago, and now I treasure his friendship more than ever. He’s always been a part of my extended family…that wonderfully loose definition that includes everyone from my mother, our family, to her long-time partner, to his family, their husbands, girlfriends, my own terrific and incredible boyfriend and his family, my friends, his friends, our friends.

Our friends.

A few years back, a sociologist may have called them an “urban tribe”, and at the time, that was the keyword for young, educated, city-dwelling types who were “hipper-than-thou” who were only gathering at the best places to sip wine and check each other out.

On Saturday morning, four of us gathered for breakfast before setting out for a funeral for a friend’s sister. We’re all properly dressed for such a somber occasion (with the exception of the “Windsor Double Knot Problem”).

Of course, we all went through the viewing line, and through the Mass with eloquence and grace.

But, on the way back to my friend’s flat, it hit me…we are the new “urban tribe”. We’ve celebrated births, deaths, celebrations, concerts, three day station events, successful fund drives and capital campaigns together.

We are family.

Yeah, the age range between the four of is between 40 and 55, but it really doesn’t matter.

We’ve been friends for years.

And yes, these wonderful folk have become family to me.