healing

A heartfelt “thank you” to those of you who generously donated to my Longest Day efforts to raise funds and awareness for Alzheimer’s research! The official longest day was June 21, but I did my part on June 19 by casting on a sock at 5:32am and knitting until the sun set at 8:31pm. After 15 hours of knitting, I had completed one sock and most of the leg of the second sock. Yes, I will make the pattern available.

My fingers are more than a little sore, but I’m not complaining. I knitted at my local yarn shop Shuttles, Spindles and Skeins for most of the day and enjoyed meeting and knitting with people there.

My personal goal was $1,000 and my team goal was $2400 for a total of $3,400. I’m beyond thrilled to announce that your generosity blew past my goals and the totals were $2,526 for my personal page and $3181 for my team page for a grand total of $5,707!

I am truly honored to have a part in helping find an end to this horrible disease.

If you missed donating on my event day, you can still click on the link: contribute to my team.

I’m excited to announce that I’m a team captain for The Longest Day, a fundraiser for Alzheimer’s awareness and research. My own sweet mother (Barbara S Walker) died of complications due to Alzheimer’s in 2016, but she started “disappearing” nine years before that. A day doesn’t pass without my thinking of her and how she supported me throughout my creative endeavors. I have many (too many) friends who have also been affected by this disease–as a patient, family member, care giver, or helpless onlooker.

For Team Ann Budd Knits, I’m celebrating my mother’s creative spirit by spending a full day knitting (an activity that my mother also enjoyed) from sunup to sundown. That’s about 16 hours with needles in hand (albeit allowing breaks for stretching). You don’t have to be physically present with me to join in this celebration of love and optimism. Simply join my team, make a donation, and spend a day (or as much of it as you can) knitting something special.

The official Longest Day takes place June 21, the longest day of the year. I’ll be on the road that day so I’m planning to do my knitting on Tuesday, June 19, which is still a pretty long day. If you’re in the area, I invite you to join me at Shuttles, Spindles and Skeins in my hometown of Boulder, Colorado, where I’ll be hosting a knit-a-long from 10:30 am to 4:30 pm and posting my hourly progress on Instagram (annbuddknits). You don’t have to be physically present to participate. Simply grab yarn and needles and spend the day doing something you love.

Of course, you can partake in the experience any day of the year.

Please join me. Click here to join my team or to make a donation.

Four weeks ago my dear mother Barbara Walker left us. The photo above was taken in 2008, before dementia took over. Although she did knit, she wasn’t the Barbara Walker of stitch dictionary fame. Instead, her artistic medium of choice was clay. She took a pottery class when I, the youngest of her four children, started first grade. By the time I was 10, she taught for the local potter’s guild. By the time I was 16, she co-founded an art cooperative called the Lodestone Gallery here in Boulder, Colorado. By the time I had children of my own, she was an accomplished sculpture.

I photographed my Park City Cowl on one of her spectacular pieces.

A few days before she died, I held her fragile fist in my palm. Despite my efforts, I couldn’t coax her fingers open. I so wanted a photo of us holding hands. Instead, I got a tender shot of my hand supporting hers. Poetic proof that life is, indeed, a circle.

Shortly after she died, some dear friends send me a pair of miniature brass hands in recognition of Mom’s talents as a sculptor, and to commemorate the photo above.

These tiny hands rest on my desk where I can see them whenever I type. I rearrange them daily and don’t mind that tears of loss that well up in eyes when I look at them.

For decades, people have told me that I look like my mother. I didn’t care much for the comparison when I was in my teens, but now I take it as a lovely compliment.

Please take a few minutes to give your own mother some love. If not for yourself, do it for those of us who are unable to do it anymore.

I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have sent good wishes and support regarding my thyroid surgery. It means a lot to me!

I had surgery Wednesday, July 27. Being the first patient, I had to arrive at the hospital at the crack of dawn. After I was prepped, the surgeon autographed my neck to ensure he slit the right throat.

The dopey grin is courtesy of the “happy juice” I was given to keep me calm. What a great plan — I was eager to accompany them to the operating room!

The next thing I knew, the nurse was calling my name and I found myself in recovery. About an hour later, I was discharged– somewhat groggy but in little pain. All I had to show for the experience was a small bandage at the base of my neck.

Now, four days later, there’s just a narrow scab and faint discoloration. I’m on the mend!I like the way the scar (along with my many neck creases) mimics my grin.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the pathology report couldn’t be better. There was no indication of cancer and I’ve been given a clean bill of health!

I recently had what should be the last X-ray of my broken arm. Just for reference, here’s my arm right before surgery (6 weeks after it broke):

Here’s what it looks like now:

Although it appears that the surgeon wasn’t too handy with his hammer, the bone is now aligned and healing well. I already have full range of shoulder motion and my strength is slowly improving.

Through it all, I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on the experience. Yes, it hurt (more than childbirth, I think), I’m still a little loopy from all the pain pills and anesthesia, and I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable wearing a sleeveless top again. But there have been a lot of positives, too:

1. The pain meds were fantastic (in fact, I sort of miss them)
2. I got to stay in bed and sleep for days
3. I didn’t have to make dinner, do laundry, or go to the grocery store
4. Many, many friends showered me with sympathy, meals, flowers, and even gifts
5. My hairdresser and massage therapist made house calls
6. The sling offered a handy place to keep essentials
7. My slept through the night for about three months
8. I’ve slowed down and have become more patient
9. I lost 10 pounds and have high hopes that I won’t find them
10. I’ve come up some new and exciting ideas for AnnBuddKnits — stay posted!