Updated 22nd October 2014.
See it here. Underground Tasmania.
Updated 22nd October 2014.
See it here. Underground Tasmania.
..and a Mental Health Retreat to boot.
I am not long back from being out bush for a bit, ostensibly to find a slew of caves on a map I found. Most of the details are on the other blog, so I wont bore you with them here.
While I like wearing my hand knit socks for caving, wearing them while hiking isn’t as good. Not because they don’t work, but because the leggings (thermals, or running pants) don’t usually meet them, or stay met, and I don’t want leeches on me! So, I took along regular socks for that and wore the hand knits around camp/to bed. The first pair I wore for three days (nights?) and I noticed they were getting a bit thin in the heels. Since I learnt the hard way to NOT totally wear them out, I bundled them up and drew on the next pair.
These I wore around the fire and to bed before changing into regular socks for the day. However, at the end of the day when I was putting them on (I can not underestimate how NICE it feels to put warm, dry wool socks on after a day of hiking!) I noticed the heel of one was almost worn through! The other heel wasn’t much better. So these too were bundled up and put away.
Once home I scrounged up some of the proper long stitch yarn and sorted the almost through heel. I think I need to extend the area, since looking at it in morning light shows a few extra stitches could do with being reinforced. The left over long stitch yarns (on the card) are just the right lengths for darning too. The other pair of socks still has its own yarn left over so I’m using that.
Being away, out bush, with NO people (aside from the person I was with of course) was bliss. No traffic and only the occasional sounds of chainsaws in the very far distance. I didn’t live by the clock, since the phone was off most of the time and in the car. The Man was more glued to his phone, so maybe he kept an eye on the time. Bed was when ‘tired’, waking up was when ‘done.’ Breakfast was had ‘before leaving’ and tea was done ‘before it was properly dark.’ Everything else happened as it happened. I would have liked to have lived without even the rudimentary schedule for a while, but I guess you cant have everything. Not that we had enough time to establish a totally off grid schedule.
Of course, I came back to the noisy neighbour, and to the fact that the other neighbour moved out over the weekend. I think there will be a few more longer trips out bush, so that is something to look forward to. I think the next trip will likely be alongside some other cave people.
For now, I had better hang the tent base out to dry off, and put tea in the crock pot so I can finish mending the socks.
With the neighbour still being an ass, not much has been happening. He’s been a bit more quiet at sleep time (three hour nap on the weekend!) so I’ve felt more alive and able to do things. I’ve knitted up more dishcloths, mostly because they are mindless. With the extra rest on the weekend I darned the socks that have been waiting a while. Since they were about worn through, I decided to run a line of cotton through first, because I thought the pulling through of the new yarn would finish making holes. While I was rested, I also finished reinforcing the heel of the tapestry sock that needed doing. I made the mistake of washing them before mending the thin part so the thin heel collapsed. :s
The geese were at the river one day a while back. I don’t often see them, so I decided to take a picture.
I had meant to take a photo of the plover eggs every day until they hatched, but that hasn’t happened. :( I reckon they will have hatched by now and I’ve missed it.
The other two pics are self explanatory.
I have depression and anxiety. Nothing remarkable about that now days. Unfortunately it is making an impact on my life.. Somewhere, some time ago, I read that our houses are a reflection of our inner selves, and my place is slowly devolving into an unacceptable state.
I don’t want to blame anyone else, but the fact of the matter is, I have a neighbour who is decidedly inconsiderate with playing his music. Don’t get me wrong, I like music. I have my own. But for the last 13 days (that I can definitely count, since I emailed the police 13 days ago) he has been playing it loud. Loud enough to be heard from inside my place, 30 metres away, through closed doors. Not only that, he plays it out of ‘business hours.’ 12am is not uncommon, and he frequently starts again at 6am, or earlier.
I like my sleep. I like to get at least 8 hours of a night (much better than the 10 I needed when in the full depth of depression). More importantly, I like it to be a RESTFUL sleep.
Lacking decent sleep, (and I can’t nap either, since he plays his music at the optimum time for me to nod off mid afternoon), there is no enjoyment in my life any more. I can’t play MY music, because the syncopation would seriously aggravate me.
I crave silence. I cant get quiet at the course either, since there is something playing in reception (where the computers are) and in the ‘class room.’ I [feel I] can’t stay up to watch a movie, because I can STILL hear his music. If it is quiet next door at 7pm, I go to bed, in the vain hope of getting some sleep before he starts – sometimes this works, more often it doesn’t.
I can’t have a relaxing bath, playing my reiki music, coz I can hear his music.
This time last year I could look forward to going north for a few days, but that isn’t an option any more, since the Man doesn’t want me up there (personal reasons, which I understand. I might not like it, but I understand it.)
This came across Facebook a while ago, which I think reflects depression accurately. It originally starred in the New York Times blog as a comment by Pearl.
“Depression is humiliating. It turns intelligent, kind people into zombies who can’t wash a dish or change their socks. It affects the ability to think clearly, to feel anything, to ascribe value to your children, your lifelong passions, your relative good fortune. It scoops out your normal healthy ability to cope with bad days and bad news, and replaces it with an unrecognizable sludge that finds no pleasure, no delight, no point in anything outside of bed. You alienate your friends because you can’t comport yourself socially, you risk your job because you can’t concentrate, you live in moderate squalor because you have no energy to stand up, let alone take out the garbage. You become pathetic and you know it. And you have no capacity to stop the downward plunge. You have no perspective, no emotional reserves, no faith that it will get better. So you feel guilty and ashamed of your inability to deal with life like a regular human, which exacerbates the depression and the isolation. If you’ve never been depressed, thank your lucky stars and back off the folks who take a pill so they can make eye contact with the grocery store cashier. No one on earth would choose the nightmare of depression over an averagely turbulent normal life.
It’s not an incapacity to cope with day to day living in the modern world. It’s an incapacity to function. At all. If you and your loved ones have been spared, every blessing to you. If depression has taken root in you or your loved ones, every blessing to you, too. No one chooses it. No one deserves it. It runs in families, it ruins families. You cannot imagine what it takes to feign normalcy, to show up to work, to make a dentist appointment, to pay bills, to walk your dog, to return library books on time, to keep enough toilet paper on hand, when you are exerting most of your capacity on trying not to kill yourself. Depression is real. Just because you’ve never had it doesn’t make it imaginary. Compassion is also real. And a depressed person may cling desperately to it until they are out of the woods and they may remember your compassion for the rest of their lives as a force greater than their depression. Have a heart. Judge not lest ye be judged.”
Right now, at 9:20 am, I am listening to next doors music. As mentioned above, I have no faith that it will get better. This creates anxiety. The anxiety affects plans for the future. I can’t pop over and have words with the neighbour for fear of retaliation. My car lives outside, and is worth more to me than its monetary value. It is my escape. You need to have lived with a violent person to understand the security that car offers.
I have contacted the landlord many times. Despite his violating the terms of the lease, the landlord can’t do anything ‘without police reports.’ Their advice is to ‘call the police.’
I have contacted the local council. They also can’t do anything. They advise me to…’call the police.’
I have called the police. They tell me to ‘get onto the landlord and keep on it.’ The police visit. He turns it down for as long as it takes for the police car to get around the corner. Then the music goes back up.
What do I do then? Call the police again? If I speak to the attending officers, I always invite them to come back in five minutes, coz he will have the music up again. So far they haven’t done that. The police imply that we, collectively, should be tolerant of him, because he has mental issues. We know this. We know that he lived with his parents and both have died. *I* know how lonely that can be. I would excuse him having an episode on ‘special occasions’ (Christmas, parents birthdays, etc). But I also know he is intelligent enough to tell the time – as evidenced by him getting home in time for his social workers visit. There is no excuse not to know that after 8pm is too late to have the music cranked. He has been told often enough by the police after all.
So, the house is getting messy, only to be tidied if I expect someone, and sometimes not even then. Craft has just about stopped. I cant get out in the car, so I feel trapped. Learning about UTM’s and things for caving is about all I have to ‘look forward to’ since I might actually get away from the noise as a result. With the purchase of the tent, and a slight hint to log a particular area out bush, I am very tempted to pack the car and bugger off to do just that. And I can. There is NOTHING, barring the cats, to keep me at home. Technically I don’t even need the tent, since I can sleep in the car. The problem is that the car is a front wheel drive thing and isn’t good for the bush. But I could get close enough. I like being self sufficient. To be truly self sufficient I would probably need a gas stove, since I have no plans to get a chain saw or learn to use one (to cut wood for a fire to cook on).
But for now, I am going to write a list of things to be done, and see what I can do about getting them done while I wait for the tent.
I cast on for the ‘Around we go’ dishcloth the other day, thinking it was going to be easy, and for the most part it was. Except, a) the rows aren’t labelled. So, I didn’t know which row was the inward one. Not a huge issue, but, annoying. Then b) the directive to “K1, yo, k2tog, K to yo from last row’ didn’t specify to KNIT THE YO. Finally c) ‘rep from * to * until down to 1 stitch,’ isn’t quite accurate. Unless you just ‘k2tog’ for the last outward row. Which I haven’t been doing. Another thing that I would have liked was a suggestion to ‘place marker on the edge’ so I wasn’t quite as confused starting the second wedge. I ended up doing it back to front and needed to frog it.
The new hex-a-cloth is done, and too small. Who would have thought the minute difference in yarn diameter would make THAT much difference? I’m sure it is still useable. I ended up using the ‘slip the last stitch to right hand needle, pick up a cast on stitch with the left, return slipped stitch to left hand needle and k2tog’ for the join. I’ll try and do that with the ‘Around we go’ one as well.
The optical illusion dishcloths turned out well. I like them.
I still need to sew all the ends in on a few dishcloths, and send some down to my daughter.
Later today I am thinking about sewing ‘gear bags’ for the [camping] lunch box. Small cloth bags to hold the ‘kitchen clean up’ things, ‘crockery’, ‘cutlery’ and whatever else could benefit from being contained to a single bag rather than being loose in there.
I finished off the Optical Illusion dishcloth yesterday, but not without some issues. I hadn’t twigged that the number of rows I was knitting did NOT match the number of stitches cast on. So with a few rows left, I wondered why there were still 9 stitches or so left to knit together. So I had to rip out a few rows and reknit, and skip a stitch on the cast on row every now and then. I didn’t do a wonderful job, but I should remember for the next one, which I started about 2 mins after finishing off the original. I quite like it. I can see another one done with red/orange, yellow/green and blue/purple rows. My second one is being done in the reverse of the original. Size wise it seems to be about right – about 7 inches across.
The 9 patch one I am doing in the sugar n cream I have. The orange is from a ‘super size’ ball, but is a fraction thinner than the ‘key lime’. I’m doing this with the recommended needle size from the band (4.5mm) but I am not doing 12 garter ridges, cos that would have been too long. Instead I’ve done 11. I did think to try the ‘purl last stitch/slip first stitch of the next row’ to get a nice neat, easy to pick up edge, but I gave upon that since it seemed to make it messy. I’ve picked up the next 12 along the side of the centre square and will continue with that. I like to do bits and pieces with knitting. A 8 inch square of garter stitch would bore me to tears. I expect I will make another 9 patch in the reverse when I’m done.
My daughter wont mind if the dishcloths I send her have been ‘tried’ – she said they don’t need to be brand new. This is good, since I think I have tested most of the dishcloths I’ve ever made. Some are too thick, some are too thin. I expect the 9 patch ones will be too thick for my liking.
But for now, I’m going to try and get the chooks into the guinea pig hutch.
Caving club webpage
my (sometimes) crazy explorations of Tassie wilderness and mountains