There's something about all of the national media attention lately on the Terri Schiavo case that has been making me think a lot about life and death and what happens in between.  It's probably that my home page is CNN.com, but every time I open a new window I keep being reminded about this poor woman's end, and now about how the Pope is receiving his last rites as well.

Do you remember that I have this weird thing that I call "parking karma"? (Michaele, I'm astounded that you read and remembered and then linked me about this, by the way!  And also, can I just say that my friend Judith commented in that entry verifying the truth to my parking karma?  Thanks for the validation, LaJud. ) 

My husband has a similar weird vibe that he gets when impending doom is about to happen.  Let's call it, for lack of a better term, his "Impending Doom Karma."  He felt this way in college before his high-school-age brother had a terrible car crash.  He felt this way for several months before 9/11.  Then, during the winter of 2002, he felt this way and his father, whose prostate cancer had been more or less in remission for 9 years, in the month of March had his cancer metastacize and he passed away about six months later. 

He's been telling me for about the last six weeks or so that he's felt this way.  He wasn't sure if it was a general unease or an unease directed towards those he loves -- and we were "hoping" (of course not really hoping, but you know what I mean) that it was a general unease about the political and economic situation in this country (which, if you recall reading this blog last November has left us extremely upset).  We've been fearing that this country is entering a deep downward spiral of an economic depression ... or, maybe we just read too much Paul Krugman. 

Well, about two weeks ago, he noticed a peculiar mole on his face.  Note that he's not a "mole person" like I am (I'm covered with them, and my father was the same way), and so this little black mole was out of character.  He saw his doctor who initially felt like it simply needed to be monitored, but at my husband's urging, he removed it and had it tested.  We found out yesterday that it was, indeed, basal cell carcinoma.  I have to admit that we were worked up enough over this that we needed a strong shot of Café Rica that my mom recently brought back to us from Costa Rica. 

Now, let me say that this isn't terribly serious, it just means that my DH will have to be checked regularly in the future.  And, given the extreme mountain climbing/ backcountry skiing/ and general outdoorsiness of his past coupled with a very fair Irish complexion, we're not terribly surprised.  But still, it's given us a little bit of a new perspective on life.

Today, I received an email from Joanne via the yahoo! DenverKnits list ... a lady who blogged in my area of town and whom I wasn't personally acquainted with but whose blog I read and enjoyed passed away this week.  She was 44.  This leaves me feeling terribly sad for her.  I didn't "know" her, but I felt like I knew her.

So, I guess I'm just left wondering ... what is it all for?  Why are we here? 

Kelee recently wrote, " I wonder how many of you took advantage of the New Year Sale at Handpaint Heaven? I was very good last year and didn’t do the Labor Day Sale but the New Year Sale is a different story. I ended up purchasing the merino-possum blend to make myself a nice Wonderful Wallaby. I’ve made 4 of these sweaters already and have given them all away. This one is for me."

If we knew that some calamity were around the corner from us on any given day, as knitters would we buy nicer yarn, or would we frequent Hobby Lobby for the CottonTots on sale as much?  Would we knit more for people we love, or more for ourselves?  Would we stress so much about unfinished objects, or would we finish them more often?  I have to admit that during my yarn diet of the previous three months, one thing that kept me going was the fear that one day I'd die and people would find all my yarn stashed here, there and yonder, and what would they think??  I mean, if I died, would someone even know to update my blog?

I'm just left wondering about these things.  While not personally knowing KeLee, I do know that she was a wonderful and caring person, and that those who did know her personally will surely miss her much more than those of us in bloggerland.  May you rest in peace, KeLee.