Friday, September 30, 2005
Random thoughts about stuff just because I'm bored out of my gourd and if you've never crawled into my mind to see just how weird it can go then give your Z-ticket to the leather dyke over there, strap yourself in very securely and hang on to your skivvies.... Surgery recovery alone sucks. Recovering from surgery by yourself sucks. One part of you wants to go do this go do that I want to check this out I want to go to a movie I want to go talk with friends I wanna f&^*(ing WORK on MEDICARE CLAIMS (my real job, btw) but my belly says "Oh no you can't do that because I'm here and if you don't behave I'm gonna make you really miserable not just now but hours from now and tomorrow you're gonna pay for NOT LISTENING TO ME!" Crap. If the narcotics didn't put a cork in the works I'd be zonked out in bed letting music go in one ear and out the other but when the plumbing was held up earlier this week, jeezus effing it HURT. So I look about my house and here are all these patterns and yarn and nothing calls to me. Nothing. Oh a pattern calls here but I don't have the yarn for it to make it look good. Or some yarn I have says "Try this." So I do and it turns out looking like crap. I attempt Kitchener stitch just so that I can master the bastard and wind up with the first three stitches right and the rest purls. Well I was close. Set it down, watch some Perry Mason..... The mail chime on the computer rings. A brief respite from this place. I cling to it. It's a response to a discussion about moving to Fair Isle to take up residence in one of the houses there. Dirt cheap by our standards but you're in the North Atlantic with nothing to stop the wind. Knitters and master builders wanted. Maybe if I build a yurt or line the walls of the house with felted stash I will stay warm.... I look forward to a weekend where I can sit with knitters and chat about everything then rest for the rest of the day, then rise to sit with singers and listen to them make music. I would not do well on Fair Isle. I am in my Fair Isle house, surrounded with yarn, cut off from my friends and family and stash enhancement expeditions. I couldn't just hop onto the mailboat and traipse off to Edinburgh or wherever the nearest metropolis is from Fair Isle. They'd find me buried in my little house babbling about how I couldn't do Kitchener stitch and must get the mittens done for Christmas.... I can't even practice the music for the next concert. They took it all away before I could get my copy. Two catalogs arrived today. WEBS with its peek into the tantalizing treasure trove. Wool Connection with its kits that I don't want to purchase. I read a few blogs, read the NY Times, listen to "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" while knitting on the mate to my grand-nephew's mitten. I'm being diligent in keeping my kitchen clean. I forgot how much pleasure there is in preparing food in a clean kitchen. How bad was it before? You don't want to know. The night is dark with heavy rainclouds. It was the first real rain of fall. The color changes will be beautiful. Hope there is enough sun to make good photos of WIPs. I'm glad it wasn't a hand or arm that needed surgery. I'd be even more nuts. At least I can work with both hands. I just can't sit up very long without my belly protesting. Go to the bathroom holding your belly in your hands so that it doesn't bounce and jiggle. Work those leg muscles squatting to pick up items from the floor, like dropped towels and dirty cat food dishes. I have crappy knees too but at least they weren't protesting when given their workout. I remember someone coming to the shop with three of her friends. They all drip money in a kept woman kind of way. I'm there knitting away on a project friendly as I can be as we talk about stash enhancement and how I'm a teacher there at the shop. One of the women asks me, "Do you work?" like this is an option not a necessity. I smile and say, "Yes," while the proletariat broad in me is screaming, "You damn right you rich broad, I work for a living! Not like you who probably doesn't know how to read a bank statement because hubby does it for you." But it's pointless to spout vitriol on women like them. It would be nice to have expendible income without having to put up with corporate crap to get it, but I've only been home for two weeks and I'm ready to spit. I gotta have routine, I gotta have contacts, I gotta have a LIFE. And dammit the life I have, even when the going gets rough, is pretty damn fun. I'm the cool Aunt of the family (was told that by my youngest niece and nephew). I'm out and about doing things that I love. I see my work making a difference in people's lives. And just to shake things up I do something crazy. OK. Ride is over. Please leave by the marked exits and have a great day!