No, Really, I Ran Into a Door
First off, it's Tolkien's birthday, which I tell you in case you forgot. I considered having English food tonight, but the shrimp was on sale, so we're having some shrimp/spinach/nutmeg thing I found in Cooking Light instead, and we'll read something out of The Hobbit. Maybe I'll make some dessert. That would Mean Something, especially to the 7-year-old living here.
Second, I ran into a door. No, really, I ran into a door. Stop looking at Sam that way. Door. I'm telling you.
Actually, I was in the laundry room, all dressed up to go out to Julie's for dinner, and I was putting down the laundry baskets in a perfectly cheery mood, and I cheerfully stood up and cheerfully whipped my head around, right into the edge of the open laundry door, and then I wasn't so cheery anymore, for Quite A While.
It made life more interesting than one really wants. But I wasn't bleeding, and I wasn't comatose. I was ministered to by Sam, who got ice, and the child, who hugged me, and Lila the Balinese cat, who sat on my chest -- her remedy for all that ails you -- and eventually I felt ambulatory, and not nauseated anymore, and we went to Julie's after all, which is good, cause we had a lovely dinner and great companions, and now things are pretty much back to normal, and, though I require things like aspirin and ibuprofen, on account of my head hurts and my neck hurts, I didn't do any permanent damage, as far as I can tell.
Crucial test: I can knit on "Margaret Tudor." Fair enough. All is well.
Yarn for an "Elephants" vest for one of the grandchildren is on its way from The Yarn Barn, where you can get Jamieson's shetland wool to use in patterns calling for Starmore's Campion, long discontinued, and you can get it pretty quickly, too. I think I can get this done by the end of January, for the said grandchild's 3rd birthday -- it's just a vest, and it's in a child's size, and it's a fairly simple pattern, for a Starmore. Updates to follow.
Third, it's time for me to take up my Knitting Tarot discussions again, desultory though they may be -- I do have some sense of order, and I like to keep projects going, and I'm inexpressibly fond of the Knitting Tarot.
But I am indeed feeling a bit prickly this morning, so it's a good day to discuss the Prince of Needles, who represents the sort of knitter who Thinks up REALLY new things, ALL the time, and can't understand why you don't want them. "[A] poorly knitted leghorn hat constructed entirely from sandwich bags" is the type of item Amber has in mind here. Oh, I like this. If you know the Rider-Waite deck, you know its version of the knight of swords, charging down blindly on a white horse, waving his sword around, going who knows where, too fast and without much forethought. Like that, only with knitting needles. Get out of the way.
Or be prepared to live with a $400 scarf you wear once.
Second, I ran into a door. No, really, I ran into a door. Stop looking at Sam that way. Door. I'm telling you.
Actually, I was in the laundry room, all dressed up to go out to Julie's for dinner, and I was putting down the laundry baskets in a perfectly cheery mood, and I cheerfully stood up and cheerfully whipped my head around, right into the edge of the open laundry door, and then I wasn't so cheery anymore, for Quite A While.
It made life more interesting than one really wants. But I wasn't bleeding, and I wasn't comatose. I was ministered to by Sam, who got ice, and the child, who hugged me, and Lila the Balinese cat, who sat on my chest -- her remedy for all that ails you -- and eventually I felt ambulatory, and not nauseated anymore, and we went to Julie's after all, which is good, cause we had a lovely dinner and great companions, and now things are pretty much back to normal, and, though I require things like aspirin and ibuprofen, on account of my head hurts and my neck hurts, I didn't do any permanent damage, as far as I can tell.
Crucial test: I can knit on "Margaret Tudor." Fair enough. All is well.
Yarn for an "Elephants" vest for one of the grandchildren is on its way from The Yarn Barn, where you can get Jamieson's shetland wool to use in patterns calling for Starmore's Campion, long discontinued, and you can get it pretty quickly, too. I think I can get this done by the end of January, for the said grandchild's 3rd birthday -- it's just a vest, and it's in a child's size, and it's a fairly simple pattern, for a Starmore. Updates to follow.
Third, it's time for me to take up my Knitting Tarot discussions again, desultory though they may be -- I do have some sense of order, and I like to keep projects going, and I'm inexpressibly fond of the Knitting Tarot.
But I am indeed feeling a bit prickly this morning, so it's a good day to discuss the Prince of Needles, who represents the sort of knitter who Thinks up REALLY new things, ALL the time, and can't understand why you don't want them. "[A] poorly knitted leghorn hat constructed entirely from sandwich bags" is the type of item Amber has in mind here. Oh, I like this. If you know the Rider-Waite deck, you know its version of the knight of swords, charging down blindly on a white horse, waving his sword around, going who knows where, too fast and without much forethought. Like that, only with knitting needles. Get out of the way.
Or be prepared to live with a $400 scarf you wear once.
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