Thursday, January 12, 2012

Two things that almost happened, and some that actually did.

Things that did:

- We went to Manitoba for Christmas and had lovely visiting times with lovely people.  I knit a lot of dishcloths and handed them out like candy.  I was very socially engaging.  (not really)

- I pinched a nerve in my neck or upper back or something by ...sleeping.  I am still trying to make it so I can use my right arm on a regular basis without weeping.  Weeping is annoying.

- I'm still knitting, though.  Even though I watch my arm move while I knit, I insist that it "doesn't move very much" as I knit, and cannot therefore be contributing to the pain.

- I knit another thing for myself.  A pair of fingerless mitts and I have yet to lose either of them.

- I bought myself some new earbuds while we were in Manitoba.  Mine tend to walk off and insert themselves, uninvited, into someone else's ears, and then leap off when no-one is looking, and be lost forever.  (I'm not going to tell you whose ears, but I am going to tell you a story about B.)  Let me preface this story by mentionning that I bought new earbuds for both the offspring for Christmas, as well.  Three new sets of earbuds.  Mine should be safe.  Just to be sure, I bought mine in a colour I was sure no twelve year old male would want near his person.  They're either teal or turquoise, but colour is not my strong suit.  (Spelling colour with a U right where it belongs?  THAT'S my strong suit)

So a few nights ago I was sitting working on my book listening to music and B walks in.  "Those earbuds are the coolest colour EVER.", he says.  (Notice what a good Canadian he is.  He pronounced colour with the U in its proper place.)
I offered to trade him for the earbuds he got for Christmas  if a) he could find them and b) they worked in my ears, because I do love the brightly coloured wee cheapies I bought myself.
He found his lost earbuds in 3.6 minutes.  I tried them.  I hated them.  They kept falling out, and even when they were in, they did nothing to block household sounds.  I informed him of this, earbuds were exchanged, and all was rosy.
The next morning I came downstairs after B had left for school and when I sat down to start work I noticed black earbuds plugged in to my laptop.  As  I was working up a perfectly good mad, I noticed a wee note tucked under my laptop lid.  "Notice anything different?" it read, so I laughed instead of getting mad, but when he got home from school I said "Nice try, bud." and held out my hand, and that was that.

Two Things That Almost Happened.

Thing One:

I have two sets of stupidly expensive knitting needles.  5 needles to a set and really, you who ARE knitters know how much Signature needles cost (or you are off to google it this second), and those who aren't knitters really shouldn't try to find out how much they are because you don't need this much evidence that I am not mentally stable.  (In my defense, the first set was a gift.  I opened it and said "Do you know how much these cost?  Are you crazy?" and then thanked TB profusely and cast on a sock.)  They are not only nice and sharp just like I like them but they are oh so pretty.  Really really pretty.

Here's the thing about double pointed needles.  (hereinafter referred to as DPN's)  A set of double pointed needles minus a needle becomes a handfull of pretty pointy sticks.  And in this case, an expensive handfull of shiny sticks.

I took a sock project to B's hockey game last night.  I sat down on the steel bleachers, knitting away, my hands nice and cosy in my "knitting at the hockey game" fingerless mitts that I made for myself from yarn I bought in the Netherlands, and it was all so pretty to look at, the sock I was knitting and the new mitts and the shiny sparkly DPN's, and - I dropped one.  I heard a tink! and then a second tink! and I looked down at the steel bleachers and saw a gap much wider than my stupidly expense needle.  Two tinks, I thought, and then looked to see how I could get under the bleachers.

And there was no way to get under the bleachers.  Not even for an enterprising small child.

I stopped breathing.  In my mind I did the math.  "$$$$ / 5.  They are not going to dismantle these bleachers for that."  (Aside - I wonder what they WOULD dismantle the bleachers for.  I wonder what is under there.  I've been watching too much Monk lately.  I bet Monk could solve a murder if only they would dismantle those bleachers. I'm calling Tony Shalhoub.)

And then I cautiously moved my purse, and there lay my pretty pretty needle, astride the gap, and I bent forward and picked it up carefully and put the DPN project away and I may never let those needles leave the house again.

So I almost lost a really expensive needle.  That would have made a good story, no?

Thing Two.

I let the dog out to do her morning thing at Still Dark O'Clock earlier this week, and she Did Her Thing, and then leapt aside in sudden terror and started barking.  It was dark, but there was snow on the ground, and even though I didn't have my glasses on, I could see that there was nothing to bark at, and then something large and lumbery started moving away from the base of the tree out front.

Something large and lumbery and porcupine-y, and much bigger than my small bossy dog.  Promises of treats did nothing to dissuade her from defending the front yard from The Thing, and she has always ignored me when I say "Come!" so finally I resorted to ...this is what you get when you don't train your dog properly.  "Come!" means nothing to her, but "Leash!"?  Apparently that means you stand still until someone in their nightgown comes across the snow in her bare feet to put your leash on.  Even if she doesn't have a leash.  I brought her in and gave her a treat and she spent the next hour at the front hour, whining to go out and teach The Thing a lesson.

So that would have made a story too, hey?  "My dog attacked a porcupine in our own front yard!  And we live in the city!"

But none of it happened, so I have nothing more to talk about.


Marcia said...

I am always delighted by you and your knitting adventures and your dog. Oh and your kids too ... and, well ... you know! ;)

annie said...