The Darndest Thing

I may have just experienced a miracle.

Or a Freak Of Nature. Actually, if it was a miracle, I'm entirely let down, and well, kind of peeved (nicer way of saying 'Highly Pissed Off'), because, well, you'll see.

Way back in January, I did something to my knee.

What I did was kneel on it, and my knee said something entirely unrepeatable in polite company and refused to work correctly for a few weeks.

This has everything to do with the size of my ass, and not much to do with the fortitude of said knee.

Poor thing hasn't been right since. There is creaking and groaning and crackling, and sometimes a little popping kind of sensation.

Being the Master of Denial (I live on a rock 8 miles out to sea, y'all, and hate boats), I found some extremely effective ways of dealing with these symptoms.

I crank up the ipod.

And I don't hear the noises.

This works well for cars, too, should you want to adopt my system.

Just a little bit ago, I stepped out of the shower.

Yes, I routinely shower around midnight.

And I slipped.

Badly.

Somehow, I didn't break my neck. And Thank God and Al Gore* there were no cameras to document the sight.

And whaddaya know? My knee feels awesome.

AWESOME.

There's no clicking!

No popping!

No pain!

Is it a miracle?

I'm going to go with Freak of Nature. Save the miracles for cures for Cancer and Diabetes, and Substance Abuse, where we really need them.

By the way, I can totally almost do a side split.

I know! I had no idea, either.

There is every chance that I will wake up in the morning with a leg that belongs on an elephant, black and blue clear to my hip, and completely unable to walk.

But for now...I rejoice!

*I'm so used to thanking God and Al Gore for the internet (because, you know, Al invented it and all) that I add Al in there all the time now. I know, it nauseates me as well. Need to break that habit, pronto.

Rocky Horror Picture Show

Firstly, you simply must go see these.

I am in love with those little buggers. I want to make them by the dozen.

With my luck, and penchant for horror movies, they'll come to life, grow fangs, and gnaw me to death.

Sorry, I was attacked by a cricket last night, and may have PTSD.

It's not a laughing matter; even The Big Guy has conceded that bugs which ignore every other human on Earth seem to seek me out. A spider once jumped four feet to land on me. Damn thing cleared a puddle and everything.

But enough about my neuroses.

Or maybe not.

Because I have found fuel.

It's called lace.

And it is the equivalent of throwing gasoline on a fire for my OCD.

Exhibit A:

(excerpt from Cubist Sock, by Cookie A. Pub. in KnittingDaily.com)

Oh. See, my fingers get all tingly when I see all those stitches lining up so perfectly orderly!

And not in that Oh Crap I Think I'm Having A Stroke way.

Yes...gasoline on a fire.

Swallowtail.

This is next. Right after I finish these:

Cookie A's Cubist socks.

Good Lord Almighty.

The girl's a genius. And I am completely smitten by the way the ssk's and yo's and k2T's make little orderly triangles appear as if by magic.

It's magic!

Maybe it'll show up better on the blockers.

I'll try it once I've finished turning the heel. Only about 10 more rows.

This concludes today's discussion of Marissa's Neurotic Behaviour.

Stay tuned for tomorrow's dose, tentatively titled:

There Is Dust On My Bathroom Ceiling Light And I Can't Reach It, And Cannot Rest While It Is There. Send Help.

This may be a two part series; last night I dreamt the dust came to life, grew fangs and claws and was headed upstairs to get me.

Don't laugh- when I was last pregnant, I woke my husband up in the middle of the night and told him I'd leave him if he didn't pull the fridge out for me so I could clean behind it. He put me off for almost a week; I was a wreck. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. That Which Lurked In The Depths haunted me.

When he finally pulled it out and we saw what was there, I wanted to move.

But that night, after a major scrubbing session, All Was Right With The World, and I slept like a baby.

I know. You totally wish you were me.

Just Do It.

Read this.

Read it all the way through to the end. Get a cup of coffee first.

You will learn something, I promise.

Thanks again, Connie, for another winner! Someday I'm going to ask that girl for her blogroll- everything she sends me is a gem.

Self- Sabotage

That's exactly what it was, folks.

I sat down with The Lace yesterday afternoon. I began the row I knew I was on; it was even marked off in pencil on the chart.

Yet it was wrong. (Personal success moment: I 'read' the lace, and recognized that my YO's weren't lining up. Yay, me!)

I checked it over, fretted, fumed, cussed, threw the remote, cried, and walked away.

Last night, after putting the house to bed and downing a blueberry martini (highly recommend), I sat down with it to figure out where it all went to hell.

I checked the last row, a purl row. (Oh, yeah, because that's where a mistake was going to be, right?)

I ripped it out.

I was just about to rip out the previous row, which pissed me off greatly because...dammit, I had 6 rows left when this went wrong!

I kept looking. Something wasn't right.

I checked the chart.

I didn't have 6 rows left when I sat down to knit yesterday...I had 4.

I frogged what didn't need frogging.

I stayed up last night and finished Adamas to the bind off.

I went to bed with a huge smile on my face.

And I just finished the cast off.

I couldn't be more proud of me. I just finished My Very First Real Lace Project.

I love it.

And I'm hooked!

Now, who's gonna help me block this sucker???