Crumbs

While our for my nightly roam around the block for procastination purposes health and well being, I came across a single string on the sidewalk. It was dark, so I couldn't make out the color, but I could tell it was fingering weight. Intrigued, at first I tugged at it. There was no end in sight. I tugged a bit more, then walked for about five feet and reached down to give it another good tug. I mean, it has got to be attatched to something--lost mitten, teddy bear, secret doorway to an alternate universe, a knitting Hansel and Gretel, an angry groundhog? The possibilities are endless!

After convincing myself I really didn't need random sidewalk yarn (who knows where that sidewalk has been and isn't your stash large enough?), I walked on. But on my way back after giving my imagination time to stew about the exciting possibilities, I hunted down the loose end and started winding it around my fist. Given the possibility of satisfying my curiosity, I have a will with the strength of an over-cooked green bean from the school cafeteria.

Alas, I did not find anything attatched to the other end. When I put the yarn under the light, here is what I found.

An astonishingly purple/fuscia yarn. It's sort of squicky, so I'm pretty sure it's acrylic. I have no idea what I am going to do with it, but I collected a good amount of it and surely one of these days it will be good for something (diagnosis: packrat). Perhaps provisional cast on yarn?

Also, don't you think it's exciting I have figured out how to Photoshop my photos so my skin is no longer excessively yellow and jaundiced?

I got really excited last night when I thought I found another strand on the sidewalk a block away from where I found the original, but sadly it was only a stain on the sidewalk cleverly disguised as yarn.

WHAM CRUNCH

Somebody ran their car into my porch this morning and then ran away, leaving a small part of their bumper.



I reacted like the logical, rational person I am. I applied this order of operations:

1. Called landlord.
2. Took a picture for documentation purposes.
3. Applied Photoshop.

This amuses me entirely too much.

4. Applied knitting.

Second sleeve of my Must Have Cardigan, woo!

5. Applied steps 3 and 4 to blog.

Grey Day Blues

Symptoms:

• A sky full of blarg that occasionally spits rain (pictured below)
• A massive to-do list
• Urges to stay in bed all day

I didn't learn to truly appreciate sunlight until it wasn't there anymore, just like the 5th needle in my 2.5 mm dp set.

Cure for the lunch hour:

• 1 bowl of potato leek soup (or soup of your choice)
• 1 blood red rain coat
• Crust of bread to dip in soup (or starch of your choice, goldfish crackers are also great)
• 1 yarn shop owner who lets you eat in his shop and tells you interesting factoids (Today I learned you can eat a deer heart either fried or pickled!)
• 1 1/2 socks socks on the needles

Suggested ingredients: other knitters who might be in the yarn shop

Can't do that thing, that keepin' still

I have discovered that my default response to someone's tragedy or distress is to knit them something.

Having grown up with the conviction that if I put my mind to a task I can do it, it's frustrating that for all the opposable thumbs and large brain case of my species I am so impotent to fix people's problems. I can't make the library find the second disc of Terminator. I can't make cats or family or the economy or stomach rats behave. I can't induce sleep. I can't provide the perfect careers for my graduating friends. I can't keep the servers from crashing. I can't add more hours to the day to help with the homework load. I can't make differential equations or physics homework make sense. I don't have a green thumb for growing money trees. I definitely can't cure terminal diseases. Hell, I can't even make the sniffles less sniffly.

It is totally, completely, and utterly mind-boggingly frustrating that I am not omnipotent. I must have been asleep in line when they handed that power out.

So what can I do with my opposable thumbs and brain? Procure sticks and yarn for slow magic. Call me voo-doo, but I do believe there is power in handknits. I believe there's some good mojo going on.

Exhibit A:

I fully realized my mojo theory several months ago when Mountain Man nearly bled to death from a stomach ulcer. I immediately acquired yarn and made an owl hat.

I even made a doofy post about it.

I only knit on it when I was feeling peaceful. I frogged the first try, afraid of the bad mojo from miscounting and refused to pull my usual compromise of sneaking in k2togs or m1s. I knit with yarn that was not only a manly color that matched Mountain Man's wardrobe, but was also environmentally friendly, like Mountain Man himself.

I thought if I could knit my protection, affection, and (admittedly limited) healing powers into the stitches. There is a Head Guard Owl equipped with amber eyes, staring down fate or karma or God or the swine flu or whatever is out there.

Right now he is staring down the camera as it tries to steal his soul.

The Head Guard Owl has a circle of minions at his beck and call. Between them, the Head Guard Owl and his minions fill 360 degress full of watchfullness.

Then I had enough yarn left over to make a cowl of 3x2 ribby goodness, because I firmly believe one can't have enough ribbing in life.

Exhibit A with Exhibit B: Mmm, ribby.

So far it's a system that works okay (except I haven't fully figured out to do when fellow knitters are in distress, since changes are most of them can knit things for themselves that are prettier and better fitting than mine). Mostly I find that I just need to knit faster.