Seriously–
The worst part about being sick as that you don’t DO ANYTHING…I mean, I’ve been knitting, but one of the things I’m knitting I’m so embarrassed about…
It’s hard to explain. My TA (and I make my TA’s something every year) wanted fingerless mitts…and she wanted them lacy…and she wanted this one colorway I offered…and the result is…
quite horrible, actually. The lace is lost in the frantic color…but the separate elements are quite nice…the LACE looks good. The COLORWAY looks good. Together, it’s like eating fish and chocolate…you just can’t figure out why someone would put those things together.
I’m also making socks…I don’t want to talk about those, although they’re looking pretty good for a colorway I personally am not all chipper about but most other people have been complimenting a LOT. (I got a lot of work done on these socks in the doc’s office–I may finish them in two weeks after all…)
Chicken stayed the night at her grandma’s last night–this is kind of fun, actually. Chicken, who is a social outcast in her own school, and her cousin (well, my step-sister’s son) Natters who is a social outcast in his own school, are both terrific card sharps, and they like to play with my grandma Flossie. Every now and then my mom arranges them to have a card night together–last night was the night.
We ate dinner at mom and dads (mmmmmmmm….) and I think they were a little surprised to watch my nighly fever set in…I visibly wilted, went into the living room, and sank into that 102 fever state where nothings quite real and everything is sort of pewter colored. They tend not to believe that sick people are really sick (A collective 60 years in the medical profession, I think) and I think they were kind of worried. Well, I guess so are we, so that’s only to be expected.
Other than that and a trip to see Shrek 3 (too serious by half…) and a meeting with my crazy high school friend’s…oh wait…yeah…that needs explaining.
Did any of you have a high school stalker? Anybody? I did, but I didn’t really know it, and he was a sweet kind of kid, so it was no big deal. We went to the prom and stayed just friends. He was relieved to see I got really fat at our 10th year reunion–that sort of thing.
Well, my Crazy Friend (the one with the Las Vegas Hooker Shawl) had a high school stalker that she swore she’d never date, never in a million years. She hated him. She thought everything evil in her life spawned from him, and that he, in turn was the spawn of the unholy one.
Now flash forward 22 years, and she’s been sleeping with him for two weeks, and, in her words, “He’s not that bad.”
And after years of enduring rants at how awful he was, I have no words for her, none at all. Anyway, we got to meet him when we brought the whole famn damily to see the mamn dovie. He didn’t remember me at all. (Shhhhhhhhh–ocker.) But he seemed awfully sweet, and I can’t remember for the life of me why she hated him.
But I still have no words for her, none at all. I can’t decide if she’s settling, if it’s sweet, or if destiny is a rabid poodle in a clown suit, but, hey, at least if I’m not doing anything interesting, I can stress about her mental health, right?
That’s what friends are for!
