Wool & Words

When I turned 30, things got weird. I don't mean they got weird afterward--after 30, I felt utterly and completely whole. I mean that they got weird beforehand. I felt itchy, twitchy, and even a bit of another rhyming word. I was electric, melancholy, and perpetually confused.

I'm thinking about that because I'm approaching 40. It's still a year off--have to pass through 39 first--but I'm already feeling the turn of the decade and wondering who I'll be becoming then, and what I'll be doing/feeling/thinking/seeing/saying. I was walking across campus a few minutes ago, mulling it over in my head, trying to see the end of that road, not wanting to be at the beginning. It's maddening.

And yet I'm really relishing it, the feeling of not knowing, the anticipation. It's delicious and energizing (even though every night when I get home, I positively exhausted). It's like I'm 7 and waiting for dawn to come so that I can see whether Santa got the memo.

***
Knitting continues on. and on. and on. I won't emerge victorious in the Ravelympics. As usual, I was far too ambitious. I'm pleased, though, that I've even been able to work on any project, since my time has been taken with settling into my new roles.

Posted by KnitNut at 05:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Just been amusing myself with this year's Bulwer-Lytton award winners and want to remember this gem for a very long time:

Vowing revenge on his English teacher for making him memorize Wordsworth's
"Intimations of Immortality," Warren decided to pour sugar in her gas tank, but
he inadvertently grabbed a sugar substitute so it was actually Splenda in the
gas.

Becky Mushko
Penhook, VA

Posted by KnitNut at 12:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I'm sitting upstairs in the office, waiting for the sheets to dry so that I can make my bed and go to sleep. It's so weird now; I'm in a new place, a new town, a new house, a new marriage, a new job--a new life. I'm just struck by how SAME I am, even in all of this newness. The only thing that's different is my breathing; I'm having a hard time adjusting to having 3 cats in the house. I've got an appointment to see an allergist this week. I'm hoping that they'll be able to get me something to help stop the coughing and shortness of breath. I have a feeling I'll be toting an inhaler permanently. Sigh.

The kitties are good, though. They seem to have had no problem adjusting to the new digs and have each found their favorite place to camp out. Mercury prefers to lie on the living room rug, beneath the ceiling fan. He tends to lay on his back with his legs open. Perhaps the breeze feels good? It's extraordinarily undignified, but he seems to be comfortable with it, so what can I say?

Zeus prefers the upstairs landing. He sits right next to the wall at the top of the staircase. That way, he can see who is coming up the stairs and/or in the front door. I call him Guard Kitty. It's hot at the top of the stairs--no central air or fan up here--but he seems to really like it.

And Spike, the most skittish and scared of them all, prefers to hang out on the porch. If I don't let him out, he sits by the door, scratching and whining. This from the cat who used to hide under everything. Will wonders never cease?

I'm glad they're settling in; it would have been sad to have them stressing from the move.

As for knitting? I'm working on a Picovoli in Dale Svale. I'll be putting it aside on Friday, though, to work on my WIPs Wrestling projects for the Ravelympics. Too much fun; maybe I'll actually finish something?

It's sad, though, to create a WIP to finish one...

Posted by KnitNut at 11:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)