knitty told me to buy this. so i did. and it's awesome.
i miss patrick swayze.
you know that feeling when you've entered a project thinking, "there's no way in god's name this thing is ever gonna work out"?
and the amount of sheer ecstatic orgastic joy when you realize that, against every single possible odd in the universe, it does?
|i may look calm but inside i'm going OH YEAH GIVE IT TO ME BABY|
as promised, here's some actual knitting i've been able to finish lately.
my friend turned 26. i wanted to make her something nice for the winter. enter thermis.
the following post contains offensive religious material and should not be read by anyone.
so it's obvious my life is not turning out the way i wanted it to. the ass-shattering pain is still there despite the surgery, and i'm having an infernally hard time adjusting to the thought that it may never go away. i've also come down with the flu which makes thinking and overall taking care of myself gazillion times harder.
i blame god. i don't like him and he doesn't like me. so we keep throwing steaming balls of turd at each other until one of us gives over. i do appreciate the oxymoronic nature of a fecal fight between myself and a (supposedly) bearded astral figure who i have no subjective experience of even existing, but somehow i still wake up nigh every morning with a fresh batch of baby green on my face. while he gets away squeaky clean. what a douche.
and now that we're on it, wasn't it therapy? that once accurately sang "god kicks with both feet and keeps his shoes clean"?
it's also obvious that the only way to provide any immediate or long-term relief for such unfair and unpleasant fate is to buy yarn.
which i did. i bought 17 skeins of yarn.
sparkly yarn. fluffy yarn. yarn that makes me forget all about god and his douchy, enigmatic ways. a little felted tweed. couple of cashmerino blends. a flavia or two. some silk wool. and other blissfully soft stuff i couldn't keep my hands off from.
let's just call it a nervous breakdown.
pain makes you do funny things. ridiculously extended pain makes you do ridiculously funny things. which eventually call for ridiculously funny measures.
but three weeks and seven therapeutic pairs of socks later i'm back. sort of. god how much i've missed my 220s and my 32" addis. never again shall we part.
or the bunny is seriously gonna get it.