So anyway
Thankfully I've come to my senses about the hat.
You know those knitting projects you start where everything is wrong from the minute you pick up the yarn?
Like, purely for example purposes...where you go looking for your 40" #6 needle and realize your Clapotis is hibernating on it? So then you think "5 is probably okay, it will be a warmer hat if I do that, so what the heck." So then you cast on on the wrong size needles, but the tail is way, way, like 18" too long. It should be a sign, but you decide to go on and just sacrifice the tail to the scrap heap, but then pretty soon you realize that somewhere in the K2P2 ribbing you P'd 4, and you're going to have to correct that, so you do, and you blindly knit two more rounds thinking it won't matter, but you're kidding yourself, because of course it matters, and you can totally tell.
And I was watching My Name Is Earl (the funniest show on television) and it was all about "karma" trying to tell him something.
Ok, I definitely don't believe in karma - that's an overspiritualization of coincidence. But I do believe that lots of times things happen where we forge on in spite of "difficulties" and don't realize that maybe the fact that the timing, the needles, the cast-on and the ribbing are all wrong means that maybe this project can wait a few days. And though I'd like to go to lunch with my friend and triumphantly hand her a handknitted baby hat tomorrow, I am not stupid enough to think that a barely adequate gift knitted to prove that I can make a deadline is worth anything.
So I frogged. Hypothetically, I mean. In my hypothetical scenario, I wasted about 30 minutes of Mom-Sock knitting time to knit a Nothing.
So then I started working on the sock again, and it turns out I'm at just about exactly the same point on both socks - just over halfway down the foot, and it's going to take some weekend knitting to finish them.
Now, to go on even longer, I am not a one-project knitter. Lately, though, I have been. I worked on Dad's socks full-steam and touched only the dragon gauntlets for about two days before giving them up. Since Friday I've worked on nothing but Mom's socks, and I'm even having trouble thinking about casting on Elfine tomorrow. Now what is up with that? I don't like this pattern THAT much, but I do feel an obligation to block and mail them by Monday, which means I have to finish them.
Strange little story - I wanted Starbucks this morning, so I went to one in a big office building downtown. It was full of accountants. I never do this, but today it just wouldn't leave my mind to get a teeny soy latte. A Starbucks full of accountants? Finance guys who talk about sports by reciting statistics and wear five thousand dollar suits? (People I find irrepressibly boring, sorry but I'm a snot. You date the finance guys, give me the arty types. Fair?)
There was an empty space on the street - it was 8:26, and at 8:30 the Loading Zone warning expired, so I grabbed it. But then I had absolutely no change except pennies. Nothing for the meter. My experience with all parking meters generally is that if I chance it, a meter maid will be waiting for me to get out of my car so she can hand me the ticket personally. (Do they still call them meter maids?)
So, into the garage across the street knowing it would take longer and cost $2, but better $2 than a $10 ticket. Get elevator with accountant, find the Starbucks, wait on line in front of a VERY loud woman who was discussing the fascinating legal issues surrounding her back fence, order my coffee, pay with a debit card, and make mental note that I have no cash. Must get cash at ATM once at office. (Yes, the company I work for is so big we have our own ATM. And a post office.)
Back into the elevator, after I found it. Six large ostentatious banks of elevators for going up to the Accounting Offices, and one teeny, tiny, hiding-behind-a-plant lift for going down into the parking dungeon. Walk to car, praying for VISA at parking attendant booth. Mom calls, and is enthusiastically telling me a story about one of her patients, who is adding on a 4-car garage to her home to house her antique Porsches (patient's family invented railroad lanterns). Put Mom in lap, talk to attendant - no VISA. Panicky scramble in wallet, lunch money wallet and purse for money, any money, just two freaking dollars -
Find $20 bill left over from Christmas tucked into wallet.
Hallelujah.
You know those knitting projects you start where everything is wrong from the minute you pick up the yarn?
Like, purely for example purposes...where you go looking for your 40" #6 needle and realize your Clapotis is hibernating on it? So then you think "5 is probably okay, it will be a warmer hat if I do that, so what the heck." So then you cast on on the wrong size needles, but the tail is way, way, like 18" too long. It should be a sign, but you decide to go on and just sacrifice the tail to the scrap heap, but then pretty soon you realize that somewhere in the K2P2 ribbing you P'd 4, and you're going to have to correct that, so you do, and you blindly knit two more rounds thinking it won't matter, but you're kidding yourself, because of course it matters, and you can totally tell.
And I was watching My Name Is Earl (the funniest show on television) and it was all about "karma" trying to tell him something.
Ok, I definitely don't believe in karma - that's an overspiritualization of coincidence. But I do believe that lots of times things happen where we forge on in spite of "difficulties" and don't realize that maybe the fact that the timing, the needles, the cast-on and the ribbing are all wrong means that maybe this project can wait a few days. And though I'd like to go to lunch with my friend and triumphantly hand her a handknitted baby hat tomorrow, I am not stupid enough to think that a barely adequate gift knitted to prove that I can make a deadline is worth anything.
So I frogged. Hypothetically, I mean. In my hypothetical scenario, I wasted about 30 minutes of Mom-Sock knitting time to knit a Nothing.
So then I started working on the sock again, and it turns out I'm at just about exactly the same point on both socks - just over halfway down the foot, and it's going to take some weekend knitting to finish them.
Now, to go on even longer, I am not a one-project knitter. Lately, though, I have been. I worked on Dad's socks full-steam and touched only the dragon gauntlets for about two days before giving them up. Since Friday I've worked on nothing but Mom's socks, and I'm even having trouble thinking about casting on Elfine tomorrow. Now what is up with that? I don't like this pattern THAT much, but I do feel an obligation to block and mail them by Monday, which means I have to finish them.
Strange little story - I wanted Starbucks this morning, so I went to one in a big office building downtown. It was full of accountants. I never do this, but today it just wouldn't leave my mind to get a teeny soy latte. A Starbucks full of accountants? Finance guys who talk about sports by reciting statistics and wear five thousand dollar suits? (People I find irrepressibly boring, sorry but I'm a snot. You date the finance guys, give me the arty types. Fair?)
There was an empty space on the street - it was 8:26, and at 8:30 the Loading Zone warning expired, so I grabbed it. But then I had absolutely no change except pennies. Nothing for the meter. My experience with all parking meters generally is that if I chance it, a meter maid will be waiting for me to get out of my car so she can hand me the ticket personally. (Do they still call them meter maids?)
So, into the garage across the street knowing it would take longer and cost $2, but better $2 than a $10 ticket. Get elevator with accountant, find the Starbucks, wait on line in front of a VERY loud woman who was discussing the fascinating legal issues surrounding her back fence, order my coffee, pay with a debit card, and make mental note that I have no cash. Must get cash at ATM once at office. (Yes, the company I work for is so big we have our own ATM. And a post office.)
Back into the elevator, after I found it. Six large ostentatious banks of elevators for going up to the Accounting Offices, and one teeny, tiny, hiding-behind-a-plant lift for going down into the parking dungeon. Walk to car, praying for VISA at parking attendant booth. Mom calls, and is enthusiastically telling me a story about one of her patients, who is adding on a 4-car garage to her home to house her antique Porsches (patient's family invented railroad lanterns). Put Mom in lap, talk to attendant - no VISA. Panicky scramble in wallet, lunch money wallet and purse for money, any money, just two freaking dollars -
Find $20 bill left over from Christmas tucked into wallet.
Hallelujah.
posted by Jen at 10:08 PM
2 Comments:
Glad you had the $20, or it coulda been ugly...
I know! I was terrified I'd have to park cars all afternoon!!
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