Uh,
I think I want to start putting disclaimers at the top of all my posts regarding potentially annoying content. (Shut up, I know what you’re thinking.) Dude, I could even do a rating system! With tiny little warning icons! Yeah, or not. Warning: This post contains too much talk of knitting, health-related paranoia, and one or two off-color jokes. Not suitable for overly-macho men, the truly sickly, or Claudia Ripley. I swear to god, if I could knit at work, while sleeping, or while behind the wheel, I would, and I’ve seriously considered it once or twice. I don’t know what it is about it, but I’m loving the hell out of it lately. I’m having a little trouble finishing the seester’s xmas scarf because it’s this intense twisting cable pattern that requires constant vigilance, and if there’s one area in which I’m lacking, it’s constant vigilance. If it required constant movement, it would have been done ten times over by now. But never fear, I’m good with deadlines and it will be around her neck at the yuletide. I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course. As a second (um, sixth?) project, I’ve pulled out bigass needles for this fat handpainted cotton I picked up at that yarn shop by grandma’s house. The color is ‘marmalade’, a fantastic variegated orange-salmon-hotpink blend. It is going to be my bathmat, and 4″ into the project, I’m already in love.* I had dinner with la familia last night, and my mom presented me with the hoodie I knit back in the olden days, with its newly-installed zipper. [Note: followup on the other projects on that page! The socks are being worn by someone, or so I’ve heard. The throw has about one more inch of mohair to go. Why don’t I just finish it already? Because I’m working on my bathmat. Duh.] I’m so, so proud of the hoodie. I put it on and it’s perfect. I spent the longest time looking at the shoulder seams, because they’re the hardest part to get right, and they look great. Yes, I did even say to Stephanie, ‘check out my seamin’!’ and then of course snickered in the obligatory way. So I still have to attach the sides of the pockets to the front of the hoodie. I’m glad I didn’t attempt those when I made it, because I’d have done a crappy job. Now that I have more clothes-assembly experience, I’m up for the challenge. As of now, I have about 40 things to photograph and post here for your enjoyment, but the camera is still without power. I tried to remedy that at Whole Foods tonight, and was dismayed at the complete lack of organic batteries. Audiobook-listening while driving is doing really weird shit to my head. I love it; I become so absorbed in it that I get all overwrought. I have the same problem watching movies in the theatre. The cheesier the tear-jerker, the more I’m bawling. Listening to On the Road, I’ve been stumbling into work dreamy and drunk on wanderlust. I’m desperately trying to get the last chapter of Ulysses, just so I can hear Molly Bloom’s most beautiful ramble. I swear I’m getting all sentimental in my old age. I keep wondering at what level the emotional volume starts sputtering feedback. We may yet get the chance to find out. Oh yes! The health paranoia I promised you. See, since I stopped getting sick, I started getting worried about getting sick. I’d have been better off just getting the clockwork flu and laying low, rather than trying to achieve immunity sainthood. Anyway, this morning I had to email my sister, who’s like a doctor without any of the medical school or clinical experience, and have her reassure me that the hard lump on the side of my neck was indeed a swollen lymph node, exactly like the hard lump on the back of my neck was the time before, too long after I convinced myself it was cancer and that I was already practically dead. So, my glands are kinda swollen and I’m tired as hell, even though the latter I’d be inclined to blame on the sickening lack of daylight this time of year, and the former could be anything from the recent piercings to the complete lack of humidity in here to my body being pissed at me for never allowing it a moment of illness. I’m treating it with my patented quick-recovery technique: I’m ignoring it. Also, I slept for 10 minutes after work today. I’m on the fast track to health! As always, as ever, whatever.Jenni * Four Inches In and Already in Love: country-western song or porn title? You be the judge.