Knitting Pretty

Monday, Feb. 07, 2005 12:38

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I�ve been abnormally tired all weekend; yawning uncontrollably. At this very moment I am fighting the urge to put my head down on my crossed arms and take a nap like I did in grade school. (Oh, if I could only get back half of naps I refused in my preschool years, I�d be a happy, happy woman!) I�m almost certain this is due to my having let my thyroid medicine run out. Larger than normal amounts of caffeine are doing nothing to help the situation.


While I found the Super Bowl game itself to be interesting to watch (as my son said, the teams seemed to be well-matched), I found the commercials to be very, very bland. One noted exception being the one where the guy is making dinner for his girlfriend and his cat knocks over the tomato sauce. That one made me laugh out loud. I also liked the Mustang commercial that was a take off on �Fargo�, but after they played it three times within a quarter, I�m not sure I ever need to see it again. I didn�t watch the pre-game and/or post-game activities, so maybe I missed something. No one in the house won any pools. Hubband seemed disappointed that he had spent so much time, effort, and money to no gain. The first time he voiced this opinion, I felt compelled to explain that this is the nature of gambling. Subsequent conversations left me feeling like I�d just be rubbing it in to continue pointing this out. (I am thrilled that the Little Boy did not win his one purchased square and has learned that there is no such thing as �easy money�. Whew!)


Grandma made it home okay. Her first night was kind of rough, but she seems to be happy she�s home. I was disappointed, once again, in my mother and her stubborn refusal to take on the responsibility of caring for Grandma. Grandma got to come home to an apartment that was literally untouched since she went into the hospital in November. That would be fine if Nana hadn�t been there several times over the course of the last few months (once just to watch a movie on her cable). Although the sheets were clean, the bed was unmade and she had neglected to purchase the bedrail that Grandma would need to get in and out of bed. The lifeline had not yet been turned on (I showed her where the phone number was on the back of the base � the whole procedure took ten minutes). She had taken the time to empty her mother�s refrigerator, but not the time to refill it. But when I went to get a glass of water and happened upon the dirty dishes that had been in the sink for three months, I was a little out of my mind. While Grandma was downstairs eating, I shooed the Nana to the store and went about cleaning and emptying the garbage.

I tried not to make a big deal out of it, but I�m not sure I was successful. Lately, I�ve been angry at my mother for her self-centered existence. (She likes to blame my father but, as I told a friend, that excuse only worked until the second time she married him.) I had cleared the entire weekend in anticipation of being needed to help with Grandma. Instead, it was my mother who needed me to listen to her whine about her lot while we ate at restaurants and saw movies. I�ll probably stick to my schedule of visiting Grandma when she�s alone, since the three of us (being of the same DNA) tend to get on each other�s nerves immeasurably.


We saw two movies yesterday. Neither was �The*Aviator�. We saw �In*Good*Company� first. I didn�t really care for it all that much, which surprised me. I adore Topher Grace and Scarlet Johansen. Something seemed off about the whole movie to me; boring and cold. I just didn�t care about the characters all that much. We also saw, �The*Wedding*Date�, which was just the type of fluffy chick film I�d been wanting to see. Dermot Mulroney is so yum. It actually made me tear up thinking of the days when I felt as sexy as these two characters acted. There was no mystery in the plot; no big idea to wrap your mind around. Just marshmallow cream sandwiched between pretty people.


In other weekend news, the weather was beautiful and I spent a nice few hours near the window at our local coffee establishment on Saturday afternoon swapping thoughts with CWF. It was good talk. She laughed when I explained my recent epiphany that I am so afraid of success that I can�t even finish a book! Some time ago I went around the house counting the half-read books I�d purchased (because library books just go unreturned) and when I got into double digits I realized I have a problem. Adding to this list the unfinished craft projects and unfinished chores, I was starting to see a pattern. It seems the only thing I can finish is a bag of chips!

When I was young, this was always attributed to the dreaded �laziness�, but as I look at it now, it can only be attributed to fear. What if I finish this? Then what will be expected of me? Something bigger and better and fancier and more intricate? What if I lose this weight? Will I be expected to keep it off forever? What if I can�t do that? If I finish this scarf, I can�t just keep on making scarves, can I? I�ll have to move on to sweaters or something. It�s stinkin� thinkin� for sure.

As therapy for this ailment, I�ve finished two books in the past month and have reacquainted myself with my knitting needles. (Don�t you think it should be either �knitting kneedles� or �nitting needles�?) We�ll see how it goes.


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