Thing is, there are plenty around that I could use, but none of them are clean.
My mom. She always had a house that looked picture-perfect. The walls had a certain tint and there wasn't any clutter (that you could see on a casual basis) and we had windows that surrounded the backside of the house. There were walkways here and there that led down an acre or two down the baranca and to the goat house. Once, when I brought a new friend to our home and we walked into the back area and he looked up into the windows and saw my dad there in the kitchen, he exclaimed: "Is that really your dad?"
I said, "yes."
"That's your dad?"
"I had no idea Ted Turner was your father."
Could be he needed cleaner glasses like I do right about now, but nope: My dad is not Ted Turner. He used to look like him and it was really funny when this guy said that, but not surprising at all. I just sort of brushed it off and enjoyed it in a strange way, standing there down below the house and looking up into the backside of the house, so perfectly lit.
Mom, she was all about how things looked or seemed and not really about how things were. Don't get me wrong, she was the real deal. But, open a cabinet and junk would fly out. And if she could corner you when no one was listening, she'd tell you a joke that you'd never forget. The one that I can't shake is the one where--and she heard this when she was working at the OB--So, the OB is doing an exam and he says, "Hey, Your Vag*na is really big! Hey, Your Vag*na is really big!" And the patient sits up and says, "I know! But you didn't have to say it twice!" And the doctor says, "I didn't say it twice; it was the echo!"
Beyond the decorating and posing and joking, I want to shake this insatiable need to be right and perfect and funny so much and I'm trying so hard and it is honestly a bigger hill to climb than the really steep one about a block outside my front door.
Which brings me to this: I'm sick. So is HWWV. Girlfriend had a grouping of ills that no one could deal with unless they were six. And since she's six, she's living to tell the tale. Me? I haven't slept more than about two or three hours a night since this past Tuesday.
Hence, no knitting or blogging.
And I'm feeling oddly guilty.
But the weaving is easier than the knitting. And since I could finally sit up for more than 20 minutes at a time today, I finished this. It's Louet sportweight linen and a really cool Merino and Tencel blend from One Planet Yarn and Fiber.
HWWV has decided this scarf is his. I'm happy with that declaration. We need more men in the world who will wear woven items with aplomb. Yes, I said it: APLOMB.
Hopefully, I'll be back very soon.
BTW: Speaking of "aplomb," Girlfriend has it. Imagine if you were missing as many teeth as she is missing? (Two on the bottom and one in the front with the neighbor hanging by a thread.)
Would you smile as wide as she is smiling? (I would not, but I think, after today, I may have learned a thing or two from her and would smile as if nothing were happening at all--except joy, at least I hope I could.)