It Ain't Just a River in Egypt

Da Nile, I mean. And I can be pretty sure about that, because I’m planted firmly in that place and I don’t see no pyramids. Or alligators, either, as far as that goes. I am driven to this place by—of all things-- my elbow. My right elbow, to be more precise, and I can say I’m more than a little disappointed in it. Or would be, if I wasn’t in da Nile.

See, I started getting tendonitis in my left elbow a couple of years ago while helping the (at that point) not yet Mr. K cut up fallen trees on his property. (Which project led to his famous comment that the sexiest thing a woman can wear is work clothes, I might add.) I babied it and the right one responded by going south in a big way. Since then the right elbow has gotten occasionally cranky but, like the mature, trained medical professional I am, I have chosen to firmly ignore it. (If you’re a medical person, or you’re close to a medical person—you know. There isn’t one of us who couldn’t lop off a finger while carving the Thanksgiving turkey, explain breezily that it’s “just a scratch”, stick everything back together with bandaids, and go right back to the dinner. I can’t explain it, but those of you in the know—tell me I’m wrong). The point of all this being that my elbow is absolutely NOT killing me today, is not aching and throbbing mercilessly, and I certainly am not unable to pick anything up. Definitely. And, if it was hurting (which it isn’t, it really, really isn’t), it wouldn’t have anything whatsoever to do with the 2.5 hours I spent last night knitting on the yoke of Bianca (which, by the way, is a tad bit heavy once all five pieces are on the needles, if anyone was curious…not that this caused any negative reaction in me, whatsoever. Just saying.) And when I was driving to school today, the only reason I drove with my left hand while resting my right arm gingerly on the console between the seats was because, being right handed, I feel that my right arm has been unfairly burdened with an unequal distribution of work. That is, it has had to write, feed me, throw things, and otherwise work itself ragged, while the left arm has been allowed to lay around on its ass and do nothing. Which observation does suggest that I may not know my ass from my elbow, now that I’m reading it……but I digress. My point is that I think it’s high time my left arm began to pull its weight. Is all I’m saying. Not that there’s anything at all wrong with the right one. Not one thing. There is no reason whatsoever that I would need to stop or even slow down my knitting.

Here’s how much I got done on Bianca with my perfectly healthy hands and elbows:



(the cow is one of my strange cow collection that I put in there for a bit of visual interest…. and because I can’t help it. They’re just intrinsically funny.) That lacy bit you can see in the front is the edge of a sleeve. I’m hoping to have the sort of self control and discipline that will lead me to actually finish a shawl and some socks before casting on anything else…..I’ve heard of that sort of behavior. And, of course, the Samus cardigan is not calling me in much the say way that my elbow is not whining and tugging at me like a three-year-old with a runny nose.

ANYWAY, the ladies of my knit group were lovely, of course. I meant to take photos, but somehow completely spaced it. Brain still full of statistics, I think. We have a very open sort of group for crafts of all sorts, so we had two ladies doing counted cross stitch (I wish I had the patience but every time I try it I start feeling like I’ll need to learn Braille if I keep it up) and a couple more making tutus for their respective daughters. Gracie decided to help by attempting to steal the tulle, but this stopped at once as soon as Barbara gave her a piece of her own. Gracie only likes toys if she isn’t supposed to have them. Giving her anything will completely ruin it for her. Little minx.

Mr. K has been out of town all week, but is returning tonight---which I’m very excited about as I’ve missed him terribly. I was going to have the neighbor come hog the remote control and push me out of bed, but it just wouldn’t have been the same. (I’m kidding, Sweetie—you know I am!) Mr. K says he’s bringing back a set of books about anti microbials, and I’m excited about that, too, because that’s what kind of weird science nerd I am. Speaking of science (which we sort of were), guess what nurse-y type knit blogger got 10 points out of 10 points on her A & P quiz this week? (Whattya mean, "who?" Me! It was me!! I got a 100 on a Statistics quiz, too, but that didn’t really fit the segue as well.)

I’m off to go put some ice on my perfectly fine elbow, because….uhrm…..because….oh, I know--because it’s hot in here and I’ve heard that a cool elbow means a cool body. That’s it. But first, since my new Femail Creations catalogue came today, I must leave you with my new favorite quote (which they sell on a plaque): “Life’s journey is not to arrive safely at the grave in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways totally worn out shouting holy shit…what a ride!” Ya gotta love it.