Short, Sharp Post Due to Long, Sharp Needle

Should there ever be any sort of doubt regarding my sanity--that is to say, whether I actually have any--let this settle the matter: being that I have an elbow that has joined the dark side and, further, being that I am completely and totally unwilling to stop knitting (although, in my defense, the elbow has been a problem for about three years, and I wasn't actually knitting at that time. I had taken a hiatus--which is Knitingalespeak for "I learned back when all we made was cardigans and crew neck sweaters and had no idea it had become so fun all of a sudden"--so I don't really think we can hold the knitting responsible for the rebellious elbow. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.), I actually went in and allowed the doctor to insert a 30 foot needle (I'm pretty sure that's how long it was....I didn't measure it, but I'm pretty sure) into said horrid elbow and inject steroids in the hope of healing it faster. He assured me it would get worse before it gets better, which is doctorspeak for "I'm covering my ass in case it hurts even worse tomorrow, and you were thinking of calling and whining to me about it." He was right--it hurts like learning today that the LYS had a 75% off sale on alpaca. Yesterday. So I'm supposed to be resting it and not typing quite as much as I usually do (I think I've mentioned my sad case of writer's bloat) so will attempt to keep this short. Relatively.

Mr. K and I are leaving tomorrow morning early for a trip to the Midwest to visit family. To that end, I spent the early, pre-javelin-in-the-elbow hours packing and so forth. I was not alone:

But, try as I might, I couldn't not get a picture of her face. She kept looking at me and then turning away just as I clicked the shutter:

The observant among you will notice Samus next to the suitcase. She's coming along, having never seen the Midwest. Underneath you may notice a knitted mohair item in shades of purple...it's a surprise for someone (such suspense). Anyway, I think my camera craziness may have irritated Miss Gracie....not sure what makes me think that...maybe I'm one of those animal psychics or something...

After that came the happy task of tenderly cramming 50 pounds of cookies into three 6 inch tins in some sort of attractive arrangement. They're coming along, too.


I was such a happy little elf. The fact that Santa is thinking about charging me 50 cents for each time I used the "f" word while trying to cram the cookies in without breaking them...well. Y'all know. C'mon. You think Mrs. Claus doesn't let fly a little colorful language now and then? Her house is overrun with elves, her yard is full of reindeer droppings, and her husband works one day a year. I'm pretty sure she'll understand the cookie profanity.

I won't be able to post when I'm gone, but I'll be back late Monday night and I'll have lots of news and pictures for you on Tuesday. I'm planning a quite marvelous yarn crawl while there--I should have pictures of tons of yarn AND an empty wallet.

Some thoughts before I sign off for a few days (which feels very weird, by the way....I miss you guys already...).

1. Why does my doctor's office--a family medicine clinic--have for waiting room magazines exactly two choices: Fit Pregnancy (at least somewhat understandable) and American Cheerleader (....?....)?
2. Why does the TSA, in their infinite wisdom, think it's perfectly okay for me to bring quite pointy knitting needles and scissors on board (okay, so my doctor doesn't.....killjoy) but my husband's gel shoe inserts are a threat to national security?
3. If I pretend that Starbucks Peppermint Mochas (conveniently available at the airport) have no calories and are good for me, might I gain only imaginary pounds on my ass?
4. Since my doctor made the magnificent comment "Since you're so THIN, we have to watch for the possibility of blah, blah, blah...." (I'm not sure what came next...he had me at "you're so thin"), wouldn't it be totally reasonable to move into his office and become his slave? Yeah, I thought so. Mr. K didn't think so AT ALL, however. Go figure.
5. How much yarn do you think I can cram in the space made available by the offloading of three tins of cookies?
6. Do I really need clean clothes for all three days? I mean, just in case the cookie tin space isn't all I hoped for.

Okay, I really do have to stop before either my elbow or my husband start getting really firm about it. (He seems to think it's kind of dumb to type madly away with a sore elbow....but I don't get that.) Come back on Tuesday for pictures from the Midwest. I'll have all kinds of good stories and ill-gotten booty. (Like in "pirate booty", you perverts. They don't do that kind of stuff in the Midwest. And if they did, they surely wouldn't blog about it. And stop calling me Shirley.)