Human Nature

Probably I should say "Knitingale Nature" because it's really just a desperate attempt to appear normal that leads me to try to universalize my own strangeness. A case in point.

Suppose, just suppose, that you purchased a bunch of Ultra Alpaca in Oceania, a lovely blue-green shade just prior to the 2007 Knit From Your Stash event. And just suppose that a few days before that, you ordered an amount of stunningly lovely Elizabeth Lavold angora from WEBS for all of $3.99 a ball. ($3.99 per 91 yard ball, I swear. I didn't need it, no...but c'mon. I'm only human.) With me so far? Okay. Now, suppose that the angora arrived last night in all its soft, bunny goodness and you caressed it and petted it and then, looking really closely at it, realized that it might possibly look the teensiest slightest tad bit similar to the alpaca. And you went and laid them side by side and...well...suffice it to say that only the degree of fuzziness distinguishes one from the other. Same damned shade exactly. (Not that I know of any dumbass who would do this....this is a strictly hypothetical exercise, of course. Although, in defense of dumbasses everywhere, I must point out that the color of the angora on the computer was significantly more blue than it appears in person. Or could have been. Hypothetically, of course.)

Now suppose that it is this morning and you have decided to exchange the alpaca for another color. Okay, so you drive all the way down the hypothetical hill from your hypothetical house and through your hypothetical town until you get to your hypothetical yarn store. And you realize that you've forgotten to bring the damned hypothetical yarn. (Again, I don't know of anyone who would really do this...but let's just pretend.) Now, at this point, Knitingale nature seems to demand the following: I sit in the car, look around the parking lot, and actually spend as much as 5 minutes, trying to think of a way in which I can exchange the yarn without actually going home for the yarn. 'Cause, you know, every yarn store would be perfectly happy with something like "Yeah, I need to exchange some yarn that's the wrong color and I forgot to bring it but I'd like to just grab the right color without paying anything and I'll bring the other stuff to you next time I come this way. "

The really sad thing is that I've done this before. And, in spite of countless attempts, I still cannot find a way to purchase the groceries without returning for the forgotten purse, knit at Knit For Life without returning for the forgotten knitting, turn in homework without returning for the forgotten assignment, or mail a package without returning for the actual package. Hope must indeed spring eternal (at least in the fertile soil of my sad, slow little mind) because I still always have that moment of thinking that there might be a way.....

I was going to post a picture here of the two teal yarns, and then another of the purple alpaca that I eventually did exchange the teal for but we have a new computer that seems to be having some sort of strange gag reflex in response to the hardware we use for the uploading of photos. Specifically, it acts much like a 3-year-old being given medication by clenching its lips tight and generally threatening to fall apart. Then it tells me that nothing is responding and it must shut down (the computer version of holding its breath until it turns blue, I expect). Then it does precisely that. I am not particularly patient with this and have tried repeatedly to put the wretched thing into time out and take away privileges....but sadly, computers just aren't as easy to bend to my will as small, impressionable children. For one thing, they aren't afraid of me. (In the name of honesty I have to admit that children used to quite like me, and didn't start to be afraid of me until I became the mean lady in scrubs at the doctors office holding an assortment of sharp pointy objects destined for various chubby thighs...but the computer isn't even frightened by that. Maybe I should try something more likely to evoke fear in a computer....like a wrench....)

I just tried calling Mr. K for computer help. He's about to go into a class, but did try to talk me through it. When nothing worked, he said he would be delighted to look at it tonight and, by the way, the wrench aimed at the brandnewandveryexpensive computer scares him significantly more than he thinks it will scare the computer. I'll have to think of something else.

But back to the yarn. The hypothetical yarn. Having exchanged it for the purple (which is truly lovely, I have to admit) and having spent still more time stroking the angora (I rather suspect that there are groups that exist for this sort of nasty habit...I must look into that), I did some homework and then sat down and worked on the Pretty Petals sock which I also took a picture of and which the computer is also refusing to have any part of. (It might be sticking its lower lip out, too. I'm not sure. I'll bet it wouldn't do that if my mom was here, though.) I guess you'll just have to picture my leg with a huckleberry sock on it. While you're there, though, I'd appreciate it if you could imagine a bit of a tan, instead of the whiter-than-white translucence that is more my reality. Oh, and maybe you could picture a pedicure (I haven't yet kirchnered the toe, so you can see my toenails)....and less hobbit-looking toes in general. And a really toned calf. (Hey, we're imagining all this....so the sky's the limit, right?)

Hoping to offer you assorted wooly pictures tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'm off to try reasoning with the computer...which will likely work as well as it does with 3-year-olds, but Mr. K vetoed the wrench, so what am I gonna do?