On Lightening Rods and First Dates

Mr. K's presentation went brilliantly. I hear that people were telling him it was the best they'd seen so far (and there are only two more to go) and that they "need someone like him here." We don't know when they'll decide whom to hire, but they definitely like him very much. (I can totally understand that....) I've no doubt whatsoever that all of your good energy contributed significantly to this fine turn of events. (Especially those of you who said it was okay to eat trifle for breakfast--you rule.)

However, I'm equally sure of another thing: my entire purpose in life yesterday was to be a stupidity rod for all the bad things that might have befallen my dear hubby. Back in the way old days, bridesmaids and groomsmen were at weddings for precisely that purposoe--the fooling of evil spirits and suchlike--so the happy couple might remain...well...happy. I never gave much thought to the poor decoys until yesterday. All I can say is this: I hope he gets this job, or another one very soon. Because if I have to be his stupidity rod for a dozen more interviews.....well, my legs will be fluffy and shiny, my homework will mysteriously fill with more and more farm animals, the electricity from my laundry will take out at least one of the cats, chocolate futures will go sky high, and my yarn stash will run yipping in fear from me. As will the surviving cats.

See? It's already starting. But, speaking of yarn (which is what I generally speak of when I'm not speaking of chocolate), my knitting yesterday went much as predicted. Which is to say, I spent a couple of soothing hours with yarn and needles and produced....ultimately, a ball of yarn and some needles. I'm not sure it's entirely the fault of this stupidity rod thing, though. In all honesty, I confess that it's not the first time that this has happened. In fact, I spend inordinate amounts of time at my home, settling disputes between pattern and yarn.

See, I pick out a pattern that I think is lovely. I pick out some yarn that I think is lovely. For whatever unholy reason, I imagine that they will get along well with one another. I introduce them and they immediately stare at me in disbelief. Then, one or both of them will start to question the character and quality of the other. There's a bit of namecalling, occasionally a bit of fisticuffs. It's all downhill after that. I usually attempt to push the issue, and it just gets ugly. One starts making nasty insinuations about the other one's mama, one makes anatomically impossible suggestions to the other....it's bad. Because I'm stubborn, I push on. Sometimes, I can convince them to at least TRY one another, but this is typically a bad idea. The resulting love child is invariably so hideous that it should have a bag over its head. I know, you think I'm being cruel. But seriously--go back in my blog and look at the first incarnation of the crayon sock. Go ahead. I'll wait.

See? Now you're wishing you'd had a bag over your own head, just so you didn't have to see the thing, aren't you? (I know I was.)

Such was the way of things yesterday, as I was quietly sitting in my living room, drawing stupidity and clumsiness to me like my relatives at a family reunion drawn to the watered-down punch-flavored kool-aid. Oh, it wasn't that the love child was that bad...but it was a mismatch, to be sure. I'm not sure why. The pattern was free from Angora Valley and the yarn was Monarch, the very one called for in the pattern. And yet, they might as well have been the high school quarterback and the band geek for all they got along (I can say that because I was a major band geek....if you are a band geek and are offended, however, please know that I hold you in the highest esteem. It's the cheerleaders and quarterbacks I'm not too sure about.). Somehow, the yarn seemed too heavy for the pattern and what came out looked much like a lacy hiking sock. Or a gorilla in a tiara. Something like that. I love them both...but definitely not together.

Happily, though, once Mr. K called to tell me all was well, I was able to disengage the gorilla from the tiara and start the pattern over with Schaeffer Anne. The Anne was definitely more to the pattern's liking. They started flirting with one another right away and were holding hands in no time.

I think I even noticed some ear nibbling, and the yarn (hussy that she is) has been primping all day long. If all continues to go well--if their next date is successful--I hear they're going to try for twins.