Or so my mother would have said, and I'll borrow it because it makes a sort of oddly interesting title and because it seems a tad more ladylike then "Well, I'll be go to hell" which was another of her expressions. (It's worth pointing out here that my mother also said things like "You can't wear that until you iron it. It looks like it's been in a dog's butt all night" and so can not rightfully be called an oracle of good taste in such matters.) I was astounded to find my name and blog on the readersandwriters blog, and in such esteemed company as well. Truthfully, I met this news with a mixture of elation (Hey, someone thinks I can write!) and terror (Oh my God--someone thinks I can write--how did THAT happen??). Such is the peril of living in the mind of Ms. Knitingale, an experience that cannot adequately be described. Well, it's sort of like living in a huge yarn stash where you have lots and lots and lots of brightly colored yarn, only very little of it actually goes with anything else. And a lot of it is kind of fuzzy. You get the picture.
suggested that perhaps I should consider writing a book, a thought that again fills me with pleasure and terror. Mostly, though, I fear that I don't have a book's worth of anything to say. I mean, let's say I was going to write a knitting book. And let's say it's news to you that I am something of a perfectionist (in the same way that Paris Hilton is something of a spoiled twit with the IQ of a hot water bottle). And let's say that I OCCASIONALLY am so much of a perfectionist that I get paralyzed by indecision and spend more time trying to find the perfect thing to make than actually making it. Let's just say. Oh, and let's also say that I choose colors like a three-year-old at a birthday party when it comes to choosing yarn, but generally prefer to wear simple knitted items, usually in one color. Can you imagine the list of patterns?
1) Purple variegated sweater with many cables, one sleeve, and no collar. Materials: several skeins of brightly colored yarn that "look lovely and cheery in the package!", numerous knitting patterns (it is essential to start and reject at least three of them prior to embarking on this one), second, third, and fourth thoughts upon realizing that this sweater could double as a warning light on airplane runways, attention span of a husband having just learned that it is raining tools 50 miles from here. Guilt at leaving it unfinished is optional.
2) Hat that will fit no human head (which does beg the question of how many non-humans I knit for....it's only a few, and the hat won't fit them, either).
3) Scarf knit in-the-round, so long it could serve as a tree condom, largely because "I wanted to be sure it was long enough".
4) Socks made of yarn that has been frogged so many times it's starting to ribbit, and a French chef is waiting outside the door with a cleaver in case this time isn't the charm.
5) Shawl of a thousand excuses--should take at least 18 years to complete, if you're truly adept at excuses.
This book would come with labels for your stash drawers, with notations such as : "Too nice to knit with" and "Unravelled so frequently that it is officially fuzzless". Also "There wasn't quite enough to do anything with...but it's so PRETTY!", and "Nope, in this light it's perfectly hideous, too."
See what I mean? They say you should write about what you know, but I'm not so sure there'd be a demand for
"How to Shout at Your Cats So They Are Fascinated By That Thing Bouncing in Your Throat, But Not Remotely Interesed in Stopping the Behavior"
"Recipes To Slam Your Arteries Shut--With Really Vague Directions"
"Thrift Stores I Have Loved"
"Gardening the Desperate Way" (A note here--I could never be on Desperate Housewives. See, the gardener could look like Johnny Depp and, while I'd definitely ogle, I'd never be willing to slow his work down enough to actually get up to naughtiness with him. Hey, I've got a GARDEN to get finished here.)
"I've Learned to Knit on the Orbital, and Other Compulsive Behaviors"
"Why I Think Tom Cruise Sucks"
"Things You Can Do at Work With Paper Clips--Besides Holding Papers Together"
Then again, I remember reading somewhere that books are more likely to sell if they are how-to books, have sex in the title, have some sort of conspiracy, are about animals, have an inspiring story about something life-changing like massive weight loss, promise to make you money, and feature real people. Or some combination of the above. So, perhaps this, then, for my great american literary exercise: "How I Boinked A Wombat for the CIA and Lost 127 Pounds for Extra Cash in My Spare Time--With Intro By Monica Lewinsky"
Yeah, it's sad. But I love writing here and I love that you're willing to read it. So we're good.
Speaking of compulsive behaviors (which we were, at some point here):
The Wine Country sock, now with heel. I love it again, so this is good. For the next half hour, I will still love it.
For my fellow feline fanciers, a rare treat:
The elusive Gussie. It is rare, indeed, to get a picture of this end of her as opposed to the Bush button she is usually inclined to display. She is quite proud of it, and the concerned look on her face in this picture is no doubt due to the fact that she does not feel I've captured her best side.
Gracie, on the other hand, is just hoping I don't finish the doors and pick up all the rags and dropcloths and suchlike:
Cause, you know, we have nowhere else in the house for the poor thing to sleep, but an old rag on a dropcloth.
Knit on, friends. And consider that CIA/wombat gig. I got rich, and so can you!