When Blogger Acts Slow, Do the Hokey-Pokey
Mom said there'd be days like this when Blogger acts so pokey that only mortar oozing down a cement-truck shoot would move faster. She also added that there be other days when inanimate objects might get in your way and hurt you inadvertently. A prime example today would be the wall-mounted fire hydrant that stuck out at me while I was walking along minding somebody's else business and hit my hand. Hard. Golly, I didn't realize how much that hurt until I got home and I put a plastic sandwich bag full of ice on that aching extremity. I felt like I'd been bitten by a dog (and that has happened to me, unfortunately).
Did that stop me from picking up my crochet hook? No, I scooped that metal gadget out of my bag and began fussing with my crochet dress-in-progress after I settled in a seat on a train. I realized not only did I twist the chain (I really despise it when that happens), but I've got the wrong number of shells. I'm beginning to think that this particular piece of apparel just might not make it into the PatternReview Sewing With a Plan (SWAP) that ends July 31. I'm sure I'll still work on it (what else is there to do when you're sitting inside a train or a bus? Twiddle your thumbs? People watch? I'd rather do that when I'm sitting outside enjoying refreshments at a great restaurant or cafe).
It may well be time to call in the crochet cavalry, i.e. my friend Nancy who crochets, knits and sews. She might even do so tatting for all I know. I'm thinking she could start my crochet chain, get the gauge and the proper number of shells right and then off I could go on my merry make-a-dress-on-the-road way. I think Nancy would help me, but she lives on the other side of the galaxy as far as I'm concerned, especially when I don't own a Xebra-PX, the electric pickup that requires no gasoline. I don't even own a scooter, but I do have two legs that the fire hydrant didn't damage earlier today, thank goodness. Maybe I could use those extremities to visit Nancy.
If I don't get some assistance on this dress soon (and I already visited Arcadia Knitting for help), I might abandon it or better yet, return the yarn and start some other blasted project that has me cussing like somebody's business. I really do think my language gets much colorful when it comes to knitting and crocheting than it does with sewing. At least with the latter, you can fudge it. A wrong cut there? Fix with a stitch or two there. There's little room for fussing in knitting. Add miscellaneous loops early on in a garment you could end up with a kangaroo-sized sweater. Twist that silly chain that I mentioned earlier? You'll have a fabric that's wonky and will refuse to do anything you tell it. But I'm stubborn - I'll just restart that dress on my own. I've got all the time in the world on the No. 22 bus that moves about as fast as an elephant down the main drag, Clark Street...
What projects get you using words more colorful than your laundry?