They Call Me Mum

The new Knitty is up. And I have to agree with Jo, that most of the patterns just aren’t for me. The only one I really liked was Brisa, and maybe the “Broadripple” socks. Everything else was just a little too “out there” for me, if you will. As someone who often says, “My cups runneth over”, I just can’t picture myself in either of the bikini tops, or the “White Trash Swimsuit”. As one of my co-workers says, “They’re not retractable.”

Criticism aside, I love the imagination and skill that it takes to come up with these patterns. I am still a strict (more or less) pattern follower, and to make up one of my own, is still a bit beyond my skills. So I applaud anyone who can. But still, this was a “frothy” pattern edition.

The articles, though, were excellent. The one on short rows was especially helpful. I have been wanting to try Joan M-M’s “Shapely Tank”, but got confused with the directions. Now I can approach it with more confidence. And the Denise Needles? Well, now I’ve just got to try them myself.

So, while I didn’t like the patterns, I did love the articles. And find that overall, Knitty is still a great magazine.

Syncope commented on Pandionna’s entry that caused me to think about the good things. She said, “I read the entry again today and noticed the notes that were left, and two of them basically said “I know I do that and I’m sorry.” That made me pretty sad.” I think I was one of the people to whom she referred. I also think that my reaction to Pandionna’s entry was more of a wake up call to be grateful for the things I have and not focus on the little nitnoid things that bug me, not an apology. To do less navel gazing and more world gazing.

Either way, I enjoy reading entries by both people. So, however rambling and disjointed this comes across, hopefully it comes across as positive.

Now to rant some more! LOL! Driving home yesterday, with the top down, and the sun and wind in my hair, going about 30 mph down I-95 south, was a really nice experience until a certain in-DUH-vidual ruined it for me. So this is for you, Mr. “Teacher” (license plate has been chagned to protect the moronic) in the dark blue Mercedes Benz. “GET OFF MY ASS!” We’re all going 30 miles an hour. I’m not here to jam up your life. No one is getting anywhere any faster than anyone else. And since your license plate referred to you as a “teacher” and not a PROCTOLOGIST, there’s no need for you to be three inches off my bumper the whole ride home!

And to my Doctor’s office, whom I truly trust, I’m not gonna be a guinea pig anymore. I’m not taking any more drugs until we have a definite answer from the sleep clinic. No, I’m not going to “try taking a half dose”. Then I’ll only be comatose for 8 hours and groggy and sick for the rest? Thanks, but no. Either there is something finite and fixable, or it’s in my head, and I need to adjust me, but no. more. drugs. I’m tired of “Let’s see what this does.” and “hmm, how about this?”.

So there, that’s an entry for today. Mixed bag that it is. Now back to work before the financial system craps out again.