Skip to main content

confessions...horn name it

Yesterday I was all gung ho on getting the Christmas package to my sister wrapped up and ready to mail, as well as putting a dent in the gift wrapping, in general. My guest bedroom is a wreck with the gift and wrapping overflow. And most importantly, my cat Grissom is not happy his lair has been taken over by a five foot long, pink, stuffed pony. (I should get a picture of that.)

If he doesn't get in 16 hours* of this...


OMG the dirty looks would make Edward Cullen look like the poster boy of happy.

Anyway, I carved out some time to devote to wrapping and shipping and when I got down to it I couldn't find my nieces' gift card.

I automatically assumed I lost it and in the third of a second it took to go from "Christmas wrapping FUNSIES!" to "FUCK! I lost a big fat gift card," my Christmas mojo evaporated. Like poof, gone. Like, I am a failure, I better just pack it in now, take a couple of Tylenol, chased with some Advil, a tension headache is coming. Oh hello! Here it is. Where's the couch? I suck.

But today, mysteriously, I don't. Suck, that is. Knitting Kris said something nice about a project of mine on Ravelry and it got me thinking about myself and well, I am the Goddess of Cables. Didn't you know?

It's all because of this:

Cable Warshrag

This is a cable washcloth I knit as a gift out of some Peaches & Creme cotton. Well, it's not that I knit it, per se, just that all I needed for this project was the first couple of rows of the cable pattern. My mind somehow infers the rest of the pattern.

I will miss the most obvious metaphor, but for some strange reason knitting cables comes very easily to me. (Well, the FO has more than one error, but that's because my attention to detail has been sucking wind, not because I didn't know what I should have done. Seriously the more I look at that the more errors I see. Whatta dope.)

So little comes easy to me. I've spent about ten or so years feeling like crap about myself, about my mind, about my abilities, about my worth as a human being, and well, now someone says something nice and I'm swinging ecstatically out on the opposite pole. The mood vacillations are severe, I can scare myself. Maybe it's menopause.

Or maybe it's just too much Twilight.

I have always been a drama llama. But coming in contact with the overwrought, long winded, ridiculously improbable story lines of the Twilight series, has brought me back in touch with my unique brand of crazy. And yesterday I was in Volterra (via audiobook)(for the umpteenth time) with Bella not thinking Edward loved me even though every thought and gesture bespeaks otherwise, and we were almost killed, and it was hard. Very hard. Life is hard. Being in love with a literally stone, ice cold Dionysis is hard. (OMG! Not only did I make a pun, I realized I punned!)

Seriuhsly, though. Seriuhsly. As Cleoland has taught me, "Twilight means never having to say you're kidding." This advice works in real life too. I remind myself, life is short. If it's not feeling sweet, it's best to move on and quickly. It's more fun to spend one's time knitting, than sulking on the couch, wallowing in disapprobation. I am a speshul angel snowflake, I may not remember where I put things sometimes, but with the knitting? Iz haz mad skillz.**

*Hyperbole, as is most of this post. Drama llama = me. Remember?

**The lolspeak is annoying, but I just.can' I'd say escape while you can, but the post is over...