I’m back.

Thank you all for your good thoughts and positive energies and prayers.

I'm feeling pretty good but not quite 100%, yet. And my stomach is still bloated like that of a three-day roadkill, on a Texas two-lane. I am, however, very appreciative of whatever % I am at, because whatever it is, it’s 100% better than yesterday and 1000% better than the day before that.

T’was a strange ride, this one. Too pathological to make even a mildly interesting tale, let alone a humorous one. I know, when has that ever stopped me?

However, Monday evening in the ER, I had a little scare with the CAT scan results (which was one reason they prepared me to stay overnight), when they found what looked like a mass on my left ovary, of the non-fibroid variety.

But thanks to my after-midnight interlude with Tony Orlando and Dawn and their magic shaft, they/we/I learned it was nothing but CAT fluke. So they handed me a post-interlude crotch-towel, a 6-pack of narcotics and sent me hobbling down the yellow taped road (Robbyn, is there a play in there, somewhere? They don’t call you the Whiz for naught).

And despite the toxic pain, and the wee-weeness of the hour and the trail of Tony goo, slimbing down my limb, I was a happy, grateful girl. Okay, the morphine didn’t hurt.

It’s that sense of gratefulness, or feeling like I dodged a bullet (I can’t stop hearing the words that weren’t said....), which compels me to keep most of the story/whining/complaints about my rotting privates, private.* Just a little superstitious sensibility, I reckon.

My husband and chilluns have been pretty supportive throughout the ordeal. Of course, as soon as I put on my bra (the universal signal for Momma's Feeling Better! Let the Essence of Life Drain Resume...) all bets were off.

That being said, because I took to the bed for days, after arriving home from 1.5 weeks of vacation, there's some serious shit needing some serious attention around here. So, I best fetch my bra and get on with my favorite blog reads.

But first, this Knittin' Knugget...

A Stolin' Moment
Here's a visual update on my lacey shawl.



I'm still loving this project, but the little nip in the air this morning has me thinking about rummaging through yarn bins, for some reason.

I did have a bit of a setback with this, while on vacation. At the end of the first skein, I realized, based on the length, I was not going to have enough yarn to get 6 feet of stole.

Now, I am known to be impetus, but I swear, I did the math before starting the project and believed that I was getting similar yardage to that of the recommended yarn. But, the measuring tape don't lie, so frog's away!

I then started over with a bigger needle, and when I came to the end of the ball again, the wrap still didn't look as long as I hoped it would, but it was an improvement. So I go to my yarn bag to get the next skein, and what do I find? A little ball of yarn.

And what did I remember? That when balling the skein, I came to a join, with tails, so I severed the yarn. So the skein I was using as my measure model, was actually about 2/3 of a skein. Maybe less.

An entire frog foot, for naught. But, I think this gauge makes for a drapier, lacier fabric. Right?

Have Peesfull Weekends, all.

*You can thank me for this omission in comments, email or by sending me packets of AA batteries.I’m back.

Labels: Unhealth