One of the odder consequences of having breast cancer is finding yourself standing in the middle the street wondering how much horse poo would half-fill a kettle. When you’re diagnosed, they send you a chunky booklet about what to expect, and absolutely nowhere does it mention either kettles or horse poo – a disappointing oversight. But I’ll come back to all this silly cancer stuff later in this post. For now, let’s discuss the vastly more serious matter of yarnery, specifically knitting.
I’m back working on the book-that-does-seem-to-be-happening-after-all. The battle du jour is with a pair of fingerless mittens, and believe me, it really is a battle. Perhaps I should have picked on someone my own size, but instead I stupidly chose to create mittens adorned with tangled ivy leaves in laceweight yarn – exceptionally uncooperative laceweight yarn I should add, that doesn’t take kindly to being endlessly ripped back and reknitted. Today I once again frogged 3000 not-quite-right stitches, but once again, found that the two shades had already declared their eternal love for each other and were so irrevocably felted together that I was pretty much reduced to teasing them apart at a molecular level. Public service announcement: this is not a process conducive to good mental health.
I have a love-hate relationship with designing. (Oops, did I just write that out loud?) It’s fun to play with new ideas, to push stranded knitting in new directions, to doodle for hours in my book of knitter’s graph paper. Yeah, it’s all tickety boo at that stage, as I reach peak hubris about my totally visionary plan to, say, reproduce Picasso’s Guernica as a knitted cowl. It’s all brilliant and exciting and quite frankly genius (did I mention hubris?) right until I start knitting the thing and realize that the reason why this hasn’t been done before is not because nobody matches my iconoclastic design genius, but because it’s a stupid idea that doesn’t work.
So at that point, I reluctantly swallow the you’re-not-a-genius-after-all pill (bitter medicine, let me tell you) and haul my deflated ego back to the drawing board to rethink the plan… and rinse and repeat. Many times. Slowly, over quite a few iterations, I get closer to something that does in fact work, and – dare I say it here amongst friends – looks pretty cool. But it often bears little resemblance to the original concept, as in, ‘OK, it’s not really Guernica on a cowl, more like a cute pair of socks with pom-poms at the top’. But at least the thing is done and sometimes, it’s not too bad.
That’s more or less my design technique. You probably won’t find it in any textbooks.
Anyway, back to the cancer/kettle/horse-poo, for those who are interested. After any kind of surgery, you’re given a list of stuff that you’re not allowed to do/lift/sing, and this was no exception. I was told not to lift anything weightier than a half-filled kettle. (Presumably pessimists are told not to lift anything heavier than a half-empty kettle.) This is tricky to quantify for those of us who’ve never thought much about the gravitational influence on our water-boiling devices…
Like most surgery patients before me, I found it difficult to obey this instruction, because, well, life.
And part of life during these Covidy/Brexity days is growing as much food as can be squeezed into our cottage garden. And part of doing that is producing/buying/stealing as much compost as possible to feed the soil… which is why I found myself standing in the middle of our little lane, hands on hips, frowning at a heap of freshly-deposited horse poo, coveting it for the enrichment of my compost heap… but not quite sure whether I was allowed to lift it.
See the dilemma? I’m sure it’s a problem that we’ve all faced at some point.
How much horse excrement equated to a half-full/empty kettle anyway? It seemed a bad idea to bring out the scales and weigh the stuff – I mean, the neighbours know that I’m odd, but they don’t know I’m that odd. Was it safe to scoop this poop? Would it result in a trip back to hospital, tail between my legs (yeah, I haven’t had the tail-removal surgery yet), to confess that I’d wrecked my surgeon’s painstaking work? Or could I get away with stealing this composting gold in order to better feed my family with nutritious veg? I stood and frowned… and apologised to the driver of the car that was forced to a screeching halt to avoid the idiot standing in the road staring at poo.
In the end, my desire to grow extra-abundant vegetables won out, and I fetched a bucket and a shovel…
…at which point I learned an important life lesson. You can wander the entire village for an hour without seeing a single person you know, but should you wish to meet all 637.4 of your closest local friends, there’s no better strategy for doing so than heading out to publicly pilfer a pile of poo. Seriously. As I began to shovel, EVERY SINGLE PERSON I HAVE EVER MET IN MY ENTIRE LIFE happened to be out for a walk along our tiny, insignificant, little lane. If it weren’t for the fact that we’re mid-pandemic, I’d seriously recommend this as a strategy for ensuring the chance to catch up with everyone you know. And to the credit of my friends that day, a fair few of them guessed what I was up to and implied that they’d have done the same if they’d seen the poo first.
And on the extreme offchance that you’re curious, it seems that an average horse poo isn’t too heavy for post-surgical lifting, because no body parts dropped off during the process. Win. (Unlike my knitting.)
My brother had major surgery (a colostomy) at the time my second son was born, and he was told not to lift anything heavier than a kettle – but there was no instruction on whether it would be full or not (and we did wonder what if you pick up an empty kettle but want to make a cup of tea?). My newborn was regularly weighed in terms of household appliances. He was a microwave by the time my brother saw him for the first time, but we decided that if he was deposited in his arms, that’s not picking up.
We spent a lot of time debating strange matters in this way. I did not bat an eyelid on the horse poo kettle thing.
YES! Somebody out there UNDERSTANDS! ❤️
Phil, the way to get round the kettle thing is to simply bit a Breville Got Water Machine! Brilliant machine cos you get only the hot water you need. Like yourself I’m not allowed to lift even a half filled kettle so I got fed up with that idea and got one of these from Amazon!!!
Interesting – thanks for the idea!
Poo is the best! My maternal grandparents, owners of a farm, always had an acre vegetable and fruit bush garden, enriched by the poo from their milk cattle and chicken coup. I worry about you: has the surgery occurred, to get the dam_ cancer out? Seems such a while to wait. On a better note, I’m over-the -moon with the two yarn choices introduced today. They’re so yummy I want to reach in and squish your cakes in my right hand. The green/brown, in various shades, is amazing!
Ooh, what yarn is this? I’m curious!
I’m doing OK, thanks. Cancer-removal surgery happened last month, and I await the next stage of fun (likely radiotherapy).
This brought a huge smile to my face. My Dad used to collect the horse poo for his roses, he always asked which route I and my fellow pony trekkers had gone on a Sunday. Love the ivy mitts. Xx
Apparently neither your courage or your sense of humor were surgically removed. Best on your recovery process from a 6 year survivor.
Thank you on both accounts! And congrats on clocking up the years since you had the same disease.
Fresh horse poo, score!! Your mittens look fabulous too.
Yes. And thank you. ????????????
Like I just said on my FB page where I posted your blog URL…I am in awe of you and your talents!!!
You shouldn’t be… but you’re very kind to say so.
Splendid! So glad the horse poo/kettle dilemma was resolved. More power to your veg (and you).
Thank you!
Oh yes, that is a dilemma indeed. I don’t have a stand in for me so I either decide to leave it or just do it and curse at myself for being so stupid that evening. The finger-less gloves are amazing, love them. At least you write your design down, I battle through it, to realize at the second one I forgot all about it. No two things the same here XD Take care,dear.
Yup, I hear you re the doing it and cursing yourself.
When I was a little girl in the 1950s, my Grandpa used to go out regularly to collect up the deposits of the milkman’s horse as well as those of the twice weekly rag and bone man’s horse. His birthday was in October, a few weeks before he dug loads of compost into the vegetable beds. More than once my Granny bought him as a birthday present – at his own request – a ton of well rotted manure from the local riding stables.
The crazy thing is that I can totally understand this! Respect to your grandpa. (My grandpa was a milkman – and he grew veg. I wonder whether he ever scooped up deposits from the horse…)
He sent out me & your Dad to scoop it up! Also from the rag-&-Bone man’s horse! ????
Oh wow! That doesn’t surprise me at all…
I’ve just been told to lift nothing heavier than a kitten. My `kitten’ is a 10 month old Burmese wondering how old a kitten they are thinking off ????
Great news re your recovery. I’m deciding at any given moment if I `feel’ I can lift/do anything.
I caught 3 trains and a ship to Outer Hebrides with a red blood cell count of 45 because they couldn’t get a mobile signal to tell me I needed an “urgent” transfusion. 18 days later I returned to panic because I shouldn’t have been able to lift my head of the pillow. I had watched dolphins, let my BIL’s ashes go in a loch, gone out every day in a dingy, did the whole journey alone in a wheelchair. So my advice – listen to specialists but remember Your body is Your specialist and listen to it.
Best wishes. Lucy, Rochester Kent
Wow! You are one inspirational and determined woman. Complete respect. (And yeah, the weight comparisons they choose are odd to say the least!)
Aww thanks (blushing) I’m just me doing all I know how to do. I have learnt that listening to my body is the most important thing. Your pretty inspiring too :-))
Nah, I’m rubbish.
So funny! So glad you took the chance and went for the poo. I think the missed manure-opportunity would have been more detrimental to your health anyway. Wishing you all the best with your recovery and with that design – it looks amazing so far!
Absolutely! Sitting indoors and sulking would NOT have helped!
You always bring a smile to my face. Cheering you on in all your battles
Aww, thank you! ❤️
Loving the mittens! Sounds like you are recovering well from that cancer thing.
I used to design for a jewellery mag, sadly now defunked, & quite often the necklace/bracelet that I ended up with was nothing like what I had started out to make. I sometimes now design crochet/knitting patterns, just for fun, but after lots of patiently perfecting & pattern writing I never get round to putting them on Ravelry. It’s usually the gardening that gets in the way!
Thank you. And yup, I totally hear you (even though I’ve never designed jewellery).
Great for you. Across the pond, they tell us nothing heavier than a gallon of milk, or half gallon? Also here, at my house at least, we believe in child labor – what good are the twinage if not for free labor? School?, well, the poo might not have still been in a neat pile if you had waited.
Your gloves are look amazing.
Sadly the twinnage were far too self-respecting to get involved with one their mother’s silly ideas. *sigh* It’s funny, the different objects that they use to discuss weight post-surgery.
Yes! She’s back and obviously as goofy as ever as she ponders life’s little problems. Personally I drink coffee made in a single cup machine so the directions using the weight of a teapot seems silly here in rural Michigan. However I do understand the desire to get all the fertilizer you can as we have four gardens. Thank you for sharing your major problems with us.
FOUR gardens???! Now THAT is impressive.
Brilliant job with the poo, even more brilliant job with the mitts, they look fabulous thus far and if I had faith that I could actually do stranded knitting without it looking like it was meant for a very skinny Barbie, I’d be tempted ???? I’ll be needing a copy of the book obv. The poo however, I could cope with , I’d have done the same????
Thank you! And I’m impressed by how many people here can relate to the poo thing!
Your posts are so entertaining! Enjoy your horse poo and get well. Lots of hugs from Canada.
Thanks Nicola!
Dear Twisted Yarn, you had me laughing to the point of tissues this morning and you did all while dealing with molecular un-knittery and recovery from surgery!! Since you solved the horse poo dilemma I didn’t include that.
I do understand your design process well, as I use it too, mostly for less useful creative projects (painting and the like). I haven’t been brave enough to design knitwear yet. But I have un-knit mohair before…that’s pretty molecular!
Thanks for the morning entertainment,
Kathy
Thanks Kathy. Un-knitting mohair??! That’s… brave. Did you survive with sanity intact?
Ha Ha, I happened to be visiting my mom at the time, so was forced to remain sane, and polite!!
Yikes, no pressure…
I was trying to remind her of the joys of knitting at the time!
You’re brilliant! The mitts look fantastic – as will your poo enriched veg (I’m not sure that reads right). I’m sure that if you requested the nearby stable leave you a bucket at the end of your drive, they would.
I lurve that autumnal-hued yarn. Please tell what it is. Take care after your surgery, missus! We need you 🙂
You know how to make a grown woman blush! The yarn is Malabrigo Lace, and the autumnal shade is Autumn Forest (224).
I don’t know what I’d do without you, Phil.
You never, ever fail to bring a smile to my face. ????????
Well, you’d have a bit more time to get on with Proper, Grown-Up, Serious, things. But thank you for your kind words. It’s fun to let my silly side out of its cage here, and it’s humbling/heartening to have comments as generous as yours.
Those mitts look scrumptious! Very good news that the book is still on. Can’t wait!
I would guess that most of your friends and neighbors are no longer surprised by your gardening poo-collecting wiles. I was once given a bucket of chicken poo for my compost pile. Smelly stuff, but OH! the compost it made!!! It’s very good to hear you’re healing decently well. Here’s hoping that continues!
*gasps* Chicken poo?! That sounds like composting heaven! I might have to nudge my chicken-keeping friends…
Love your fingerless mitt pattern, though I would have to add a cap for my fingers as they are cold all winter. Winter has started here on Oct. 22 as we’ve had below O temps and 4” snow already!
I used to pick up the poo at my place when living in Reno, NV as there were wild horses (mustangs and feral) roaming the neighborhood at will.. it was wonderful to see them interact as a herd and I encouraged them to bed down on my lawn. They never ate my flowers or even trampled them. Now I have an unlimited supply of Alpaca poo, thanks to my friends who raise them for their fleece. They have it spun into very nice yarn. A shovel full of poo in every hole before I plant and the results are amazing!
Best to you in your recovery, I know you will be fine. I’m 4 years out now and do not think of breast cancer as an ongoing problem, that was then, this is now. Every day a bonus!
Peggi in Montana
Hi Peggi,
I hardly know where to begin with thanking you for your comment, because every single word is heartening. By the way, my sons (twins, just turned ten), are fascinated by horses, and have told me all about mustangs. They would be fascinated to see such magnificent beasts strolling though the neighbourhood! Thank you for being so kind to the horses. Congratulations on kicking the breast cancer out of range, and may you enjoy the rudest of health. Phil x
So glad you posted! Stay well
Thank you. x
You had me laughing and reading to my DH this morning! Thank you SO much! Your prose and your knits are priceless! May your Sparkle ever stay with you ????
Thank you so much! (I hope your DH wasn’t too disappointed!)
You are so funny ????
Wishing you all good things ????
Thank you AND thank you. 🙂
I loved this post. I must say it never occurred to me to pilfer horse poo on my walks, but perhaps I now need to walk with bucket and trowel. (I live not too far from you so perhaps we will find ourselves claiming dibs on horse poo some day.) Best wishes in your recovery!
Oh no! A rival! I propose a duel to determine custody of the next horse poo. (When you say ‘not too far’, should I be apologising to you for being annoyingly weird in public?)
Phil your mittens look awesome keep going. On the horse poo dilemma, I think most of us have been there and done that. Dad used to send us out after the rag and bone man with a shovel and a bucket for the rhubarb. My sister once commented that “ I don’t know why we can’t have just custard on ours like everyone else”. I think she was about 8. Needless to say it stuck. So no you do not seem weird to me. So glad to see that you’re on the mend.
Smiling after reading your post as I always do. Many good thoughts and prayers for a full recovery.
Thank you.
Your sister sounds seriously cool. Love it!
fresh horse poo is worth its weight in gold around here, so I’d have entirely agreed with you. We recently passed on a load of rubble from an old wall to a neighbour who elsewhere has a stable with horses – I’m considering asking for a weight for weight manure delivery in return. It was a very big wall though….. not sure we could cope with the excess of excrement…. – cement for ‘crement? I’d say fair exchange is no robbery! post elbow surgery (twice) i was told weight limit was a bag of sugar….but with no size given! take great care x
Yes, you absolutely must insist on an equivalent weight of manure! That stuff is fabulous!
I am so looking forward to your book. You’re an inspiration to many.
And now I’m blushing. But thank you!
Well done on both horse poo and knitting fronts. You show an admirably uncowed spirit. My Grandfather would enlist my Mother’s help when she was a girl to collect horse poo with a bucket and shovel. She was never very keen, but she told me their vegetables and flowers grew vigorously with the benefit of all their collections. Here’s to your recovery!
Thank you for every single word of this. Horse poo is indeed a valuable commodity.
Such a fun blog today! And the horse manure for your garden reminded me of when we lived in the country. First, I will tell you that I was raised with horses and know how far green manure can fly out of a horse…it doesn’t. So, with that in mind, when I lived on two acres in the countryside years later, I wanted some green manure for the line of rhubarb that ran along a fence line in the back. There was 3 feet between the fence lines of a field behind us and our fence line before it ran along a woods. Oh, for some green manure, and how I wished the horses that would show up from time to time out there could toss some over. In the middle of those wishing times that year, I went out one day to see about how my rhubarb was doing, and It Was Covered With Green Manure! Miracle? The horses did this. How else? How else? I must be really slow on the uptake. I MUST have said something to the farm wife up the winding road. Her husband did put some horses in that field from time to time. And he was a great joker. It was several (SEVERAL) years later when the dawn came to me. I must be really slow on the uptake. And gullible. For years I thought, “How could those horses have done that?” You (and your dear readers) are the first to hear my confession.
SO happy that your book is coming out. Have fun designing. And then, after it comes out, please tell us if “the fun is in the getting there”. My mother always thought so. I haven’t decided.
Ha, that’s brilliant! Thank you for sharing this story!
Not horse poo, but when my mum and dad took us out regularly in the North Yorkshire countryside (late 1950s early 60s and wanted a break from sibling bickering, we were each given a paper bag and two lollipop sticks and we had to fill the bag by flicking sheep “doddles” in with
the lolly sticks. My dad used to grow prize chrysanthemums and he said this made the finest liquid manure ever!! ( yes, he did win some prizes!). My grandchildren think this nothing short of child abuse! A bit more healthy than sending children up chimneys!
I think your parents might have been geniuses. *Eyes own children and ponders possibilities…*
I understand about the poo. I am patiently waiting for my neighbors to move their cows out of the nearby summer pasture so me and my wheelbaroow can go for a poo scooping walkabout. I hope it doesn’t snow too much first. This had me wondering whether a plastic wagon and a small or foldable shovel would work for your poo gathering. This way you wouldn’t be lifting – pulling maybe – is there anything in the regs about that? 🙂 You could follow the horse for a walk on your less energetic days. Your mitten looks lovely! The good thing about designing is that we don’t generally see the idea you started with, with makes us completely impressed with the final result. Wishing you a speedy healing.
Hugs.
🙂
Thank you for absolutely all of this. Cow poo is the best for feeding veg I hear! Enjoy.
I picked up some horse poo once for the roses but you don’t see it that often these days. Not like when I was a child. I am sure your veg will do very well. Surprised with the lifting advice. They took out a chunk of my colon and it wasn’t keyhole surgery but never said anything about lifting until a year later when I was asking for advice about exercise and they told me ‘anything except weightlifting!’
Yikes! Though I don’t suppose you felt much like lifting anything after having a chunk of colon removed.
LOVE ❣️ the ivy fingerless mittens and I’m so pleased that the book is still happening (as long as you have a non-pressured time to get it all together ????????)
I’m sure that there must be an unseen/unknown force in the universe that governs everyone around us when we do something unconventional just to make sure that it doesn’t go unnoticed ???? All the time I’m conventional I never see anyone but as soon as I water plants in with the hosepipe in heavy rain or similar someone will spot me and I can only imagine what they’re thinking about the crazy woman at number 3 (again!!!)
Take care of yourself and I hope that you return to robust good health very soon ????????????????????????
Oh yes, that’s definitely true about the universe. Definitely, definitely, true. The universe is having a laugh at our expense. *sigh*
The miitens are fabulous looking forward to making them. Lovely to hear you sounding yourself. I was told to be a princess after spinal surgery ! Wishing you happy growing and knitting and a return to full health.
That sounds like excellent post-surgery advice! (Hope you recovered ridiculously quickly from the spinal surgery.)
Of course the other things to consider are what size is this here kettle? Of what is it made? Are steel kettles, for example, heavier or lighter than plastic kettles, and what about if you have an old one you sit on the Aga? I’m sure the advice wasn’t for a traditional Aga kettle half-filled.
But looking at our kettle – that’d be about 1 1/2 pints of water, roughly 1lb 3oz, plus weight of kettle. No, I’m not going to weigh our kettle. Don’t have scaled big enough. But say, maybe 4-5lb in weight. Or about 2Kg in ‘new money’.
We don’t get horses round here much these days, apart from pulling the odd glass hearse to the local cemetery. Otherwise I might be out with my bucket too.
BTW – those mitts look awesome!
Yes, it’s hard to work with such vagueness! I’d far rather they gave us NUMBERS. (But then I really would have to weigh the poo.)
There are few blog posts that I’ll read every word and fewer that I’ll read the comments but yours is a blog that I enjoy reading for your honest and humorous approach and because your readers truly love you. How wonderful Phil to reach out to many who care about you and for them to reach out to you. May you grow stronger and healthier each day. Take good care and thank you.
Thank you Lori. I love reading all these comments, too – including yours, of course. Everyone here seems full of warmth and humour and wit. It’s an honour to have all of you visit and read and comment.
My father used to keep a bucket and spade in the boot of the car in case he found any horse poo on his travels. My mum was mortified when he’d stop to collect some while taking her and a neighbour shopping.
Some of my work colleagues keep horses so I now just turn up at the stables and shovel as much as I can fit in my car. Apples and trees! ????
Ha, love this! No wonder your mum was mortified!
I was going to suggest that you take the horse poo in two lots so as to avoid any complications! 😉 I’m glad that it all worked out AND you got to see all your neighbours as well!
It was indeed good to see neighbours/friends, BUT it would have been preferable to see them when I wasn’t manhandling horse excrement!
I love reading your news so very much, as you keep us all grounded in the things in life which mean the most to us, and you keep us all smiling as well. Keep well and strong and healthy, from Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
And I love your comment so much, too! In these crazy times, it’s just good to come here for lighthearted chatter with yarny friends. Stay safe. (And yarny.)
I think we need to rig you up a bucket and wagon and a half-kettle sized scoop… how many times are you allowed to lift a half-kettle scoop (and full or empty)? And, if you decide to enlist a trusted neighbor for help…not quite as many in your village are likely to show up. While I’ve not encountered the post-surgery/cancer problem yet, I often over extend on my own energy sources…I do understand about the design conundrum, as well. I’d love to knit up some pretty mermaid tail socks in cabled beauties…however, I cannot find the knitting graph paper (yes, I printed more), but my silly self is quite concerned these won’t even work out on paper (since all the ravelry patterns I’ve seen involve the dreaded seed stitch.
I LOVE your engineering solution to the poo problem! AND I love your mermaid tail socks idea: pleeeeease make them, even if you do have to resort to the dreaded seed stitch…
So good to hear/read you again…and very excited about the book 🙂
Thank you! Right, I’d better get on with writing the thing, then!
I laughed out loud with this post. Know that I stand with you and your kettle half-filled state of mind!! As for your mitts? If you do any of your designing with a Staedler eraser, you are guaranteed success!!
Thank you so much!
And sadly, since that photo was taken, my sons have pinched my Staedler eraser (again) so I’m currently forced to muddle through with vastly inferior equipment. DO MY CHILDREN NOT RESPECT THAT A GENIUS IS AT WORK HERE????!
Clearly they don’t appreciate the scope of your brilliance. But, they have excellent taste in erasers.
Oh my goodness, you’re pulling up some memories here, smiles all round. My dad was a milkman, worked for the Coop and the terrace row we lived in always had its delivery of rotted manure for the large gardens the houses had. Perk of the job? My granny was a great knitter of socks and fingerless gloves, her design touch being if she ran out of one colour, she just used another one. The last pair she made me, one glove having the ‘fingers’ in a different yellow to the rest, were removed by the police after a burglary as ‘suspicious’ items and I never got them back.
Best wishes with your recovery; I was fortunate to have an uncomplicated recovery 7 years ago and with, advice from a sensible breast care nurse, back to playing my beloved tennis sooner than I’d anticipated.
Thank you for every word of this. My grandfather too was a milkman, and as you may see upthread, my aunt came on to comment that she and my dad were sent out to collect the horse poo. I love the memories you’ve shared here, especially your granny’s unique gloves! Oh, and congrats on putting your own cancer well and truly behind you.
Brilliant post. I get the horse poo thing. It irks me no end to see fresh poo on the road when I am off to work and NO ONE is picking it up, or shovelling into a bucket after breast surgery like your good self.
I have yet to have stopped the car en route to A&E where I work to indulge my poo collection urges. (There’s always a bit about early in the morning, although one never see the horses). This may be a good thing as the stuff would have to sit in the car for 12.5 hours and it might mature a bit. My car suffers enough.
As for the wool battle. The fact that you can knit two different colours in the same garment is a miracle enough.
Take care.
x
I’m laughing (sorry) at the idea of a carload of horse poo maturing in your car whilst you work a lengthy shift! Though I’d probably stop laughing if you gave me a lift afterwards. It’s probably for the best that you’ve resisted the urge.
Stay safe at the frontline in these crazy times.
Welcome back, Phil! I’m so glad to hear (read?) from you. The ivy leaves look gorgeous, despite the yarn problem.
And the description of the poo dilemma made me laugh so much.
Hope you get to the “full kettle” stage soon.
Lots of hugs.
Awww, thank you!! I’m definitely approaching full-kettle. 🙂
Great! <3 <3 <3
Smiling as I always do after reading your post. Many good thoughts and prayers for a full recovery.
Thank you. 🙂
Oh my, your sense of humor is awesome! I love the bit about discovering that the reason no one has done certain knitting things is because they don’t work. I can definitely relate, and I’ve had to come to terms with not being a genius either. haha Those mittens are gorgeous though – what you’re doing there is working quite well for sure!
It’s a very disappointing realization, isn’t it! Every. Single. Time. *sigh*
Absolutely. *Sigh indeed*
I read this out loud to my non-knitting, non-crafty husband as it was so funny. We both laughed out loud at the bit about Picasso’s Guernica. I’m still trying to picture it as a knitted cowl! Also, you’re totally allowed to pilfer the pile of poo for garden purposes, otherwise it’d just go to waste!
Thank you! The problem with having written this is that I’m now starting to think, “Hmm, Guernica as a cowl. I wonder if I could…” It was supposed to be a silly example for a blog post, but now I’m pondering…
I was told no heavy lifting by the physiotherapist. I sat on that for awhile, wondering if I would be allowed to water my plants or would I have to do it surreptitiously. After a couple of visit went by, I asked what do you call heavy? I was relieved to find out that a watering can is still OK. And I know what you mean about people showing up. We live in the country where no one ever goes by unless you are doing something during which you hope no one will go by.
2 weeks have gone by since this post…
are you okay?
daisy 🙂