Monday, September 29, 2014

I have knitted enough dishcloths to reach the moon

I don't seem to be progressing as a knitter. I'd like to knit something that isn't a dishcloth. But everything that isn't a dishcloth (hats, sweaters, fun scarves, dog coats) require double-pointed needles or circular needles or both. The the DPNs baffle me. They come in sets of four and five, and I need a third hand to manage them. I'm afraid of DPNs, actually. And circular needles -- well I'm not very good with those, either. And the Magic Loop? I can't even read descriptions of it. It's magic. It's easy. It's...what the hell is it? I don't even understand what it loops or why you would use it.

And when I do learn something, I don't seem to retain it. I learned a nifty cast on from a YouTube video last week, and I've forgotten it already.

All the knitting books and articles include a certain type of story. They go like this:  "I found these old knitting needles and some yarn while I was cleaning out my grandmother's room in the nursing home. The little paper label on the yarn told how to cast on. So I cast on and then I decided 'What the heck, I'll knit a sweater.' And so I did. Now I own a yarn business with $2M in online sales and this is my third bestselling knitting book."

Sweater? They have arms. How do arms happen? That baffles me.

I've knitted enough dishcloths to reach the moon. I mean, really, even with the rather worrisome tendency I have to set kitchen things (pots, wooden spoons, potholders, cutting boards, etc.) on fire, I still have a whole drawer full of knitted dishcloths. I want to knit something else. Socks. A little bag with a loop that will hold the bar soap I'm now into. I just can't make the leap to figuring out how.

On another note, I am taking on credit card debt tomorrow. Buddha, my dog, broke off his lower right canine tooth a year ago. Somehow, don't know how or exactly when it happened. He didn't need to have the remains pulled then, but now he does. Plus a dental cleaning and some poking around in the back upper right teeth. While he's under general anesthesia, they're going to remove the Canadian dime-shaped skin tag on his back left...well, it's on the skin over the bone where his outer haunch begins to meet the inner side. It's gross. It has a hair growing out of it. Most people don't even notice it, but it makes me ill. I also have the same reaction to nose hairs. I'm having it removed for purely cosmetic reasons (i.e., it grosses me out and of the two of us one of us is supposed to be attractive). Since he has to go under general anesthesia anyway, now is the time.

He was 8 years old in May. Things happen. I knew there was a good reason to apply for that Amazon Visa card a couple of months ago.

I don't know what he's going to look like after this tooth is pulled. I wish he hadn't broken it off. But things happen. The vet said it's just like with people. You crunch down on something just the right way and...snap. He's been on good quality food since I adopted him when he was 8 weeks old. He didn't appear the slightest bit neglected at that time. However, this last year his teeth are really starting to show the wear. Perhaps it's genetic.

I had his teeth cleaned in 2011. No problems with general anesthetic at that time. So, hopefully, none this time.

There are moments when I'm rather tired of Buddha. Although he's the most wonderful dog in the world, in some ways he is not. I can't take him to dog parks because he wrestles too hard and makes trouble by pushing dogs who don't want to wrestle with him to wrestle with him. "Sure you do!" he says to some dog and body slams him. "It's rude to stare; let me teach you some manners," he says to Boxers who were bred to stare. So, in some ways, owning Buddha keeps me from associating with other dog owners. He isolates me from them, in some ways. On the other hand, on Sunday, Buddha and I walked the trails in the nature preserve and then we sat on the In Memory of Peggy Peterson bench and looked out at the lake. He will sit on a bench with me for hours, my arm around him, and people walking by say, "Ohhhh. Look at that." He's a sweetheart...with people. Sometimes I would like a different dog. One that I could take to off-leash parks. One that I didn't have to get nervous about when other dogs come by. All this having been said, tomorrow I will spend a small fortune to keep him healthy for a bit longer.

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Oatmeal at the Coffee Cottage in Willernie

Haven't had oatmeal in ages. Their dark roast coffee is good, too. I ordered a cafe au lait because I don't really like coffee, just hot half an half.

There's a nice patio. Lots of people talking. Not to me, of course. But I can listen to the sounds.

Buddha and I are going to go to the little farmer's market in the Mahtomedi Triangle Park across the street from where I am in Willernie. I'd like to make a stir fry with peppers and whatever veg looks good today.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Been eating SuperAmerica sandwiches

I've been in sort of a daze. Can't really cook or think what to buy. Been buying thin sort of damp SuperAmerica sandwiches for lunch and 24 ounce coffees for the drive in to work. I don't even like coffee. Having a lot of trouble just putting one foot in front of the other, so need coffee. Tonight I thought I would make a little effort and see if the oven works. Made a sort of quiche. A can of Rotel tomatoes with chilis. Half of a packet of grated cheese of some sort. Eggs. A bag of thawed broccoli. The eggs and cheese were kind of old. Actually, they were very old. Baked at 350 for one hour. I didn't measure anything, so we'll see how this works out. 

Monday, September 1, 2014


Promised myself I'd unpack the three totes in the dining area. Not much of a goal for a three day weekend. I thought the silverware was in one of them, since they are the last totes marked kitchen. But, no, it wasn't there. I have no idea where it is. I've been making do with a fork and a plastic spoon for the last month since I moved. I guess it must be in one of the untouched totes in the garage or the spare room, or I gave it to Goodwill by mistake. More likely one of the totes. I can't even look at the stacks of totes in the garage and spare room. I have no idea how I will get through them, or, even, what's in them. I have to get through the ones in the garage soon, in case there are things that shouldn't be out there during the winter.  Overwhelming.

The fog in my head continues. It's hard to think. I feel like one of those reenactment actors in a documentary about reaching the Pole. Pick a Pole. I'm muffled up to the eyes, numb, pulling a sledge behind me. I wonder if I've been poisoned by the lead seals on my canned food. I somehow made it to this long weekend. I somehow have to make it to work tomorrow and all week.