Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Free! Free at Last!

And no bail required!

I was going to throw the boot over the deck railing and into the back yard, but then I would have to go out in the cold and pick it up, so I just sort of tossed it across the room, and Molly is now checking it out.  For the millionth time.

The PA (the ortho seemed to be in hiding.  Kinda odd...) said that the broken bones are 100% mended and after a few sessions of pt, I am finished with all this.  Yay!

Yay is right.  Does this mean you will stop whining?  

I haven't been whining.  I've been complaining, a little, and I was entitled to complain.

A little!  Hah!  And no, you weren't entitled.  The PA told you that of all the patients she has seen with the type of breaks you had, only three have not required surgery, and you are one of the three.  So really, you are LUCKY!

OK.  I'm lucky.  And as much as I normally hate going to the mall, I am going there tomorrow to get something from the Gap and also to ask a question at the Apple store.  

I can go to the mall!!!!

Oh, yay.

Yes!  Oh yay!

Monday, December 16, 2013

Worse Things Have Happened to Better People.

Official Me:  I KNOW it!  Leave me alone!

other me:  Then stop complaining!  I'm tired of hearing about how much you hate the boot.

Official Me:  It's been ten %T^&*() weeks that I've hobbled around in this thing. It's heavy.  It's uncomfortable.  And I think it might smell a little.  I can't tell.  I'm tall.

other me:  Blah, blah, blah.

Official Me:  You don't know.  You haven't been wearing it.

other me:  Really?  Where have I been then?

Official Me:  You know what I mean.  It's getting really, really old, wearing this thing, and the orthopedist better tell me tomorrow that I don't need it any longer or...

other me:  or what?

Official Me:  Breaking News!!!  Orthopedist beaten about the head and neck with a walking cast left at the scene.

other me:  Yeah.  Sure.

Official Me:  Suspect ran off.  Authorities expect her to be caught soon.  She was last seen limping, wearing one Dansko and one sock, possibly hand knit.

other me:  Oh, great.  Stuck in a jail cell with you.  Lunatic.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

For All Those Who Say They Can't Knit

She is THREE!!!

[She is knitting using the Irish Cottage Technique, employing a knitting belt (makkin) to hold the right hand needle. The Yarn Harlot holds the needle under her arm instead of using a belt. She is very fast.]  

Photo from the Scottish Archives Collection.  Girl is Chrissie Cheyne.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Just Because

These photographs are all from The Weather Channel:  Winter Wear of Days Gone By.

            I think he must have been a professional child model.  Look at that pose!
                                       Either that or he couldn't move in that coat.

                                                             Motor Sleighs!

                                                  A.......?......... Vehicle, that's what it is:

                                                       Very Fashionable:

                               And last but not least, my great-great Aunt Laura Parbury:

(Not really.  Never heard of her.)


Monday, November 25, 2013


When my husband and I replaced our antique Honda Accord a couple of months ago, we had the following color choices:  gray, grey, light black (gray), and dark white (gray), and, as a bonus choice---silver.

We bought a crossover SUV. Surprise!  It's gray!!!

The first few times that I tried to find my car in a parking lot were tough---ALL of the vehicles are some form of gray.  And almost ALL of the vehicles are some iteration of SUVs. 

Now, thanks to my ankle, I have a temporary handicapped parking pass hanging from the rear view mirror in the front window that allows me to find my car from the front. On the back bumper I have a magnet sticker of a ball of yarn with knitting needles in it and I can find the car when I spot that.  (It might help if I bothered to remember where I park the car but.......no.)

The other day in traffic, however, I spotted a very rare color choice----PINK!  A pink Cadillac! (Isn't there a song by that name?)

Of course, it's probably only available to a Mary Kay salesperson.  

But I bet that it sure is easy for her to find her car.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

My Ideal Doctor's Appointment

That, and having the orthopedist say:  You're fine!  Go home!

That did not happen today.  Instead it was:  Here, wear this brace at home; wear the walking cast the rest of the time; come back in four weeks.  Go to PT.

I swear, this will NEVER END!!!

Watch out, y'all.  I might be nearing a bad mood. 


Wednesday, November 6, 2013

To the Man Stocking Shelves at Target Yesterday


I am really, really sorry.  I know you were just doing your job, stocking shelves, and when you asked me if I was finding everything ok, you were OMG not expecting me to tell you the history of my broken ankle.  

How I broke it on October 5th and how I haven't been to a store since before then (except for an LYS).  And how I am so THRILLED to be allowed to drive again, even though I have to wear an air cast when I drive, and then I have to change back into the walking cast before I get out of the car and GAH!!!  What a nuisance! And how I won't find out until November 19th if I still need the boot, and how much I hated using crutches and thank goodness I don't have to do that anymore, and how I've had so many xrays that I might start to glow in the dark---hah hah hah--- and...

Uh oh.  

I suddenly realized that you didn't want to know ANY of this and that I was rambling on and on and on because I was so happy to be out of the house and in a place where there are ACTUAL OTHER PEOPLE!!!

You were SO polite.  When I (thank the baby cheeses) stopped talking at you, you offered that if I needed any help, I could just ask any Target employee (hoping it wouldn't be you, I'm guessing) and that if my ankle started bothering me, I should remember that there were riding electric shopping carts in the store that I could use.  

Really, you were SO nice.  Thank you.  

If you see me in your store again, you don't have to run to another aisle or into the storeroom to avoid me.  And next time, if you ask me if I am finding everything ok, I will smile, I will say yes, and I will thank you.  And I will go on my way.

I promise. 

I really, really need my life back.  
Knit, ankle bones, knit.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013


I can drive!   I can drive!  I can drive!   I can drive!  I can drive!  I can drive!  I can drive!


I can drive!  I can drive!  I can drive!  I can drive!  I can drive!  I can drive! I can drive!

I went to my orthopedist’s office today and the PA said that I can drive.  I have to wear an air cast and then put the walking cast back on before I get out of the car.  And I shouldn’t walk much; the bones are healing well and if I mess that up, surgery, metal plates and metal pins are in my future.  No way.  

BUT, I have watched Dr. Phil two days in a row, y’all.  And that ain’t right.

A girl’s gotta bounce, yo.  

I can drive!  I can drive!  I can drive! I can drive!  I can drive!  I can drive!

Friday, October 25, 2013

In My Next Life I Will Be A Dancer

Unless I come back as a mouse or an elephant or a tree or something....

Do you think that once I get rid of this:

I will be able to do this?

I couldn't before I broke my ankle.

But a girl can dream?

Monday, October 14, 2013

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Friday, October 11, 2013


from my trip to Texas.

Two crutches.  One of two gowns from the ER.  

Strange souvenirs, you say?

Yes, they are, but this is why:
A very broken ankle from a fall I took less than a day after my arrival.  (Pretty, isn't it?  No? Sorry.) 

The nice people at the ER wanted to cut my jeans off in order to put on the plaster cast, which I would not be able to pull jeans off and on over.  I protested, and they sent me home wearing a hospital gown.  

Problem!  It barely tied closed in the back.  

Solution!  They pulled out what I thought was a robe to match the gown.  How nice, I thought. But when I got back to my daughter's house, I realized that it was just two gowns, one tied in the back, one in the front.  No beautiful matching gown and robe.  My daughter LOVED them, so I left one with her. I'm nothing if not generous.

What I have learned:  

*Look before you step, in case there IS a step where you don't expect one.

*Have lots of minions.  While I was at my daughter's house, I had four young minions, VERY willing and cheerful minions to do my bidding.  (It helped that I had an iPad and iPhone stocked with games.) Here I have one otherwise occupied minion, my husband, and he is not motivated by electronic games. Also, he works from home, so he does have other responsibilities and isn't so quick to respond to my requests.  rats

*I hate crutches.  Hate. Hate. Hate.

*If you are going to be incapacitated by an injury, don't  do it during the BEST WEATHER OF THE YEAR.  Dayum.

*I saw my first botoxed man.  I've seen a few botoxed and otherwise-enhanced women, but not men. My orthopedist came into the exam room and I couldn't take my eyes off him, not because he was pretty, but because he was botox-pretty  Not a good look.


I did have a great time at my daughter and son-in-law's home, thoroughly entertained by their cute, funny, helpful children.

AND, before the aforementioned orthopedist I saw a couple of days after my visit to the ER could tell me NO, I went to Hill Country Weavers and bought some yarn I need, wonderful light Shelter from Brooklyn Tweed.  I can't get it in Atlanta, so I was determined to get it during my trip.

A sweater's worth!

So once I get comfortable enough to knit,  I am well-stocked with projects.

And apparently I will have plenty of time.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

¿Qué pasó?

See?  I'm learning Spanish!

What's happening with Knittergran?, you may ask.

Well, she can't knit and watch Breaking Bad at the same time.  She discovered this after making a few too many mistakes in her knitting.  So now that she is caught up on BB, she has been knitting.

And she should stop referring to herself in the third person.  It's just weird.  She is not royalty.

So I have been catching up on knitting!

I have finished these socks, the first ever knit on size one needles.  (Signature needles, plain vanilla pattern, and Sweet Georgia Tough Love Sock Yarn, color grouse)

AND I have been working on the tricky Miss Winkle scarf:

I don't want to think about how many loops I have attached the wrong way and have had to frog.

AND I have finally, finally, with the help of several Ravelers, gotten started on the Currant Cardigan.  It has been the most difficult project I have attempted because of the new cast on and new stitches I have had to learn.  And I was reading the charts wrong because the right side rows are usually odd-numbered (I think) and the wrong side rows even-numbered (I think) and this was backwards to me, but I didn't realize it until I had done parts of a couple of rows um...backwards?  I'm not actually sure.  I was so confused.... A very experienced knitter on Ravelry helped me sort it all out. And then I frogged.

But now I am on my way, I hope.

AND I may have discovered that I am no gardener.  So far, this is the total of my crop of peppers:

Teeny, tiny.  CUTE!!!

We have had something like 16" extra inches of rain this summer, so maybe that's the problem.  I have no idea. 

It tasted great.  So there's that.

Anyway, Breaking Bad is on tonight, but I will record it and watch it later without the ads.  

Sorry, advertisers, but you break up the mood, the color, the ambiance, the sounds, the carnage, the blood, the swearing......... maybe the ads are a good thing.  

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Monday, September 9, 2013


I just watched last night's episode of Breaking Bad, after catching up on all the past episodes.

And day-um is all I can say.

But boy howdee!  Doesn't Jesse have perfect teeth!!!  You know, for a meth-head and all.

My daughters think that this should be my next birthday cake:

Except for the Bobby part.

I truly hope and pray that this cake was for an adult using a childhood nickname and not for a child whose parents are paying NO attention to what their CHILD is watching on tv.  

It's rated PG 35 people!!!



Sunday, September 1, 2013

It's Fiction, yo.

You do NOT want to know what they are doing.  Trust me on this.

So now I have watched all of Season 3 and have started watching Season 4.


Do NOT watch the first episode of Season 4 if you are alone.  Or don’t watch it at all.  Leave a comment asking what happened and I will tell you.  I didn’t watch it, or rather, I didn’t SEE it.  But I did hear it since I couldn’t cover my closed eyes and my ears at the same time.  And I guarantee you that you don’t want to see it.  OR hear it.

And on to more of Season Four:  

A friend of older daughter’s said that Season 4 would change my life.  There were no specifics mentioned, so I don’t know what to expect.  It is, however, possible that I might become, oh, just a wee bit overly concerned about Jesse, and then become so upset with what Walt has done to WRECK Jesse’s life that I forget that it is fiction and I get on a plane to Albuquerque and I hunt down Walter White like the animal he is and then I do whatever it takes so that I can pound him into the hot New Mexico desert sand.  Where he will stay for-EVER.

Watch this space.


Wednesday, August 28, 2013


So I have been catching up on Breaking Bad, although that might not be the right way to say it since I never watched it to begin with.  But I decided that in order to understand the finale, I needed to see the show.  That’s not logical.  I know.  How could I determine that I want to see the finale if I hadn’t even watched the series? Doesn't make sense.  But that’s what I’m doing.


  • Don’t do drugs.  Duh.
  • I wish Jesse would make better decisions.
  • I don’t care what decisions Walter makes.  He is evil.
  • I wish Walter's wife and son would stay far, far away from him, just in case the people gunning for him find him. Actually, everyone needs to stay far, far away from him.
  • “Camper cooking” means cooking meth in an RV.  It’s mobile yo, harder to find.
  • Getting ahold of lots and lots of pseudo ephedrine is really difficult for meth cooks.
  • Don’t go into the desert alone. 
  • “Bounce” means "to go,” as in “Go bounce, yo,” (Go away NOW) and “We gotta bounce” (We gotta get the h*ll out of here NOW).
  • If you close your eyes AND cover them with your hands, you won’t be able to see all the violence.  The series is occasionally INCREDIBLY violent. 
  • Bryan Cranston is NOT the star; Aaron Paul is the star.  He is amazing. He is the bomb, yo.
  • I think that "yo" is the equivalent of an exclamation mark.  I think it might also mean "Hey."  It might mean other things too, but I haven't figured them out yet.

I read somewhere that one hour spent watching television takes some specific amount of time off of our lives.  I don’t see how whoever studied this can know this, but if it’s true, I’m screwed and it’s all the fault of Breaking Bad.

Also, I’m trying to learn Spanish from the series but this might not be the best way to accomplish it.  They speak really fast, and even though the Spanish is subtitled, I can’t catch the individual words.  I can command "Finish him" though:  Terminado.  Not useful presumably,  but I could say it if I had to.

I'm only at Series 3, so there is a long way to go.

Watch this space.

Gotta bounce, yo.

Tuesday, August 20, 2013


Why, you might ask, would I call this "success"?

Well, let me tell you. 

It has taken me nearly two weeks to get this far.  The instructions include things like LCI, 2/2 LCI, and RLPI and I had never heard of these stitches.  It took awhile to figure out what they ARE before I could look them up on youtube to find out HOW to do them.  And then I tried doing the stitches. That was fun.

And so I had to rip it all out and start over.

And I made the mistake of starting over at last week's Knit Night.  

I picked it up today to continue on to row THREE and everything was wrong.  Knits were purled; purls were knit.  

So again, I ripped it all out and started over.

And somehow there weren't enough stitches.  I added stitches, and worked row two all over.  

Now comes the increase row, and sweet baby cheeses, I hope I get it right this time.

On the other hand, I am very good now at the Old Norwegian Cast On.  

Update:  I have hit a roadblock already.  I have asked this question on Ravelry, but I wonder if anyone reading here has the answer.  How many stitches does this section require:

RLPI, p2, k1tbl, p2, 2/2 LCI, [p3, RLPI] 2 times, k1tbl, p3

I count 22 but the section set up for this only has 19.

Anyone?  Anyone?  Anyone? 


Update #2:

A wonderful Ravelry knitter answered my call for help and corrected my understanding of the increases I was using.  And it worked!
Onward and upward!

Monday, August 12, 2013


A few months ago I joined an MKAL (mystery knit-along for those of you who have not yet discovered the fun of knitting).  It was the first time I had entered such a thing; I have not even done an ordinary KAL and I was excited to finally be taking part in one. However, as of today, I still haven’t taken part in one.

I have learned that my aversion to following rules, following instructions, doing what I am told, has made success in an MKAL an impossibility.

I am just not a games person---except for tennis, which I love with all my heart and soul, and I am heart-broken that two knee surgeries have taken me out of the game. (In my next life I am going to be a professional tennis player AND a back up singer for someone like Tina Turner, so keep an eye out, ok?)  I loved tennis so much that I became a USTA official: chair umpire and linesman for professional tournaments.  And I played lots and lots and lots of tennis, mainly singles. If I am going to lose, I figure, I will lose on my own, and if I am going to win, I will win on my own.  So there.

When I was a child, according to my sister, whose memory I have doubts about, I once threw a Monopoly board off of the table because I was losing.  I really do not think that I would have done such a thing, but I do know that my own family will not play Monopoly with me.  Younger daughter says that the last time I played with her, I cheated.  I doubt that as well. I think she made it up.

When I was pregnant with daughter #2 (the one who lies), my husband and I signed up for Lamaze classes.  We went once or twice.  The LAST time we went, we drove there, and before we got out of the car, I told my husband, “Do NOT tell me what to do.”  

He rightly protested that that was the whole purpose of Lamaze; that he was my coach;  coaches coach.

“No,” I repeated, “Do not tell me what to do.”

After a brief and possibly heated discussion, we went home and that was the end of Lamaze.  As it turns out, the doctors had to induce labor, and, I am told, that at that point, Lamaze is of no use at all because the mother goes into whatever is the last stage of labor.  Drugs, please.

When my husband sang the praises of a par course the county we lived in had installed, I went along once.  Once.  When I saw the first sign that said “Do x # of jumping jacks” or something like that, I started laughing. “You do what the sign says??? Really?”

So I guess this all means that I am childish or something, but apparently I just resist being told what to do, and that tendency played out with the MKAL.  

But I had been game!  I had been ready! I had even wound the yarn.  I waited excitedly for the first clues…...I printed them out and read them...... uh oh. Part of the first week’s instructions stated that a gauge swatch was absolutely essential.  Well, problem #1.  Ain’t no way.  It’s a shawl.  The size simply doesn’t matter.  To me.  Maybe to the designer but not to me.

So I waited for the next clue and was excited when the e-mail came and I could print out the new pages.  And then the next week I printed out the new pages as well.  Then the next week and then the next. Then all of the pages got mixed up and I couldn’t figure out the order.  

And that’s all she wrote.  I decided to wait until the whole pattern was released and then decide if I liked it well enough to knit it.  The complete pattern came out, I looked on Ravelry at the MKAL group’s photos of other people’s finished shawls, and yes, they were pretty enough, just not something I wanted to make.  The yarn and the needles have not yet met.  But since I still have the yarn, which I love, I will make something else from it.  

Lesson learned.  No more KALs, mystery or otherwise.

At least not in this life.  

Sunday, August 11, 2013


what I was trying to say in my last post, but got distracted by the missing needle, was that using new technologies to make knitting easier shouldn't be so complicated.

And I found my needles in another project, the 100 grammi scarf; I cast it off and today, I WILL conquer the Old Norwegian Cast On.

Is it an old cast on from Norway, or is it a cast on created by an old Norwegian?

Saturday, August 10, 2013

What is Wrong With This Picture?

Just about everything.

I finally decided to start work on S's sweater. Yay me!!! (I bought the yarn in March.)

I scanned the paper pattern into an electronic PDF file, imported the file into Dropbox and from there into KnitCompanion on my iPad mini. Then I set up a new project in KC, cropping and pasting as directed. I opened a video on my laptop so that I could follow along with instructions on doing the Old Norwegian Cast On. I pulled out the yarn and the gauge swatch. 

Had I indicated on the swatch which size needles I used for the swatch (and I hardly EVAH make gauge swatches)?  No. Did I leave the needles I used in the bag with the yarn?  No, I did not.

But wait!  My memory says that I had decided that I needed one size larger than the pattern called for.

Woo Hoo!!! So let's get out those size 9 needles and get cracking!!!

Can I find those needles?  

No, I cannot. ANYWHERE.

All these electronic helpers, which kind of took a long time to set up and I'm wondering if they really are all that helpful, and I am defeated by my own lack of organization. 

Off to search for the needles. Again.

Monday, August 5, 2013

Yard Eggs!

Deanna, who is a knitting friend who abandoned us and moved to Houston (but we forgive her), once told us about an ATT store in Louisiana where she couldn't pay her father's ATT bill but where she COULD buy yard eggs.

Yard eggs! we all said.  What the heck are yard eggs?

It turns out that they are exactly what the name says --- just eggs that people who aren't egg factories gather from their own chickens.  So by definition I suppose they are "organic" and "free range" and all those good things.

Well, I had never heard of them, but last week, as I drove down a road near me, I saw this sign.  The man who sells all sorts of farm-fresh produce there said that the eggs he sells are better for us than the ones we get from the grocery store --- no chemicals in their diets and the only feed outside of what they find on the ground is the occasional handful of cracked corn.

I am now the proud owner of yard eggs, and I feel healthier already.

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Mystery Meal

I think I need to put the name of the contents on the bags of food that I freeze. This might be stew; it might be chili; it might be rhubarb sauce. I don't know but I am thawing it and one of us will eat it.


UPDATE:  I was wrong.  It turned out to be PW's delicious spaghetti sauce!

Thursday, July 25, 2013


I am at home fighting a sinus infection. I'm feeling puny and I thought I would share.

These are photos taken from billions of miles away from earth by Voyager 1.

Feeling puny now?

I just hope that gravity keeps working.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Did She Die?

That is what my older daughter asked me once when I was about to tell her a story about someone I knew, or someone a friend knew, or someone who was someone’s hairdresser who knew the cousin of….

I don’t remember.

But I do know that my daughters accuse me of stockpiling sad, unpleasant tales of Woe.   And Suffering.  And, yes, Death.

I admit that I think I might be guilty of being Debbie Downer on occasion, but I blame my age.  And my friends’ ages.  We are all in the same boat, and I think of the way life works as this:

We are all hoping we are dodging bullets we don't even know are coming our way.

Cases in point:

A friend told me about a friend’s friend who was knocked over by a wave in the ocean and ended up paralyzed from the neck down and who would have to remain on life supports.  No hope for recovery.  His mind, however, was just fine and he made the informed decision to be taken off life supports.

I read or heard someplace that a woman died from inhaling some kind of harmful bacteria when she was turning her compost pile.

And right after we moved here and were still living in Hotel Hell, I was caught in a terrible traffic tie up and was very late to pick up younger daughter from a nature center where she was working as a counsellor.  I later found out that the traffic was stopped because of an accident:  a woman had been killed when a port-o-john fell off of the truck in front of her and crashed through her windshield.  

Think of all the worrying some of us do.  I bet that no matter how many things that woman might have worried about in her life, she neverever considered the possibility of being killed by a port-o-john.  

And that is my point exactly.  The port-o-john was the bullet she never saw coming.

At last Thursday’s knit night, Sallyknit related what she considered, and we all agreed, to be the most bizarre news story from the week.  A man in Brazil was killed, in his bed, while he was asleep, by a cow that fell through his roof.  

(We might have giggled a little, but then said STOP THAT!  It’s only a little bit funny. No! It’s not funny at all.  It’s tragic.  But it IS a little …..when you say it out loud….No! Stop!)

But again, no matter what this poor man’s worries were, I’ll bet they didn’t include a cow crashing through his roof and crushing him. 

I promise my daughters and whoever  else has the apparent misfortune to talk with me that I will keep the woe, suffering and deaths to a minimum.

In the meantime, Serpentine, Shelly.  Serpentine!

(A big prize to the person who knows that reference.  Immediate family prohibited from entering.)

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

$1,000 REWARD!!!!!!

Not really.

But my Chacos, the shoes that I have worn since surgery on my left foot, the shoes that have prevented surgery on my right foot, that have just the perfect sponginess to support my foot, and that along with my Birkenstocks (stylish----c'est moi) have kept me comfortably shod all these years, they have

Please, please come back...

Now logic is my middle name (not really---it's Louise), and logic tells me that shoes can't possibly disappear in one's own home. But I have looked everywhere (except where they are, obviously), and they are just flat-out missing. I grilled my recent houseguests: two daughters, four grandchildren, and I do mean GRILLED, until they almost r u n n  o f t, and they all denied having any involvement with the disappearance of my shoes.

Yes, I have other shoes.  Yes, I even have other Chacos, but these were my most recent purchase, and my favorite.

I may have to give up and go to the store for another pair, and then, I am sure, the missing shoes will show up.


In other news, we all had a great time, in spite of the nearly constant rain.  It rained, sometimes ALL day, each and every day that they were all here. (It's raining now.) On Monday though, the rain held off  until later in the day, and my husband, daughters and grandchildren had a great time at Six Flags.  I, martyr that I am, stayed out of the heat and sun and off of the scary rides and made the aforementioned Ile Flottante. My husband is out of town every other week, so I rarely have guinea pigs diners I can experiment on cook for.  But in spite of being left behind, I had fun making dessert.

However, I need my grandchildren to answer for this affront:

WHY, oh WHY, are there goldfish left in this container? WHY didn't you eat them all?  Grandpa doesn't like them, so now it's left to me to finish them off.

Martyr, thy name is Knittergran.

UPDATE:  Chacos found!  Yay!

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

And Yesterday

I made Ile Flottante!

I had always thought that it would be difficult to make but it's not.  It's just three easy things combined into one for serving.

Delicious, if I do say so myself.