I am knitting three Hurani's for my son's wedding. This is both my happy for the day, and a chance to tell you about me and my arch enemy. Math.
I met him before the first grade. My mom and dad owned a restaurant, they actually owned sever, but one at a time. This one was called mobley's Dinner and it rested on land that is now part of an expressway enrtrance/ exit ramp.
Mom ran the place, it was good old southern home cooking. Fried pork chops, mashed potatoes with milk gravy, and every vegetable known to man. It was a family place, no drinking, so little kids were there all the time. But when mom was short handed she had home grown labor. I remember shucking peas and corn and snapping green beans.
Then daddy taught me to count change. So if it got busy I ran the register. I also rolled coins with the juke box man.
That kind of math I can do. It is the find A kind of math that lost me completely. First a is not a number, and if it's lost wouldn't we look in an alphabet and not in a math equation? And before you all explain it to me let me tell you three very nice math teachers, several school mates, and an ex husband or two tried. They were all patient smart people. I am the one who had a dark spot in her brain where this kind of math resides.
Now I told you that to tell you this.
I am knitting three Huranis' and the pattern is written well. It is easy, explained in simple terms and well charted. This is not the pattern, it is the math.
I counted the last row of chart a...I am right on the money, I counted the purl row that followed, right on the money. Did the first part of chart b right on the money. Knit the center stitch, got to knit the first repeat of chart b and the count is off. Really off, like it is a different shawl. So I put it in time out. I knit a hexipuff. And today I will put on my big girl panties, and go against Math one more time.
Wish me luck!
I know it has been another while, but life happens.
Seems I have adopted this little black cloud, let's call him Tixe. He is just here to remind me how good things are most of the time. Every time I try to get sad, he reminds me how wonderful life can be without him in it.
Like swimming. Great in the sunshine but not so great when he decides to hang over the pool and make big old rumbling noises, or throw long streaks of electricity at the ground.
So I am adopting a new habit.
Every day I am going to write down what is better in my life without that little black cloud and then when he shows up I will have a big old list of things to show him, and be able to focus on my list and not his presents.
Today world, my life is better because of my family. And there are lots of them, some related by birth, some by marriage, and some cause they wandered into my universe and can't find the exit door. My life is sooooo much better for them being in it.
See you tomorrow!