On a more personal note, I had to frog 19 rows of knitting last night, as I find it virtually impossible to repair mistakes in a pattern that includes yarn overs and decreases on both sides. I remained calm although a part of me wanted to start whacking at the offending rows with a large pair of sharp scissors. I also threw together a pasta salad. There's no recipe, because pasta salad is anything you want it to be and we want it to be full of cheese, meat, marinated things and fresh veggies. I happened to have perline pasta in the fridge from a recent trip to Trader Joe's, and the rest was serendipity. All I knew is that I had to move fast, before my back gave out. Just squeaked through, and I even tried to keep Rob company while watching Andrew Zimmern rave about eating rotted nasty bits, but I just could not get comfortable and the pain was making me cranky. Is still making me cranky, I might add.
Cory was quite complimentary about the pasta salad. That perline pasta is little "purses" stuffed with prosciutto, what could be bad?
Speaking of bad, the pain has become unbearable and the itching is worse than the pain. For the first time in a long time I am needing to cry. As the day became night, and Sunday morphed into Monday, I slept not at all, waking at 1 AM, tossing, turning, reading, taking Advil PM, all to no avail. I got up at 4 AM and started to cook the chicken I'd bought on Saturday. There was no pleasure in the process, just a grim determination to feed my family.
There are a few recipes I developed and will type up for the blog in the fullness of time.
Back to the present - I checked my stats this morning and without a doubt, the Russians have developed an unhealthy interest in this blog. Nine hundred and sixty four visits compared to sixty from the US. I can't say there's hacking, since this is a public blog and there's no reason to hack, but I don't know what to think. Except that my mood is usually dark with ribbons of paranoia (I am descended from Russians, after all) and these crazy-ass Russian forays are pissing me off.
The fibromyalgia has damn near killed me this week. Never mind the gory details, just take my word for it. In the middle of all that, I had my hearing on the disability appeal and a 4 hour pre-op session for my upcoming cataract surgery. Between the separate surgeries and post-op exams, the entire month of August is going to be one big blur to me (did I really type that?) so I skipped over into September and booked a cruise. Carnival out of Canaveral, my favorite panacea. At the risk of committing another bad pun, it gives me something to look forward to.
Finally, still knitting - my latest swatch:
It's dark, like my mood. Not sure what I'll use it for, but it's in my knitting squares queue. And here is the yarn-based bane of my existence, this beautiful lace pattern that I have swatched and tested and modified and tested again. So I started the square, knitting ever-so-carefully in total silence, no distractions, and can you believe there's an error in here but I am freaking leaving it. Probably no one will see it except for me, and if someone does manage to point it out I'll stick my nose in the air and proclaim, "that's what makes it unique!"
The Democratic National Convention starts today; I haven't decided if I am going to watch it or stick to reruns of "Night Court".
My hope is that you have a much better day than Debbie Wasserman-Schultz.
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