Month: April 2012

Ice cream and raggedy frames

Took Grandma a chocolate sundae after I spent the afternoon at the eye doc’s, where they “worked me in” (and over) so they could check out this peculiar thing in my eye. It looks kinda like this:


And it moves every time I blink. It started out as just the wee forkedy bit at the top, and then yesterday the whole semicircular thing appeared. It’s kinda like having something in your eye that blocks your vision, but it’s inside your eyeball, so you can’t get rid of it, and since it moves every time you blink as well as when you move your eye, you can’t look around it or ignore it. It puts kind of a raggedy wavery half-frame around the world, one view of which now looks like this:


Because I am quite myopic and therefore theoretically prone to detached retinas, which are quite a serious thing (they can make you blind), I thought it a good idea to see the eye guy, who peeked at it and said, “Ooo, yep! I can see it, right there! It’s a floater!” and then gouged my eyeballs around to check for peripheral retinal tears. Very interesting, actually, although I suspect it’s a good thing I couldn’t see myself from outside, ’cause I think he pushed my eyeballs mostly outta their sockets to peer in there through dilated pupils.

Anyway, no retinal issues, it’s just a “spontaneous detachment of the vitreous humor” (which means mostly that the goo in my eyeball is separating slightly from the back end, there, and it’s Something That Happens To Old People), and if I’m lucky, the floater will sink to the bottom in a few months and be out of my way. If not, I’ll have a raggedy wavery half-circle-y thing flapping around in my eyeball ’til I croak.

All of which has no bearing on Grandma or ice cream, except that I took some to her afterward, hoping vainly that the soft-focus from the dilation would clear up so I could see to drive home (it didn’t).

And then just now, she called and said, “Oh, I got you!”

“Yes!” I said.

“Oh, good, the phone worked!”

“Yes!” I said.

“That’s all I wanted—just to see if the phone worked. Bye!”

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Wowza wowza wowza

The Dude sweater Snaotheus requested (and that was intended for his birthday—talk about underestimating time) is more than half finished! Yay, me!

My hands may be, too—the combination of heavy, dense, only lightly spun yarn (a single ply, which means nothing to you, Gentle Reader), huge fat needles (1 cm diameter or a little more), and a 1×1 stitch pattern, which means I have to maintain twist in the yarn (because it wants to un-twist itself) while knitting and the yarn pulls in so that two stitches take up the space of one and make a double-thick fabric, has turned out to be . . . shall we say I’m thinking of asking the Olympic committee to add knitting to its roster?

All that’s left are the sleeves, the front facings, and the collar, plus finding an authentic-type zipper. I’m taking a few days off, hoping that when I cast on for the sleeves, my palms won’t whimper so loudly. Two of my neighbors called to complain about the wailing in their high-pitched little voices. Odd, since we old folks lose high-frequency hearing first.

Here are the right and wrong sides of the back. The wrong side shows how the color yarn not in use has to be carried across behind the in-use yarn, which also adds to the thickness. This could probably keep an equatorial creature warm at the North Pole.



And the fronts, likewise, which I did at the same time on one set of needles, requiring the manipulation of four skeins of yarn at once, thereby proving once and for all that I’m not nearly as pathetic as my kids like to believe.



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Observation for the day

My dog’s ass can double as an airbrush.

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Curse you, Netflix!

You greedy corporate bastards! Not only have you fouled up the world with your nefarious pay-separately-for-streaming-and-DVDs scheme. Not only have you instituted a nasty bait-and-switch tactic whereby Person is told that seasons one through X are available on streaming, but it turns out only one season is; if Person wants to watch others, she has to buy the additional DVD service. That’s bad enough to warrant more than a symbolic fist-shake, but now you’ve done it. You’ve hired an evil army of poor Third World children to key every DVD you send out. That means you get a few more pennies for every day I have to wait for you to ship replacements. I am so not going to continue to put up with this.

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