The knitter has returned! Yes followers, I am back and ready to fill your lives with more random thoughts and even greater crises. In case you are all worrying that you may have missed crucial goings-on in my life in the last couple of months, please put your minds at rest - the knitter has been quietly eating ice cream and dropping the odd stitch whilst trying to multitask and watch telly.
But this quiet existence may be about to change. Yes folks, please prepare yourselves - the knitter has a date! Yes, and with a real love man and all! Not just an ogling session at Mc Steamy on Grey's Anatomy, but a real live, breathing, complaining man! Now, ordinarily this is not a situation in which the knitter would find herself. Let alone with the additional complications surrounding the man in question. However, the knitter has had a moment of what can only be described as bravery and agreed to meet a handsome stranger. Oh, I must confess at this point - the uniform helped! There is even talk of this uniform making an appearance tomorrow... But do not fear knitting fans, I will not let you down in terms of complications, for there are many. Not least because handsome stranger lives and works abroad. Ordinarily the knitter would not consider a date with such a complication but given that 30 is approaching with the speed of an over-stoked steam train, it's time to give something different a chance. So really, I ask that you keep your fingers crossed that the knitter lives to stitch another day.
Moi
Thursday 16 April 2009
Sunday 8 February 2009
Failure to Communicate
I've been thinking, isn't strange how we can become so dependent on communication with a person without really even noticing the attachment forming? And suddenly when the daily exchange is taken away, life seems to have lost its sparkly edge, no matter how much you try to carry on as normal. You try to resist firing up the laptop, you try to resist pressing the refresh page button every 5 seconds, but despite good intentions, you still check for new emails on your phone before you can go to sleep! When did happy chit chat become such obsession with communication?
You see it all started on Friday morning when the usual smile inducing email failed to sit happily in my inbox during the morning log in. By lunchtime, no email. No matter, I tell myself, it will arrive at 9.30pm tonight as per the usual schedule. 9.34pm. No email. Hmmmm. Refresh page for the next 30 minutes. No email. Now, ordinarily I would be worried by such sudden lack of communication from a special person but this is not the norm. This is a soldier. Action Man. This is serving abroad. This is frustrating!
So we arrive at Sunday. Still no email. I have read over the last 3 emails sent out in to the abyss of cyber space, no, nothing in the content to provoke panic ridden silence. No psycho tendencies displayed. Hmmmmm. But then I remember, this is not an ordinary man. He can't email me and say 'honey, I've got to go on a top secret op to arrest a whole bunch of bad people for the next few days, so I won't be able to email'. No, I just have to rise above the typical panics of the knitter's brain and realise this is real life, this is not about me.
So I sit, give him the odd thought, hope he's ok and to tide me over I eat ice cream. It's amazing how communication can be replaced by Ben and Jerry's finest! Perhaps I should turn to more intensive knitting to keep my fingers from hitting that refresh page button too....
You see it all started on Friday morning when the usual smile inducing email failed to sit happily in my inbox during the morning log in. By lunchtime, no email. No matter, I tell myself, it will arrive at 9.30pm tonight as per the usual schedule. 9.34pm. No email. Hmmmm. Refresh page for the next 30 minutes. No email. Now, ordinarily I would be worried by such sudden lack of communication from a special person but this is not the norm. This is a soldier. Action Man. This is serving abroad. This is frustrating!
So we arrive at Sunday. Still no email. I have read over the last 3 emails sent out in to the abyss of cyber space, no, nothing in the content to provoke panic ridden silence. No psycho tendencies displayed. Hmmmmm. But then I remember, this is not an ordinary man. He can't email me and say 'honey, I've got to go on a top secret op to arrest a whole bunch of bad people for the next few days, so I won't be able to email'. No, I just have to rise above the typical panics of the knitter's brain and realise this is real life, this is not about me.
So I sit, give him the odd thought, hope he's ok and to tide me over I eat ice cream. It's amazing how communication can be replaced by Ben and Jerry's finest! Perhaps I should turn to more intensive knitting to keep my fingers from hitting that refresh page button too....
Wednesday 28 January 2009
Ain't grammar important...
Today has been an interesting day, no, make that a very amusing day! For instance, how often is it that the Knitter gets flirted with over the telephone by a hunky fireman?? Yes knitting followers, told this really happened. And how do I know he is hot... well he emailed me a photo of course! Although in true 'playing it cool' stylee, I commented that it was a lovely fire engine (background). I think I may have a thing for men in uniform - what with my lovely army action man and now a fireman, all I need next is a hunky copper to complete the set!
Speaking of which, communications with action man in Iraq are going well. Being a fussy sort, I particularly like the fact that he seems to have the increasingly rare ability to spell and use grammar. Oh, and complete sentences. And not one appearance of the word "ain't". Why do people think that this is cool or in any way regarded as acceptable English? But action man scores serious points for education. All this and a sense of humour... just a shame he lives in Germany when he's not crawling about in the sand arresting bad men.
As I reach my 30th year, I do wonder if there will come a time when I will need to compromise on my need for a man who can spell. I mean, when a girl reaches a certain age, does she need to re-assess the criteria that she applied in her younger years? For me, it has always been about the car and the shoes. If a man can't manage to choose decent accessories, then what does that say about the rest of his life? My chav radar has never been on such high alert, and I've never been pickier. But is this a good thing? Or am I simply trying to protect myself so much that I cut out a potential date due to an "ain't" or two? The question is, can a girl ever truly put on the blinkers for Mr Almost Right?
Speaking of which, communications with action man in Iraq are going well. Being a fussy sort, I particularly like the fact that he seems to have the increasingly rare ability to spell and use grammar. Oh, and complete sentences. And not one appearance of the word "ain't". Why do people think that this is cool or in any way regarded as acceptable English? But action man scores serious points for education. All this and a sense of humour... just a shame he lives in Germany when he's not crawling about in the sand arresting bad men.
As I reach my 30th year, I do wonder if there will come a time when I will need to compromise on my need for a man who can spell. I mean, when a girl reaches a certain age, does she need to re-assess the criteria that she applied in her younger years? For me, it has always been about the car and the shoes. If a man can't manage to choose decent accessories, then what does that say about the rest of his life? My chav radar has never been on such high alert, and I've never been pickier. But is this a good thing? Or am I simply trying to protect myself so much that I cut out a potential date due to an "ain't" or two? The question is, can a girl ever truly put on the blinkers for Mr Almost Right?
Monday 26 January 2009
Soldier Soldier
After a hectic weekend, Sunday night arrived and I found myself wondering how, in a few short days, a welsh sheep can go from being an exciting accessory to an itchy nuisance? I've never been all that fond of wool (and yes, I know I knit with it!). Wool can be irritating on the skin if you do not properly protect yourself from its scratchy fibres. Wool, when still attached to a Welsh sheep seems to be quite difficult to get rid of. This knitter has learned a lesson, try before you commit to any purchase in future!
Wool aside, there have been some interesting developments. A month ago, when knitting was new and fresh, I decided to take on another hobby to broaden my horizons. Following a tearful evening's viewing of the Millies, I decided to put my somewhat dubious talent for writing endless rubbish to good use. The result of this idea, and a bottle of Australia's finest, was a subscription to a site where there seems to be an endless stream of gorgeous, fit bodied, heroic real men! Of course, there is a slight snag. Half of them are dodging bullets, bombs and god knows what in the most awful places on the planet. However, the boredom of camp life does mean that they are willing to read and reply to whatever random thoughts that pour out of my nutty brain! Oh, then there are the ones who just want to offer you ten inches of manhood... a polite no suffices in these cases (after you've drooled over the body of course). Despite the odd inappropriate offer, I now write to a couple of soldiers serving in war zones and would encourage anyone with lots to say about anything to join in! I do make sure not to get their hopes up about a hand knitted scarf though... Current knitting looks set for a 2011 completion at the earliest!
Wool aside, there have been some interesting developments. A month ago, when knitting was new and fresh, I decided to take on another hobby to broaden my horizons. Following a tearful evening's viewing of the Millies, I decided to put my somewhat dubious talent for writing endless rubbish to good use. The result of this idea, and a bottle of Australia's finest, was a subscription to a site where there seems to be an endless stream of gorgeous, fit bodied, heroic real men! Of course, there is a slight snag. Half of them are dodging bullets, bombs and god knows what in the most awful places on the planet. However, the boredom of camp life does mean that they are willing to read and reply to whatever random thoughts that pour out of my nutty brain! Oh, then there are the ones who just want to offer you ten inches of manhood... a polite no suffices in these cases (after you've drooled over the body of course). Despite the odd inappropriate offer, I now write to a couple of soldiers serving in war zones and would encourage anyone with lots to say about anything to join in! I do make sure not to get their hopes up about a hand knitted scarf though... Current knitting looks set for a 2011 completion at the earliest!
Thursday 22 January 2009
Exits Must Be Clearly Signed!
Have you ever had one of those moments where you wish that life had a reverse gear and you could go back and make a different decision? Hmmm, I don't believe you if you said no to that! In the absence of such a magic button, I found myself panicking last night and wondering how to click undo with the least pain to either party. As usual, I was all for my tactless, blunt truthful approach. This is because I am the world's most useless liar (amongst other things that I am the world's most useless at...). Interestingly, it was my mother who came up with the less painful option of a small stretch of the actual reality. See, I can't even bring myself to say the words! I was always brought up to tell the truth at all times, and distinctly remember being severly reprimanded for a black lie as a child. So it came as a bit of a shock to hear my own mother, the person who had administered the punishment for lying during my childhood, telling me to take a door of less than truthful exit. I will probably pay for this, karma and all that.
On a positive note, I forced myself to take out the bike for a spin after work. Maybe a little pain tomorrow from the workout will re-balance the karma situation? Well, perhaps so if I wasn't undoing all the good work by ovening a lovely fat pizza as I write. A girl's got to have balance in life I say! Speaking of which, two trips to the vending machine in one day is not balanced - you know who you are!! At least I can justify my half bag of chocolate covered raisins - they're one of my five a day I'm sure.
Changing the subject wildly, and in line with this random rambling, I had an amusing exchange with a young man at work today. I say young man, as he commented that at 30 years old, a girl is too old for him to date - the young pup! This got me to thinking, how young is too young and how old too old? Perhaps a little research may need to be done. I may have to put down the knitting needles and venture out into one of those 'pub' places and find out. Watch this space knitting followers....
On a positive note, I forced myself to take out the bike for a spin after work. Maybe a little pain tomorrow from the workout will re-balance the karma situation? Well, perhaps so if I wasn't undoing all the good work by ovening a lovely fat pizza as I write. A girl's got to have balance in life I say! Speaking of which, two trips to the vending machine in one day is not balanced - you know who you are!! At least I can justify my half bag of chocolate covered raisins - they're one of my five a day I'm sure.
Changing the subject wildly, and in line with this random rambling, I had an amusing exchange with a young man at work today. I say young man, as he commented that at 30 years old, a girl is too old for him to date - the young pup! This got me to thinking, how young is too young and how old too old? Perhaps a little research may need to be done. I may have to put down the knitting needles and venture out into one of those 'pub' places and find out. Watch this space knitting followers....
Tuesday 20 January 2009
Barking Mad?
I was sat in bed last night knitting when I began to ponder an important question - How much do I like dogs? To some this may sound like an odd thing to think over whilst in bed, but it all stems from something that came about a few days ago...
I was having a normal conversation on the telephone with new boy when he suddenly asked whether I would go to a gala dinner and dog show. Apparently this kind of activity is the norm when you are a Welsh sheep. Since he 'popped the question' so to speak, I have found myself considering my level of dog love. And, in particular, dog shows. Do dog show people all wear pink suits and rhinestones? Is there a spectator dress etiquette? Will I get savaged by a pack of wild hounds? Oh, and most importantly, will he notice if I sneak off to the nearest shopping centre? These are all important considerations when attending a show. Of course, I have committed myself to the expedition already so perhaps these thoughts are actually pointless, but none the less, they have contributed to the odd dropped stitch!
The other thought occupying my poor over-worked mind is where I have put the invite to my friend's wedding. Not only can I not remember the date, but the wedding list is also with said invite. I can already feel rising panic and the fear of being left with a single egg cup as the only item under £100 on the list. I am dreading the second round of turning out of cupboards this evening, being a compulsive hoarder of paperwork, it will no doubt end in an avalanche!
Ah well, I'd better start with the wool storage cupboard... perhaps the invite is wrapped up in angora?!
I was having a normal conversation on the telephone with new boy when he suddenly asked whether I would go to a gala dinner and dog show. Apparently this kind of activity is the norm when you are a Welsh sheep. Since he 'popped the question' so to speak, I have found myself considering my level of dog love. And, in particular, dog shows. Do dog show people all wear pink suits and rhinestones? Is there a spectator dress etiquette? Will I get savaged by a pack of wild hounds? Oh, and most importantly, will he notice if I sneak off to the nearest shopping centre? These are all important considerations when attending a show. Of course, I have committed myself to the expedition already so perhaps these thoughts are actually pointless, but none the less, they have contributed to the odd dropped stitch!
The other thought occupying my poor over-worked mind is where I have put the invite to my friend's wedding. Not only can I not remember the date, but the wedding list is also with said invite. I can already feel rising panic and the fear of being left with a single egg cup as the only item under £100 on the list. I am dreading the second round of turning out of cupboards this evening, being a compulsive hoarder of paperwork, it will no doubt end in an avalanche!
Ah well, I'd better start with the wool storage cupboard... perhaps the invite is wrapped up in angora?!
Monday 19 January 2009
Deaf but not defeated...
Well folks, so many thoughts today and so little time!
Contrary to news reports this morning, I have to say that I've not had any experience of this being the most depressing day in history. In fact, in general terms, it's not really been a bad one! Ok, so I woke up deaf due to the forced wearing of ear plugs last night, but it was a small price to pay in terms of a decent night's sleep. The neighbour above has taken to early morning and late night stomping about and washing machine use... the latter I hope is not connected to her boyfriend taking up weekend residence! But honestly, the pair of them seem to be feeding off each other's elephant footed nature. Does anyone want to buy a lovely surround sound flat? Or rather 'surrounded by sound'!
I had a lovely text from new boy when I got to work this morning which made me smile. Is it worrying to be so cheery and relaxed after only one date? I feel myself trying to get into the usual panic but somehow I can't quite manage it. I think this is because he is a Welsh sheep... well ok, he lives in Wales. I know there are going to be people out there who now think I am dating a sheep and am a total nutter... Oh and I might get rid of him for a few months when he serves abroad... what more can a knitter ask for?!
And I have discovered the DIY skills of my boss really do take some beating. Well, the new and mightily gorgeous Laura Ashley chandelier is still attached to the plasterboard ceiling and that definitely requires skill in my book. I keep having to nip into the bedroom, flick on the switch and just admire. Payment takes the form of a bottle of red. A girl's gotta love cheap labour :)
My final thought for the day... Next time I decide to beat the post Christmas spread, I must remind myself that doing an exercise DVD only serves to depress me further. I'd rather eat cardboard and cream cheese for lunch than pretend I'm enjoying jumping up and down while a screeching banshee yells 'come on girrrrls' from my television. Fitness level - zero!
Right, must get on with some knitting. Scarf not looking hopeful for next winter at this rate...
Contrary to news reports this morning, I have to say that I've not had any experience of this being the most depressing day in history. In fact, in general terms, it's not really been a bad one! Ok, so I woke up deaf due to the forced wearing of ear plugs last night, but it was a small price to pay in terms of a decent night's sleep. The neighbour above has taken to early morning and late night stomping about and washing machine use... the latter I hope is not connected to her boyfriend taking up weekend residence! But honestly, the pair of them seem to be feeding off each other's elephant footed nature. Does anyone want to buy a lovely surround sound flat? Or rather 'surrounded by sound'!
I had a lovely text from new boy when I got to work this morning which made me smile. Is it worrying to be so cheery and relaxed after only one date? I feel myself trying to get into the usual panic but somehow I can't quite manage it. I think this is because he is a Welsh sheep... well ok, he lives in Wales. I know there are going to be people out there who now think I am dating a sheep and am a total nutter... Oh and I might get rid of him for a few months when he serves abroad... what more can a knitter ask for?!
And I have discovered the DIY skills of my boss really do take some beating. Well, the new and mightily gorgeous Laura Ashley chandelier is still attached to the plasterboard ceiling and that definitely requires skill in my book. I keep having to nip into the bedroom, flick on the switch and just admire. Payment takes the form of a bottle of red. A girl's gotta love cheap labour :)
My final thought for the day... Next time I decide to beat the post Christmas spread, I must remind myself that doing an exercise DVD only serves to depress me further. I'd rather eat cardboard and cream cheese for lunch than pretend I'm enjoying jumping up and down while a screeching banshee yells 'come on girrrrls' from my television. Fitness level - zero!
Right, must get on with some knitting. Scarf not looking hopeful for next winter at this rate...
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