Cheaper than cigarettes and booze.

So. Nothing going on now at all in infertility land. Nada. Zip. Diddly-squat. We wait. And wait. And hang about, and sigh, and twiddle out thumbs. Bah.


H commented, the other day, as I motored my way grimly through my lovely step-mother’s Birthday Socks, that I was knitting a lot more these days. I’m not entirely sure what tone of voice he was meaning to use, and decided not to pursue it (as I’m all apathetic, remember?), but it seemed a little wistful. Possibly because I have turned the living room into an utter minefield of little sharp stabby double-pointed needles, lurking in bundles of sock yarn and pretending the whole thing is nice and squishy.

And anyway, yes, I am knitting a lot more. Partly because I have become better at it. Partly because nice yarn, nice free patterns, and nice knitting sites and blogs are at last everywhere and very inspirational. And largely, alas, it is true, largely because it helps that I can actually make something useful, attractive, and wanted.

And if that’s not the most self-pitying, snivelling piece of whining tosh you’ve read in a long time, then poor you, what in hell have you been reading?


7 responses to “Cheaper than cigarettes and booze.

  • Lindsay/LJ

    Okay, I totally need you to email me your favorite knitting sites with patterns!!! I need to get myself off of square shaped items.

  • megan

    sounds like the perfect living room to me! i’m glad you’re kitting is offering a bit of solace for you. knitting is always good for that. i heart the knitting.

  • Sol

    Well, as displacement activity it does beat going on a bender of any description, I agree. Beats it by a long way. Although who knew knitting could be so dangerous for bystanders?

  • Mel

    Got to say, at least it’s a productive time passer. And you get many socks to boot.

  • Mel

    But how are the feelings entrenched in all of that waiting not just as valid? Or the fact that surgery looms on the horizon? I think it goes back to the people in the camps vs. the people who were hidden. The emotions are the same even if some experience those emotions at a deeper level.

    Sweetie, I think of you as big stirrup queen. “Big” in the fabulous sense.

    I think about you every time I’m driving and listening to Erin Mckeown and the song “They Say It’s Spring”:

    They say it’s May
    That’s made me daft as a daisy
    It’s May they say,
    That gave the whole world this crazy
    Heavenly hazy hue

    I’ve been meaning to pass along those lyrics to you.

  • May

    Oh, Mel, don’t be so sweet to me, please. It makes me cry. See? Now I’m all pink-eyed and sniffly.

    Thank you. Thank you very much. The lyrics and your kind words mean a lot to me.

  • Eliza

    What have I been reading? My OWN blog, HAHAHAAA…I’m working my way through your archives after finding you via NCLM and I do LOVE your writing style and narrative voice (although so far there’s not much to love about the subject matter, as I hardly need to tell you). And before I got sick and anemic and lost my mind I took it to writing school for a very long time and got a terminal degree, so hopefully at least I’m good for a complement. This post made me want to learn to knit. You can knit in bed, right? Sigh…

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