Death to Boyd

Having survived yesterday I now know. It was a little bit wrath, and a little bit of a test.

I think my post of humility pleased the Knitting Gods. They have accepted my humble offering of a frogged Knitted Corset and a ripped out duplicate knit flower. I feel they smile favorably upon me.

On the other hand my 30 inch size 6 Boyd needles are possessed by the devil himself and they spent yesterday in an active campaign of sabotage against me.

I know my box of AA batteries is around here somewhere. I could not have put them in Meaty's train because his train takes AAA. Boyd, GIVE ME MY BATTERIES. I know you think by hiding them you can avoid ugly pictures being posted on the internet. But you can't. I'm like the paparazzi. I can't be stopped. And punching me and breaking my camera will only make me more determined to get a picture of you in a compromising position.

Then Boyd tinkered with my printer. I have not yet successfully printed a copy of the knitted corset pattern.You're supposed to print the odd pages, then re-insert the paper in the printer and print the even pages so they make a nice booklet. I can never get my pages to face the same way. Yesterday I thought I'd be smart and mark which direction the paper went in so I could properly align it for the second side. Things looked great. The odd pages are beautiful. Then my computer just refused to print the even pages. It just froze. It ignored my requests. It just wouldn't print.

So I take my printed in all the wrong directions copy with me when I took my Mom to chemo yesterday. On the way we "happened" to pass our open LYS. So I stopped in real quick and bought a beautiful pair of size 6 24 inch Addis. As we continued on to chemo I could hear the Boyds in the back seat. "Those Addis are shorter than me." "You should have bought the 32 inch Addis." "They're going to be too short to knit Hopeful." "You're going to have to exchange them, but you probably won't be able to until next week."

Boyd kept up this stream of smack until I was convinced I shouldn't even look at the Addis, I should just vacuum seal them in the hopes that it would prove I hadn't used them and try to exchange them at a later date.

Once we arrived at chemo a quick check of the Hopeful pattern (saved as a word document in my palm, I love my palm) confirmed that Hopeful actually required a 24 inch circular needle. So these needles will indeed work for the corset as well as Hopeful. That shut Boyd up. He had no further arguments against me. He could only stew as I happily knit my corset off his ugly points and onto my new smooth shiny Addi.

But Boyd had a few more surprises in store. Well, two to be exact.

Boyd had played in my knitting bag. I didn't take my huge well-stocked for any knitting need knitting bag. I took my tiny, cute knitting basket that holds just what I need for one project. Imagine my surprise when I found I no longer had scissors, or a tapestry needle in my knitting bag. Instead I had a pacifier, a block, and my entire collection of crochet needles. Alright odd, but not really destructive substitutions. Then I realized Boyd's final act of betrayal. I only had half a ball of yarn in my bag. My second ball of yarn was missing.

Let me explain the full scope of his betrayal. Chemo day is my day to knit. I take the children to my very kind friend (who is so getting some great yarn and a pair of addis for this). She keeps them for the afternoon. I then drive my Mother for chemo. While she talks to the nurses and volunteers and social workers I knit. I sit in a chair and knit uninterrupted for two, sometimes three hours. I don't have to get up. I don't have to get anyone a drink, or change a diaper. I don't have to do a darn thing but drive her, knit, and drive her home. In fact a very nice volunteer brings ME a cup of hot chocolate and a brownie. I have found a perk in the awfulness that is cancer and chemo.

So there I was on my one day to knit with only half a ball of yarn. Darn Boyd for his betrayal, and Darn knit picks for such tiny balls.

Yet all this really worked against him. Having all my crochet hooks allowed me to get the perfect size to use for my provisional cast on, instead of just using the one in the knitting bag that would have been too small. Since I had no scissors I had to borrow some from the nurses, they then came and admired my work. Hey, who doesn't want their stuff to be ohhed and ahhed over? Then finally having only a half a ball of yarn forced me to knit slowly. I took my time on the armhole. I counted stitches two and three times. I did my provisional cast on slowly. I took my time and got it right. I did knit all my yarn. But as soon as I put my knitting away the chemo machine beeped to signal that it had done it's job and it was time to take the i.v. out and go home.

So Boyd. You were a worthy opponent. But I think I have bested you. You have earned your place in the garage with my unusable stash, my tiny balls of left-over yarn that I can't bear to part with because I am a hoarder. You shall remain in the garage until the move. Then you shall go in the basement. Thus shall be your punishment until I forget what you have done to offend me. And thanks to this blog it shall be a very long time.