It has been a CRAZY, CRAZY 10 days. It all started two Saturdays ago with the arrival of Hubby’s niece and nephew. Like a moron, I agreed to an evening of babysitting and then a night out to the movies with pizza after. This would not have been a bad plan had it not been for the fact I was spending the week in medical interpreter training.
Yes, that’s right. I am such an overachiever that explaining birth control, sexually transmitted diseases, and breast-feeding in one language isn’t enough. No, I have to know how to do my job in English and Spanish. My employer is such an overachiever that they think they should send me to training to be able to do my job even better. The training is one of such mastery and achievement that not all the wisdom and knowledge within the training can be imparted in one day. No, it requires a full 40 hours of training.
To help in preserving my sanity, I pulled a skein of Regia Disco self-patterning yarn from the stash. The last thing I needed to worry about was losing one of my knitting needles, so I also decided to use the magic loop method of sock knitting. I did have to learn, after all.
I cast-on the sock on Monday morning. I sat knitting while we went over the mechanics of medical interpreting. This was more stressful than it might seem as the instructions are quite specific and the vocabulary quite precise and specialized. I knit and took notes, while sitting in a chair specifically designed to increase chiropractic business and permanent nerve damage. This was punctuated by the tropical conditions that without warning became arctic, thus preparing one at once for global warming and a coming ice age. I felt confident that I was thus equally prepared for medical interpreting in the jungles of South America or McMurdo Station, Antarctica.
By Tuesday afternoon, I had turned the heel and started the foot of the sock. By Wednesday afternoon, I had determined that something might possibly be wrong with the sock. The sock looked a little tight. The sock felt a little stiff. My left shoulder felt a little tight and I had this pain in my back that stretched from butt to neck.
Tired, I drove to pick-up the niece and nephew to take them to Borders and then to get them some ice cream. Believe me when I tell you that you have not lived until you have taken children not your own out in public. Because you are not their parents and doing something that they want to do, you are the best aunt in the whole wide world. At the same time, you have to think on your feet to keep things in the “fun” zone or it can go horribly wrong in a matter of seconds.
I had the foresight to limit options in the ice cream parlor to keep the younger kiddo from spazzing out at all the choices. I figured three was probably the limit when it came to choices. We all ate out ice cream and then went back to the grandparents. I then picked hubby up from class and made it home, only to pass out on the bed from exhaustion.
Thursday morning was not pretty. I knew I probably would not be able to knit a lot because my left shoulder did not seem to want to stop aching. Hubby applied a Ben Gay patch and I headed off to training unable to knit and smelling like I should be on the geriatric ward. What happened Thursday afternoon can only be described as a training ship hitting an iceberg without the ill fated lovers proclaiming unending love and sacrifice. Things got so bad that at one point I prayed that a rift in the space-time continuum would open underneath my chair a transport me to a beach in the Caribbean with plenty of umbrella drinks. Barring that, I prayed that someone would shoot me with a tranquilizer dart. Of course, I was forced to remain fully conscious until training broke for the day.
Then came the real fun for the day, I picked up the niece and nephew for a night out on the town. They got in the car and strapped themselves in to the back seat. Then the fun began. I just told myself that if I couldn’t see it in the rearview mirror, then it wasn’t important. I stopped and picked up Hubby, who did not share the same view. His official nickname is Mr. McBossypants.
We saw Kung Fu Panda and had pizza at one of my favorite places. The kids were so excited it was all they could do not to run around in circles screaming. For the most part, the kids were well behaved, the movie hilarious, and the pizza most excellent. Again, I passed out on the bed from exhaustion.
Friday morning, I finished the sock before lunch and put it in my bag without really inspecting it. Friday evening when I got home, I pulled the sock out of my bag. As I inspected the sock, I realized that it would be a do-over. While the sock was long enough for the average female foot, it was not wide enough. Not only was the sock not wide enough to fit the average female foot, but the sock was also not stretchy enough to fit the average female foot. This sock would hold water and serve as a sock shaped canteen. Apparently, all the tension had moved up my back, over my shoulder, down my arm and into the sock – poor thing. I am surprised that I didn’t bend the needles knitting it.
You can lie to yourself about how stressed out you are, but you can never lie to your knitting. You can lie to others about how stressed out you are, but your knitting will always rat you out.
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