The Accidental Hermit

I had a family filled week. Two trips to visit each of my grandmothers, a chill afternoon with my godmother, a concert with mom, and a family brunch. Putting it all in one sentence, let alone one week, seems a bit much. Really, it wasn't. My grandfather called to ask me to help thread a needle, which was charming. Thankfully, it was just the needle and not the machine that needed to be threaded. That's given me trouble ever since I learned to thread a reel to reel deck (very similar, yet different. Cissy Spacek in Coal Miner's Daughter threads her tape deck like a sewing machine. That's why she can't get it to work.). After performing that vital task on the first try, I was fed lunch and given a non-tonic drink.

The concert was interesting. My mother, of her own volition, bought tickets to go to Ravinia. Amazing considering that she's reacted as though I'd suggested a picnic at Chernobyl when I'd suggested it previous summers. The concert was a performance of Abduction from the Seraglio. I like Mozart, but I've only enjoyed one of the four operas of his that I've attended. Well, I wouldn't say that I didn't enjoy this one, exactly: I had to struggle to stay awake. It was all very lovely, with an excellent bass and Michael York narrating. We ended up leaving at intermission. Maybe I've become more cynical, but I never used to do that until two years ago. I would tough it out through the most dreadful, self-indulgent plays, pure shit really, because I optimistically believed they could somehow redeem themselves in the second act. No more. I'll get another stab at Seraglio this spring at the Lyric. I expect the bracing cold of the auditorium will keep me awake.

After borrowing my mother's swift (under her supervision), I came home to find a package with the yarn that I'd hoped to wind waiting on my front step. Sigh. That $200 ball winder at the old job really spoiled me. Now, if I want to wind something and can't wait until the next trip to Mom's, I have to lay the skein out around my knees and wind it into a ball by hand. Depending upon the size of the skein, this can take the better part of an hour. Well, should take the better part of an hour. Often, when I am in the home stretch, I mess it up and it tangles into a horrible knot, as if I'd thought, "I'd really like to spend the next hour untangling this. I enjoy knots, especially friction knots in wool". The yarn in question was four skeins (at two hundred meters each) of Araucania Nature Wool, in all its knotty glory. I ordered it for a February Lady Sweater, which is going through Ravelry like wildfire. I know that I said that I didn't need any more yarn. I don't. It was a moment of weakness, but it was on sale. Sale.

I went to the local craft store this Sunday, armed with a 25% off coupon and ready to snap up some guilty pleasure cheap yarn. I'd scouted it out on Ravelry and found a striped cardigan that I liked made up in that yarn. I've been burned with colors over the internet before, but I'm really glad that I went to see this in person. It looked like a nice berry and brown combination in the photos, but in person it was taupe and that godawful Victorian coal dye mauve. Mauve and I don't mix. So, I went on a stash enhancing expedition and came home empty handed. Because I don't need more yarn.

Just the other day, I was feeling lonely and a little sorry for myself. Forgotten, even. Well, it's easy to forget the person who rarely leaves the house, calls, or emails, isn't it? Then today, I got a slew of emails and several phone calls. Except I turned the ringer off on my phone so that I could have a long, peaceful soak in the tub and forgot to turn it back on. So, Lisa, Binks, and friends, I'm sorry I missed your calls. I'm not holed up in my cave in a misanthropic funk. Please don't take it personally. Or impersonally.