My weekend was eh.
Don’t get me wrong, it has some really good moments – mainly good food moments, but otherwise – not so good. You see, Summer is my LEAST favorite season. I’ve never liked it. Never. Goes back to being bored and waiting desperately for school. I also hate to be hot – at least in the buggy, muggy Mid-Atlantic kind of hot (drop me in a desert and I’m in heaven). Not that it was hot this weekend – but you know what I’m talking about. Also, I hate Summer because I become a Tennis/Pool widow. Some women lament football season. CursingMama competes with a bike. For me, it’s tennis.
Part of me loves Summer in that G can be doing what he loves – he loves Tennis and he loves the sun. And because of the sad state of his body, he always has the feeling that this is the LAST SUMMER he’ll be able to do what he loves. I would NEVER want to be the kind of person that keeps him from what he loves. NEVER.
But I get lonely. I’m by myself pretty much the entire week. In my little office working. Out taking pictures. Knitting. Don’t get me wrong. I LIKE to be alone. But I can’t wait for G to get home from work. Even just to have him in the house. And when Summer comes, it’s like I’m alone all week, and then I’m alone all weekend.
So, what better to celebrate than to throw a little tantrum on the first official weekend of Summer? There were tears, there were recrimations, there were apologies. I was so pissed off at myself, really, that I scrubbed the stove top (it was disgusting), cleaned the microwave (not as disgusting as the stove top, but close), mopped and swept the kitchen floor (sticky AND disgusting), mopped and swept two of the three bathroom floors (more dusty than anything else.) Who says mental anguish can’t be good for the soul? Or at least the house?
The rest of the day I spent in bed, mad that the TV in the living room was taping FUCKING TENNIS and watched seven consecutive hours of Band of Brothers. It was pretty good and I knit past two decrease sections on Clap-o-TEE. There was no way I wasn’t going to finish it this weekend.
Georgie redeemed himself by making me the best lamb chops either of us have ever had. He was SO proud of himself all weekend! They were amazing really – all he did was marinate them in Balsamic Vinegar and some meat rub and throw them on the bbq. He grilled them to perfection.
Then we watched some 24 (we finished the season – more on that tomorrow) and I started dropping stitches on the Clap. GASP! Something went really wrong somewhere on one of the dropped stitches. Suffice it to say the next morning (I could barely sleep thinking about it) I was up at 7AM ripping out all that I had knit the day before (remember 7 hours in front of the TV!) and then some. Can you say broken heart? I got it all out and managed to knit it all back the same day. How come even though you’re decreasing stitches, the end doesn’t seem to go any faster than the any other part of the project? I finished it last night (well, I need to weave in the ends and drop a few more stitches) watching Empire Falls at around 2AM. It looks good – pictures later.
I also knit this:
Twice.
The first time, it was looking pretty good and I was getting to a really crucial part when I decided to check for size. Too small. There were also a couple areas that could’ve used some improvement, so I ripped it all out and started over. I’m happier with it now, so that’s good, but my whole weekend started to feel like Groundhog Day. Destined to knit the same shit over and over.
I’m just glad it’s over.
PS – Donna asked if I jumped in the 50 degree pool I posted a picture of on Friday. No, Donna, I don’t do 50 degrees, but the pool was the highlight of the weekend. It was funny as shit to hear people jump in and immediately start screaming about the cold. I’m not kidding. And you know a pool is cold when the kids can’t handle it. Georgie said it was crazy cold (and this is a guy that swims in the Atlantic Ocean in October without a wet suit). Even he was questioning his sanity.
