Wake Me When It's Over

I've come down with a little something. It's not a cold or the flu. It's much worse. I've got Knitter's Ennui. I got it bad and that aint good. I think I just burnt myself out with a bazillion projects on the needles. One of which was the Erte Cloche pictured above. I knit it up in black KnitPicks Essential sock yarn with a little KnitPicks Sock Landscape in a contrast color. I'm pleased with how it came out, but I am having some floppy brim issues. I'm thinking of inserting a thin wire in the outer edge, but we'll see.

Or maybe it all started with Jury Duty. Normally I would look forward to a little time away from the house, but this was the equivalent of a five hour trip to the principal's office. First I had the difficult task of figuring out what knitting to bring and then making sure everything was on bamboo or plastic needles that wouldn't set off the metal detectors. After all my care and concern I was waved through security with barely a glance. We were quickly given multiple directions to the same jury holding room, which I think may be their ingenious way of weeding out bad prospects. We all scattered like hamsters in a maze and you know if you're too stupid to find your way to the correct room, they don't want you sitting on a jury anyway.

I was so busy watching instructional videos and waiting for orders that I found it impossible to concentrate on my knitting. I was trying some cablework for a cardigan and I was so afraid I'd be sent to the courtroom mid-row and lose my place on the chart, that I just couldn't do it. Fortunately they had a large bookshelf full of magazines, so I finally got to catch up with Kenny & Renee. I secretly love to read celebrity gossip rags, but there's a celebrity that lives part time in our area and once in a while I see her in the grocery store. It's important to protect her identity, so we'll call her, Sloopy Snolburg. Anyways, I live in fear that I'll be standing in the grocery line, discreetly slipping a copy of Star Magazine into my cart only to turn and find Sloopy behind me in line, glaring at me in disgust from behind her little tinted spectacles.

I was finally brought into one of the courtrooms, but my number wasn't called which was Very fortunate because as soon as I walked in there I broke out in a cold sweat and was suddenly overcome with the fear that I'd developed some kind of judicial Tourette's Syndrome. You know where I suddenly jump up and shout, "It was me! I did it! Whatever it is. I'm GUILTY!" Here's my little internal monologue as the judge was instructing us...

"Is the judge staring at me?
He is, he's staring right at me.
Why is he staring at me like that?
Oh, God. I'm not blinking.
Only guilty people don't blink. I have to blink,
but now I look like I'm thinking about blinking.
Why is he still talking straight to me?
Try and look attentive, not psycho.
Attentive not psycho."

and so on until they finally dismissed me. I can't imagine why.

Of course if they had clapped me in irons and put me on trial I would have the perfect defense. Remember the Karabela crocheted victorian shawl pattern? The one I fell in love with, even though I haven't crocheted in years and it's all done in barely there lace weight yarn? I figure my attorney could just whip that out as exhibit A, along with 2,000 yards of knotted, tear stained alpaca and announce to the jury that his client is clearly insane because she thought she could not only complete this project, but find someplace to wear it. Maybe grocery shopping with Sloopy?