It’s was a quiet day here at the homestead.
I was so proud of my last blog that I gave myself a day off to knit…I finished a project (lookie lookie, they’re done…)
and then promptly cast on two more (I never did make up my mind) for a total of four, and then bought enough yarn for six more. Isn’t that some sort of sin against the math gods? Which got me thinking to what a rotten person I am all around—it’s time for a full confession, so you know what a sewer of moral rot lurks here in this deceptively titled blog…and then you can decide whether to hang out and decay in decadence with me or haul arse for someone of a more decided moral purity.
Here we go—my list of recent sins, in no particular order:
Bless me Goddess, for I have sinned. My last confession was the last time I had a complete thought which was sometime around 1992, before my oldest was born, and I sincerely regret all the things I’ve done but not enough to change.
- Forgive me, I’m not a vegetarian. I should be. I knit, I teach English, I love children and small animals, but I grew up on top ramen and meat was a blessing, and dammit, I don’t care if it was my pet rabbit, it was the best thing I’d eaten in a month. If fluffy has to die, well, that’s the way God intended. Amen.
- Forgive me, I’m fat. I know, I know, the most heinous sin in American society and I practice it in spades…I was getting thinner. And then I got pregnant again. And again. We’ll work it out, we’ll lose it again (because every time mom gains five pounds the kids gain three) but for this summer we’re not exactly svelte and fit. Sue me, the devil really is made of chocolate ice cream.
- Forgive me, I still like acrylic yarn. I’m on my way to a true natural fiber yarn snobbery, but my son’s binkit was acrylic, and although dead dinosaurs seem to be taking his punishment with aplomb, I’m just not sure if the gentle sheep or its fur is ready for the destruction a two year old can hand out. I’m so sorry—I just don’t trust sheep, although they, along with pet rabbits, can be very tasty.
- Forgive me, I don’t take public transportation. I live in Northern California—once, long ago, before kids, I tried to take a bus from Sacramento to Loomis to spend the day with my parents and my spouse (who was working on our car at my parents house) and the 20 mile distance took 3 ½ hours. This was before I knit—I will never get that 3 ½ hours back.
- Forgive me, sometimes the toddler dumps his diaper in the recycle bin. We try to move it when he’s not looking, but sometimes the little goober is hecka fast.
- Forgive me, I kicked our cats outside (because they wouldn’t stop crapping on the floor) and now they’re feral. They’re fixed, they have their shots, but they hate me and mine like the plague. Or rather like a plague they can crap on, because the cat boxes in the garage are perennially full. We have one indoor kitty who loves me but hates the littlest ones—he goes outside to escape them, but I’m confident that if he lives long enough to see the baby turn three, he’ll come back in.
- Forgive me, I forgot to buy oranges for a month. Since I buy bananas and melons and other fruit and veggies this normally would not be a sin, but we have a guinea pig and my daughter kept telling me he was getting scruffy looking but then she brought him out today and apparently THIS is what a guinea pig looks like when it hasn’t had oranges in a month. This is one sin I’m hell bent on rectifying, because, although I know part of it is the heat, it breaks my heart to see the pig look this sad…we’ll nurse him back to health, I swear—for one thing, there’s just not enough meat on him to make eating him worth our while.