Friday, July 31, 2009

Awards and Accidents...

Although living with chronic pain has meant reducing my working life at first to skeleton and then just some dusty ashes of itself, the good news is I am still adding awards to my CV.
In fact, the Longford Show recognised the merits of the work of all the clan - we managed to win 7 prizes between us all. (Although only some of us know how it feels to win first prize...) (The sad pride with which I say that shows just how reduced my life has become)

Breaking with tradition, I entered the category of six best decorated queen cakes...

which duly took the show by storm.

The Da's prize-winning eggs can be seen here in the centre, nestled on a plate of straw.

Unfortunately we had no entries in the Childern's section.

And none for the finest heifer either.

But to round the day off in style, I fulfilled a dream by getting to use a digger to fish ducks out of a tank. (Plastic ducks that is...)

Unlike all the savvy farmers and farmers' sons who got all the ducks out in seconds, I managed to mash the tank with the digger and break it, resulting in a lovely fountain-like sheet of water tumbling gaily out of it for the next while...


Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Battling with addiction

In my quest to make my life feel useful while coping with chronic pain I have become even more obsessed with knitting than I was before. (I know, I didn't think this was possible either.)
It has reached addiction levels at the moment. I seem to wake thinking of knitting and go to sleep thinking of it. In fact, there is a constant undercurrent of knitting-related thought babbling through my mind at most points during the day. I blame this on the mind-blowing quantities of painkiller cocktails I am on. Apart from minor facial paralysis and tremors, they are obviously causing knitting hysteria. This side-effect was not listed on the package. (Unlike death, rashes, and risk of suicide...bizaare I know - this drug may kill you, or cause you to do it yourself and save us the bother...)

Not helping is the fact that I wake in the morning to look at shelves of large quantities of yarn....

...and many knitted objects, mostly useless, scattered about the house...(although the banana and the human heart have been very useful...)

...and the fact that I seem to have set up two knitting groups.

Knitaholics Anonymous being the aptly named Carrick-on-Shannon support group...
(second sunday of the month, 1pm in the cineplex cafe)

...and Longford Knitwits being the not-quite-as-aptly named Longford group.

I have even used my own addiction to try and cure my father's addictions. Since the arrival of the men from sky with their box thingy that has billions of channels on it, the Da has remained glued to the couch like some sort of automaton. Except that he never moves.

I have left knitted messages for him.

And he has left his own messages back.

Alas, we are both resigned to our addictions. In fact happily ensconced in the wide and cosy bosom of them.

My father I fear will slowly go blind and turn to crumbling stone on the sofa.
Myself on the other hand, I will wear out my fingers and end up with frayed arms, babbling in some half knit language, while fidgeting wildly...

knit one, purl twenty seven, knit two, purl a million, knit.....

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Green is...

the colour of the jumper I finally finished knitting...

the colour of the freshly picked dazzling peas and broad beans...

almost the colour of the giant common frog hopping through the garden, bemusing the cats.