Wednesday, August 31, 2005

you know you want it, grandma
of late, those dear to me have expressed concern that i may be growing old before my time. we're not talking about progeria, or anything life-threatening, but rather my behavior and hobbies...

Exhibits A.1-5


my (minor) obsession with knitting and crocheting. top to bottom: scarf in progress for T's brother; T's scarf (my 1st project!); the Bean's hat; afghan; baby sweater in progress.

Exhibit B

my old lady shopping cart

Exhibit C

the step stool i have had to use to get into bed after a couple of particularly trying workouts at the gym. (damn those squats!)

Exhibit D

the slip i have taken to wearing under two of my quasi-transparent skirts. (this is not a picture of me, fyi).

Exhibit E

i am a cat lady. in that i own one obese cat. his name is Winston.**

Exhibit F

i dream of this nightly. lust after it, even...

yes, it seems that i am embracing my inner octogenarian. so much so that T offered to pick me up some Geritol on his last drugstore run. i disagree that knitting is for old folks exclusively, but, recently, when i realized that my grandma was the only one i could call with a knitting "issue"* that arose, i understood from whence the stereotype springs.
that's why instead of going all Cocoon, and youngifying myself, i've decided to get everyone else around me to be old! for example:

  • i now try to get T to use the shopping cart as often as possible (so far this attempt has failed, yet i press on.)
  • i have started a knitting/crocheting club for people my age. (a/k/a The Coolest Knitting and Crocheting Club in Town.)
  • i am encouraging people to adopt cats. (particularly my mom's orang cat Jack. he comes with a stipend and is available on a trial basis!)
  • slips are my new go-to gift for all gift-giving occasions.

and that's just the beginning. they can't stop me, they can only hope to contain me.



* i counted all my stitches wrong and did not know what to do. the solution, sadly, was to start over.
** named after a cigarette brand (taste good, like a cigarette should), not a Briton.