I Feel So Close To You...

Really. When you think about it, we've been through alot together. There was the disastrous sweater experiment back in December right after I started this blog. We've suffered through the constipated cat and the ministrations of my not-so-gentle dentist. Then there was the Great Bug Invasion. Oh, and lest we forget, the Monkey Pox debacle last May was quite the bonding experience. I often reflect upon the good times we all had during that little fever induced nightmare.

With all that we've been through, I feel pretty comfortable sharing the next saga. But, let's just keep this between us, 'kay? One hates to draw attention and all...

You see, I gots me this mole. Actually, I have several. My whole family is all about the moles. We're lousy with them. Rarely is there a gathering of two or more genetically connected Sheep but what we must compare our skin growths and the degree to which they threaten our continued existence on this planet. Today, I decided to make the Middle Aged Mole Patrol a part of my doctor's appointment. This is a fun-filled event where we get to decide which is a harmless little addition to my skin and which is a potential death threat. Happy day for The Sheep: only one was deemed worthy of biopsy.

But the one that I really wanted dealt with is the one on my cheek. Not that cheek, silly! My face!!! Sheesh. Like I'd even be able to see one on my other cheek. Think, people, think!!

Anyhoo...the one on my face is the one that bugs me. To the rest of the world, I'm sure that it is only moderately noticeable. In my mind, though, it has grown to epic proportions. I sometimes feel that it would be highly appropriate to just paint a face on it and pretend that I am one of conjoined twins. Or that I'm growing a cheek-eyeball. Or that it's a handy shelf for storing snacks in between noshes.

My doctor, who has been my primary care physician for years now, is highly tolerant of my ramblings and was able to sit through my lengthy dissertation on my mole while still gleaning the appropriate details. We have come to a decision and have made the appointment with the plastic surgeon.

Now, I toyed with the idea of telling you that this was a medical decision. While it sometimes gets a little irritated, it has been determined that Mr. Mole is no real threat to my general well-being at this time.

I'd also like to say that I am not a vain person and that this has been a heart-rending decision. Frankly, I am concerned with my appearance. While I don't envision endless series of Botox injections or having three layers of my face sanded off in the near future, I do think about how I look and do make an effort before heading out to the big wide world. Deep down, I think most people do. The Doc and I agree that, if this is something that is bothering me, then it needs to go. Plastic surgeon...here I come!!! I feel just like an aging diva! Fortunately, my appointment isn't until December so I have plenty of time to purchase the requisite gi-normous sunglasses and headscarf with which to conceal my identity from the paparazzi.

'Cuz, you know, when you want plastic surgery, you're gonna scoot right up to Portland, Maine. Where else might one go, after all?

And yet I remain humble, despite my foray into the world of embarrassingly vain actions. After reading some of Trek's recent posts on the joys of dishcloths, I found myself quite taken with the idea of producing some of these little buggers as holiday gifts. I mean, who wouldn't like the gift of more housework under the tree? And so, I present to you The Octagonal Swirl Dishcloth!

In two sizes, no less!!!

The white is made with Peaches 'n Cream and the blue is crafted from Sirdar Tropicana Cotton Effect. The difference in size is due to the yarn. The Sirdar is a DK and knit up on size 4s. While I like the look of the blue, I found the Peaches 'n Cream to be far easier with which to knit and less rough on the old hooves. I have an abundance of both yarns, so I'll probably continue to alternate. I'm having some trouble linking to the pattern, but as soon as I figure it out I'll pop up a link in case you are suddenly overcome with the need to produce octagonal dishcloths.

While mine don't chat engagingly to one another on the blog as Trek's do, I still find them charming. They are reminiscent of those that I inherited from my grandmother back in the day. I'll probably keep a few for myself. Even if they don't carry on witty conversations. I tried to make them talk. I begged, I cajoled, I threatened, I asked trick questions...all to no avail.

The dishcloths are apparently as diva-like as their maker.

SA