The Truth Hurts

Your humble Sheep is rather good at denial. I've elevated it to an art form. I am the one who can cheerfully maneuver around the proverbial elephant in the room without missing a step. Give me a situation that is unpleasant or unwanted and I will ignore it until it is impossible to do so for another minute. From bad job situations to haircuts gone awry, I've smiled the blissful "this is just not happening" smile through all of them.

But sometimes, you have to face things. Some truths are just bound and determined to slap you upside the head repeatedly until you give in and admit that they exist. I've taken a couple of truth-hits over the last twenty-four hours and, while I will be the better for acknowledging them, I have to say that denial was a much more pleasant state.

Stupid truth.

Painful Truth The First: Two weeks away from the bike, weights and step machine make for a difficult Monday workout.

I have a few rules around the workouts. Odd though they may be, they work for me. One of these rules is that I don't try to exercise while I'm sick. There is some wiggle room here, but, in general, if I'm not feeling well then I take that as a sign from the body that it needs a break. The week before school vacation I had the Squirrel Pox. There were no workouts. Another rule is that school vacations are also workout-free. I can't exactly apply this to the summer vacation. That's a bit of a lengthy stretch. But the random week that pops up here and there throughout the school year is a freebie. And I get to eat a lot of chocolate. I like those vacation breaks. But when you combine the sick break with the school break then you get two weeks off from exercising. Today's return to the routine was horrific. It felt endless. There was a creaking sound that I fear may have come from my knees. I may have actually been sweating chocolate and Mountain Dew as this has comprised much of my diet over the last week or so. I'm sure that it will get better. But, for the moment, I am full of the aches and the pains and wishing that toning and aerobicizing came in pill form.

Painful Truth The Second: The Sweater Curse Continues.

I had to come to a harsh realization last night. One that I have really been aware of for some time now. I just didn't want to admit it. I've been knitting this sweater. I have hummed along with few errors and had naught but the seaming left to complete. This would have been the first sweater successfully completed since starting the blog and was to have broken what I have come to think of as the Blog Induced Sweater Curse. (pre-blog it seems that I was perfectly capable of knitting sweaters...not so much lately) But every time I knit on this thing, I get hives. Not metaphorical hives referenced in a joking manner to illustrated a high degree of stress. Real hives. On my forehead or upper lip. I can ignore it no longer. I am having a reaction to the wool. I will admit that my choice of yarn for this project was a poor one. I spun this Lincoln Longwool a couple of summers ago with no problem and have used it before without getting all puffy. It is fairly scratchy, but it was what I had on hand in an amount that would work for the project so I figured I'd give it a go.

But I had to finally give in last night despite having made it nearly to the finish line. If I can't even knit this thing, how on earth am I ever going to be able to wear it??? The time has come to step out of the darkness of denial and into the harsh light of truth: the sweater is a bust. I give up. The white flag is waving and I'm back to knitting on the sock.

I'm not giving up entirely, though. There are a few new yarns nestled in various corners of The Sheep household these days and I think that I can still pull off a sweater. This curse will be broken and there will be a picture of a sweater in the sidebar of this blog or I will die trying! (overly dramatic, perhaps...but I need to work up a bit of a frenzy here if I'm gonna get my sweater groove on.) It just won't be the scratchy, hive inducing Boxy Jacket.

The truth may hurt, but your sweater shouldn't.

SA