Rose Colored Glasses

I would like for everyone to know that, in spite of pulling a tushy muscle doing the workout this afternoon, I made Cornish hen for dinner. I also made roasted zucchini and tomato which I garnished with lots of freshly grated Parmesan because everyone knows that anything becomes edible once you cover it in cheese. Even vegetables.

A pulled tushy muscle has nothing whatsoever to do with cooking dinner, even if it's Cornish hen. But I wanted to mention both things and this seemed like a handy way to kill two birds with one stone. (the bird I ate for dinner had already shuffled off this mortal coil so I didn't have to do anything in the killing category there) For that matter, cooking dinner has nothing to do with knitting (the alleged theme of this blog) but I've never made Cornish hen before and wanted to brag about it.

We won't even go into how a Cornish hen is really nothing more than a tiny chicken and not all that complicated if you consider the fact that I've cooked about eight thousand chickens over the years...

There. Now that I have that out of my system, I can talk about the knitting. When last we left our intrepid Sheepie, she was basking in the glow of about having figured out Magic Loop and ignoring the fact that there is really nothing much to figure out there. It's not the most fun way to knit, although a marked improvement over dealing with two circs and the wrangling of danglies that requires. My hands still hurt after I knit for a while, another fact that I am ignoring because lots of things seem to be hurting my hands lately. We don't want to contemplate the reason for this and are attributing it to poor form combined with over use of the digits.

I am willing to accept the what looks like early onset menopause. I live with the fact that I have measurable decreases in bone density. I shall not quibble with the approach of my mid-forties. But I don't have to acknowledge the inevitable arrival of arthritis if I don't want to. Until they can show me actual test results, I don't have to worry about it.

And I just don't take the tests anymore...

I see naught but perfectly roasted game hens and Magically Looping things that may or may not be sleeves. That's it.

And where some might see an interfering feline, I have a different view of things.

I prefer to think of him as my temperamental and somewhat overly proprietary set designer.

Sure, it's a drag not being able to tear down the set so I can sit on the couch to enjoy some dinner and television. But that's the price you pay for good help these days. He decides when the strings and sticks can be put away and woe be to she who tries to remove them before he is ready to let them go. In this case, "woe" can be defined as a vicious tug-o-war with the knitting and no one really wants that.

We'll just change our perspective a bit and say we have a Stalwart Guardian Of The Stitches. That looks much better to me...

SA