I overdid it yesterday. I paid for it. Talked to the surgeon’s nurse. Don’t want to go back in this time around, so I’m trying to take it easier today, but it’s hard to stay down.
While I was knitting away in the hospital, I asked someone their favorite color. They quite liked the one I was working with, but it was already earmarked and I didn’t have enough of it for two, so I was thinking, not a problem. I’ll just go dye this lovely white that’s in my stash when I get home.
Oh. Wait. Not supposed to lift anything over 10 pounds for six weeks, and how heavy is that dyepot? Right. Purlescence may just have to put up with me buying yarn. I think they can manage that.
So I’ve been finishing up the pink alpaca project at hand, alternating with lying down reading a good book Robin sent me called “The Dog Who Wouldn’t Be.” As in, he wouldn’t act like a normal dog: he could climb up and down ladders, trees (down: not so much), walk along six-foot-high fencelines. Marley Fowat is the author, it was originally published in 1957, and I wonder if that’s where the famous dog Marley got his name.
My favorite part is when someone from New York, whose train was just about to leave, got told by the local yokels there on the plains in Saskatoon that Mutt was a Prince Albert Retriever (there was no such thing) and the finest hunting dog on the planet.
He bet them $100 Mutt was not.
It was July, not hunting season at all, but local dignity must be maintained. So the men showed up hoping for a demonstration.
Mutt’s owner got out his rifle. In the middle of downtown. Mutt was immediately interested but confused because… Summertime? Here? And the guy shot off his unloaded gun, declaring, “Bang Bang. Go get’em, Mutt!”
The dog took off like a shot, nearly mowing two women down. Came back very soon after with a perfect ruffed grouse in his mouth.
The men were going wh a a a …. Then one noticed it was stuffed. Moments later, the owner of a store down the street came running in, yelling about the dog stealing the stuffed grouse they kept on display in their shop’s window.
Hey. Owner uses gun, owner wants bird, owner gets bird, right?
The man’s son, writing this memoir years later, said that that story made national Canadian news.
And it’s helped me take it easy like I needed to. I’m afraid of letting it end. So I’m up for just a few to go blog.