Do you think the knit-mobile could be a Roadster? And it could shoot yarn and needles out the back into which the villain in pursuit would become entangled, kind of like an oil slick, but with yarn -- just the cheap stuff, you know...
The Commissioner (of course, it's Wendy!) has kindly provided a knit-signal beacon with which to call the posse. Mine's a mostly virtual knit posse without which, truthfully, I mostly likely would have gone mad these past few weeks... or gone mad sooner... or madder later... It has been a very welcome diversion and distraction to read blogs and it's been good for me to concentrate and focus on writing my blog. I'm sometimes worn out and unable to put two thoughts together (as in responding to all the lovely comments, for instance).
I declare, here and now, that I will not be held accountable for anything I may or may not have done, in both real and virtual worlds, these past three weeks, and might well extend the declaration to cover the next week or so because the stress has been at times nearly unbearable and made for some terrifying moments. The dial on the stress-o-meter isn't just going to go from red to green overnight. I've found that I can laugh at something that's funny and cry over something heartbreakingly sad and freeze in terror at an unthinkable thought and go numb with would-have/could-have/should-haves and ifs -- all at the very same time. It makes for a mess and I might even have exhibited inappropriate behavior at times (yes, dears, mild-mannered, even-tempered, mid-western moi) -- usually brief, then the emotions sort themselves out and I return to doing my best to keep it all together, to be strong.
Anyway, calling on the posse today, sending out an S.O.S. You know what to do! Kiss someone Irish and give 'em an extra peck with a thought for my bro, hm? I hope with all my heart that after surgery today, the very worst will be behind him.
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Happy Birthday, Michael.
I'm wearing my lucky green socks for you today!
XO, see you soon.