Uncle Leona's Day Camp

Let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

Yes, I have been lax. I could attribute that to the holidays, but that's the coward's way out. Granted, cowardice is one of my finest attributes, but it's not going to stop me now. I just poured myself a cup of coffee and put on a warm pair of sweats...here we go!

Remember when I said I was started a treadmill regimen? It was going awesomely. I was walking and jogging intermittently for no more than 30 minutes every other day, the heart and lungs seemed to be liking it, and my feet (in their beyond comfortable new pair of shoes) were not complaining at all.

After 8 days, though, my left knee had something it wanted to say. And I don't think it was safe for delicate ears.

OK, I'm a doctor. I know when I think I pushed something a little too far. So, what do I do? Do I call the orthopedist? Hell, no! I do what they would have told me to anyhow: I pulled out the prescription strength Motrins from the top of the refrigerator, took them religiously three times a day, iced down the knee frequently, and rested.

OK, I rested after dealing with the week before Thanksgiving mob scene at the office and the day after Thanksgiving mob scene at the office. I was on call--no rest for the wicked.

When the pain started waking me up at night that weekend, it was time to see the pros. I called first thing Monday morning, and they got me in before I saw any patients. The good doctor examined me, did x-rays, and pronounced me overused. He gave me a different anti-inflammatory and ordered an MRI for Friday...to make sure I didn't tear a meniscus. He also set me up with a knee immobilizer.

Nothing more fun than trying to work when your leg sticks out straight ahead every time you try to sit down. It was as if my leg were on Viagra.

Fast forward to Friday. I still hurt. A lot. I get the MRI. After about 45 minutes of zoning out in the tube, the tech comes in and announces:

"You have a fracture."

Turns out exercise can kill you. Or at least break you. I wound up with a transverse stress fracture in my proximal tibia. It was too small to show up on the plain films. The doc initially stated that I would be stuck in the knee erection device for 6 weeks; he also wasn't happy that I didn't plan on missing any work. Two weeks later, though, I was feeling little if any pain at my follow up check. He patted me on the head and said I could get back to the treadmill in 6 weeks (walking) and could start jogging again in February.

Stitches West is in mid-February. I'll be damned if I start jogging before then. I don't think the passenger in the seat in front of me on the plane will be happy with Viagra leg jamming them in the kidneys.

So, needless to say, I got some knitting done. My sister-in-law got a sweater, my niece some lovely gloves, and my nephew a hat. I also got to work on the cabled pullover (that is now almost one sleeve done into Sleeve Purgatory):

If I keep up with this, I should have it done by the end of the weekend. That is, if I don't get further derailed by the "fun" project:

This is the Polar Chullo, from Twist Collective online. I found it by accident while I was looking for other Christmas stuff to knit. It's a fair isle on size 1's.

Ugh.

The applied I-cord is with size 0's.

Double ugh.

But it looks really cool. The Jamieson's Shetland is great stuff to work with. I'm almost getting inspired to get started on the Alice Starmore kit that is sitting on top of Ikealand collecting dust, but I promised myself that the inside of Ikealand needed to be emptied out first. There's more worsted that needs to be used up. I have some wonderful variegated stuff that has to go. I started with just trying a simple pullover, but the pooling was pissing me off.

That's what I get for trying to start up something on narcotics. I knew I'd hate the pooling, but my brain just didn't quite get it.

So, I did a little testing...

I think I like it, but I'm not sure yet. Gotta finish up the cables first.

Oh, yes, and then there's Buster. Such an innocent little kitty.

Who is costing me a freakin' arm and leg...fleas, worms, vaccines, checkups. Oh, but he is such a sweet boy. Look how nice he helped with the tree:

He was in it before I had two sections put together. Grady has never touched the tree. When Buster is in it, he'll stand nearby, look up, and look like he's thinking,

"Really????"

Ah, the holidays.

Oh, and one more thing. I have to put out an endorsement for one of the funniest games my family has played in ages. If you want to laugh until you cry...a lot...you owe it to yourself to play Life's a Pitch. In a nutshell, you have several "item" cards in your hand. A situation card is played, such as "This would be sung about in a country song." Then, you have to play a card from your hand and "pitch" it as to why it is the most appropriate match to the situation. I won a hand by explaining why Merle Haggard used to sing about gas-powered electric generators. Mom, my brother, my nephew, and I were dying when my nephew made the first pitch of the game, and it just didn't stop. I think it helps that I come from a long family of BS-ers.