To repeat: I’m OK. And I had a wee adventure.
So, I got up, sluiced off, ate a little breakfast, went over to Racetrac to tank Lorelai and to get a mug of hot chocolate. While driving over there, and while tanking the car, I noticed that my left upper arm was tender. Not a sharp, stabbing pain, just something not-right. And I had had some recent heart-flutteriness at a time when I was not kissing a certain jolly old elf. And my fingers have been tingly a little more often than usual. [For years, they have wanted to go to sleep if I do a lot of needlework before I eat breakfast, especially if my hands are above heart-level; once I refuel, they’re fine.]
Since I was driving in to work, I decided to take a little detour by my PCP’s office and ask for a blood pressure check. When her nurse was weighing me [that number almost gave me heart failure, in and of itself], my doctor asked what was up, and when I told her the symptoms she said, “Let’s check you in and run a quick EKG, just to be on the safe side.” Which they did.
Blood pressure is normal [well, 128/80 is high for me, but I was feeling a little anxious]. EKG is stellar as always. No headaches, chest tightness, shortness of breath. Could be stress. Could be I’m holding my arm differently when I drive. Could be the last 5 pounds. Am going to make a couple of infinitesimal changes in my diet that, over time, should increase my already good general level of health.
Today I am taking my hour of comp time for the hour that I worked last Thursday after everybody else had gone home. I got my nails done last night. There will be knitting, but I may be AWOL for much of Knit Night. Between his schedule and mine, there are now only two nights a week when NintendoMan and I can see one another. I will not give up my chick time, because I need to spend time in the company of other knitters, particularly those as nice as my Knit Night friends. I will have my cake, and I will eat it, too, but it may lean more toward petits fours than cupcakes!
He has a job. He’s good at it. He loves what he does. We have both been praying for his bookings to pick up rapidly after the Christmas rush. [This is normally a relatively slow period for him.] I would have to be an ingrate and a nincompoop to complain because he’s working several nights a week. I like to think that I am neither.
I would show you the first sleeve for Celeste’s sweater, but at the moment it resembles nothing so much as an item suitable for warming the second brain of one of the Seven Dwarves. And this is, for the most part, a squeaky-clean blog. So, no visual until there is a second sleeve, and a sweater body connecting them. I have about 15% of the second sleeve done. And no idea whatsoever what the sweater body should look like.
A recent exchange:
HIM: I will have to call you later, Drama is brewing and I am in the middle of it.
ME: instant, or decaf?
ME: oh, my favorite flavor
Well, maybe not my favorite flavor (that would be chocolate). Silly me, I thought that drama only brewed in families with herds and flocks of daughters. In our house, when the girls were teenagers and the moon was full, it was triple-strength espresso with dynamite sprinkled on top, instead of cinnamon.
One final random factoid. That little guy apparently shared the shower with me yesterday. [Click to embiggen; he had fangs as well as a stinger! We will call him Count Waspula.] I discovered him carefully traversing the steamy ceiling, almost visibly shaking the droplets off his tiny feet. It slowed him down enough that I was able to whack him with the flyswatter. Good thing I don’t wear my glasses in the shower; I’d have had a hissyfit of major proportions.
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!