Marion's Miscellaneous Musings

I refuse to accept the fact that I am old.

Last weekend I spent all day learning to tat. It looks easy. You just hold one hand still and move the other hand about, creating knots. The videos on youtube make it look simple and easy. In a 2 minute video, 5 perfect knots and 4 perfect picots were created. The picots were all the same size. The thread behaved. The knot transfer was effortless. I suspect she could have gone faster if she wasn't demonstrating.

I created a two ring thing, in which there were 48 knots and 6 picots. Not only were the picots all different sizes, the knots were different sizes and the two rings, which had the same number of stitches, were different sizes. The thread continually twisted and slipped off the fingers. Elapsed time, which should have been 50 minutes, was actually 4 hours. That does not include the lunch break or chocolate break.

I spent the rest of the day knitting, that is, doing something at which I was competent.

Signs of old age include: talking about all your illnesses, getting advice from other people suffering the same or sort of the same thing because it is free, and not being able to learn anything new fast and reminiscing about high points in your personal history.

When I hit 50, I decided I could not even pretend I was young anymore, but I could pull rank. "This was before your time." "This happened before you were born." This happens so often in our household that the exchange student is absolutely thrilled when something occurred AFTER he was born. The nice things about exchange students is that, next year, you can tell the same stories all over and they haven't heard them before!

Ask me, I will tell you all about my gallbladder operation and thyroid disease and back problems.

In about a month, my youngest siblings hit 50.

I am going to go do something I can do.