The Last Lap

Years ago (sadly many years to the point that I should be too ashamed to even mention it), I was a runner. I'm fatally slow, totally look like an ostrich on acid when I run, and have no sense of balance. But...what I do have is these random surges of determination. When they're gone, I'm totally useless - but when they are here (insert a romantic breeze with chariots of fire music and, maybe a clown) I can outlast many discomforts. The long haul is what I am good for. Someone who casually compensates for lack of talent, know-how, and reasonable expertise with just plain being too damn stubborn to quit. You want me around when all is truly lost and hopelessness prevails. That way, you have someone to take it out on (goofy smiles, I find, make people want to punch you.

Last night I was, obviously, totally challenged in the mom dept. just to arrange costumes, get the outings done, and pull off a treasure hunt, and eat too much candy to work on poor thing 2's coat. But this morning, I burned to start piecing it together so badly that I let myfirst cuppa go cold getting all the necessities together. Then, thing 3 woke up - sugared from the night before and on sensory overload (Can you say 'chatterbox'?) Still, when one thanks you over and over again for making his costume while chatterboxing, you can't help but submit to the trap and listen. Then thing 1 woke up. She was hungry and, trust me, you'd rather try to reason with a fence post than with her when she's hungry and you're also without coffee. Then the sheep got out. I don't understand, they stand behind a fence that is the same fence all summer and can't be bothered to rebel. Yet, in the heart of hunting season after all living growth has been charred by frost and lies dead beneath us - they want out. Everyday! And they are also not smart so they wonder into the woods. Some of you may know, this is also an acceptable behavior when hunting, to wonder in the woods. Imagine the possibilities.

Well, I did so I went out and spent a great deal of my morning getting all back to normal. By late afternoon, I was about to cry when I (finally) walked back into my knitting space and found the sad coat lying just where I left it at a little after 6 am. No knitting fairy had come along to pick up the slack. No gentle breeze, no chariots with or without fire. But, I did get a chance to lock myself up there a couple of hours ago and the pieces are all together, the fleece lining sewn, the hood all done and ready to be attached. Then, I'll sew in the lining and - oh, thank whatever god you wish but do it well, I will be done. Bring you pictures tomorrow after all the sheep get out, the dog breaks her 'super unbreakable' run and starts trying to 'help' you get them back and someone reminds me of something I've done or not. Also, paint in the cold coffee because I've had to reheat so many times this week that I lack the decency to report it without being too profane for even me.