Tending My Knitting

Home again, home again, jiggity jog.

As tacky as it is to admit, Vegas was the PERFECT anodyne to all that ailed me.  I billed my trip as "The No Compromise Tour."  I invented a fictional persona and inhabited it for the entire time.  I denied myself nothing.  I had one of the All-Time-Greatest-Meals of my life at Bouchon, Thomas "French Laundry" Keller's bistro at the Venetian.  I lucked into a lavish room at Planet Hollywood.  The bathroom was bigger than my first apartment, literally, and I looked over the Bellagio fountains.  I was alone when, and as much as, I wanted to be, which was most of the time, and the remainder of the time, I flirted shamelessly and -- even better -- got flirted back.  Saw great shows -- Penn and Teller are certifiable, and very entertaining.  I spent 4 hours the first day at the Planet Hollywood spa, three hours the next at Caesar's, and it really did unlock the chi.  Crashed a private nightclub, the lead singer handed me the tambourine and I busted a few spastic white-girl moves on the floor.  I probably danced like Elaine on "Seinfeld", but I felt like, uh, whoever is the cool girl pop tart of the moment.  Pretty much remembered the night before in the morning, so no shame, no regrets.  I'm just on the cusp of being too old for Vegas, and this was the perfect swan song.

When I got home, Mom was alive and well-cared for in my absence, and she remarked on my glowing skin.  "Something tells me that isn't all due to glycolic peels," she said meaningfully, wagging her eyebrows.  I would have wagged them back, but Botox prevented it.  I did, however, smile mysteriously the rest of the day.

Since my return, my mood has been good.  One of the first times I've gone on vacay and not come home to crashing depression -- one of those fun artifacts of bipolar disorder.  Have a good time, then do penance.  Maybe it was all that time in the spa.  Reflexology.  Good food.  Donno, but I'm grateful.

Also have had plenty of energy, so I finished my knitting project du jour, the 40" x 52" baby blanket to go with the baby hats I'm sending to Afghans for Afghans.  I cannot claim credit for all or even most of this great work.  My pal Ade had, years ago, completed dozens of perfect 6" squares in earth tones for a blanket she never finished when the room's color scheme changed.  I remember her knocking them out two or three at a time during Book Club meetings.  All wool, so when she heard of my new wool projects, she graciously sent me the squares and I assembled them with a tedious, row by row blanket stitch in a variegated yarn that almost matched, with pom-pom bits at the intersections.  It's now boxed up and ready to send in tomorrow's post.  I think it's rather nice, but Mom, who goes for a more vivid palette, curled her lip and pronounced it "ethnic" and "perfect for a refugee camp."  I don't think that's a compliment.  What do you think?  The hats, in progress, are here, below are views of the blanket:

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Hey, at least it doesn't show dirt.

Comments

[Paula]

Think your mom's comment was a hoot -- and descriptive!

[KathyR]

C'mon, Mom. "Refugee camp" is a bit harsh.

Vegas sounds like it was a good time. I used to stay at the Aladdin sometimes. Nice rooms, good location, decent enough shopping area to walk around in if it is too hot to venture out.