How does a knitter spend her weekend? You'd think by knitting, but not at this knitter's house, not this weekend. Now, don't think I didn't have a chance to knit. There were plenty of moments when I could have sat on the sofa, listening to knitting podcasts, knitting away on the gansey or on the Honeymoon Cami or on the Yukon socks. Instead, I spent a good part of the weekend smelling like cloves and camphor and other menthol-esque natural plant thingies (that's a technical botanical term).
The weekend began innocently enough. We head down to the annual Italian Fest to celebrate Italian and Little Clover's ancestory. Here is Italian with the drink of his people.
We ate the fair food of Italian's people, aka Italian Sausage (on a bun with grilled onions and peppers covered in marinara sauce), while Little Clover played here:
Then, the powers of the rock wall overcame my good sense. I convinced Little Clover to climb the wall with me. He agreed as long as I didn't make him climb all the way to the top. This seemed fair. Now, I've never climbed a rock wall and my real rock climbing has been limited to hiking to the top of Stone Mountain. I only had to use my feet and it was a gentle incline. This was a straight-up vertical with some parts that jutted out.
Little Clover and I began. We were doing great. The guys that were in charge of the wall were helping Little Clover climb. Then, he climbed up higher than they could reach, so I reached down and pulled Little Clover up, then he climed up on me. Yep, he climbed on top of me. I'm barely hanging on to this fake rock, and I suddenly gained an extra 49 pounds on my back. If I were a smart person, I would have let go and glided down with Little Clover on my back. Instead, I'm stubborn and I was deteremined to reach the top. I asked Little Clover if he wanted to go up higher, he replied with "Nope, and you told me I didn't have to." Again, who is the smart one???
He drifted down, I climbed up, and then I remained in pain for the rest of the weekend! Playing in a tennis tournament Saturday sure didn't help much either. I could not bend my wrist due to this sharp pain that went up my arms everytime I moved. I couldn't not knit though, so I rubbed Tiger Balm (a more organic approach to Icy Hot) all over my arms. I smelled so awful that the dog didn't even want to play with me. That's okay, though, I did finish these:
which Little Clover wore to church with his God t-shirt (a story for another day).
Oh, and how does one warm a knitter's heart? By wearing a knitted gift.
Saturday, the family went out to celebrate Xavier Boy's birthday. Italian's sister, the one who received the silk cami for her birthday, wore the cami to dinner. I felt very honored.