Not a bad spot for a slow Clapotis knitter
Major surgery, or so they say, but very common. Major and outpatient not being mutually exclusive, I've spent my week convalescing. Convalescing consisting of knitting, reading, watching inane movies, and trying to take find the minimal dose of meds to provide enough pain relief. It turns out, I like a clear head, but I don't like misery. I've had to err on the side of fuzzy this week.
Clapotis turns out to be an ideal project for this situation. It's not too challenging, but has little milestones that keep it from feeling endless. The yarn is a tactile and visual pleasure (read, hand-dyed silk) (with beads).
My husband has done a pretty good job of video procurement this week. He's brought home a collection of forgettable romantic comedies, which are pretty much perfect right now. Even better, he rented the first two videos in this set. Talk about a walk down memory lane. It turns out I haven't seen many of these episodes, the first season of Saturday Night, from 1975. Yet they contain a huge hunk of the context of my late 70's adolescence. When I did watch that year, it was babysitting on a Saturday night, waiting for the C's or the G's to come home. I remember it all being a tad risque, but watching last night with my teenagers, it seemed (mostly) touchingly innocent: Janis Ian singing "at 17", Lily Tomlin's sly and subtly heart-breaking comedy, John Belushi as Beethoven. And there's the poignancy of knowing the rest of the story for Gilda Radner, and Belushi, that adds layers to performances that were only meant to be silly.