We have, around here, the good, the bad, the ugly. . . and the things gone very wrong.
About a dozen years ago our Memphis neighbor left an ugly yucca plant in a plastic quart container on our front porch. She claimed that she was allergic and said to throw it out if I didn’t want it. I didn’t. . . but I couldn’t.
Personally, I think she was allergic to its ugly condition and didn’t want to tend to it. Sucker that I was, I repotted it and now the still ugly plant resides at the beach-house-not-on-the-beach where it is over-watered when we’re here and parched when we’re not.
The only other plant here, a jade, suffers a similar fate. If the jade tree gets in a snit, it drops a branch and I pick it up, apologize, jam it back into the pot, and water it. It forgives me, takes root, and all is well. While it’s not a pretty plant, it’s not eating the house.
But the yucca? It was munching on the sunroom ceiling when we returned this time:
Son and Daughter-in-law said it would be great in their Virginia loft. They think it is striking with its stark, naked steams. I think it’s just stark naked.
Getting it there would be interesting. If you’re driving a semi- to Virginia anytime soon, let me know and I’ll put it out by the curb for pickup.
Dearly Beloved wheeled it around our deck in search of higher ceilings. Getting the darned thing through doorways was not easy. He was not thrilled that I was following with a camera instead of a helping hand.
Twenty feet, Baby! Knock yourself out, Skinny Minnie!
Speaking of things gone wrong. . . real knitters should stop reading at this point.
Several months ago I began knitting a sweater for Elmo, the youngest grandson. He was two at the time, so of course I cast on a size 6.
The unisex pattern pictured a multi-colored yoke but I thought that looked a little girly. Not to mention that I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to do it. I’d have had to cast on a size 14 and watch how-to videos for 10 years.
Unfortunately, omitting the pattern makes the decreases jump out and my mistakes show more easily, but that was the least of my problems.
When I saw Elmo in October and tried it on him, he couldn’t get his hands through the too-tight cuffs. Or button it at the neck. Solution: tear them out, learn stretchy bindoff, loosen up, and redo all of that.
My problems didn’t end there. Like when I redid the sleeves, it took me days to realize I’d screwed up the cuffs. See how long it takes you to see it, non-knitter. Arrggghhh!
“Leave it,” DB said. “He’ll know that Grandmary made it for him. No one will notice.”
Not notice Elmo? Not likely.
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