You Can Get a Lot of Knitting Done

in a hospital emergency room. Ask me how I know.

Yesterday, mere moments after I finished my goofing off at lunch, I got a call from my son. Son 1 broke his legs 18 months ago in a motorcycle accident, and one leg's more severe breaks have been a mild sort of on going nightmare of not healing, infection, hope and minor despair. Since his bone graft, he's had fairly steady low levels of infection, which finished in a massive round of antibiotics this fall - 6 weeks of iv treatments - followed by oral antibiotics. It seemed to be cured and by Christmas he felt better than he had in years. Yesterday infection returned, and not just a little. Massive infection. So we sat in the emergency room while he was viewed, poked, prodded and pictured till they decided what they needed to do.

He has become their guest, and I knitted the better part of a sock. I expect more sock and simple knitting over the next little while

Yesterday something happened that reminded me of something strange about me. Not weird strange, just a rift between me an normalcy.

It began when I was a little girl. My paternal grandmother had a very small house and many grandchildren. We'd all show up on boxing day, the gents went to the basement (a surprisingly cheery place) to play cards, the ladies in the kitchen, and the kids went to living room where we'd play bingo. It didn't take much room, kept us quiet largely till dinner was served, and had one golden rule. You had to stay and play till you won.

I played a lot of bingo, and I never ever won. Games would end because dinner was served. Every year from the time I was 4 till I was about 14, I bingoed with the best of them and kept a losing streak that has never been equaled in the family annals. Grandma finally took pity on me and let me pick a pity prize from the box, and declared I would never have to play again. There were 2 things left in the prize box, and this is what I chose.

It sits in a position of honour on my trophy shelf. I have a trophy for being at the bottom of my bowling league, a trophy of a horses hind end for being the 'best' player at a kaiser tournament (I still don't know how they talked me into that) and this Rudolph mug. I do not win things. Ever. This is a blogs where you won't find memes, quizzes and contests. I rarely play games and when I do, it's not because I am trying to win. Decades of constant losses have taken a toll on my fragile ego.

A week or so ago, I posted a silly comment on Curlerchik's blog where she had a contest running for her 1,000 comment.

I winned!

For the first time ever, I can declare I have a winning strategy.

" I'm like one of those little old ladies who watches people play slots, and waits till they leave for more change, and then swoops in to win.

I'll just sit back and watch, patiently while I let everyone else bump up the number count."

My big quandary is do I simply put this lovely yarn on the trophy shelf or do I make something with it and sit the product on the trophy shelf?

Decisions, decisions.