Copyrights, et al, Begorra..

About the side bar changes...

So, say you are a friend of mine,  I will not mind if you keep a photo, no worries.

But it's rather odd that news agencies from various places, who should know better, should ignore common courtesy and snag photos, or someone else be willing to take flower photos to sell to card companies and ignore my first copyright notice.  Therefore, I must protest.   Be kind.  Ask my permission.  I'm sure that I would be flattered and grant it, but you must ask me.

I'm finished with the Hempathy mitts.  Next small project is going to be a chicken tea cozy.  And the big project is the Blessed Aran sweater.  That is, when my wrist is fully healed.

The saga of the wrist began when a small doggie slipped up behind me in the hallway next to the linen closet.  At that time my attention was thoroughly engaged with poking down a McCostco sized Kleenex  box, from the tip top shelf, with my cane, a very handy tool for many other things.  Just as the box began to fall at the normal velocity of 32 feet per second per second, the dog started scratching his ear, distracting me enough to stand dumbly still as the box corner crashed into my wrist and bounced to the floor.

After hopping around for awhile both in pain and to avoid tripping over the dog who then fled, I realized that something unspeakable had just happened.  The titanium in my wrist was the main worry.  Had I broken it away from the bone?  Had the box just mashed the skin and nerves and ligaments underneath, or was this going to be a  really big problem, one involving large needles, scalpels, blood and surgical gowns?  After awhile I sat down and peeked at the wrist, and saw a point of contact, the size of a needle prick, slowly going puffy.  It was three days before the next knee thinga, this hadn't made me pass out, and so far so good. 

When I did show the injury to my rheumatologist three days later, it still wouldn't support any weigh.  She called for x-rays.  Two days later I'd stuck the wrist in a brace left over from the reaaally bad thing a few years ago, and waited for a call.   Three days  out word got to me that the doctor wanted me to see a hand specialist.  FREK!

So, 13 days after the injury, the diagnosis was for bone bruise .  I took a VERY big breath and smiled back at my surgeon.  There will be NO cortisone shot in a joint the size of a home made biscuit, and no surgery to repair anything.  I'm one lucky puppy.  Of course, I AM banned from poking things off the top shelves of the house storage places but still good-to- go for knitting.  Yay!  After that visit we were in the neighborhood of my favorite LYS, so I stopped in to look for Odd Balls for hats, no joy,  and another set of bamboo DPNs in"0"  for mitts and the soles of socks.  I almost typed in "souls".  Socks do have those, too, yes?  I'm sure I hear them talking to me as they come to life on the needles.

Back to accidents.  I'd make  a YouTube for the proper way to do this maneuver, this poking down of things from top shelves, but it could not possibly be as entertaining as one on how NOT to do this, especially with a small and sneaky little doggie in the house!  

We are watching the first installment of "Black Books" which is the best comedy I've seen since Hot Fuzz and Monty Python.  Brilliant stuff!  Yesterday my sis and I went shopping for jewelry bits and pieces, and today we are putting them together.  A Very Dangerous Establishment has been found within  blocks of one of our houses, a REAL Bead Store.  OMG!  Beads on all the walls!