I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead; I just need some place where I can lay my head. "Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?" He just grinned and shook my hand, and "No!", was all he said.
Maybe The Band was wrong. Maybe life isn't a carnival, maybe it's something closer to a waltz. At the beginning of the month I was working on a prayer shawl for someone. As the month closes, I find myself at the same exact spot on the dance floor.
Today, DH mentioned to me that his coworker's girlfriend had her cancer surgery this morning. His description leads me to believe she had a lumpectomy, with a little exploration on the side. I thought I ought to make something for her. Then I looked at Swallowtail in my lap-I am about 25 rows from the first border. And made up my mind right then that that's who this is for.
Funny. I've known the guy about 4 years, haven't seen him since I quit working 18 months ago. Apparently, he doesn't have a good chick checklist (or maybe he's not on a good checklist-who can tell these days?), because the last time I saw him, he was with his wife.
So....am I nuts to give away my pretty Swallowtail? I have aunts that would adore it. Somehow, I have faith in the mystical powers of gifts that tumble out of the sky. If she's an unworthy asshole, she may be nudged into a humane moment for just a second-long enough that it slaps her. If she's a nice person, it will be a hug.
No worries about whether that shawl is "me" or not. Perhaps there's a knit and release program somewhere with my name on it. Now if you'll excuse me, I hear The Band striking up.
Take a load off Annie, take a load for free; Take a load off Annie, and (and) (and) you put the load right on me.