Quietly

As the cough subsided in K, it snaked its way into my throat. I imagine this cough to be a rather heavyset creature, shifting its ample hindquarters this way and that in my trachea, settling in for the long haul, probably knitting something scratchy and long to cause those pesky dry hacks. It happens every year around this time.

Instead of fighting it, I’ve learned to submit. I figure it’s my body’s way of telling me to shut up already, just rest. The beginning of the school year is always so frenetic and after about a month, a collective exhaustion seems to disengage the immune system, and the flu spreads like wildfire. Interesting factoid: I was talking to a friend who grew up in Japan and there, where the school year starts in April, they have something called the May sickness because a large number of students go through a similar spate of illness approximately four weeks after the start of a new school year.

So I am resting this week, using my voice as little as possible. But I can’t help but want to keep my hands and mind busy. I’m not very good at sitting still and doing nothing. Last week, I passed a storefront with “ReCreative” splashed across the window, and what caught my eye was a small sign that read, “yarn: $1”. Seattle Recreative is essentially a thrift store for crafters, but it’s also a community space for art classes and exhibits. The place was hoppin’! Filled with a mish mash of supplies from fabric to jewelry-making doodads to what appeared to be ancient tubes of paint, moms with strollers and toddlers were arriving by the droves when I ducked in to see what this whole dollar yarn situation was about. I ended up with a few skeins in my favorite shades, and snagged a couple of vintage National Geographics at 50 cents a pop too:

$6 well spent. I’ve also checked out a couple of promising reads from the library:

Still working on my Gingers. I started anew with a size 6 since my last attempt at size 8 yielded über mom pants with too much wiggle room around the tummy and thighs. I got my size 6 pattern pieces all prettily cut up, selected a denim from my pile that wasn’t quite stretchy enough, and alas, I couldn’t even get my calf in. I dove back into my pile, found another denim (in grey this time) with significantly more stretch, basted it up, but no, still too small. And the size 8 mom pants are fitting much better all of sudden, though still a touch loose. I am somewhere between a 6 and 8, it seems, though I have a sneaking suspicion that my monthly cycle may morph my body into two completely different sizes, depending on the time of the month. Since I clothe myself exclusively in knits and worn out jeans, this is difficult to verify.

Sigh. I’m getting mighty comfortable at the drawing board.

Anyway. Quietly, quietly. Time to pipe down and soothe, to still my overactive tendencies, to drink tea and let lozenges slowly melt in my mouth. To wait for the departure of my cough. And maybe dream about knitting something.