It’s been a while since I’ve left to work in the land of spices.  And if there’s one thing that I’ve learned from all of my experiences over there it’s this: never, and I mean never, put your itty bitty wooden needles anywhere you’re likely to plant your behind.   This is the sad result of my fat, sloppy, inconsiderate ass:

That’s a bad ass!  Bad!  Maybe I should install one of those cameras back there for future accident prevention.

Sigh.  Suffice it to say, that I didn’t finish those socks.  But in all honesty, who really thought I was going to have those done?  Really.  I would really like to know which one of you fools actually thought I would be coming back with a completed pair of knitted socks?  Well, it doesn’t matter, because I was right in the middle of debating whether I should start over or not.  You see, the pattern is written for average size people with average size feet.  So here I am, with my child-size feet, adjusting the number of blocks thinking it will work better for me that way.  And it mostly did, until I got to the heel and it started to feel as though if I pulled any harder, I was going to rip the sock in half.  Maybe my foot was swollen from the Chennai heat?  Maybe my heel is just big-boned?  Maybe I have fat Korean heels along with fat Korean calves?  Either way, I need to stop pretending that just because my feet can fit into kid’s dinosaur galoshes with no problem, doesn’t mean that they’re dainty.  Therefore, yarn ramen:

After that little fiasco, I got fed up with knitting and spent most of my free time drinking water, avoiding rickshaw drivers and peddlers, sweating my ass off, loving and hating curry, and thinking up new ways to quit my job and disappear to a much more pleasant location.

Then I was trapped on the boat, with only old men for company and I had to pull out the big guns: knitting lace shawls (luckily I planned ahead and brought separate needles for this project).  Say hello to Frost Flowers and Leaves Shawl by Eugen Buegler for A Gathering of Lace.  Still not sure how I feel about the purple; it has a vague resemblance to muppet hair (fur?).

You know, I’m not much for stereotypes (ok that’s a  big fatty lie; I love stereotypes), but stereotypically, men are supposed to be adept at spatial recognition and surpass women with their abilities to parallel park and visualize the next move in Tetris.  So why the hell do they not understand that the shawl will be a square when I’m done and the only reason it looks like a sloppy circular mess is because it’s limited to the  circular needles that it’s being worked on?  And these are smart mechanically inclined dudes!  I forgive them, however, because I’m pretty sure we were all in some sort of curry-induced-state of retardation.  Curry….I shudder to think of thee…