Yes! I have just completed my first hat. It wasn’t any where near as hard as gloves, but the challenge this time was running out of wool at the top (whoops…miss judged that one). Luckily, blue is a pretty common color in my yarn scraps bin, so i found a suitable substitute. A perfect miss-matched end, which I actually quite like. Its funny how accidents sometimes work out just so well. I just have to tuck in the ends now, my least favorite job.
|A perfect fit|
I based my hat off of my favorite number *geek alert*, which is Phi (.618), part of a mathematical proportion that occurs alarmingly often in nature (snail shells, human dimensions, leaf vein patterns). Each row of my hat is .618 times smaller than the last. I ran out of room at the top, and just started the pattern again (sort of…running out of wool really put a damper on that). Ah…I feel so wonderfully geeky. The hat turned out great, though, which I’m super pleased about – practical is nice once in awhile.
It must be my mad skills at ironing the lines of pain from my face, which make me look so ‘normal’. The problem with Lyme is the lack of physical symptoms. The grotesque and absurd symptoms begin where you cannot see-just below the skin, or a fine layer of makeup. Whenever you’d look into my face or speak with me; you would not believe the pain in my body right now.
Everything in my body aches.
My ribs have been smashed with hammers, the muscles were plucked like a guitar sting. There is a sensation in my bones similar to the hum of an angry Africanized killer bee hive, and gradually swelling squalls of bloodthrobbingagony make the bees hunker down into my joints, defensive or protective or invasive.