We Had One Once, But The Leg Fell Off
I used to work for a designer who used to say that to denote a SNAFU, Train Wreck, or other Project Gone Sideways. It was kind of like "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious"; the thing to say when you don't know what to say.
I've had a spot of bother the last few days, which I'm sorry to say left me blogless. For one thing, the deadline for all the words in my book is Friday, which means I really need to be writing them. Hey, no big deal, it's only the culmination of more than a year's worth of work. Not stress-inducing in the least. I can't find a coherent sentence with both hands.
Naturally, in light of that, this is precisely when another of my projects would derail. It seems that a certain national yarn company who contracted me to design a certain knitted garment for them would like said garment to actually fit a human being. Fussy, Fussy. The pattern I wrote for them unfortunately contains math, so I'm thinking it's probably all my fault that the finished sample garment doesn't fit. My relationship with mathematical concepts is casual at best, so it stands to reason that if I try to make a pattern without actually knitting it so I can correct my arithmatic along the way, there's ample opportunity for things to go badly awry. And awry they went. Somewhere between the yarn company (Them) and the designer (Me) and the sample knitter (Her) one or more wheels fell off the wagon. Somewhere between Them and Me and Her, something went sideways, and a catalog deadline has been missed.
So it's okay, I tell myself. And Them. And Her. I can fix it. And I can. All I need is more hours in the days. And some kind of Deus Machina that can mimic exactly the movements of my hands with needles and yarn while fabricating perfectly perfect results that surpass both my skills and the laws of physics, while simultaneously cranking brilliant prose out the other end, while I lounge poolside with a martini. I know that such a machine exists. We had one once, but the leg fell off.