The other day in the ancestral manse, I found a pamphlet on knot-tying and put it aside. And it came to me that I have done this dozens of times. I'm obsessed with my inability to tie a knot that holds. My left-handed mom taught me to tie my shoelaces, and I don't think I ever got it quite right. I remember the stress of tying knots in Brownies. I compensated by deciding I didn't care about knots and asking the more knot-gifted, like mrguy, to tie knots where needed. I have to say that I find mrguy's ability to tie a knot a very attractive attribute. He'll tie some bizarre knot that totally holds, and he tells me the story of how he and the Big Guy tied various knots on Big Guy's trimaran. He was kind of a hippie back then (he built the boat himself), but the man knew how to tie a knot and so, now, does his son.
Speaking of which, this morning I was on the phone with mrguy, who is still on vacation with my family at the Big Round River, and I was going to ask him where I could go for coffee. I have either been packing up the mama or on vacation or unpacking the mama for a while now and although I slept at home last night, I'd completely forgotten that I know where the coffee is in this place because I've been, in effect, camping for a while. Weird.
So I made coffee and grabbed my favorite mug, the one from Hamburg, the one with the knots on it. The one I bought three days before I danced in a cage in a gay bar in St. Pauli in my 50th year.
I guess I need to do something about my knot literacy and knot-tying ability. I have officially amended my bucket list.