“The past tense of ‘to knit’ is ‘knitted,’ Lance.”

I hear ya, I hear ya.

Right on. But personally, I prefer limiting my “ih” sounds because they sounds icky. Like sugar and oil — use “ih” sparingly.

I prefer “knat.”

Why?

Because spit, spat. Sit, sat. Oh yes, knat sounds way cooler.

Kiddo gave pledges to knit scarves at Christmas and has heretofore knatted them both. Here’s what she looked like after the first one was finished recently:

Now let me tell you a story about our veterinarian named Dr. Gory.

Pause.

No, I didn’t make that up.

Doctor.

Gory.

Our pet’s vet.

Continue:

Dr. Gory’s weighing Echo and he’s a tender man with a softer, more effeminate voice. He breaks things easy like a good mother. “Well…” he says, weighing our spaniel. “Well… she’s a little… um… she’s a little over…”

“I get rejected a lot in my line of work,” I said. “You’re not gonna hurt my feelings.”

“Okay, honey, she’s fat.”

And the first thing that runs through my mind isn’t a plan for my dog. The first thing that runs through my mind is, “Crap, me too. I should eat less.” He was talking.

“–a day?”

I ask. “Feed her? Is that what you asked?”

“Each day.”

“Umm… just the recommendation on the internet.” This sounds colossally stupid now, but then “the recommendation on the internet” sounded like the squeaky-clean “Well yeah of course we were hang gliding while breathing fire up at our wingspan — that’s how the internet said to do it” kind of logic that tends to get you and me into trouble. Thus the bad thinking posts.

“How much did The Internet say?” asked the motherly doctor named Gory.

“The Internet said a cup in the morning and a cup at night.” Which is the precise amount Kiddo’s parents fed their 10-year old chocolate Labrador retriever, peace be upon him.

“Oh yeah, cut that down to a half cup.”

I lose The Internet for today.

“Any treats?”

“No,” I said. “Not unless we’re training.”

“Scraps?”

“Nope.”

“Walks?”

This is the point I think through my schedule and realize that the common denominators between me and my spaniel are not only too large of diet portions but too little exercise. I look at my belly. “Not often enough.”

“Twenty minutes a day.”

I wanted to ask, “For me or the dog?” but kept my mouth shut. He’s a good doctor, great to my dog, great with discounts. A man like that doesn’t deserve petty sarcasm. He deserved the “yes sir” I was giving him.

All that to say, in retrospect, I understand the insecurity of Echo in the follow pictures. Echo was feeling insecure because of fat, so she wanted in on the attention:

Echo’s losing weight. As am I — down nine pounds since I started chasing after my racing wife. What can I say? I still like chasing girls… I narrowed it down to one about three years ago.

But more on that tomorrow. I’ll end with a HUGE thanks to Autumn, Megan, Aubree, Kim, Allison, Bethany, and our family for encouraging Tara with her journey in knitting. As you can see, they have fun:

Hugs, Kisses, and something that sounds like Gnats but deals with yarn,