I check LJ almost daily, to see what friends are posting... if friends are posting, but I haven't been posting myself because everytime I start to write something I think, "This is garbage, no one cares about my whinging" and then I delete.
So to catch up - Several months ago I started offering to knit things for money because I was hoping to raise a little bit of cash for a friend of mine that is hoping to be able to adopt a child in the next year or so. Apparently, adoptions cost upwards of $30,000 which is... well, it's crazy really. However, selling custom knitted crap has gone about as well as one would expect, which is to say I've made $20 so far, and half of that went toward yarn so. See, my stuff is good enough for people to ask for me to make them things when it's free, but if I want $15 for a pair of baby booties that look like tiny combat boots (military spouses EVERYWHERE here) then I'm apparently just talking crazy. Winter hats that look like Elsa or Anna's hair? Totes adorable, unless I want to be paid for them, in which case they're not really what people expected, you know?
ANYWAY, so that hasn't taken off, which is both a relief and a disappointment. I'm not sure I'm ready to be a responsible adult, and if I'm spending all my non-toddler taming time knitting then I don't have time to play World of Warcraft, which is a thing I've started doing because it's something Captain and I can do together.
After the Demon Spawn goes to bed most nights, we sit at the breakfast counter on our laptops and run around smacking things with our pandas or the future Mitzi Deathbringer the giggling gnome Death Knight (I'm just waiting for the right moment to create her, she will be awesome and possibly have pink hair). Because nerds.
In the rest of the Responsible Adult news, I will be having a pair of ultrasounds of my heart, a treadmill stress test (again for the heart), and a thirty day heart monitor applied. All on Monday. Because I am, apparently, at risk for a heart attack and I'm not even forty yet and I have just really, really, really been having a difficult time processing how some minor tachycardia issues that my doctors have been pish-poshing for over a decade are suddenly potentially life threatening.
Although, I think I did sort of know something was up when the random episode went from once a month or two to once or twice a week back in October. I insisted that Captain and I finally sat down with a lawyer and had our wills done to reflect that we've got an heir now, set up a guardianship for Demon Spawn should we both die, and to update the living wills and POAs, even though we've been putting all that off for over two years.
Still... I'm scared to death because vaguely ominous feelings are strangely less scary than the thought of having something very wrong confirmed. Does that make sense?
And now I've depressed myself so it's time to get back to figuring out how to knit a thumb on a mitten.