the Village Knittiot

It has been nearly two weeks since I have done knitting worth any consideration. My mitten is no longer sullen, it is downright hostile.

On Saturday I agreed to pull myself away from the computer for a couple of hours and go yarn shopping with a friend. I have to admit it was fun to get excited about yarn again. My mind was awhirl with all the projects that I want to do. And that giddiness was accompanied by my usual panic over all the things I want to do and how very little time there is for them all. Especially when there is so much World of Warcraft to be played.

I came home from my excursion filled with that yarn euphoria, thinking I might get a bit of knitting done that afternoon, and promptly sat down at the computer to play WoW.

I started a new character last week — an undead priestess named Oola. Oola. The name just came to me. It rolled around on my tongue and it felt right. Usually I agonize over a name. I spend far, far too much time consumed with worry that I will pick the wrong name. And worse that I won’t know it is the wrong name until I have played her for too long and then I won’t want to start over, but I will also hate her for having the wrong name. So when Oola just popped into my head, I went with it. I thought it sounded vaguely Norse in origin. Some lesser known mythological creature that was somehow stuck in my subconcious, perhaps? As it turns out, no. Not exactly.

Three days after Oola and I started romping around the Earthen Ring server, a little alarm went off in my head. I Googled Oola and here is what I found. Oola, it turns out, is not so much stuck in my head because I have this great subconcious knowledge of lesser known Norse mythology, but because I am a child of the 80s. And because I saw Return of the Jedi in the theatre on opening night, and more times after that than I care to admit. Oola was the sexy Twi’lek dancer in Jabba the Hut’s court. You know, the one with the strange tentacle things coming off the top of her head. The one that got eaten by the Rancor (please don’t ask me how I know all this stuff).

Oola, I have learned, is also an aboriginal word meaning “Red Lizard.” If anyone asks me about it, I think I’m going to go with that. But I’m pretty sure that noone is going to ask me about it. I’m pretty sure that everyone just assumes that I knew *exactly* what I was doing. And I’m pretty sure, judging by the favorable interactions I’ve had so far (all with characters who I’m pretty sure are powered by adolescent boys), there are at least a few people out there who think that is just fine. As a matter of fact, they probably think it is just great. And they are probably hoping that I am, in fact, a girl.

*sigh*

Still, I love Oola. I love her with an unhealthy passion. So my husband and I have decided that we have to start setting some rules about the WoW playtime. This is probably good, because everything in my house (not just the mitten) has been feeling the neglect. Tonight we will cook and then we will do one hour of housework. Only then may we fire up our laptops. Last night, we went to bed at a reasonable hour. We are getting better. I promise. Maybe soon, I will have some knitting pictures to show you. Maybe soon my mitten will stop hating me.

This entry was posted on Monday, December 6th, 2004 at 4:59 pm and is filed under this G4m3rz Life, this Knittiot Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.