My Granny Square Poncho is nearly done. Its currently pinned out and blocking under the Texas sun. It will probably be dry by the time I finish putting this post together. Then it will be Fringe Party Time.
I have been taking notes and, as simple as this poncho is, I suppose its worth writing down and publishing as a pattern. A free one of course. No self-respecting granny would pay for a pattern that is just a giant square. She’d just figure it out for herself.
Its hot these days and I of course love it. This time of year I can wear shorts and go barefooted. Well, I can do those things in my own home. Everywhere else there is an AC running full-bore and I have to wear pants and long sleeves and sometimes knit hats and shawls and fingerless gloves and don’t look at me like that. I can’t stand cold air.
But at home on my little porch I can sit under my in-progress-poncho as I make it…
while enjoying some feline companionship.
So I’ve been making my granny sqaure poncho, made from 100% 1970’s vintage acrylic yarn, while hanging out with my cats. Oh, and I’ve taken to wearing reading glasses while I do it. I’m in full-on granny mode. And do you know why?
Because the moving of this blog to its new home was so problematic that I had to start acting like a granny with everyone to get it accomplished.
Now if your mental image of a granny is a sweet, pleasant, and somewhat ineffectual older woman then you have been fooled. That is just a facade. You think that because grannies everywhere have decided to hide their awesome power under a veneer of smiling flutteriness.
Let me clue you in to reality: Grannies get what they want.
Grannies don’t stop. Their patience is endless. You may think you can ignore a granny and her requests but you just kidding yourself. Those are not actual “requests” that she is making. Those are pronouncements of what you will do and/or how the future state of affairs will be. Like when you deal with the borg, resistance is futile.
Not only will you do what a granny wants you to do but you will do exactly the way she wants it to be done. If you are say… putting in a new storm door for her… you will put the door in without tracking in a lot of dirt and without flinging your tools everywhere and without leaving it half finished while you run home for just fifteen minutes.
So there I was trying to get my old blog away from the people I had been paying to host it for me so it could live with the new people I’m paying to host it for me. And I learned that my old host was not giving up my blog (or data or pages or whatever this stuff actually is inside a computer). And I called them to talk about that. And they hung up on me.
That’s when I went into Full Granny Mode.
I didn’t yell. I didn’t call the Better Business Bureau. I didn’t demand to speak to anyone’s supervisor. I just called technical support back. I called them every hour for six hours. I talked to six different people in that technical help department. I was sweet and patient and unrelenting and I just didn’t understand why I couldn’t get what I wanted exactly the way I wanted it. The first five people told me to have a nice day and hung up. The sixth said “Of course I can help you with that” and transferred my blog.
See? Grannies get what they want.
So when I found that my new site had done something which broke every link between pages, I called the new host company and acted like their grandmother. I called over and over until that was fixed.
My pre-existing visitor statistics disappeared somewhere in the move. I had no record of how many people had come to my blog at its old host. I was told that data was lost and couldn’t be recovered. I had to just accept this and move on.
I don’t think so Scooter.
Now I have all that old visitor data. Of course I do. I called people and acted like their grandmother until it got done.
Grannies get what they want. I wanted a new blog host and a retro crochet poncho and now I have them. Its very, terribly satisfying. I may have to exert some self control over this new found power. Or I may use it to take over the world.