Friends, let’s talk about showers. Yes, you know, the ones we do for hygiene. I indulge in long steamy morning showers to induce deep thinking before the onslaught of the workday. This means, over the years, I’ve developed a routine in the mists, working top to bottom hitting all the spots, so that I don’t need to concentrate on the scrubbing hubbub. It works, as long as I stick with the set plan.

an old shower shot

But sometimes there are mornings when–who knows why?–the mission gets thrown off-track. And then I spend the whole day worried about a missed spot that’s exuding an imagined funk. Knee cap funk? That’s alright. But other patches of possible funk can occupy my mind a little more than they ought to. I’ve been a bit off-kilter (in a good way) for a few months now and this shower scenario has played out too often. Gotta get back to the plan.

But why do I mention this today?

This happened:

Well, so this happened. Congrats on your PhD, Nova!!  I am humbled and speechless.

Yes, my virtual knitting friend, Nova Seals, just earned her PhD with this dissertation. Holy moly! The title and abstract kinda say it all. She did an in-depth philosophical study of my artwork, this 10 year-old blog, and my other social media outlets.

Although she interviewed me a couple years back, we were both mindful of me not knowing what she was researching so as not to change my activities due to her work. And I’m so glad, because I would have had chronic phantom funk syndrome just from worrying about what she might find!

What’s on your stack?

She just recently sent me a bound copy of the thesis. [Since she plans to publish it as a book eventually, the dissertation is embargoed for the moment.] That it is covered in glitter just makes it all the more wonderful. [The glitter is not normal with dissertations, of course. It comes from the wrapping paper she used and caused me maybe a little bit too much delight last night.]

Anyway, I picked the tome up the way I do any (scholarly) nonfiction book and started from the back. The bibliography of a book gives you a sense of the foundation of knowledge that buttresses the arguments inside; it can regulate expectations. And then, spoiling the punchline, I always read the conclusion first.

Afraid, really, of indulging in reading about myself I let the pages continue to fall backwards nonchalantly as I accidentally caught a chunk or two. And here’s what happened: apparently this one time on this blog I told y’all about how I read books, in a paragraph similar to the one that precedes this one. And there it was full-justified in the middle of a page.

I was doing the thing she was talking about me having talked about doing.


Did I miss a spot in the shower? How’s my funk ratio today?

It’s going to take me a while to get around to reading this book from the front to the back, but I’ll do it. And the whole time I’ll just be proud of my amazing friend, Dr. Nova Seals.

She’s got a good funk ratio, herself.