The Post about the Knot

We are gathered here, today, now, dear reader, to discuss the fine art of the tying of the knot.
Nay, not - as you might rightly suspect - the tying of the Red Knot, otherwise known as the Calidris canutus, pictured here with its winter plumage,

a bird which, frankly, we figure can kick our collective behinds (and aheads and aboves) as this is a Canadian Winter Water Bird: think about that: a Canadian Winter Water Bird, not, as you might, again, rightly suspect, a Canadian Winter Ice Bird, so although they are only approximately 4 and a half inches big, we are scared of them and do not want to make them angry. Nor are we necessarily speaking of the undoing, or doing, as the case may be, of the trefoil knot in mathematics, which is never called arithmetic anymore, for what reason we do not know. The trefoil knot, as most of you will already know, basically looks like an algorithm shaped as a pretzel, and while it is not as famous as its arithmetic cousin the Gordian knot, it is still quite troubling looking.

Before we continue, it’s fun-fact time!! Yippee!!
Did you know that the knot, in its present, basic incarnation, was invented mere moments after the invention of what we know today as rope. And just mere moments before the invention of what we know today as tangles. Look it up if you don’t believe us.
(Okay, don’t. Actually look it up, we mean. You will be wasting your time, and you might catch us in a bit of a stretch, if you know what we mean.)

Did you know you can capsize a knot? Anyone? Bueller? We were completely caught off guard by this piece of trivia.

We suppose that what we are actually talking about here, other than Eskimo bowlines, carrick bends, cow hitches, Portuguese whippings or monkey’s fists, not to mention where just a few clicks carried us in our research of the lemniscates, which we thought might be a form of a pretzel knot but oh boy were we wrong on that count, is the fairly sweet sigh of success when a task is successfully completed. Such as, for instance, tying your shoes, especially if they are some strutting saddle-oxfords –

well, for instance, such as these, worn struttingly by the he of us truly this past Saturday when we, to put it in ancient Incan terms, hung the khipu (or for those of you who prefer your Incan anglicized, and we know who you are, quipu). (Note: this is another way, an Incan way, if you will, of saying tied the knot, itself a British euphemism for getting hitched, itself an American bowdlerization for getting married. Duly noted that our historiographical timeline might be off a smidgen in this series.)

Some days we have to take a breath about it all, a breath that sort of, in its own jangling green way, says something like, “Hey, look, we’re married!” As though we’d forget. Immediately. Because we wouldn’t, is what we’re saying. Forget, we mean. Yes, yes, initially, there was some confusion, well, a bit. The lovely and well-composed judge (also known as our mother and mother-in-law) pronounced the hang-tight words – “I now pronounce you man and wife” – and said to the he of us, “You may now smooch with your bride,” to which the he of us replied, “Yahoo!” (and smooching ensued; there was great smooching to be had; let us now smooch about it; et cetera) – and then we sort of looked at each other, smiled, and said “Huh?”

Granted, we were trying to read along with lovely and composed judge, we were trying to catch each and every very important word and syllable, but as hindsight overcomes us in our doddering old age, we realize that the train we were hearing during the ceremony was actually most likely a good solid rush of blood in the ears with a bit of the heebie-jeebies in the knees.

Stop it. We’re kidding. A little. There was never any danger of collapse, neither of us were going to pass out, faint or have other bodily indignities overtake us. Sometimes we get lucky that way.

We think it worked out to be a lovely occasion. And we couldn’t have done it without each other. Well, y’know, not with each other, anyway. Just like a knot needs two ends of a piece of rope, string, double-helix, what-have-you.

So it goes.