I have a problem of a fibrous nature. I love the patterns, and the colors, and the process, but, my friends, this knitting thing never ends. And it's not just the knitting. Oh no, it's the knitting, and the weaving, and the sewing. I have confess to a case of fiber ADD. I am in love
It's mid-November and I am behind, but I am not daunted. The fabric has been shipped off to my mother who has not only whipped me up the original brown pair, but has purchased enough
additional fabric to make a veritable army of uniforms. I will be burgundy, and polka dotted, and I even promise to wear the disconcerting "Christmas Print" with good cheer and gratitude.
The gloves, I am proud to say, are complete, and will soon be heading to the Northern lands in the capable hands of our neighborhood postal worker. The woven scarf has returned to it's corner to wait for someone at work to pass on the local snuffle and sideline me for
a couple of days. But the vest. Oh the vest. I'm trying, I really am, but to my knitting friends out there, never commit to knitting someone something on size two needles unless you really mean it. I mean really mean it. I'm getting there, but Happy Birthday turned into Merry Christmas, and if I don't get my fingers flying, we'll be looking at a blessed Purim.
On the bright side though, this knitting thing never ends! I have so many patterns and requests and new things to try. It's nice to be able to make things people actually want. It's nice to feel productive while I watch TV. Honestly, it's nice to just feel the needles in my hands, with their cool metal, and soothing clicking. And, should I run out of ambition, there is always the argyle monster hiding under my bed to scare me back to work.
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