So, no one is still around. That’s fine enough. I didn’t really expect anyone would be.
That’s the sort of thing happens when you wander away without word nor warning.
I have been blogging, actually – quite heavily for the last three years, as part of a fandom thing. Which has been wonderful and fun and, well, that’s how the book thing came about, actually, but more on that later, as I am mad at the book presently.
Two months to deadline. I can do this…?
Writing is stressful – no duh, say any writers poking around here – and after a while it became clear that I was going to need to do something to cope with the stress, because it was leaking unattractively out over other aspects of my life and frightening people. Which, I have few enough people in my life at this point that I do not want to scare off the ones I really, really want to have around. I also have no desire to have people not want to work with me, since I genuinely enjoy my job most days and the people I train and support.
So. Things had to be done.
I dropped knitting gradually over the course of a couple of years some time back, when it began to make my fingers ache. Repetitive strain, of course. Further, I had switched jobs to one that didn’t allow knitting and, frankly, didn’t require it for coping. So it all just dropped off. I still had a house full of needles and very nice yarn, and was even still buying yarn from time to time. But I wasn’t knitting, not really.
(I was surrounded by a veritable galaxy of unfinished objects, as you can imagine)
Then a co-worker announced her resignation, a co-worker I really quite liked and knew I would miss. Her cooperation and assistance had been invaluable to me in the last couple of years since a promotion. Plus she was a cool lady, generally. I wanted to do something special for her and I had a short time in which to do it. And no money, since I had just taken my first vacation in many years and had a grand old time doing it.
On the trip I had tucked a half-finished sock into my carry-on out of travel habit, and was happy to spend the waiting time in the airport and on the airplane knitting impossibly tiny stitches and answering people’s questions. I really missed knitting, I realized, but I was also bored fairly quickly with the sock, which was the third time I had knitted socks in that pattern.
Time for a change. My departing co-worker liked pink, and I had a wealth of that to choose from thanks to a bizarre pink-yarn-buying streak some time back (I am not a person who wears pink…ever). So I fished out a skein of nice pink sock yarn, dug up one of a million pairs of sock knitting circular needles, and located a pretty pattern for a pair of mittens.
And in a week, I was giving them to my departing co-worker and friend, and I had picked up no fewer than three unfinished objects to work on.
Two of them I have set aside again; just not feeling them right now. I have a friend going through one nasty betrayal of a marriage ending, so I am knitting her a pair of pretty pink mittens as well. I have a certain sympathy for women done quite massively wrong by incredibly awful men, and she’s a sweetheart, and she deserves something soft and lovely and made just for her wonderful sparkly, dented but not shattered self. Here’s the first one, nearly done – Delicato, by Anne Hanson is the pattern.
I’m also making myself a pair of plain socks, as the season of chilly feet at night is on its way and I blew out my last pairs of handknit socks a couple of years ago. This yarn by Unwind Yarn Company, I love it, I had attempted to knit it into patterns it didn’t care to be, so rip rip rip and a plain sock it is. This is the second one, though by now I’ve actually turned the heel on it. I just haven’t taken a photo of that.
That colorway is called “Money”, quite appropriately. It tickles me to be knitting it on copper penny colored DPNs.
And lastly, a ball of yarn that isn’t a thing – yet. My Aunt Kat is in the habit of gifting me beautiful yarn for Christmas. Last year the gift was this:
Pretty, yes? (and say hello to Trilby-paws there in the background, yes; she has not grown out of her kittenish yarn theft habits in the slightest) It was presented to me in a Ziploc I never opened – last Christmas I was struggling with some excess exhaustion due to pulling double duty at the office and had little enthusiasm for much of anything that didn’t involve sleep. I appreciated it, it was very pretty, but I didn’t open it up.
They keep my office building quite chilly, and lately I have been thinking of shawls and wraps. So I went poking through my stash and saw this ball tucked tidily onto a bookshelf next to a copy of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe. I realized I had no idea what it was, but it looked like it might have sufficient yardage for my purposes, so I pulled it down to check it out. And I opened the bag and stuck in my hand to pull out the skein tag.
It was like touching freshly groomed show kittens. How else can I describe it? I’ve never laid my hands on anything so soft, and people, I have held tiny babies all clean and powdery, which some might argue are the softest things ever. This yarn was angels and kittens and babies and silky, silky wonder.
Cashmere, of course. Cashmere and silk, to be very exactly precise. Sundara Yarn Fingering Silky Cashmere, the most wonderful stuff I have ever touched, 420 yards of it. Mine, all mine, and destined to become a very pretty little shawl that should keep me warm enough in my Arctic office. I haven’t knit lace on a terribly large scale before, so we’ll see how that goes.
Can’t go much worse than writing a novel on deadline. I think.