Now where was I?
Clearly, I am having commitment issues with my blog. If I were dating the blog, I’d have to resort to “It’s not you, it’s me.” The fact is that I have an incessant need to work on projects and it is impossible to knit and type at the same time. I am considering some voice recognition software to solve this problem.
To compensate for my absence, I will recount a humiliating tale that will surely win the hearts of anyone reading. Failing that, I’ll just keep knitting and see what happens.
Once upon a time, an ambivalent girl went to Subway with her teenager for lunch.
Now, Subway is a magical place where teenagers get extremely excited over the opportunity to place vegetables between bread, a place that prior to discovery had only been myth and legend. The teenager in question was elated to get a “fountain drink” with the sandwich, a true win for the vegetarian whose mother only buys juice and milk.
The meal went as planned with some mother/daughter chatting about school, work, libraries and the diverse quality of hot chocolate at various local establishments. Mother and daughter were well-fed and mother had to return to work so we packed our belongings and began to toss out the various items that were not edible from our table. As I turned around to finish getting ready, I noticed a few of my items remained so I tossed them as well, then reached for my cowl and…it was not there. Not on the table, under the table, up my sleeve or on the floor. Because, ladies and gentleman, I tossed it in the bin with a bunch of lettuce, soda and god knows what.
I was speechless. I was also not going into a garbage bin full of half-eaten food to retrieve the cowl because, folks, I wasn’t in love with it. I DID, however, want to WEAR it outside! Oh, did I mention it was -40C that day? For those who operate in Fahrenheit, know that it’s also -40F. That’s right, the temperature that all scientists agree is too darned cold to argue over!
That, my friends, is a sign you need to train your brain because your autopilot is on the fritz and you are at serious risk of putting milk in the cupboard and your cat in the fridge.
I was incredibly irritated at having to set aside projects I want to do for the one I had to do but, lo and behold, I noted my finger was practically peering out of my mitten as well. The knitting gods were telling me that my agenda was not their agenda. Thus, I made myself a new winter set to appease them (hat, cowl and thrummed mitts). Still unsatisfied, a hole appeared in one of my favourite pairs of socks and I was forced to toss them as I have no more of the yarn to darn them.
These, my friends, are signs that you owe the knitting gods something. But what? What do I need to do to regain my knitting mojo?
Until I figure this out, I am not knitting my January Rockin’ Sock Club sock kit. That is just tempting fate. I shall continue with the Cowichan-style sweater and, if it turns out okay, I will try my hand at some baby booties.
Or perhaps the knitting gods think I haven’t paid them proper homage…
I will also blog.