Fits and Starts

Most of my accomplishements, day-to-day, are transitory and eminently reversible. Vacuumed floor? Doesn't last. Folded laundry? Look in the basket for the next load. Books read to children? That "lasts," in a sense, but they always ask for more.

Maybe that's why I knit. I make things -- albeit painfully and slowly, with many re-dos, but I make things that last. As I was knitting last night, I remembered how much I love the feel of yarn slipping through my fingers, pulling out another length and watching it loop into more rows of fabric. I told myself, not for the first time, "I love this. Why don't I do it more often?" And that's the way it goes. Days and days where the closest I get to knitting is to move my pile of stuff so I can vacuum or dust near it, and then a few very productive days.

It probably shouldn't be such a pleasant surprise that the front of the green sweater blocked out to exactly the dimensions I'd planned, but it did. I wish this yarn wasn't so anonymous, because it feels wonderful. A perfect hand for a classic sweater, and I love the color. I want more, more, I tell you! Confession is good for the soul, they say, so last night I told my spouse that the real reason I want to knit faster isn't just to shower the people I love with knitted goodness, it's so I can buy more yarn. Knit more, buy more. Seems logical to me.


Per the name of this blog, I love to read, certainly I do, and I do it at every opportunity. Lately, much of my reading time has taken place in front of the laptop, blog addiction being the terrible affliction that it is (Bloggers Anonymous, here I come).

I do, however, engage in the delicious pastime of reading to children. Thing 3 has been specializing in Where the Wild Things Are lately (guess why a four year old boy would love this book), and Thing 2 has been listening avidly to Black Beauty, even though I've warned her that I always cry near the end. My life has been enriched marvelously by having a daughter who loves to read as much as I do, and if I ask nicely, she'll read from Pride and Prejudice out loud to me. Talk about payback of the very nicest sort!

But I am even more blessed. My spouse will read out loud to me at night. Lately, we've been going through the Discworld novels in order, because everyone needs some light diversion in their lives. So when the children are tucked in, we settle down in bed (remember, our house is cold enough to keep food fresh when left out on counters) and begin to read.

When I'm really fortunate, I have a knitting project that doesn't require all of my attention, just enough to keep me interested while I let my mind rove over the story unwinding in that much-loved voice. If the pattern is too complex, I end up asking things like, "Who did that?" and he gets annoyed, rightly enough.

Last night was a good one. We're at the end of the "Death" series, and I am enjoying Pratchett's musings on education, human nature, and the general silliness of the stories. I'm also liking what I've got on the needles:


Since today is homeschool park day, I have high hopes of at least getting to the armhole shaping. The ball of yarn is getting suspiciously smaller. I may have to wind it in half before I start the sleeves, just for insurance.

But that's a worry for another day. Today, I'm going to just knit in the moment. Based on everything I know, that moment won't last, so I might as well enjoy it.