two knits of ivory

The congealed mess that is my mind and craft desires sieving. Can sieving be a verb? It can . It says so much more than sift. Sift is for feathery, weightless, white powder flour. Sieved feels more appropriate for the act of clarifying the chunky monkey that is my congealessence. Don't forget to breathe, the latter is not a word. I'm not knitting during the week anymore. Or barely. I don't have the time and I mourn it's absence. I finished the little project I started a week ago Sunday: It's a flat swatch of the in-the-round Rivendell pattern by Susan Pandorf (rav link has better pics). The top half has some mods. I tried out a few borders, starting with five stitches of moss, and ending with two six-stitch cable variations. It is a gloriously architectural pattern. Aptly named. I bought the yarn specifically for this project, which I envisioned being a large, wide, rectangular scarf rather than the cowl of the original pattern. This was t

Yesterday afternoon I bought yarn, came home, organized it and some other yarn I purchased over the last month, bagged it, caked some of it, and finally took a moment's rest on the couch. Five hours later I woke up. Surprisingly, I wasn't too cranky. Really. Not too cranky. It was a small miracle. Hubby went upstairs early to bed, taking the animals with him, giving me space and time to commune with my knitting in a way that has not happened in a good long time. My knitting life is backed up. It needs to be aired. Without momentum it's devolving into a congealed mess, a failed alchemical trial that is clogging my subconscious, caking up the gears of my existence. I wish this wasn't just 10 to 25 per cent hyperbole. One mystery has finally been solved. Eight billion left. Lemme share this one, as it may effect some knitters. I purchased seven skeins of some beautiful limited edition sock yarn (Storm Studies #35) from Sundara a couple of weeks ago and

I'm behind. Behind. Waaayyyy behind. S'okay. Right? I'm an adult and there is no one but me to berate myself. Lol. My photos suck. My knitting slow. Who am I letting down? Me. Why? Why? Elena got her socks in time. Score one for the home team. Why is this a competition?