sarcophagi for ufo's

It is phantasmagorically satisfying to finish knitting projects. Even simple socks.

After foolishly making a commitment to participate in the Taos Yuletide Craft Fair on Thanksgiving weekend I suddenly panicked when I thought about plunging into production again! In the past it has meant starting months before and knitting every day and night since a three day show requires a lot of inventory. I usually get stressed out and end up with a pain in my neck (literally). Not so this year. I will share space with poet friend Leslie who makes unique necklaces with beads, fossils, trilobites, other items. Each piece is a wordless manifestation of a poem. We shared space last year and I had way too much inventory in my half. I kept murmuring "less is more" and moving things around. This year will be different. I plan to include limited editions. Socks are always a big seller though and I'm finishing up long-languishing UFOs. In spite of the raid on my supply a few weeks ago, I still have quite a few. Two pairs were finished over the weekend as I watched old movies and ruthlessly wrote up schedules for my other commitments. One pair had been stranded for five years! But - clever me - once long ago I organized unfinished sock projects into separate plastic bags, enclosed notes on patterns, needles, other things, and then stashed them away in the dark recesses of storage boxes I named Sarcophagi for UFOs (the History channel could make something out of that title). This action reduced my guilt substantially, i.e.: out of sight, out of mind. Unearthing them now yields some surprises and renewed interest - especially when only one more sock has to be knitted.

I have no idea where the original stitch pattern for this primary colors stripey/lace number or the yarn came from since I dislike working with primary colors and rarely buy them (which may explain the five year abandonment of this project). Also, the pattern annoyed me enough that I'm not likely to ever to use it again. But I do like the way they turned out. They're just not for me.

"They're writing songs of love, but not for me"