cozypantsThe visual tranquility of teapot, artificial flowers and colorful/cushy finished socks is slightly not a true picture of my life. As November 1st looms, I find myself preparing for a non-stop busy time that may include a trip east and/or southwest, and will certainly overlap into early January. Not due to the coming holidays and assorted family birthdays, although they play a part, but due to a plethora of drop dead deadlines.
this will be the last year I do the Yuletide Craft Fair because on top of all the other deadlines I now face production! On one hand it's sheer insanity. On the other it's the push I need to finish UFOs. Things that I've lost interest in will inevitably interest someone else. This I've learned through the years. And isn't it better to part with what I no longer love so it can be infused with new love? For example (and I think I broke a procrastination record here), last night I finished a pair of socks started approximately ten years ago. That's what I said, dear reader. Ten years!
"a distinct virtue"
A miniature book published by Running Press around the time I made that striped sock, contains quotes and historical facts about knitting. I don't remember how I acquired the book, but it resurfaced with the sock. Aside from facts about Eleanor Roosevelt's bulging knitting bag, and that the Archbishop of Canterbury got involved (quote above), I wonder if this still works:
The quiet, even, regular motions of knitting
were prescribed as an antidote for nervousness
and hysteria in the nineteenth century