Monday, January 9, 2012

a quotidian yarn

environmentally informed
All of my best laid plans for this Monday got somehow blown away in today's slight cold breeze although the breeze really had nothing to do with it. At end of last week a dental crown loosened and fell out when I was being a good doobie and flossing. The dentist couldn't see me until today so I trotted off to the pharmacy and bought a little adhesive kit and managed to keep the tooth in over the weekend. Now it's all fixed, but I lost most of the morning getting it done and then more time chatting with acquaintances at the organic market. What I've gathered so far:
1. good riddance to the old year, it was a bummer
2. we're not so hopeful about this one either, but most of us buy the myth of new beginnings
3. snow is sparse on the peaks and it's worrisome
4. we're trying to protect ourselves from false spring so as to avoid possible despair
5. the mud will never go away so why bother to wash the car or the floors
6. the bears are hibernating so it's safe to put the garbage out

I'm so easily distracted from my goals. It's taken me most of the rest of today to catch up with the few things on my desk. A very slow computer isn't helping. I've taken to placing unfinished sock projects in various rooms so I can work a few rows wherever I am with my laptop. This UFO was stashed away when I completely lost interest in it - it resurfaced, refreshed. It's Lorna's Laces Shepherd Sock and I think it's the limited edition color "He Who Must Not Be Named" from their Harry Potter collection.
how rare is it?
to finish a knitting project and consider it the best most perfect thing I ever made. I'm still totally in love with the Colonnade shawlette/scarf knitted in a mystery yarn color and texture that speaks to my soul. It's so Atlantic/Pacific/sand duney. In a bag filled with dozens of saved labels and yarn samples, I can't locate that bit of paper and string. 
fair and cool with full moon and mud
Light snow yesterday morning gave way to cold sunshine today. Feeling guilty about enjoying the sun and relative warmth. To assuage our guilt about global warming? Or simply acknowledge this gift of January. Cars are heavy with layers of mud - as if we'd just returned from the outback. There were long lines at the car wash today when I stopped by with hope in my heart - and didn't wait. Ah, tomorrow is another day.