Time seems to be slipping away from me far too quickly these days. It feels like it was just yesterday that we celebrated the new year, and here it is halfway through March. In those two and a half missing months, my eldest son celebrated his 33rd birthday. Yes, 33. Holy smokes -- how in the world did THAT happen? Even tho I didn't make a celebratory posting about here, I am very proud of him. He has grown to be a fine young man, with a career he enjoys, hobbies that bring him joy, and a family of his own. (If by family you mean a wife and two cats, that is!) I don't get to see him and his wife nearly as much as I'd like, and we talk on the telephone even less. He's a busy guy, and I don't want to be one of those overbearing mothers who smother their children. I hope he knows that I'm immensely proud of him and love him to the ends of the world and back.
In my last post, I remember alluding to a plethora of projects that had been cast on since I finished my Aran Afghan. One of them was a sweater for our "upside down" class at the store. Once again, I used the little booklet from Patons called Upside Downers and created the textured pull-over shown on the cover.
Heh. Turns out that I didn't have all the same dyelot for the light blue. In fact, I had three different dyelots. I tried to blend the colours in ...
There are three more sweaters to show off ... but time on the blocking board is at a premium; additionally, I much prefer to show the sweaters while being worn. Hence, you'll have to wait a bit to see them.
So in lieu of knitting content, let's talk about other things. For instance, my lovely daughter is now living in Toronto and attending University. She has figured out that she quite possibly won't be coming home to live permanently again. Sure, there are the occasional visits. And there may be a bit between university and a "real" job, but she hopes not. And she does know that I've been longing for a "wool room" ever since we moved up here to Canada. So she very sweetly offered that I should go ahead and start using her room for this purpose. "Great!" I thought.
After somber reflection, however ... You see, I have always laughingly told her that when I die, I want to be buried with my needles and my stash. I've gotta have something to keep my fingers busy, you know? And she'd always told me that she'd take care of that. Then she started knitting. And the tone of her reassurances changed. She tells me that she's on it, but I have a feeling I'm gonna get stuck with the plastic needles and acrylic yarn. The girl IS a yarn snob, after all. So ... Now I'm not going to make any accusations, but my mother didn't raise any dummies. I figure it's all a ploy -- I'll move my stash into her room and then she'll come home for the weekend. Possession is 9/10 of the law, right?
I'm knitting as fast as I can!