It was laundry day, which, for me and the bearded fellow, meant a solid block of time spent at the local eco-laundromat. Clothes in the dryer, knitting in hand, I sat down to make some serious project progress.
I knew she was there before she started speaking.
Lady: (Appreciatively gazing). Ooh, what are you making?
Me: (Announcing, with far too much enthusiasm). Two baby sweaters!
Lady: (Now blankly staring). How…?
I looked down at my project. Continue reading
Or, Ode to an Ankle.
I am thankful that I do not knit with my toes.
For, if I knit with my toes, I would be far more upset at myself for tearing a ligament.
If I knit with my toes.
Thankfully, I do not knit with my toes*. Therefore, thankfully, this injury has not stopped me from knitting wooly goodness on a snowy day.
These will eventually transform into mittens for the bearded fellow. Eventually.
Oh, the foot? Let’s just say that I will not be winning any fancy awards for my rather-enthusiastic-cross-country-ski-clad-gymnastics in the snow this past weekend.
I am forever grateful to the designer who decided that ski boots should be supportive, rigid, and tight enough to allow the wearer to cross-country ski for several miles, over hill and dale, without the slightest hint of injury.
Until the wearer takes the boot off, that is.
It was a rather spectacular day to be on the trails, unknowingly gimpy or not.
*If you knit with your toes, please do prepare your mailbox for the thousands of handcrafted high-fives that will soon arrive.