There was an episode of Sex & the City where women brought ex-boyfriends to a party with the intention of "passing along" a nice guy to another woman. The short of it is that one woman in particular was suddenly unwilling to pass along her guy. Seeing him through the eyes of other women made her realize what a catch he was.

Patterns are like that as well. I'd thought about knitting Forecast when Knitty first published it, but I determined that there was something about the proportions that did not suit me. Then, I saw Winnie's interpretation of the pattern, and it made more sense to me. In spite of being drawn to the smaller bobbles and the change in the sleeves, I never cast on, even though I'd run out to purchase the yarn for it.

Somehow, I stumbled onto Pinku's Forecast, and I knew it was time. I also knew that the yarn I'd originally bought was not the destined yarn. Instead I picked the buttery, sunshiney yellow Cascade 220 Superwash I'd bought on sale months ago.

Maybe I'm still recovering from my weekend of confronting tragic knits, or maybe it's too early in the game, but I'm not predicting good things. I don't hear any voices, which is a good omen, but those cable? They seem to be foretelling my impending displeasure.

I've never seen more unremarkable cables in my life. The cables are overpowered by the moss stitch collar and the garter stitch background. The background that is supposed to feature and present the damn cables, not beat them into submission. Frankly, the whole point of the pattern is the cables and the shaping. If the cables look like ass -- and weak ass at that -- is there any reason for me to continue?

This is a job for the Magic Eight Ball. Strangley enough, every click on the link results in a different answer, so I'm not vouching for the veracity of the online version.

As part of yesterday's Day of Decislo, I decided it best to enlist the opinions of other trusted knitters who know my taste, rather be the sole judge, jury, and possible executioner.

Some knitters keep all of their handknit items, regarless of fit, flare, or flavor. Others, such as Mardel, who will knit something for the sake of adventure and then part with it. I am not overly sentimental about the less-loved items that I've knit; sometimes, I'm just too lazy to rip out when I haven't another project in mind for the salvaged yarn.

The majority ruled in favor of saving the U Neck Vest, but I'm thinking that I may have to make a judiciary over-ruling. The trial has been reset to a later date. Alas, both Aran Rose and the S. Collezione Tube Top from Vogue Holiday 2004/2005 were found guilty. We spared them no mercy, and the ripping commenced on Aran Rose with a bit of a struggle. You could say we got into a bit of a tangle.

As for the tube top, Rewinding will be a bit of a nuisance, as it was knit with the yarn doubled, however, it will be well worth saving those four balls of Ornaghi Filati Merino Kind. The Merino Kind will be a most excellent yarn choice for Bridie.

I really must be more aware of the knit-ability and the wear-ability projects that I'm selecting. Another blogger stated that her interest in knitting Aran Rose was quashed by her utter dislike of knitting rice stitch, and I'm inclined to agree. I would rather put the time and effort into creating cables and form. As for the S. Collezione Tube Top, I really can't say what the hell came over me. Maybe it was something I ate, or perhaps it was some sort of PMS-induced madness. Whatever the case, I've come to my senses. At least for the moment.

Not long after I moved to Manhattan in March of 1989, another Penn State friend joined the ranks of PSU expats living in the Big Apple. He'd been a salesperson for Kinko's, so he was able to move with a job secured at the branch near Columbia University. For extra money, I worked part-time in the office, doing data entry and organizing his sales information.

For some reason, I recall that the manager at this particular branch was also a Penn Stater, although that may be revisionist history. One salient point that will never require revision or poetic license to be more entertaining is the day that this manager chose to live the dream of every retail worker and retaliate against a verbally abusive customer. And he really let her have it -- the C word! Now, I'm not the sort who bristles at such talk, but I think that particular word is one that most women hate.

She used the store pay phone to report his ass to the Kinko's toll free customer service line. Later that evening, he was phoned at home by the founder of Kinko's. Because his store was so successful, and because he was so loved as a manager, corporate was a little hesitant to just fire him directly. Instead, they asked that he take a day to think about his actions and his future at Kinko's.

Within the hour, there was a full scale plan of support. The following day, both assistant managers, the director of the Desktop Publishing area, a few shift leaders and I were present -- to help him fully ponder the pros and cons -- at a bar crawl in the East Village.

Many hours and pints later, the manager and a few of his drunken supporters found themselves at the store. The manager wrote a short paragraph -- on the rather visable whiteboard -- that "after a day of decislo, I am ready to return to Kinko's".

Today is my Day of Decislo. Minus the verbal accosting, I hope. It's time to decide the future of the U Neck Vest and Aran Rose. Both were started and have stalled majorly. Mentally, I've already moved on to potentially more satisfying projects. Should they stay or should they go? Both are dying on the vine, and I can't justify weighing down those vines -- two #7 (4.5mm) circular needles -- with dead weight.

Maybe I'll have a few drinks, roughly stuff the projects into my knitting bag, and see if the needles decide to free themselves.

Why is it that the grass is always greener?

I've abandoned the U Neck Vest as well as Aran Rose in search of something more fulfilling. But what could be more fulfilling than a peachy warm sweater for the last few months of Winter? Even though we're due for some nasty cold weather, I am already dreaming of something light and breezy. Something colorful and fun. Maybe something like an Iris Schreir modular tank knit in lovely Regal Silk -- wouldn't that just scream S-U-M-M-E-R?

I've been curious about modular knitting, but this is the first pattern I saw that I would wear. While I like the look of modular knits, they are not the sort of thing that strikes my fancy to wear. I'm still feeling some hesitation given that it would be a rather costly lesson learned about the partnership of Lumay and modular knit clothing. Costly to the tune of $20.00-plus per skein for some lovely Art Yarns Regal Silk.

Last night, I sewed buttons on a long-overdue baby gift. I think the baby hung on past her due date, so I'm exercising a little payback on behalf of her mother. Even more sad than the fact that I'd exact revenge upon a wee baby is the fact that failed to photograph the gift prior to packaging it for mailing. Maybe Mama Deb will be kind enough to indulge me...

Once I packaged the gift for mailing, I was at a loss. So, I did what any self-respecting knitter with the ability to multi-task, a short attention span, and a severe case of starteritis would do...

This is Orsa from Cornelia Tuttle Hamilton's Noro Revisted book, purchased last month at The Point in Manhatten. I'm not a complete kook, so you'll not find me twisting this thing around my body to create, in the words of CTH, an "impressionistic garment". Me in a modular knit will be impressionistic enough for this year.

My first week on the job is nearly complete. I was without a computer for slightly under three days, so I'm unable to accurately reflect upon the week. Overall, it's been great, and I think this will be a position where I can take on new projects and grow.

The benefits are amazing, and free healthcare and free lunch (I kid you not) are tied for the top-ranking position as my favorite benefit/perk. It stirkes me as rather a socialist measure to offer free healthcare and a free lunch to employees, and I'm down with it!

Actually, the top perk of this job is that hiding in another office on campus is the lovely and knitterly Sharyn (of my Thursday night knitting group). We're already plotting free lunches filled with vegan stirfry and flying needles. We may even be able to provide some entertainment to students and staff with our Mitten Thumb Wrestling event.

Both of us knitted mittens last year, and neither of us are happy with the results. My hands are small, and my fingers are short, but those orange gloves give me Stump Thumb. I wish I had a photo of Sharyn's other glove, because it would more exactly illustrate the massiveness of her green thumb. Actually, the thumb shown is larger than the mate's thumb, causing Sharyn to dub it (the larger thumb) The Green Giant.

It's rather odd working around so many young people. I'm not the sort of person who is fixated on age, but it's startling to realize that there are two whole decades between them and me -- as well as the Stupendous Stump Thumb and the good sense to cover all of my ass.

My first day of school went rather well. My boss was called out of the office, so I spent the day sifting through the papers and binders in the office, reading through documents, and lunching with my boss's boss -- a man who was pleased to learn that I knit. His grandmother was a knitter, and he was comforted to know that the craft/art is alive, well, and trans-generational.

Because I am a big nerd, I did lose a bit of sleep the night before. I guess I still get First Day Jitters. Because I am a vain nerd, I wanted to be sure that my hair looked just right for the ID photo. Knowing that I'd never be able to recreate a from-the-salon look, I pushed it a little past prime in hair washing.

Inspired by the notion of dry shampoos, I figured that a light dusting of baby powder would function as an ad hoc dry shampoo. Note that I said "light dusting"... The powder came phloofing out, resulting in a rather Lucy moment. The following morning, I discovered something far worse than looking like a Victorian era judge, faux dandruff. Mix one part powder with one part oily scalp, brush, and flake.

All of that for something smaller than a Passport photo or a Driving License photo!

When you are gift knitting, does it ever cross your mind that the recipient, or in my case, the parents of the to-be-recipient open your gift and think, "Pfffffffft...she could have bought something cuter at Target"?

Late Sunday night, I cast on this adorable pattern of Cari's, and I'm already hearing the nagging voice that it's too casual and not special enough. Maybe it's the Debbie Bliss Denim Aran that I selected? The Debbie Bliss Denim Aran that when knit on wooden needles results in a slight case of the rubbing-styrofoam-willies, by the way.

Between the phloofing and the pffffffffting, I'm curious to know if they still make Psssssst Instant Spray Shampoo.

Joe likes to drive the back roads because they are less travelled, and as a result, we often get Point A to Point B faster, even if we've taken a mind-bogglingly convoluted route. I guess Joe's driving illustrates the irony of shortcuts. Witness my Ballad of Sad Aran Rose. My belief that knitting separate pieces and seaming them would be far more time-consuming than just knitting the body in the round has proven to be fallacious at best.

My inability to really think through all of the resulting alterations when converting a flat pattern to knitting in the round has resulted in ripping back, dropping stitches, picking up dropped stitches, and re-working pattern stitches to accommodate the lack of wrong side now that I'm knitting in the round -- all of which adds up to a good deal of lost time. Lost time that I'd had not lost had I just stuck to the damned pattern.

Not all of my time was wasted this weekend, however, as I managed a bit more organization. A trip to The Container Store (sandwhiched between two stops at yarn shops) solved the issue of my shoes either taking up valuable clothing space or being hidden away in boxes.

The circular knitting needles got their share of attention. Just because I own a set of Denise Needles doesn't mean that I don't have a small stash of metal/bamboo/plastic circular needles stored in a dirty-looking Glad freezer bag. After spending two hours at Yarn Central wrestling with Aran Rose, I felt that I really deserved a treat, and what could be more of a treat than some sale yarn and something slightly more attractive than a food storage bag?

What else could be could a treat for a beleagured knitter but a quick-knit project with meaning? I present the ChicKnits H2O hat in Point 5 -- perfect for the recent low temperatures in the Northeast. After much deliberation, I settled on the Castagna colorway (over Windfall) simply because it sounded Italian.

A perfect little cloche for my first day on the job!

Back in elementary school, teacher decided to give us a test one day on how well well follow directions. As she handed out the test, she simply said to read through and follow the directions. Not liking to waste time, I read the first few questions, and I started answering them. I noticed that I wasn't the only one doing this. I think you know this one. There are maybe 20 questions, and the last question, listed on a seperate page, is a simple statement: Disregard the previous instructions; do nothing. I think only one person (who turned out to be class valedictorian) bothered to read through the entire test. She sat there with hands folded and a smug expression when the rest of us were stunned by the final.

Did that little example teach me anything about the importance of reading through instructions, following instructions, or thinking through any deviations from the instructions? Did I learn anything about how proper preparation saves time and effort?

EXHIBIT A
Thursday, I cast on for Aran Rose (IK Spring 2006) using Knitaly in a very pretty peach color. Already deviating from the directions, I decided to knit the sweater in the round up to the armholes, saving myself the headche of seaming sides when there was already the added headache of seaming set-in sleeves. I sorted out that I'd not work the selvedge edge stiches, as those would have been lost in the seaming.

Oh, I'm so damn cleaver...

I'm knitting along on the lower banding without difficulty, save for one dropped stitch, which I rescued easily enough. Sweet joy when I finished the banding and started the main body! Six rows into it, I notice that the stitches aren't looking as they should. I check the pattern stitch (Rice Stitch):
Row 1: (WS) p1, k across, p1
Row 2: k1, *p1, k1, rep from * to last two stitches, p1, k1

That's what I did, so why doesn't the main section of the sweater body look as it should. As I sat there, mouth agape in dumbfoundedness, I caught a glimpse of the inside of the sweater... Rice Stitch!

You already know the answer, don't you? You knew it when you read the stitch pattern, didn't you? Just in case you haven't had your coffee yet, there is no wrong side when knitting in the round! That knitting across Row 1 should have become PURL across.

It's only six rounds, but that's 194 stitches to rip out and pick up. I'm just trying to think through the option of flipping the the thing around on the needles so that the inside becomes the outside...

In late August 2002, I left my cool-from-the-outside fashion job, and moved to Italy for nearly two months to study the language, soak up the lifestyle, and do a bit of travelling. Since then, "work" has been a string of freelance and temporary assignments.

A string that ends today.

Monday, I return to the workforce as a fulltime, permanent employee. Like someone returning to a land they left as a child, I'm a little wobbly at the notion. Thankfully, I'm not going very far. Just a few buildings away from the office where I've been temping since November.

And in truth, I was "permanently employed" for ten months in 2004 -- six in cosmetics, painting faces and selling snake oils face creams, four at a family-owned business -- but in heart, mind, and reality, those permanent jobs felt more temporary than any of the assignments I've worked in the interim years.

Here I am, on the brink of something good, something permanent; and I'm jittery. The prospect is exciting and terrifying. Steady pay, healthcare, and the host of benefits and perks are excitng. The work itself promises to be interesting and challenging. The fear comes from knowing that after three years and eight months of "freedom", this is it. There is no terminus; infinity stretches ahead.

Most people have committment issues when it comes to romantic relationships. Me? I grow restless and bored when a job becomes too rote. I fear the job-without-end. Is this how a runaway bride feels on the eve of her wedding?

Michelle Kwan's 2006 Olympic story is heartbreaking and infuriating.

I was utterly incensed by the retrospective presented Monday night.
When did Michelle Kwan get old?
History will say, 'She's a nine-time champion, but...'

History will say what silly media folks will repeat until it becomes a part of our collective conciousness.

Perhaps, if the media did not already assign that modifier to Michelle Kwan, she could reign supreme as the winner of nine national championships. If I were an athlete, I suppose that winning gold would be the ultimate test of my accomplishments, but as a layperson, I see a woman who is a consistent winner. A consummate performer. A woman who has the grace and courage to pass and to give someone else as chance at golden glory.

Although the Olympics are regarded as the pinnacle athletic event, how can we diminsh everything that brings one to the challenge? I don't think we can. How many of us toil and forsake in the name of pursuing our passion?

To define Michelle Kwan as the champion who never got the gold is to diminsh her talent, her accomplishments, and above all, her courage. Her grace under pressure.

Even if she is no longer America's Olympic Sweetheart, I love her. I love her for all that she has sacrificed. I love her for all that she has achieved. I love her for making an announcement at a press conference -- an announcement that would have reduced me to a blubbering idiot -- with all of the poise and dignity that she brought to the ice.


*Ernest Hemingway

What the hell is wrong with me lately? I've been so hungry... I'm not starving myself, because I know that doing such is counter-productive to my long-term goal of being fit and slinky. Well, as slinky as one can be at 5'2". In my mind, "slinky" is as much about long-ness as it is lean-ness. And while I'm working toward the latter, the former has eluded me. I've given up hope of a miracle growth spurt as I approach The New Thirty.

The strange thing about this hunger is that no matter what I eat, it doesn't seem to be the thing that sates it. Nope, I'm just not satisfied by anything I eat. And it doesn't stop at food. Oh, no...it's spilling over into the knitting territory as well.

I'm nearly up to the armholes with The U-Neck Vest, and I just can't bring myself to do the few hours of knitting that would be needed to finish. Even though the unexpected arrival of Interweave Knits in yesterday's mail brightened my mood considerably, I was unable to focus on a pattern. I jumped around the magazine, scanning bits and pieces here and there -- like Laverne at the dinner party after her weekend of food deprivation. Or was it Laverne who was sleep deprived and Shirley who was food deprived? At any rate, I was bouncing and pouncing all over the pages.

I'm blaming my lack of focus on the olympic-class sneezing that I've been doing since Saturday, not to mention the wicked combination of a sinus headache and a low-level migraine. I might not be knitting much, but I'm definately about to give Rip van Winkle a run for the gold in Longest Sleep.

I know I'm not the first person to discover this, but it's surprising that it's taken so long. I have more clothing and more yarn than I can house.

It's not that I own an overwhelming amount of either; I don't. The problem is that I don't have enough closet space, a problem that has plagued me since university. At university, my closet was adequate, though I had clothing occupying as much desk and under-the-bed space as possible. I thought that moving north of Manhattan would improve my closet situation, but I was wrong. When I moved in with Joe and the kids, there wasn't even a closet for me; I had to buy one.

I love watching any sort of home makeover show that features a closet, not that I pick up any tips from re-working my Ikea amoire... I practically pant with longing when the expansive, walk-in closets of the rich and/or famous are revealed.

Lately, it's a sorry state. I have homeless clothing and yarn that resides on the floor, which is intolerable to my sense of caring for my belongings and to Joe's freedom of movement.

Thus, Sunday's task was to sort out the yarn issue. The idea of taking on the entire closet and chest of drawers was just too much for me. I'm an angel of organization when it comes to other people's stuff, but it is the worst case of the physician needing to heal thyself when it comes to sorting out my own shit.

It looks better in the armiore than it did stuffed into four drawers in those two-drawer Sterilite carts, but I'm still not happy. The shelves are deep, and there's some yarn getting lost in the back reaches. In a month or two, I will have forgotten about the 10 balls of Mission Falls Cotton or the bit-too-much sock yarn (I've only knit one pair of socks thus far). It doesn't feel as organized and "finished" as I'd like. I worry that one false move, and there will be a fiber avalanche.

And what of that rather large amount of roving (both virgin and dyed) considering that I don't spin, nor do I plan to become a spinner. Say what you will about the addictive qualities of this craft, it is not something that I can afford (in fiscal, spatial and most importantly, marital terms) to take up.

For all of my talk of organization and Zen flow, I'm not able to apply it to my life and home the way I can to other's. Hence, I must publicly declare that I am not participating in the 2006 Winter Knitting Olympics because I never managed to leave a little comment or send a quick email to declare myself "in".

Thus, I'm competing in spirit only, and I'm knitting Jess.

Given that I can't summon the will to send an email, you might suspect that I can't be arsed to knit a gauge swatch. Well, you'd be wrong. Not only did I swatch, but I swatched twice. First, using leftover Rowan Cork, which produced a fine fabric. However, I don't have the yarn on hand, and ordering it at this point would be pointless.

Rather than suffer multiple disappointments, I sniffed around Yarn Central tonight. I came up with two superb options, both by Lane Borgosesia. Doubled Knitaly or singled Knitusa. There are obvious merits to either yarn for the Knitting Olympics. KnItaly. KnitUSA. As I am not one who fancies knitting with yarn doubled, I am standing firmly on Terra Knitusa.

I'm trying to silence that little voice telling me that I'd be happier with mustard Cork than with camel Knitusa. It's simply too late for such musings...
Let the games begin!

Quick! Make a list of every person you have ever dated. Include them all: the blind dates, the mini-dates, the faux-dates. Can you do it? I probably could if I sat down with a group of friends and a few hours to review my life.

Truth be told, I'd done a good amount of dating prior to meeting Joe. No harm or shame in that. I was an old-fashioned dater; I took my time about getting to know the guy before launching forward. Of course, there are the few that create an immediate reaction, and better judgement goes flying out the window...

There are some crushes that I recall from university, and I'm able to remember their names. Then there are some guys that I went out on two or three dates with, and I can't even think of a first name -- even if I squeeze my eyes shut, screw up my face, and think really hard.

I've been dating for 24 years, so I'm not surprised to forget a few names, but what happens when you start forgetting clothing? I still remember the puce cabled sweater that I donated. It was my mother's when she met my father, and I still regret giving that away. It's one of the three items of clothing -- out of the multitude that I've trashed, donated, gave away -- that I honestly regret losing. Make that four items of clothing...

After my conclusion that I needed more grey in my closet, I discovered a charcoal sweater and a medium grey blouse I'd bought on a business trip to Singapore. A grey sweater is easy enough to sort of lose in the fray, but something that you bought on a business trip -- to Singapore, no less? I'd imagine that if you spent the bulk of your career jetting around Asia, the countries and the purchases could start to blend together, but I didn't travel nearly enough for that to happen.

Blah, blah, blah. The point of the story is that I'm re-thinking color concepts for both Tubey and The Somewhat Cowl. And I didn't have to wait to wear the necklace I put together until I made a decision about what to knit and then knit it.

I'm quite proud of the fact that I didn't lose any steam on the project. I bought the the pendant and the findings at M&J Trimming last week, and I assembled it within five days of purchase. It's a record.

Baby steps...

I promised a show of my wholesale goodies, and this is just one of the items I scored. The ring is from Pi Jewelry, a New York-based company which handcrafts jewelry based on the designs of vintage flatware. There was something perverse and antithetical about a former ballerina making jewlery based on forks and knives that tickled my fancy, and I never had one of those spoon rings as a teenager... But now, I have an adult, refined version. For a closer look, check out the Fountain Ring.

I've been on a jewelry kick lately, and I've been forcing myself to branch out in terms of my color palette. I'm a Color Me Beautiful geek, and I vowed to explore a range of flattering colors in my palette that, heretofore, have been ignored. Whatever comes after the U-Neck Vest (aka Gesta re-cast for VK Winter 2004/2005) will be something knit in grey yarn.

Like a woman torn between marrying for love or money, I'm evaluating the strengths of both Tubey and The Somewhat Cowl. Either would look smashing in a charcoal grey. Of course, Tubey would be the pattern in which I could explore the rainbow of grey within my palette...

Regardless of my final decision, I've already made the perfect necklace for either, thereby forcing myself to knit one of them -- if not both -- in the very near future. Both patterns feature a dramatic neckline, showing my necklace to advantage.

If I'm pusing myself to compete in the Knitting Olympics, either pattern would a challenge to complete in 16 days. I'm a slow knitter, and my mind wanders. Basically, there's no clear winner, and it all boils down to one thing: the yarn. The first charcoal grey yarn in the proper gauge that I find will be the determining factor. Of course, I may just end up churning out a grey hat. That seems to be all I can handle knittingwise at the moment. We sure know I'm not up to another shawl so soon after the Scalene Swamp disaster.

But we finally got our One for the Thumb!

Normally, I'm not the sort of person who is star struck. Like many people who live in cities where celebrities live and party, I've met my share.

However, today was different. This was the sort of unexpected meeting that left me a bit shy and blushy.

There I was, sprawled on the floor trying to organize the Mission Falls 1824 Wool when she walked in. Marjanna, the owner of Yarn Central, was kind enough to make the introductions.

Let me say this, her publicity photos do not do her justice. She is stunningly and quietly beautiful. Also let me say that she wanders around a yarn shop with the same sort of alternating sense of direction and helplessness that you and I do. It was conforting to learn that even Melanie Falick can be overwhelmed by yarn.

I'm not very good at math. In fact, I stopped studying math in high school as soon as the option was presented. Either algebra or geometry is the last math I studied. I slouched through two math requirements at university with courses known as Math for Morons. I'm not proud. Actually, I am, which explains why I'd rather get an A in Math for Morons than fail Trigonometry. Even though I'm not a math wizard, I can certainly figure out simple things -- like when a pattern isn't adding up.

Last evening, I settled into my Metro-North Train seat with an on-gauge swatch, ready to cast on for Harpsund from Noro Revisted, the latest Cornelia Tuttle Hamilton collection for Noro yarns. I decided to knit the pattern in the round, and I was working out if I would need to re-work the pattern in any way other than subtracting 4 stitches. The pattern in my size requires me to cast on 85 stitches and work [k2p2] 10x, k3, [p2 k2] 10x -- which according to my limited math skills is only 83 stitches worked. Are the other two stitches selvedge? Or is the cast on number incorrect? It's utterly maddening!

Certainly, one can forgive certain errors, as I should think it rather beastly to tech edit a knitting pattern...but a mathematical error?! Honestly, that is the first thing I check when starting a pattern -- do all of the numbers add up? Sheesh! I'm working with two semesters of Math for Morons under my belt, and I sorted this one out straight away. Too bad I didn't notice it prior to forking over the cash for the booklet.

Now, I'm too irked to even glance in the direction of the pattern, and Joe seems to think that it's not the sort of tube top that can be worn over a blouse or tee. And we certainly know that Silk Garden is not the sort of yarn that you'd want to wear next-to-nipples (unless you enjoy chaffing), so, I'm re-thinking my options.

Mora and Sparreholm (also from Noro Revisited) are certainly contenders. Gesta was re-created in Silk Garden for the Winter 2004/2005 Vogue Knitting, and I'd wanted to knit it as soon as I saw it, but somehow, I never got around to it. Maybe that's the route I should take?

It's only February, and already I'm experiencing Knitting Indecision 2006.

Surfacing

No, I've not been in hospital as a result of training with Alyssa. I'm merely coming up for air after a long week cloistered in the Jacob Javits Center. I've got wholesale goodies, yarn goodies, and pattern goodies.








There's a sort of time-warp/information black hole that I experience during tradeshows. At least I know that Coretta Scott-King died, Wendy Wasserstein died, I'm addicted to oil, and my nightmare of planet over-run with escapees from the Island of Dr. Moreau and ruled by Pan will never come to pass.

I can rest easy, catch up on some sleep, and dream about a pedicure more focued on callous removal and massage. I really don't need the paintjob.