In progress is Rocky Road by Heidi Kirrmaier, who is so, so good. She just understands how a sweater should be shaped, how a pattern should be written. Heidi gets me. How did she know I only have sixteen rows’ worth of patience at a time for moss stitch? I went on the hunt for a cardigan pattern because—what else?—I was sitting here feeling chilly, and it has absorbed me completely, so now I haven’t got anything to show for the last few days but this big pile of knitting, and that is okay with me. I think it is going to be a blanket with sleeves. I can’t believe how many times I’ve gotten distracted by snowboarding on television and had to rip back, but luckily, as my husband correctly points out, knitting is fun, right?
This winter has been just relentless, for everyone, everywhere. I am getting stir-crazy, so we went to the movies yesterday, to see The Monuments Men. Nobody in the theater was under forty, all of us taking a brief respite from doing our crossword puzzles and listening to NPR and watching Downton Abbey. Our movie theater has been transformed into an enormous den full of lounge chairs, which makes any movie seem worthwhile, even though it is now also making people bring stadium blankets and take off their shoes. First the fedora goes out of fashion, and now this. Civility is out the window. Thoughts: Jean Dujardin, not just a pretty face. Is he wonderful, or what? Also, I am so ready to see some real art, in person. I suddenly realize how provincial my little life is, and how many beautiful things are out there in this wide world, and how much I don’t want to miss. I want to see Cezanne’s brush strokes. This castle. Must get out more.