There are two kinds of projects around here—stuff I want to make, and stuff I want to wear. Sometimes they are the same, but sometimes not, and this one is fully the latter, which surprises me, because it is nothing but a big rectangle of knitting, in stockinette stitch, with no more than a “slip one” at the beginning of each row to keep me awake, and normally I love that kind of thing, but this rectangle; this thing is the most supreme plainness. This project is the epitome of plain. I am dying to throw in a bunch of stripes or something, or twee up the edging just so I know I’m alive, but in the end a hand goes up to stop me, because I really want to wear this, and I really want the plain one. It is tedious, though. As I work, I can see nothing whatsoever happening. I am relying on the yarn, beautiful Chickadee from Quince and Co, in “Frost”, to soothe the tremendous ennui, and it does a little, because it is that great. It is so soft, you could persuade me it was cotton. Swoon.
In other news, the buds on the orchid are SO fat. I feel like I’m holding my breath. Also, Grandma’s birthday is upon us, and she (of the perfect triangle points) is 97 years old. Her secret to a long and happy life is to eat your vegetables, tend a flower garden, make art, treasure your children, and find someone to love. She still flirts. Rock on, Grandma. I love you a whole bunch.
