Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Birch Bark

We're having slow days here.  If the sun shines, I run to the window and turn my face towards it, my eyelids glowing and orange from the inside.  I wait for the snowplow to thunder by.  I read and knit and read and knit.  There are three sweaters in progress, and all three of them are at the same point--endless, soothing miles of round and round knitting as I work my way down the body to the hem, the book propped up in front of me.  I get so much done that way, honestly.  Sweaters knit themselves when the book is good.  This kind of project is also perfect for a string of evenings staring at the Netflix box--this is my latest binge, oh my goodness.  Doc and I both think we are so funny now.  We keep working on new bits, cracking each other up, slapping the table.  He had one at breakfast this morning about Alternative Sanitation.  We worked up a whole hilarious idea about a coffee shop that only had decaf, called "Sleepy's", and we were breathless with laughing.  Every single thing seems funny right now.  

[edited:  I had a question about how the reading + knitting thing works--basically, I sit at the kitchen table (we have comfy chairs there) with the book propped in one of these, and blaze along on the long stockinette parts of socks or sweaters, which I can do without looking at it.  I learned to knit without looking when I got tired of having to decide between reading and knitting, just by practicing until I felt confident. It's one of the most useful tricks I've ever learned!]