Never have I been so glad to be a knitter than I was on Friday, trudging to work in coat, boots, and handknit sweater, hat, cowl, socks, legwarmers, and mitts. It was cold. We ended up closing down early so everyone could get home ahead of an ice storm that had my car covered in a layer thick enough that I drove the half hour home with little peepholes and the hopes of slow, kind drivers. Is this what it is like to live in real winter? I think I could adapt, but it would not be one of the most fun things ever.
It has all melted now, and we are expecting to be back in the seventies by mid-week, but I have spent my rare weekend off hunkered down with wool and needles, hiding under those blankets I promised to Cogsworth. Today I finished a major project (details once I get serviceable photos) and found myself casting about in all those projects I said I was no longer knitting, looking for something to do while I watched way too many episodes of The West Wing.
Lots of frogging. Lots. So far a shawl, a sweater, and two pairs of socks. Remember what I said about the joy of letting go of things holding you back? I had no idea that joy would include quite so many needles and project bags. I need to hide all of this from Chris before he comes home or I will never again be able to complain that I have no yarn/bags/needles and thus need to take an Etsy shopping trip.