I hope everybody had a wonderful Christmas, snow or not, and that you found a little time for post-gift knitting! This was the first year - probably since I learned to knit - that I wasn't frantically trying to finish a handknit present and I have to say: bliss. Not that I'm recommending that or likely to do the same thing next year. And I have been knitting gifts really, including Mr. Orange here.
When I was a kid, we opened our presents after midnight mass - it was so weird to me to grow up and get married and be expected to open gifts in broad daylight without heated-up frozen pizzas and orange pop from the Pop Shoppe in hand (said Mary, dating herself drastically.) But what this sock reminds me of is the swamp water my best friend Bob and I mixed long after after Christmas Eve, when there were just dregs in the bottom of all the different bottles of lime pop, orange pop, cream soda, root beer, and cola. sooooo icky.... and yet so welcome, when you're 12 and a sugar addict.
Maybe I should call these socks Swamp Water, what with their being made from the very last scraps of yarn I have in this fiber and weight?
Or maybe I should ask myself the real question, which is: why bother naming projects when you haven't updated your Ravelry project page in A YEAR?
Or maybe more than a year. I had no idea my life would be so hijacked by Things and Non-Creative Projects over the last 15 or 16 months. It will be a relief to have all that wrapped up and back to normal.
(speaking of things and non-creative projects, the William Chair I mentioned in my post about exciting furniture options - a post which, oddly, has proven to be extremely popular - was featured in a magazine Pete gave me for Christmas. It costs over $2,000. FOR ONE CHAIR. I am thinking its spare midcentury modern style is not the only reason that chair will get a No.)
Anyhoo, the orange socks are over the heel, and you know what that means: they will now go like the wind. Especially if worked on while watching period dramas - Pete gave me Our Mutual Friend this year, which features 351 minutes of gripping knitting time.
These few days between Christmas and New Year's are the most precious in the year for me. I've noticed that any other time I decide I need a break, it's nearly impossible because nobody else is doing it. But this week? This week almost everybody is taking time off. The phone doesn't ring and the parties are mostly done and I can just sleep all day if I want to. Which I usually do, and which proves disastrous all night if I give in. So instead I try to fit in lots of movies and lots of knitting and a little bit of tidying up, to pass as exercise, and to give me a chance at starting the new year right.
Is this week quiet for you too? How would you like to spend yours?