I once knit a pair of socks, one of which would have fit Frankenstein, and the other Bilbo Baggins. I'm thinking the product was affected by my state of mind, especially as everything I knit while pregnant came out properly shaped, with tricky cables or delicate contrasting zigzags. Funny how we glow when we're pregnant, but never attribute that radiance to the fact that we're not smoking and boozing. Of course this theory doesn't explain why our hair falls out post-partum, but I'm working on it.
In December alone, I created four gifts for family and friends through this new industriousness, and miraculously finished a project for my second child that I'd started for my firstborn. No matter how you look at it, this hobby is better than most of the others I have acquired over the years. I have yet to figure out how to play a Brahms Rhapsodie while twisting a cable, but my children assure me that's a good thing.
So whom should I honor with this daily blog, to whom I would happily dedicate 2010, a year I once thought would find us flying around in pods wearing jumpsuits made of Kevlar and shiny astronaut fashion? Shall research it tonight. Hell, maybe I'll design a signature hand-knit space suit. As I see it, I've found contented and chaos-free row-by-row living. Let's see what the recipients of my fine creations have to say to all that. And let's see what knit one, purl one living brings in practice.
I swear, like a new mother breastfeeding in a public place, I am not embarking on this madness just to needle you.
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