Busy

Got one or two things on my plate at the moment, all of which seem to have competing due dates.  First was Campbell's 7th birthday, which we spent the whole weekend celebrating:
 

Too bad he doesn't much like his new bike. 

Then I worked on this Knit Picks project, which is going to appear in the February 09 catalog:

And of course, there are book projects, which are always expanding to fit the time I have alloted for them...

This one is only 3 days behind schedule, so it's possible I may be gaining momentum, but just as likely that I am delusional from cold medicine. 

Did I mention that school has started?  That means that between my job at the hospital (germ pit) Phillip's teaching at the high school (bacterial cesspool + teenagers = gross), and the smallies at elementary school (only marginally more sanitary than landfill) our house becomes a miniature Calcutta every fall.  I can't believe any of us ever sees a well day, if exposure has anything to do with sickness.

So that's all the news that's fit to print, and some that really isn't.  I gotta buy more tissue.
 

In A Haystack

One of the things I wasn't going to buy at TKGA was this sterling silver tapestry needle.  It comes from Crown Mountain Farms of Yelm, WA.  Yelm, WA is one of those wide spots on I-5 between Portland and Seattle that I thought didn't have anything I needed.  Boy have I been wrong.  Once I saw that Carson had one of these, I lost all my resolute determination and just about knocked down the cash register in the rush to get my own.  I'm so glad I lost my resolve and buckled under the weight of Knitting Tool Lust.  Using this needle is like putting on your great-grandmother's string of pearls in anticipation of the party of the year.  It's heavy, smooth, and trusty.  Not to mention easy to thread.  If you are looking for a special gift for yourself or anyone else you love, this is the ticket.  It's the needle equivalent of continental-size sterling hotel flatware.  Do not delay; succumb to the Lust.

In other news, my limited math skills have alerted me that I have four (4) weeks till deadline for all my patterns and samples.  This is the same thing emotionally as falling off a high ledge is physically:  Not really enough time to change anything; only enough to realize what's about to happen.

It leads me to reflect on the nature of needles and haystacks, and things that are either lost, or thought to be.  I seem to have misplaced my self-assurance.  It isn't that I can't give up sleeping, (I've already done away with housework, social interaction and basic hygiene), or that I don't know how to pace myself.  It's more a matter of cumulative fatigue.  I have been on this completely unrealistic production schedule for so long that I have no memory of what I used to do with my time before there was a book to write.  I think there may have been something to do with children, but memory simply fails.

However, it seems to me that the more beautiful the needle, the more worthwhile it is to dive into the haystack.  I just have to remember how much I like my designs, and how much I want to share them.  Where theres' a will, there's a way, no?

Lu-Lu Knits

When I met with my agent last weekend, my daughter came along with me.  She is nine years old, a serious reader and budding knitter.  She's also a lover of tea, so there wasn't anything at Yarn & Tea that she didn't love.  While Linda and I chatted and enjoyed our tea, Lindsay would fetch back various treasures from the sale baskets around the store to the table where we were sitting.  One of the things she found was this delicious Debbie Bliss, at half price, no less.  Linda bought all they had in yellow, and I scored a matching batch in lilac.  I got Liddy this, as a finder's fee.

But what I really loved was that 1.  Lu-Lu (we rarely use her real name, for some reason, and she answers to anything that starts with L) HAD to start knitting this right away, for which she needed some new size 8's, and 2.  She agreed with me that these are the perfect needles for knitting salmon-pink cashmere on.  I mean really - when I was nine I would have killed for needles like this.  I am so lucky to have this dear young knitter in my house, who assures me that I will get a turn with them just as soon as I finish the book.  She is a stern task-master.  Meanie. 

I may sneak a few stitches while she sleeps, if I find I need a reminder of what it was like to discover knitting.  I used to take my mom's needles and whatever stash yarn she didn't care about, climb the cherry tree in the front yard and knit until my butt fell asleep on the hard branch that was my favorite spot.  I taught myself to cast on in the embrace of that cherry, and all my early work had bits of bark and moss in it from the ascent to my knitting branch.  The descent was easier, of course.  Just let go, fly, and hope to stick the landing.

I have no idea when I stopped knitting in trees.  It was probably around the time I discovered boys, and if it was, I would like to state for the record that it was an extremely misguided decision. 

I think I am ready to find myself a new knitting tree, though I will probably have to bring a ladder along.  And maybe Lottie will come with me, and try not to die of embarrassment.  She's pretty charitable that way.