No Pressure

I didn't know until today that this picture is from Norway.  That explains everything.  Clearly, this person has just been instructed to knit and then cut a steek.  Either that, or she has just  missed a deadline due to having left the sleeve she was working on behind at the office all weekend. 

The spotted sweater and pattern were supposed to be finished today, so that I can start the Next Big Thing tomorrow.  So naturally I did the only thing I could and started the Next Big Thing early.  Big is right, too.  It's going to be a man's sweater, and let me tell you:  300 stitches is a LOT of casting on.  I conquered it though, and now instead of just one unfinished WIP, I now have two.  Not the happiest place for result-oriented me:  Instead of the smug satisfaction that accompanies completion, I now have yet another process in front of me.

This is not the first project goal date I have missed.  With only 12 days allowed per sweater, my schedule is optimistic, at best.  I will be able to catch up.  Really.   No problem. 

EEEEHHHHaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhkkkkk!

Keep Swimming

Here is Finn, my faithful (albeit somewhat indifferent) desktop companion.  He leads by example, never getting too riled up about things one way or another.  He appreciates his treasures, but doesn't spend a lot of time obsessing about them.  He takes the time to hang out amongst the greenery, and remembers every once in a while to come up for air.  I could learn a lot from a goldfish.

I have begun my next Nouveau Nordica project , knitting with abandon in the sure knowledge that I have calculated both the size and the gauge correctly.  Or Not.  But the abandon part is true at least.  There is nothing like the momentum of enthusiasm I find in the first few inches of a new sweater.  I think it comes from the pristine quality of a project that I haven't (to my knowledge) messed up yet.  That first screw-up usually ends the honeymoon for me.  After that its just a regular old marriage: Do your best, keep on working, and hope it will seem funny to you later.

I spent some time yesterday on Project Management.  This is a euphemism I use to describe the act of fidgeting around with and reorganizing all my information.  I make spreadsheets and fill in notes on my calendar, and generally revisit all the parts of the project without actually working on any of them.  I guess it's my way of taking the book's (or maybe the author's) temperature.  Something drives me to intellectually pick up and put down every single piece of the work, making notes about what stage everything is in.  I am always hoping to find signs of actual progress during these navel-gazing sessions, and I guess I do, but it's never as reassuring as I would hope.  Ultimately I know what I knew before the fit of introspection:  The deadline is coming and I better haul ass.

The phenomenon that really blows my mind is the way projects have of filling up the time they have been allotted.  I know that if I had a year to do this book, that is how long it would take me.  If it were four months, rather than six, I guess I would somehow do that, too.  So I'll just have to keep swimming.

Too Darn Hot

DH:        "Why do you keep groaning like that?"

MSH:    "Because the temperature outside is about 95 degrees Fahrenheit, which makes the temperature in our living room about 100 degrees Fahrenheit, which makes the temperature under the wool sweater in my lap roughly equivalent to that of a blast furnace."

DH:        "You should really time your next book so the deadline is in the spring."

MSH:    "You should really time your next opinion for a moment when I'm not holding pointy sticks."

I pressed on all weekend, promising myself that if I kept on schedule that I could go on the motorcycle trip I have planned with my sisters.  That was only somewhat motivating, though, because I know I would not miss that ride for anything, schedule or no.  In the end I had to remind myself how much more fun it will be to take the time off from knitting, knowing that doing so will not put me further behind.

Weaving in the ends, weaving in the ends, we shall come rejoicing, weaving in the ends...

Inserting the sleeves...This part always reminds me of lacing up corsets when I worked as a dresser at the opera.

Putting on the perfect buttons (hardware can sometimes be an odyssey for me)...

And the final step.  A gardening book I once read emphasized the importance of putting signs on things.  The theory was that while a little patch of herbs in the back yard is all well and good, a series of little markers reading "Parsley" lends a sense of intent and permanence that elevates the whole enterprose to a new level.  Sweater labels are like that.  I think of the little tag at the back of the neck as the punctuation mark at the end of the sentence.  A label validates the project by making it  official.

Next:  Written Instructions!