Multiplied

When I passed the final deadline for my book, waaaaay back in November, I may have come a little bit unpinned.  All the stress from the book project culminated in a roiling thundercloud of pent-up knitting energy.  A cloud whose storm would just have to  blow itself out.  The deluge took a very strange form, and it's only now, after the last gust of the tempest has finally died away, that I can identify it for what it really was:

Hurricane Bunny Slipper:

Or, if not a real hurricane, at least a Tropical Depression:

I made 8 pairs of felted bunny slippers between Thanksgiving and New Year.  And there at the end, the gene pool started to mutate, because the last pair of bunnies actually came out chickens.  Scary.

I'm glad the slipper storm finally subsided, because the next evolutionary step from chickens would have been something really weird, like Ring-Tailed Lemurs, and nobody wants to see that.  Least of all me.

I never have fallen prey to this particular disease before: Potato Chip Knitting.  You know, where you keep telling yourself "just one more, and then I'll stop".  I have never wanted to make the same pattern more than once (heck, I'm lucky to get TWO sleeves, never mind a whole second sweater).  Usually, as soon as I'm finished with a project, I'm totally out of love with it.  In fact, it's usually kind of dead to me, and I have to put it where I can't see it for a while before I like it again.

Not so with the Bunnies.  I flatly could not get enough.  It was a full-on Bunny Binge.  So disturbing.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over.  I even took a few days off from knitting, which was very strange indeed, and actually caused my family some concern.  I read a book.  I went to a movie with Phillip, without any knitting in my purse (when he noticed this, he panicked a little bit - it was so cute).

And now I'm ready to do the next thing.  Which I am pleased to announce will be something you have all asked for.  A Lot.  I'll be blogging it as I go, and it will correspond to the Sweater Workshop ("Stranded with Mary") I'm teaching HERE, starting January 14 (Sign up!  Let's play with string!).

Happy New Year, Gentle Readers.  I'm pleased to be back from my trip down the rabbit hole.

Aftermath

At our house we use these fabric bags with ribbon ties instead of wrapping paper for Christmas.  Just like wrapping paper does, they end up in a pile on the floor after the frenzy of present-opening.  Bailey seized the opportunity.  I resisted the temptation to join him.

The Huff family attended 4 parties in three days this year; with both a brunch and a dinner on Boxing Day.  We are well and truly pooped.  And we all have food hangovers.  Phillip and I felt so debauched and gross after the 3rd party that we took a donation to the food bank in the hopes of restoring karmic balance.

Today I'm finishing the sample for our Mystery Knitalong.  And then, just because it's the ONLY thing I haven't indulged myself in during the last few days, I'm going to spin.  Just. Sit. And Spin. 

For those who went back to work today, I wish you a very quiet, and short week.  There's a special vibe around the workplace during the week between Christmas and New Year, and it's not altogether unpleasant; Half the world is on vacation and the other half is just phoning it in.  And for you who are on vacation, I send my hopes for a peaceful day of reflection.  And if you need it (like we do),  the antiacid of your choice.
 

Surprise Package

Yesterday's Post contained an unassuming brown paper envelope, addressed to me.  I tried to remember what I had ordered, and for whose Christmas delight, from New York, NY. 

Surprise!  The delight was my own:

One of my first projects for 2011 was this little cap:
 

How fitting that it's published in time to close this year, and greet the new one.  It uses one skein of the delightful Cascade 220 Sport.  It's the sort of hat that won't totally crush your coif, and the yarnovers provide just enough ventilation so you won't have to take it off to avoid overheating.

I hope I never get over the thrill of seeing something I made in print.  It really is surreal.  One minute it's just my knitting, there in my lap like always.  And the next, it's all sexy and posed like a fashion model in this glossy book.  Isn't yarn grand?

Take a minute to look at the knitting in your lap today (okay, first take a minute to PUT some knitting in your lap today - you deserve it).  Be grateful for all those minutes you had it in line at the post office, and it kept you from running mad.  Be happy for every single stitch in it, how ever many there may be: each one is another time you did something perfectly.  Squeeze its bouncy softness.  Pet its fluffy halo.  Appreciate each gorgeous decrease, or clever yarnover.  Every part of it brought you comfort to make, and satisfaction to hold.  What else in life besides our knitting gives so much, while taking so little from us?

Comfort and Joy, every day of the year.  Thanks for sharing it with me.