I’ve been splitting my time between my Rocky Coast cardi and my Hudson Bay crib blanket, depending on how much effort I feel like making (and that includes which one doesn’t need another ball of yarn wound before I can start). Rocky Coast is past the infernal yoke increases and into the body, and the blanket is just miles of garter stitch, and neither photographs well at this stage. I still love the Organik yarn, but am finding that it felts to itself pretty easily. The first three skeins weren’t so bad, but the fourth one from last night was constantly resolving into a tangled mess. Let’s hope it’s a fluke.

Something always needs to be wound up, and both of my boys are unnaturally fascinated with the swift and ball winder. The five-year-old likes to use the winder for its intended purpose (and I’ll let him, though I watch to make sure he doesn’t wind it around the gears–that wouldn’t stop him), and the toddler likes to sit on the floor with it and turn the crank just to see the spindle twirl. I may yet turn them on to knitting, though I confess I’ll be just as happy if I only get them as far as winding skeins into balls for me.

I’ve given up on the ladynovels for this month–the nice thing about them is that if the current crop stinks, there will be six more on the first of the month–and gone back to Miss Silver. The second one was great, and the third, Lonesome Road is turning out to be just as riveting. I stayed up too late reading and knitting last night, and I’ll probably finish it tonight. The irony is that I got into them for the knitting, after the Miss Silver article in the Piecework literary knitting issue last year, but there isn’t a whole lot of knitting in them. They’re just good mysteries with occasional tantalizing glimpses of what the Miss Silvers of the world were knitting in the 1930s. It’s a nice bonus, though.


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