Determined that SMS could be overcome by public encouragement, sheer will and coffee (Hey, here’s something worth mentioning. Somebody got here yesterday on a google search for “yarn and coffee”. Aside from the really, really interesting sort of scenarios that you could think up for why someone would be searching for those two things together, I’d like to say a couple of things. First, to the person who did the search, Hi! I think we were separated at birth. Secondly, should I be thrilled or disturbed that if someone does a google search for “yarn and coffee”, I am the #1 hit?)
I buckled down and applied myself to the Latvian Mitten. I made pretty good time too.

I even remembered to take a picture of how I did the thumb as I went by. (Rams asked. I’m never going to disappoint Rams.)

I knit around to the place where I wanted the thumb, then cast on the stitches that will be the top of the thumb hole, then put the stitches that would be beneath them on a thread to save for later. Then I just keep knitting the mitten (with the thumb hole sitting there taunting me), until I’m ready to knit the thumb. I come back, pick up the stitches on the thread, pick up the stitches from the cast on edge, and I’m off like a prom dress.
I knit along after the thumb-hole feeling pretty darn good about me and my ability to resist temptation. I’ve got all these incredible alternatives and yet, do I run off and leave the second Latvian mitten like a common…well, Harlot?
No. I do not. I dedicate all of my knitting time for last evening to having a second mitten. I stick to it, darn it…and I’m feeling pretty good about it.
When I can no longer keep my eyes open, I spread the mitten on the chesterfield and show it to Joe. “Pretty nice eh?” I say, with the smug and satisfied smile of a knitter. “Yes, Ma’am” Joe replies. “Pretty nice indeed”.
We sit for a moment admiring the mittens. We feel the love.

Then Joe says….”How come you didn’t make them the same?”

I can’t talk. I have a lot to do. I have to do laundry, rip back the mitten, do some of my real job, dust, vacuum and put all of my dpns in a pile on the living room floor and throw myself into them and roll around until I (hopefully) get a fatal puncture. Busy, busy, busy.