I’m feeling better and I’m in New Jersey. I’m not sure if those two things are related, but I’d be hazarding a guess that you could expect that if you take a slightly flagging mum/wife/knitter/writer and absolve her of maternal responsibility, toss her on a plane, install her in a good friends house, hand her a glass of wine and promise her a fabulous sheep and wool festival that she’ll perk right up.
In fact, while I do miss wiping orange juice off the kitchen floor and arguing with teenagers because it is my life’s work to deny them all the things that would make them happy, this time away from home (I know. It’s only been a few hours, but that’s enough if you’re the one who cleans the toilet.) has already paid off.
That’s all the pieces of the Diarufran sweater, knit, but unblocked. Looks okay to me. (That’s an understatement. I love it. I love it deeply and passionately and if it does not fit me in real life the way it does in my imagination I shall be sorely ticked.) It needs a swish, a sew up and a neckband. (I am contemplating more picot edging.)
This is the wedding shawl, finally finished.
There’s a 6.5 hour crochet cast-off on that bad boy, and I love everything about it. Now, I know what you’re thinking…you thought it would look better, but do not forget the magic of blocking lace. This shawl will be a very different thing after the ritual blocking. That brief dunk into miracle waters, the adrenalized application of wires and guy-lines, the assiduous and thorough pinning of points and edges…the enraptured reveal of detail and lightness…
Oh yeah baby. Oh yeah. Blocking lace just never gets old. I can’t wait.