Joe came and fetched me yesterday (which answers the question of how I got where I was, drop off, and pick up. No car while I was there.) and brought me home ahead of another nasty storm. It was the day I was supposed to come home anyway, and though I had actually entertained the idea of staying for a few more days, with the way the weather was looking, if I didn’t get out yesterday, it might have been Monday before I could bust a move out of there, and I absolutely had to be home for Friday. (Turns out, when I did get home last night, ahead of the storm, that the reason I absolutely had to be home on Friday got rescheduled to Monday. (When I run the world, things will be more reliable.)
A big storm did indeed arrive, and is still arriving as I type and I am so glad to be home. I missed everybody so much, even my little cat, and I am not the sort of woman who normally thinks very much about her cat. It’s a testament to how very alone I was up there, that one dwells on the creature comforts of home, and the creatures that go with it. (Until, at least, the creatures remind me why it was I left in the first place.) For now, it is very true that absence has made my heart grow fonder, and I’m enjoying the family’s comings and goings. Compared to listening to the roof bury me in the woods, the sound of Joe shovelling us out today is a pleasure. (Especially since the former means I shall be shovelling, and the later clearly does not.) I cleaned up the kitchen last night and (somebody note the date and time, this shall likely never occur again) I enjoyed it. Laundry? Just hand it to me. I’d be happy to put it in for you. As challenging as the last 6 days were, as lonely as I was and as skittish, I surprised myself by feeling rather winsome yesterday when we left, and feeling positive about the idea of doing it again. There’s something about being in charge of your whole self and it’s survival, with no help from anyone, that feels a little (dare I say it?) brave.
I was in the woods in the easiest possible way, with a bathroom and a stove and frozen pizza, and it still made me feel like a strong and competent woman. (When I wasn’t scared stupid.) It also made me talk to deer for company after only 6 days, so I don’t know what the long term effects on my psyche would be.
What did I knit? Surprisingly little. Like I said, knitting and typing aren’t very compatible, and neither are cooking or stomping in the woods, and I did a lot of all of them. Still, I managed a bit.
One pair finished socks, STR mediumweight, in a colourway that’s a one of a kind “rare gem”.
My own pattern (such as it is) invented on the fly. The 2×2 rib grows into two rows of twisted stitches along the fronts of the legs, which then become plain rib again on the feet. Grafton Fibers needles, 2.75mm.
I started another pair of socks in STR Lightweight (Ravenscroft), but you should ignore them because I screwed them up bigtime and I’ve already frogged them. Forget they were ever here.
Last, but certainly not least, The Urban Aran (Cardiganized.) Two sleeves.
Want a good laugh? I thought this (and the black socks above) would be finished by Sunday. Seriously. I took three more skeins of sock yarn away with me so that when I just whipped through the sweater and socks (You know, knitting at 15 times my normal pace, just because I’m not home) I would need at least three more pairs of socks on top of finishing the socks above, plus the sweater, plus the black socks. (IN SIX DAYS.)
I crack me up too.