I am, dear friends, still knitting the baby blanket. Progress is alarmingly slow, since it turns out that I might have totally misjudged the amount of knitting this really is.
This is another example of optimism VS reality, which is a recurrent theme in my knitting, and another yet another disappointing check-in with my own intellect. If I had thought about it, it would have made perfect sense. Each repeat of the edging pattern is about 540 stitches to knit, and there are about 110 repeats to get around the edges. This means that to finish the border, I'm coming in somewhere around 59 000 stitches to be knit. At my normal cruising speed, allowing for sips of coffee, turning at the end of rows etc, I should expect that this will take about 990 minutes, or 16.5 hours. (I think that's right. Whenever I start throwing numbers around everyone should remember that I'm someone who took four kicks at the can to nail a grade ten math credit.) 
That means that each side of the blankie should take about 4 hours, and I guess that's what it's taking, but it seems like a whole lot more. (This is likely because I don't have four hours a day to knit, although I think I do, but that's a whole other set of delusions. There's also the fact that this blanket might be much bigger than I thought it was before it started coming off the circular, but again - a delusion for another day.) I've got one side left - I've knit 83 out of the estimated 110 repeats this bad boy is going to take, and I would ever so much like to finish today. Ever so much. I've started cruising the internet looking for the next great project, and that's always a sign that I'm sick to death of what I'm knitting on.
Even though I can see an end in sight, this project feels like it's taking forever - and it's starting to be less than a total thrill to work on it. I know that if I just keep going, it will end. It has to. It's a total law, but man, am I just about stinking done with it.
I was thinking that this morning, as I sat down to do a repeat or two before work and I actually thought for one minute "Man, this is never going to end, it totally blows that I'm still on this blanket - " and I almost wrote a blog post complaining about how long the blanket was taking, and how sick of it I was - and then I had a thought that stopped me dead in my tracks, and I was suddenly completely grateful that I was knitting a ginormous baby blanket and that I had merely to work on it.
That thought was that if I actually voiced a complaint about this? That knitting this baby blanket was something that I was sort of sick of - that Super-Pregnant-Jen would be over here as fast as her full uterus would let her, with the absolute intention of beating the living snot out of me. I'm pretty sure I could outrun her, but it wouldn't stop her from screaming "YOU'RE SICK OF KNITTING THE BABY'S BLANKET? HOW ABOUT MAKING THE BABY, YOU LUNATIC. EVER STOP TO THINK THAT MIGHT BE A BIT OF A STRAIN, YOU NON-PREGNANT-IN-AUGUST SNOT! YOU'D LIKE TO FINISH IT? YOU'D LIKE TO FINISH? TELL ME AGAIN HOW YOUR PROGRESS FEELS SLOW, AND STOP RUNNING YOU COWARD" All the while flinging whatever hard things were within her grasp at me, aiming deliberately for my soft parts.
I think our friendship might be a wee bit awkward after that, so no. I'm not complaining. The blanket is going fine, and I'm happy to knit it as quickly as I am able for as long as it takes, and I'm not even thinking about socks. Thanks for asking.