55 days…

until the first day of school. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired, and I’m a woman who regularly stays up for 24-48 hours straight without even thinking about it. Why if it wasn’t for these
I’d be delirious. I can’t tell you how much I love these socks. (Two notes about the photo: I need a new porch, and yes, I’ve been working out, thanks for noticing) These hand-dyed, hand-spun and hand knit beauties are bringing much joy into my beleaguered existence where days are marked out only by the ongoing parade of children’s activities, impending work deadlines and impossible amounts of food and laundry. The children have had so much fun in the last few days that I feel like I’m clinging to life with my happy socks clutched in my hands as a talisman for better days. I’m so tired that twice during phone calls in the last 24 hours (and with two different people) they’ve stopped talking, and asked me if I was still there. Both times I said “Oh yes…” but I was lying. (Sorry Kelly) I just sit there glazed over, staring into space, I can hear the other person talking but I can’t seem to remember what I’m supposed to be doing. All am sure I am supposed to be doing is whatever I’m not doing at that moment. For example, I am working at the computer, but sure I should be doing something with the children, so I go do something with the children but feel worried while I’m doing that because I’m not working. To get around this, since I’m a sensible woman who doesn’t like feeling bad, I’ve decided to spend my days caring for the home and family (except for client visits and phone calls), then get up several hours before them in the morning and work then. I think this relieves the conflict, which is good, but it may kill me. I’ve not decided if that’s good or bad. Somehow in the blur of work/kids/summer/laundry I still found the time to nurture my relationship with The Dublin Bay socks, here seen enjoying the view from a paddle boat atop Ken’s shoulder.
They enjoyed the paddle boats as much as Ken. (Can we have a little vote here? Are these “Paddle Boats” or “Pedal Boats”?)
In addition, I’ve made up my mind about something. This is the back of a little Aran Cardie I’m starting. (It’s the “baby bobble jacket” from this book, if ya’ care, and you should, it’s a good book)
I’m going to frog it. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, she can be taught. This jacket is for a baby boy, and I’m not going to wait until I’m half done to have somebody explain yet another neurotic and weird rule of male dressing to me. I thought I had it licked with the colour, not girlie, and what could be more masculine than cables? If you are attentive, you can catch a whiff of testosterone off them.
Yet, despite all this it is doomed. Why?
Bobbles are girlie. Betcha.