A walking oxymoron

(With perhaps the emphasis on the “moron”.)

Just a short post today my poppets, since the day is gaining on me and there is much to be done. I’ve a funeral to attend this afternoon, where even I (who can usually rationalize knitting anywhere) cannot find a way to knit and find it appropriate. (Thank you in advance for your condolences, but know that this loss is in my extended family, and that there are others who deserve your sympathy today. You may direct your kind thoughts to my lovely sister-in-law Alison and her family if you wish. They have lost her sister, a good knitter and a fine human.) I don’t regret the loss of knitting time at all, considering the circumstances.

That said, never before has a knitter done so little, yet expected to accomplish so much. I have merely embryonic beginnings of the second argyle sock…


but somehow still expect fully that it, along with a whole other pair of socks (of which I have only the barest whisper of ribbing accomplished) a hat (which is still a skein of yarn) and a manuscript will be finished Christmas Eve. Obviously I have slipped so far into some sort of Christmas delusion that my sense of possibility is all off.

More tomorrow…when we shall examine exactly how much knitting I got done while…not knitting.

(The good news? In my experience, Christmas happens, replete with joy and family whether I finish knitting or not. Pass the egg nog.)