Size Does Matter

I finished casting off my Annis Shawlette.  I have quite a bit of yarn left, relatively speaking.  A ball of yarn about the size of my fist.

On a not-completely-unrelated issue, the shawlette seems smaller than I was picturing.  I am pretty sure it is the size that the pattern specified, so any inaccurate picturing on my part is entirely my fault.

 I haven't blocked it yet, so it may grow a little yet.  I am reserving judgment.

In the meantime, what does one do with a fist of lace weight alpaca?  Too much to throw away; too little to make anything useful.  Maybe a bookmark, but that sounds like a lot of work for something that will be mostly squished between pages, and probably lost in the bottom of my work bag.  I will have to keep thinking.

I could always save it in a box, waiting ten years for someone on the other side of the globe begging for me to give it to them so they can finish the edge of a massive shawl.  I don't know from where that idea came.

Today, it is all about the fistful of useless yarn.

  

I always overpack

 Planning vacation knitting is always a balance between restraint and panic.  I always start with two strategic projects.  Carefully selected for their level of difficulty (one simple, one complex) and small size.  I know this will be more than enough for the trip, and vow not to overpack my knitting, like I always do.

Then I start start to re-evaluate.  I have hours and hours of plane, train, bus and car rides ahead of me.

Then I start to panic.  What if there is a problem with one of the projects?  What if I lose the yarn?  What if I lose the needles?  What if I get bored and can't bear to look at it?  What if I get stranded in an elevator for twelve hours without children and finish both?  What if my body decides it no longer needs sleep?

Then I overpack, as always.  These are the four projects I brought with me for our vacation to Poland.

This is the ONLY one that I actually worked on during those two weeks.

Ironically, it is the one that I had wanted to finish before the trip.  The one I was hoping to wear on the trip.

All those hours of public transportation, and I never strayed.  Maybe a small part of me hoped that I would finish it before the end, and still be able to wear it.  (Though that small part of me had not figured out how to block lace on the road.)

On the plane ride home, I did start casting off, too late to even hope that I could sashay the streets of Torun with a shawlette casually draped around my shoulders in defense of the spring chill.  The streets of Lafayette will have to suffice.

Perhaps it is for the best.  My brother already spend quite a bit of time teasing me about my shawl fetish.  He says that like it is a bad thing.  Besides, I only brought one shawl with me, Aurora.  And we will forget that I chose by dresses to match the shawl, not the other way around.

Our travel adventures were enjoyable, but it is nice to be home again.  Back to my own bed, my own kitchen, and a giant mountain of laundry.

Today, it is all about feeling homey.