Anything but socks

The good news is that I am anticipating an entire day waiting, with little to do but read and/or knit. The bad news is that it is because I will be hovering around a hospital most of the day. Waiting. Knitting. Waiting. "Minor surgery" and "very routine" are little comfort when it is happening to someone you love.


So as I am packing up a bag for the day (this is one of those occasions where knitting while I am endlessly waiting might actually prevent me from committing felonies), I am experiencing a project mutiny.




I just can't work on Grandma's sock s another minute. I have completed both gussets. Both socks are again in progress as I work down the foot, and I just need a break. I wasn't meant for this sort of knitting monogomy. I get sick of looking at the same directions. I tire of looking at the same colors. The pattern become less interesting. Even the usefulness is called into question. "These socks won't fit anyway." "It is summer, why would anyone need wool handknit socks." Even though Grandma said that she wanted it roomy in the calf, I know I have made them too big.


So I went in search of a second project to take. (I am bringing the socks. I am Catholic, and we have guilt perfected to an art form. These are Grandma's socks, and I self-inposed a moratorium on all other knitting until they were finished.)


I considered something lace, which has been calling my name for so long now it is screaming), but that was quickly disregarded. Instead of occupying my mind to a degree that would distract me from the minutes ticking past, lace would likely drive me crazy within moments. I don't think I am going to have the patience or concentration for lace.






So I am thinking this. It is perfect. Light. Portable. I am enchanted with the color. I am picturing myself wearing it on a brisk fall morning. Merry Berry shawl, why did I ever put you down? Oh, well that little tangle of yarn might have something to do with it, but that was easily remedied this morning.






Then I remembered. I had been second-guessing the eyelet row. The shawl is planned to have a white slightly ruffled trim, and I was afraid that the eyelet rows would detract from it's simple elegance. At first, I thought it was part of the shaping. I didn't realize that it was an eyelet decoration. It took me a shockingly long time to realize that, actually. It wasn't part of the original plan, so it is taking me a while to warm up to the eyelets.


The yarn is a fuzzy mohair, so ripping that much is out of the question, but I could just start over today. Any thought from the peanut gallery? To eyelet or not to eyelet? We leave for the hospital in an hour, so I realize that my window is small. I think I may have to resort to the unthinkable: ask my husband for his knitting opinion. That has had limited success in the past, so I am not optimistic.


Now, excuse me while I search for a magic piece of paper. What I thought were the directions at the bottom of the shawl bag turned out to be notes from a sweater I saw at the courthouse. The directions have got to be around here somewhere.


Today, it is all about the theraputic knitting.