I've been walking. No walk this morning because I hurt. I really hurt. Not muscles, I'm trying to find those. It's my bones that hurt, my shin bones, my foot bones. Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones. I should rest a day. But no, I would have gone, but it was teeming at 7:30 a.m. . . . Thank God!
I've been knitting. The SFS Sweater is coming along, not by leaps and bounds at the moment, but by a few rows and another few rows. Dishcloths! Washcloths! Dishrags? Washrags? "Warshrags"? Whatever you call them they are a joy to knit. I'm especially fond of the picture ones, especially the pictures I find that mean something to me. I am also pleased with how quickly my Elmore-Pisgah orders arrive (Sugar & Creme), almost instant gratification. Certain pictures scream for certain colors--always a color or shade I don't have. With so many free patterns on the Internet, I thought I'd never buy any. Silly me. I've bought two already. Had to have them. They were made for me. You'll see them later this week.
I'm reading and enjoying The Friday Night Knitting Club. It's right up there with The Knitting Circle. If you haven't already, read them both. They are enforcements of the notion that knitting brings people together and that knitting can hold a person together. A dear friend of mine, a co-worker long ago before my knitting days, had an expression she used when she jiggled her crossed legs and puffed mightily on a cigarette, "What are you doing, Bert?" I'd ask. "I'm knittin' and grittin'," she'd reply. It meant that under the stress of a work project or a personal problem she was figuratively wrinkling her brow and gritting her teeth. I've taken it and changed the activity since I don't smoke or want to encourage wrinkles. It's what I'm doing when the going gets tough, knittin' and grittin'. The miracle of it is that really knitting alleviates the need for gritting.
Bona Fide Knitter