Sassy Does It

Work has been sucking down my free time pretty hard.

I’m a little down for the count after a busy week on the road. We had a huge meeting, one for which I’d been planning strategy and logistics for months. Once it finally arrived, it was as expected - long hours, little sleep, lots of stress. Mixed with fun - can’t say I didn’t enjoy.

And, I’m happy to say that it went down smoothly - mission accomplished. But you know how it works - being able to sit back and enjoy the peace after this would be too easy.

As soon as I took my foot off the gas, my body reminded me that it had been working overtime to support my excessive demands. Within 90 minutes of wrapping my meeting, the tatters of my immune system raised the white flag.

The flu, or something resembling it, came home to roost.

But so it goes - I guess it’s my turn.

In between squirting that sinus-clearing stuff up my nose and enduring the general malaise of sore joints, I might get some knitting done.

Poor, lost-in-the-shuffle knitting. By the time I finish my projects, both of which are winterish, summer will be here.

I made good progress on Maizy’s socks on the plane back from England a couple of weeks ago. Then I realized I needed my 2-at-a-Time Socks book in front of me to remember the instructions for turning the heel. Winging it resulted in losing more time cleaning up the mess I made of it, so I just put it back in the bag and congratulated myself on finally finishing the length of the sock up until the heel (at long last).

Kymber’s birthday gift didn’t quite get done while I was still with her for her birthday in the UK. I made huge progress on it while I was there, but after a few days of turbo-knitting while half-looking people in the eye through my needles during conversation, I reconsidered.  Better than getting it done in time for her b-day, I decided, was to cozy up next to my friends with a cup of tea or a glass of wine and give our interaction my full attention while I still had the privilege of sitting righttherenexttothem.

In short: the Sheer Poncho is still not freaking done, but it has become more fabulous by the inch.

Since this photo, I decided to pull through a yarn stitch holder along the bottom of the poncho so that I could go ahead and knock off the cowl before continuing with more (possibly superfluous) length. It’ll be easier to tell how long it needs to be once the cowl is on, I think.

Or maybe I was just bored with the body and hungry for the more frequent increases of the cowl.

I think I’ll have plenty of yarn, but I’d rather finish the cowl with confidence that I can make it as bulky and swishy as I want and not worry about how much I’ll need for the rest of the body length.

So. Er, I guess that’s it on the knitting.

In the absence of any other knitting progress, I’ll post a few photies from my vacation.

First, I was in the north of England with Kymber and her blossoming fam (you’ll remember the recent addition of Little K, the recipient of Curlicue). In spite of the general chilly drizzly weather at this time of year along the northeast coast of England, we had some beautiful days of walking. The area near the Scottish border has lots of places to explore - castles and rocky coastlines and sea-hugging little villages.

One of these is a tiny island called Lindisfarne - complete with just such a village and a castle that were fun to take in on a sunny, crisp winter day. This is a tidal island, meaning that you can access it only by driving across the sandy strip around it from the mainland when the tide is out. No bridge. Just a tidal table that tells you what time you won’t get stuck.

It’s also called Holy Island - a place rooted in religious history beginning with the founding of a monastery there in 635 AD. The ruins of a comparatively new-fangled priory that was built in 1150 stand there today.

We meandered around and made our way out to the castle. I accidentally wandered a little too close to a few sheep who freaked me out with baa-ing and dirty looks, but I guess it could be interpreted as me freaking them out first. I’m not good with animals - there, I said it.

We embarked on what really should be coined a Sticky Toffee Tour while in the North. Pretty much every meal needed to end with sticky toffee pudding. If there was a chance that the restaurant or pub we were considering for lunch did not offer such goodness, well, move it along, folks. We’ll take our bulging waistlines to the next place until we’re satisfied.

On top of the sticky toffee, I consumed a whole lot of cheese and chocolate, not to mention the wine and Irish coffees.

Oh yeah…I brought home a little extra jiggle with me from this holiday.

Before I left England I swung through London to see my pals there, and it was so lovely to see them.  Frankly, though, what I’ll remember most from this visit will be the snow. Not that there isn’t a smattering of snow from time to time in London, but it’s very rare to have inches and inches fall down and stick.

I was walking back to the neighborhood where I was staying on the last night there when the snow that had flurried earlier in the day started to pick up. Even after I popped into a pub for an hour (oh joy, a pint, my laptop, my knitting, and happy pub-goers chatting around me - does it get better?), the snow kept coming.

After a gratuitous parmesan-filled dinner at a little Italian place, I emerged on the street again. Soft, heavy snowflakes that stayed on my nose and eyelashes, just like Julie Andrews likes them. What fun! Even the locals were snapping pictures; flashes were coming out of flats all the way down the street as people stuck their heads out windows to watch the happenings below.

I’d taken a few pics earlier when the snow started accummulating, but by the time dinner was done it was even more important to capture for posterity. Too bad my camera battery died and I didn’t snap as many more as I might have done, but the memory of the thick flakes piling up all over - so outside of their natural habitat! - will stay with me.

In the morning, I was still happy but the natives were restless. It was beautiful, to be sure - nearly six inches on top of everything - but the fun had stopped for much of London. Nothing runs quite the same way with this kind of “adverse weather” (as the Voice of God making announcements in the tube called it). It was nearly impossible to get to Heathrow, but I did manage to sleuth my way there to try to catch my flight out that day. Much of the airport was closed altogether, and most of my day was shot with travel delays…but it was worth it. The snow was just so cool. Cold, even. Ha.

OK. Enough blogging. Back to knitting. Wish me luck finishing something.