The Day After . . .
One of the Outback Mohair shawls circa 2003
I was no sooner released from Sock Bondage when the What's-Next monster swooped down, grabbed me by the throat, and sent me rummaging through mountains of yarn in search of my next adventure.
I'll admit I didn't have much of a brain for thinking and/or planning so I was delighted to stumble on a 1/3 completed Plymouth Outback Mohair shawl I'd begun easily three years ago during my Mohair Madness phase and then discarded.
Yes, there was a time when I believed I would only knit with mohair 24/7/365. I was utterly besotted with the stuff. I loved it so much I knitted long strips of mohair and all things sparkly and glittery and draped them over the lampshades in my office while I pretended to be Colette.
Okay, so it's embarrassing. I admit that. But what knitter hasn't glommed onto some fiber or another and fallen so hard for its wonderfulness that he or she was ready to forsake all others and cleave only unto [fill in the blank]. It's all part of our affliction.
Anyway, there was the partially finished scarf, still on my trusty plastic Susan Bates #15US circs with two extra balls of leftovers at the ready. (That was the point of this shawl, if I remember correctly: I had so many various bits of leftover Outback Mohair from other projects that I decided to use them in a shawl-of-many-colors for me.) We were going out for the day yesterday (and thank you, everyone, for the wonderful birthday wishes!) and that meant lots of in-car time which meant lots of glorious knitting time while we listened to Anthony Bourdain read from his bestselling Kitchen Confidential. (Word to the wise: never order fish on Monday.)
This was the perfect driving project: already in progress, nothing taxing to the brain (k1, yo, k to end of row; rinse and repeat), and immensely satisfying.
All in all, a wonderful day.