I finished my two books that have been in progress for weeks, as I was spending all my free time on sorting Hodge genealogy. I can't think my way out of a paper sack at the moment, so I've shelved the genealogy in favor of fiction and continued knitting.
Here is another scarf that has been sitting in my bag unfinished for quite some time. I'm ashamed to admit that I knitted the vast majority of this scarf on a cruise that I took about 5 years ago. It was completely finished except for fringe, and it has sat in that state for all this time. I scrounged in my stash, found the remainder of the yarn, and set myself the task of getting that blasted fringe done. (I don't like the process of making fringe.)
Vogue Knitting On the Go Scarves
Berroco Chinchilla and Berroco Glace
Color - Etruscan Glaze
(both yarns are now discontinued)
(both yarns are now discontinued)
After all this time, the fringe aspect took less than 2 hours to complete. I'm pathetic. My weakness in knitting is getting the final steps done. I've knitted sweaters that sat in pieces forever for want of sitting down and spending a couple of hours in assembly.
So, anyone want to make a bet on how long it will be before I block this scarf? You lose - I plan to do it later today. Hah.
The recommitment to diet has flown out the window due to the cold. Who cares about carbs when you feel like you're going to die any minute? So I've dragged out the arsenal of comfort foods for the sick room. I've had tomato soup. I've had lots of toast (using Wheat & Fiber, which at least is low-carbish) and have discovered that you can make a fair cinnamon toast using Splenda. Cinnamon toast was always the pick-me-up food for sore throats when I was a kid. Little brother brought me a big container of Central Market tortilla soup yesterday. I made a batch of my favorite bean soup. I think tonight I will throw caution to the wind and make potato soup, which was always my dad's contribution when we fell ill.
I love soup at any time, but I especially crave soup when my throat hurts. There was one time, however, when soup was not a welcome sight.
When I was in the early years of high school, a horrible flu made the rounds in Smiley. It swept through the town. Three of the family was down with it and I was the only one still up and around. My turn came about half way through the school day. It hit me like a ton of bricks and I spent a couple of uncomfortable hours on a cot at the back of the auditorium because Daddy was not able to get out of his sick bed and come get me. (Mother did not yet know how to drive at that point and she was deathly sick anyway.) Finally one of the teachers or office staff found a few free minutes to take me home. I'm not sure how we managed to live through the next few days because none of us could raise our head. I'm sure we were existing on toast and canned soup.
My English teacher made a Good Samaritan trip to our house, bringing a large pot of oyster stew she had made for her husband, who adored the stuff. Well. We were appreciative of her good intentions, but none of us liked oysters and the very thought of a soup full of the slimy things was not conducive to our feeling better. It ended up being quietly disposed of and her husband would have been horrified to know the sacrifice of his beloved soup to our sick room had been pointless. (Even the smell of it was enough to make us all relapse.)
Time for another round of hot tea and a little bit of knitting. The new scarf has been started and I already know I'm going to love it. Lots and lots of purple.