I rode in to work today. I haven’t ridden in about a week, usually because I was going somewhere after work or something came up, or I was whiney and pretending to be sick, and also I wanted the knitting time. I almost didin’t ride in today, being whiney yet again. I got a flu shot at work yesterday and I was trying to convince myself that Tuesdayitis was a reaction to flu. But riding in to work is something I want to be committed to, so I made myself.
As soon as I hit the road and my feet hit the pedals, I knew I’d made the right decision. I knew I’d missed it. It was like hitting ‘publish’ on that first blog post again.
It was excellent. I ride the back streets, along the train track. I love trains. I don’t know why. And because it’s along the train track it’s all leafy and spacious and quiet. The leaves are turning, and the sun was shining, and it was just beautiful and peaceful. It’s nice to not be plugged in or squashed in with people or waiting for something. I’m a dawdler, I just ride until I get there. It was so peaceful!
And then I got to work on an endorphin high and was offensively perky. Was fantastic.
When I ride in, I usually take a tshirt and jumper to ride in, and a change of shirt and socks because those are the bits that get sweaty. Today it was my sad robot tshirt (entitled ‘she doesn’t even realise’), my bright green socks from Rivers, and Cobblestone. I’ve been wearing it the last couple of days. I’m wearing it now. Inside out, because I’m special, and once it was on I figured it looks kind of nice this way and no one even knows anyway.
I don’t know if that’s significant. I guess so, but I’m not sure of what. Someone asked me if I’d made it myself, because they hadn’t seen it before and I mumblingly confessed that I knit it for my dad. Cue usual awkward pause. It still makes me cross that I think twice, three times even, about any story involving my dad, even incidentally.
When we were moving, I packed almost everything in the last 12 hours. At 12 in the morning, the day before moving, I was shovelling my clothes into big blue IKEA bags. I scooped up a big armful of knitted jumpers and stopped. There was, on the top, my favourite grey jumper. Under that was the first jumper I ever knit, shut in my room in my honours year, hiding away from my mother and her moods. Without that jumper my life would look very different, considering how many of the important people in my life I’ve meet through knitting. Speaking of, the next one was a jumper that Emma’s husband’s ex wife knit for him. Neither of them can wear it, so I’ve got it. Then a jumper my grandma knit. It’s not as good as she likes, since her eyesight is going and her hands hurt her if she knits for too long. She wasn’t happy with it, so I got it. And on the bottom was Cobblestone.
An armful of significance, if ever I saw one.
I was thinking about Stash and Burn
, since I was indulging in some serious pattern stalking (which they talked about in I think ep 73
?) this morning. (Baby cables, mostly. Waaaaaant). I have been listening to my backlog of episodes while knitting Rogue. They are one of my fave podcasts, and always help me out of any knitting slump, by making me want to KNIT EVERYTHING NOW!!!!
Anyway. In on I think ep 74, one of them (sorry, I just don’t remember who – I think Jenny?) was talking about her 52 project. She’s going to make 52 projects in a year.
I am considering doing something similar. Except not quite as ambitious. I would like to make 12 to wear. I would like to make one item of clothing, for myself, that I will wear, a month. For a year. I realised the other day that it’s been almost a year since I did my pattern drafting course, and I still haven’t finished my blocks! So I am going to count them as a FO. And then I want to work on one project a month, knitted, sewed, taped together. Whatever works.
I think I can do it!