I like my Sundays. They’re either quiet or busy, but they are all mine, on my terms, with my rules. Not the store’s. I tend to parcel out the hours carefully, evaluating as I go along. Do I really need to get on the highway and go to Target today, or can it wait? Do I want to screen the phone calls, or go ahead and pick up? Do I feel like knitting, or taking off on a little adventure? In other words: What do I feel like doing today?
That’s going to change this week, because Harry Potter Weekend is coming, and I’ll have to give my Sunday to the store. Never mind that work is already filled with enough, well, work for two of me. It is what it is, and I guess I’d better get over it. I could knit instead of fume, I suppose. Or knit and fume, but that can make for some bad knitted vibes down the road (“Why do these socks make me feel so grumpy? Oh, right, I knitted job rage into them!”)
The beautiful Shoalwater shawl is pinned out on my bed/blocking board, the weather is cooperating (sort of sunny, not too humid), and if Miss Annabelle will kindly refrain from parking herself on it, it will be dry in a few hours. I used my new blocking wires, and pinning and arranging took about half the time it would have without them. Later in the week I’ll take it outside for pictures, where its loveliness can be captured in more flattering light.
So, I’ve been working on this blog thing (which feels a bit like a nice room) for a couple of weeks now, arranging and rearranging, placing the furniture just so, adding knick-knacks of information and randomness. I still think of it as a kind of frivolous experiment, but at the same time I’m growing fond of it, and more comfortable all the time. We’ll see.
Not Plain Jane 
