Remember the dark blue Malabrigo scrunchable scarf I’m supposedly making for Little Buddha, who apparently would prefer red? Well, I must admit that every time I pick it up I start imagining it around my neck. Do I need another scarf? No. Do I want it? Oh yes, very much. It is so soft, so yummy, and so skinny (I love long skinny scarves!). It’s not like anything else I own. I’m certain I would appreciate it in a way that Little Buddha probably wouldn’t. I have to make a decision soon, because I’m close to where I was going to make the keyhole opening for the toddler scarf, a hole I’m not going to make if it’s for me. My Old Man says I should keep it, that it’s too nice to give to a two year-old. Just what I needed, someone to enable my selfish tendencies. If I keep it, I still need to make a scarf for LB and one for Tiny Dancer. What to do, what to do….
Speaking of selfish knitting, I had declared this the Summer of Selfish Knitting, and since today is the first day of autumn, that season is technically over. It’s time for making T’s fall socks, hats and scarves and felted slippers for the boys, the zippered raglan cardigan for My Old Man, and several Christmas presents. And honestly, I need to whip out some baby booties quick-like to go with a hat for a babe who was born two weeks ago. So why is it I am so very interested in so many things to knit for myself? Like the scrunchable scarf. Chocolate brown socks. A lacey pink scarf like the one I made for CJ. And now I’m suddenly obsessed with Tubey. Rachel, I’ve been seriously stalking your blog archives because I am completely smitten with both the colors and the stripe pattern of your Tubey. If you have a site meter and you keep seeing Ann Arbor popping up over and over for long periods of time, just know it’s me, drooling over your sweater and plotting how to make one just like it.
While my mind is on such selfish and obsessive pursuits, My Old Man is in massive pain. In the middle of the night last night, he fell down the stairs and either broke a rib or bruised it badly. (We live in a Cape Cod, where the upstairs is all one big room and the only bathroom is downstairs – great fun when I was pregnant and needing the bathroom every couple of hours). It was a pretty frightening thing to hear him falling, to know exactly what was happening and to think he was probably breaking something. He’s in a lot of agony, and today is his day to watch the boys while I work (and take a quick blog break!). Poor guy. Send healing vibes, please. I’m too buy knitting stuff for myself to be much help. 😉