And why should today be any different from the yesterday? Or the day before. Or the day before that. Frankly, I don't expect to have a life again until Tuesday. Maybe. And I am, apparently, not alone. There's a whole slew of people stumbling in here because they've googled that Hamlet quote about "all occasions" *. I take some comfort in that. Misery loving miserable company and all.
Still, it seems unfair to leave you knitting-less for that long. While I'm slogging , you can admire Clare's Christmas Market knitting.
These are the Starfish Washcloths by Cindy Taylor (the same designer who did the Reverse-Bloom Flower Washcloths in Melanie Falick's Weekend Knitting). The pattern was part of our Williamsburg loot. Clare figured if we paired them with soap, packaged them creatively and used the word "spa" in their description, they'd sell.
There's a word for daughters who take off for the far reaches of the globe after having had the fun of knitting, leaving their mother's to do the grunt work. I can't think of it, but I know it's out there.
I wouldn't indulge myself with a picture of my contributions, except I'm puzzled. Something/s is/are conspicuous by their absence, no?
Wondering where the Stupid Booties are? So am I.
*It's Act 4, sc. 4, l. 32-3.