I’m packing. Really. I am. Okay, I guess I’m taking a little break at this exact moment. I hate packing. What I hate is the feeling of accomplishment followed by the instant exhalation that signals extreme frustration when you realize you’ve just found a whole ‘nother pocket of junk that you oh-so-cleverly hid months and months ago.
But on the other hand, when I looked under my bed, there wasn’t anything there. I loved that. Thank god I left at least one storage space alone.
I don’t have the key yet, which means the loan hasn’t yet funded, and the property hasn’t been recorded yet. (A small voice is still whispering that something could still go wrong, but I’m doing my best to ignore that voice. It’s hard.)
Up until now, I’ve been packing in small doses, doing the hard things, like cleaning out drawers and the closet and (gasp) the desk. Those are all done now, and today and tomorrow are for the real pack job. Everything goes into boxes except that which I need this week. You know, three tee shirts, seven pairs of underwear, two pairs of jeans, one sweater (I chose Olallieberry). Toiletries: Minimal. Cooking utensils: One pot and a stirrer and one set of silverware. (A stirrer? The hell?)
And believe it or not, I’ve been knitting. Hell, I’ll do anything to avoid packing, including start another “imperative” project. I wanted to thank my realtor some way, some way that wasn’t an expensive dinner or a case of wine. I’m sure she gets that all the time. I’ve found out from reliable sources that she isn’t going to make much at all on my property, since she’s paying all closing costs. She’s doing it as a favor to a friend of mine, and because a LOT of my coworkers use her for refinancing. And ‘cause she likes me. I really hope that’s one of the reasons. She tough as nails, but I like her.
The only time she’s not tough is when her two little girls come visit her in the office. Then she melts and squishes them and tells them to say hi to “Auntie Rachael.” (I love that.) She dresses them in matching outfits, usually pink ones. So I thought she might like two wee little ponchos, just big enough to fit a two year old and a five year old:
And I made Mom a scarf to match (with an angel pin at the end—she loves angels, and god knows if this is pulled off, she’ll have accomplished a miracle). The pile:
I loosely used the Harlot’s poncho pattern (cast on 34 stitches on size 15 needles, and went till Marama told me they were good lengths).
And dude, the yarn? Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Superchunky in color 16009. (Edging was Mountain Colors Mohair Loop in Indian Corn).
That Cashmerino? I lurve that stuff. I spent WAY too much on it (5 skeins for all 3 items), but it was worth it. I love cashmere.
I love cashmere.
Didja know I love cashmere?
Working with this stuff made me realize that *I* need to make more things for *myself* in really nice yarn like that. The pleasure you get from working with it is incredible. Oh, the addiction.
All right. Really now. Back to packing. Mwah!
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