Christmas started for me at the end of last summer, or at least my Christmas knitting did. This is the year of the scarf and I have knit a bunch of them. Everyone got a scarf or a shawlette, with the exception of my granddaughters who got vests. One also got a poncho--oh and my daughters-in-laws got socks. I suppose I didn't really grasp the amount of knitting and purling I've done until my youngest son texted me on their Christmas (two days later) and said that I must have been knitting like a mad woman. He also said that they had received an inordinate amount of knitted things. *blush*
In other news, their Christmas was two days late because my newest granddaughter was born on Christmas Day. Moriah certainly brought a new meaning to the Christmas story as I waited through the night for news. For the first time in probably 26 years I didn't have to stay up late to wrap or assemble Christmas gifts after Christmas Eve service, and I still stayed up late, this time on baby watch.
The knitting continues, however. I was one scarf short, so I'm knitting one for a brother-in-law. Fortunately, that Christmas party is not until Saturday. I also have a blanket for Moriah on the needles and a red riding hood for Bekah, and as always there are socks in my purse. This thing you do with the yarn is addicting.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Just deleted a positively morose post lamenting how my peer group is dragging me into acting their age not mine. I am younger than my hubby and a good portion of our friends--many of who are ready to hand the baton to the next generation. I really need to remind them that while they are staring down or passing 60, I'm closer to 50 than 55 and have no intention of packing it in yet.