I cast on the other night for the Fimma sweater, totally inspired by my dear friend Amy talking about Lopapeysa sweaters on her blog. I've knit a couple of fair isle sweaters in the past and I forgot how much fun it is. I was in the mood for something new and fun and . . . worsted weight. I'm not sure what gauge I'm getting — too lazy to check. It feels a bit small — this is the size 4T, and it looks like it will probably fit Meems right now. Of course it's thick and heavy so my timing is suspect, but the fact that, as I write this paragraph, it is absolutely pouring down cold rain and hail balls makes me feel a bit better (all things being relative). That's how you feel better about it pouring down cold rain and hail balls — make an Icelandic sweater.
My thought is that I will steek this [bites nails and cringes]. I don't actually think it's all that scary. But it seems like it's one of those fun things to be scared of, only to be pleasantly surprised at how do-able it is, and I need that this week. Got anything else like that for me?
Between downpours, my girl and I have been having sweet days. She is eighteen months old now and must be the sweetest creature on earth. She "talks" almost constantly — classic baby babble, and was there ever a sweeter sound? Oh, my love. Happy, happy girl. She knows what she likes, which is almost everything but sippy cups and baths. We're working on transitioning to sippy cups. When they're handed to her she throws them down as if you just handed her a cup of hot cod liver oil. I think we've tried four different sippy cups now. She sees the sippy cup coming and she starts winding up her pitching arm. In her future big-girl room we sit in the window seat and point at all the things we can see from the window: Birdy. Tree. Flower. Birdy. Car. Dog. Birdy. Our neighbor's trio of enormous dogwood trees flower pink, and glow in the rain. Wow, says Amelia. She carries pink petals and rocks in her hands as we walk down the block.
I like the anticipation of April. I like it when things haven't really started yet, but they're just right there. Almost there. I like going out when it's sunny and lovely and staying in (though we still go out) when it's sopping wet. My wildflower seeds are sprouting. Sprouting!!! I am easily pleased, but really, doesn't it feel like a miracle, every time?
My goal this weekend — tomorrow — is to cook something. That will be a miracle. I can't remember the last big meal I cooked for Andy. He's done so much cooking lately. I'm good at picking up Thai food. I'd better start trawling food blogs right now. I don't remember what to cook, let alone how to cook. Not even kidding.
***Woopsie, forgot to tell you that I finally finished the bobble lampshade! Very happy with it.
