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Beginnings and ends (and weaving in)

I’m well relieved to have finished my Niecini’s wee green duffel coat. (Seriously? That’s how you spell duffel coat? Wow.)  Apart from the embarrassment of being the latest first birthday gift (Who am I kidding? She ain’t give a damn. The only first birthday present she cares about is the soft floppy sheepy she got that she’s just super in love with.), I put my beautiful Origami cardie on hold to make the duffel coat “real quick”.

By the time the duffel coat was done, Origami had all but thrown a hissy fit over the extensive period of neglect, and I hastily finished knitting it a weekend ago. There are many, many ends to be woven in, despite the fact that it’s all knit from the same yarn. I’m finishing up the seaming and then I’ll post pictures, my friends. Spoiler alert: it’s sooo good.

This double whammy of finishing coincided nicely with some other finishing, which is something that always pleases me. There’s something about finishing stuff at the same time that cockers my spaniel, if you catch my drift. You know that satisfaction when, say, the song you’re listening to finishes *just* as you’re turning off the ignition? Or when you use up the last of the bread and the last of the peanut butter in one glorious sandwich? (Couple it with the last of the wine and you’ve got yourself a balanced meal.) Maybe it’s just me. It doesn’t even have to be deeply significant: finishing, say, a packet of Weetbix while I finish a book? Golden. Finish a knitting project and an editing gig on the same day? Glorious. Finishing two knitting patterns, a book and an editing gig all in the same week? DOPAMINE OVERLOAD.

If we want to get all pop-psych here, I’d say it has something to do with associating finishing tasks with “getting stuff done”, which is a shallow metric for “being a useful individual” and not “wasting time like a sack of crap”. That doesn’t explain why the synchronicity is so satisfying, but that’s why I said ‘pop-pysch’ and not ‘for realz realsie-pysch’.

The point is: finishing things (particularly knitting and reading projects) means it’s time to start new things! Woop woop! Which book? Which knitting project?

My Niecini will soon be accompanied by a Nephewini, so I better get cracking on that (Although the poor tyke will be a summer baby: what do I knit for summer babies? Do I refuse to acknowledge them until winter?); and there’s no shortage of books that want reading around here; but the issue at the heart of all this decision-deciding is this: we’re going on holiday. I need holiday knitting, and I need holiday reading. I took out all my sock yarns and put them on the coffee table. I picked them up, one by one, and exclaimed delightedly as we got reacquainted. Then I put them all away and spent a few evenings feverishly looking at Ravelry. I’ve been thinking about long, thin, curved scarfy-shawly things (Shawlettes? Really? That’s the word for them? Huh. I’m learning so much in this post.); I’ve been thinking about slouchy wee beanies. And, since I am nothing if not devoted, I’ve been thinking about the two sweater projects awaiting my tenderness.

I pride myself on not over-packing when I’m going away, but that won’t stop me taking fourteen balls of yarn and a complete interchangeable needle set. It will stop me taking more than two t-shirts, but I don’t need t-shirts to be entertained.

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