I cast on the mate to the Prodigal Sock this morning, after pinning out Brother Sushi's tie and polishing off the thumb on LittleBit's second fingerless glove.
I cast it on twice. The first time, my long tail wasn't *quite* long enough. The second time, I had a few distractions but managed to get seven rounds completed before the end of my lunch hour.
This evening, I was sitting in the cafe at the bookstore, waiting for LittleBit and her BF and Fourthborn to finish their last-minute shopping at the mall. I was just finishing round 16 when I realized something was a little funny.
21 stitches on needle 1? check! 21 stitches on needle 2? check! 21 stitches on needle 3? "Harlot, we have a problem!" Somehow I only managed to cast on 18 stitches and not notice it for 16 rounds.
Must be the dearth of kissing. Which is not likely to be remedied this weekend. I am thinking that the holidays are just about the worst possible time for two exceedingly busy people to start dating one another. I'll see Brother Abacus on Sunday night at a church meeting at his house, and I have volunteered to serve as chauffeuse to Brother Sushi, my ever-faithful wingman. And I am thinking that at the end of the evening I will give my guy a gracious smile and a gentle hug and a discreet peck on the cheek like the ones he gave me at church *last* Sunday night.
And it can be his turn to miss me, until he clears his schedule sufficiently to pick up the phone.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!