All right, I admit it. I just haven't felt like knitting of late. This might explain the dearth of recent knitting news in this blog. (We'll get the the dearth of other news in this blog when there's time -- but the lack of time explains the rest of it pretty well.)
To look at the blogs of other knitters, both net-famous and otherwise, you'd figure that no one goes through a fallow period. Other people's needles spew forth miles upon miles of exquisite knitted lace, sweaters, socks, baby stuff, gifts for people they met at the bus stop last week... you get the idea. If they're not actively knitting, they're spinning enough yarn to reach to the moon and back. (You need about that much for your standard lace shawl, anyway.)
But ah, not me. When I took up knitting a few years ago (3? 4? I forget), I took to it with all the zeal of the newly converted. All my embroidery, cross-stitch, needlepoint, and quilting projects-in-progress commenced to collect dust as I bent myself over the needles, determined to master this new skill that grabbed me so intensely. I've made a truckload of scarves, innumerable felted bags, several pairs of socks, one sweater, and assorted other goodies. For some knitting superstar, this probably represents a week's worth of output -- but it's not so bad for a slow knitter who manages about an hour or so of uninterrupted knitting on a given weeknight.
Honest, I never planned to take a breather. Now that I'm signed up for a Lucy Neatby class in mid-June, I should be whipping out swatches by the bucketful; I'm going to need that many to practice the buttonhole and finishing techniques we'll be learning. I just can't muster the desire. Please tell me I won't be pulling all-nighters to make a bunch of damn swatches.
I do go through the motions on occasion with the front of my Seacolors sweater. It's "idiot knitting" at its finest -- row upon row of stockinette, just enough to keep the hands busy during the hour or so that I get to relax before bedtime. At the rate I'm going, I'll probably finish this sucker in the year 2015, but at least a row or two per night constititutes some forward progress.
Even my beloved socks just aren't singing their siren songs loudly enough for me to hear. When I dropped a stitch in the foot of my second Sockotta sock and just couldn't recover the thing no matter how cleverly I plied the crochet hook, I gave up and pulled out the whole thing, then rewound the yarn and let it sit. Rather than take up and knit it again, I opted to untangle the Trekking yarn from my other pulled-out second sock and make a neat ball of that. Now I can stare at them both, trying to muster the desire to take up either one.
I sure hope this fallow period ends soon. It's a shame to be staring at so much yarn, and yet not touching any of it.