from "To a Mouse" by Scottish poet Robert Burns (1759-1796):
The best-laid plans o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
For promised joy.
The plan was to always, always finish at least one thing- anything- for every new project I start, to admit that two hands cannot work on 45 projects at a time. And then the new FCEK arrived, as soggy as the day. I dried it off and flipped through several times, and each time the cabled tote on page 36 would catch my eye, and I'd quickly put the magazine away, fearing the inevitable. I've always wanted to knit a totebag, but hadn't found the right one until now. I threw an afghan over the magazine to put it out of my mind as I worked diligently on the Starfish Shawl and socks, but it kept calling, beckoning: Knit me, knit me. So I did. Started it, anyway. I'm not sure if this makes me the man or the mouse.
It's so thick it hurts my hands to knit for more than a few rows at a time, so I won't totally ignore everything else. I thought the pattern was a bit vague- not a good one if you haven't been knitting awhile, and no charts. I rewrote the foundation row step by step after I botched it the first time which helped, and marked all the cables with different colored markers so I'd remember which one to do. Now I can just knit until I get my 11 1/4 inches without having to use the pattern. I also started a 5-Hour Baby Sweater for one of quadruplets, but I did finish two more pair of socks so it's okay. Charity knitting doesn't count in the plan anyway.
DD#1 came up with this riddle for her English class: You throw away the outside, cook the inside, eat the outside, and throw away the inside. What is it?
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