Here is a delightful Sunday afternoon which I almost saw some parts of, when I was looking up. This is my life while I make a book: I am physically present, emotionally and intellectually engaged, and totally not looking up. The sweater came to the show with me, listened to good music with me, enjoyed being with some people I love, and grew by an inch or so.
The Worst Hat In The World, however, deserved my full attention, if only for long enough to model it. As you can see, opportunities of this magnitude don't present themselves every day. There are things one wants to tell ones children about, after all.
Something interesting I have noticed about my friends: Back when I used to pretend that I don't need to be knitting every waking second, my friends would act surprised to see me pull out my project du jour and knit on it. I even used to think it would be rude to work on a sweater at an informal gathering. I was afraid of sending the message that my esteemed associates didn't deserve my full attention. Now that I am living with a Compressed Schedule (euphemism for deeply challenged time management skills), I take the knitting everywhere. If I am to have any life at all while I author a book, I am learning I better shoehorn some life in around the knitting. So the sweaters come with me to the pool party, to the barbecue, or like this, to the concert with my pals. This is the interesting thing, though: my friends have gotten used to it. They even are interested in what I'm working on (at least the projects are changing from one visit to another!), and totally roll with the fact that I am listening and talking, but not really making full eye contact at all times. They love me anyway. I get to keep working on my all-consuming passion, and still take part in good times with good people. Blessed, Blessed, Blessed.