It was really only a matter of time. When a person, who is also a knitter, has a rebellious streak a mile wide, it matters not against WHAT there is to rebel. In this case, I'm knitting in defiance of my publisher's deadline. Totally delusional time-management expectations? No problem! I'll just make my mom a lace birthday sock.
Maybe it's to do with the realization that the number of birthdays I have left to celebrate with my mom is dwindling. Maybe it's a backlash against all the colorwork I've been up to. I just really wanted to make a sock. And while a PAIR of socks would be preferable, and undoubtedly more useful, there is a distinct possibility that I will be forced to wait a while before starting #2. My mom, who has never been known as a finisher of projects, will be the first to understand if she only ever receives this single.
Not that I wouldn't like to make another. In fact, for the first time in memory, I'm sorta jazzed to start the other one right away. Which makes perfect sense in light of the fact that this rebelion knitting, and not sanctioned, career-advancing, bill-paying knitting. Of course this is the first and only time I've eluded the dreaded second sock syndrome.
The fact is that I've been pounding my head against the wall with a roaring case of writers' block. My friend Jill says it's because I'm not dealing yet with the loss of my father. She might be right. I can't deny that a little quiet time at the ocean would be good for my perspective about now. But that's just not in the cards at the moment. So I guess I've been taking the only vacation I can: Defiant Sock Knitting.
All that aside, I have a pressing need to return to my regularly-scheduled book knitting. And "pressing" here means Urgent and Undeniable, even by a world-class Deny-er, such as myself.
Time to go back below and pull on the oars some more. Isn't it ghastly how even something you love can still turn into work?