The Terror of Lace

The last time I actually picked up the needles and knit was Friday night, when I worked on a gauge swatch. I know I am under a deadline to get all my holiday knitting done, which includes one sweater, but I've been so busy that by the time I get home it's enough that I have the energy to peel the contact lenses off my eyes, brush my teeth, and fall into bed. Sometimes I don't even get the light turned off, and I awaken a few hours later when I roll over and the light's still on, and the book is still in my hand (I am one of those people that no matter how tired I am, I have to at least make an attempt at reading before sleeping). And I haven't even had a chance to block the damn swatch that I made Friday night.

Today, however, will be different. After work, I'll wend my way to one of the local yarn stores where I'll meet a couple of friends and sit down and knit. I have two projects in my pack, a cowl and a lace piece. I'll buy something to drink, and sit and knit, and maybe make some progress on one project or another. Probably the lace, since I seem to only work on that when I'm at the LYS.

Later that same day. . . .

I made it and did an entire iteration of the six row pattern of my piece of lace. I don't know why I'm having such a hard time with it. Maybe I'm just intimidated by the whole thing. Which means I need to knit more lace in order to get over my fear of lace. When I was a hospital chaplain in divinity school, our supervisor urged us (made it a condition of our being accepted into the chaplaincy programme) to embrace those things which we feared most, or were most uncomfortable with. Which meant I took the oncology and pediatric wards. I will admit that my time in the chaplaincy programme was probably the most rewarding of my entire divinity school career.

So, with this philosophy firmly in hand, I shall embrace the lace.

Gods below, but that sounds like a soft core porn title.