But it's looking cute.
Look! A steek!
I don't know if I have the internal fortitude to make an entire sweater in this fashion, though.
It'd be all well and good if I could do other things while knitting in this manner, but the thing is an attention-whore. I can't look away from it. I can't talk, because my inner mantra must constantly run with "one dark, two light, two dark, four light, one dark, three light, one dark, one light, one dark, one light, repeat", and if I glance away, I'm back to square one, putting down the knitting, getting out the spare knitting needle to use as a pointer, and squinting at the magazine's 8-colour chart, to see where it was that I lost my place.
So TV is out. Visiting is out. I find that the only place I can knit this is while I'm waiting in Homer, after school, for one or another of the kids to get out of class, and run to the van.
I can't even knit in the front yard, and be a presence on the street while Nate toodles around on his puny bike, because I get out there, and my inner mantra runs "one dark, one light, two dark, one light, two dark, three light, one dark, five light..." and then out of the corner of my eye, I see something "three dark... OOH, sparkly!"
I should let my garden devolve back to dirt. Maybe then I wouldn't be distracted by the flashes of colour.
Ooh!
Even the weeds have a subtle mystique in these halcyon days of spring.
Seriously. Could you work with these things bobbing their pretty heads at you?
I thought not.
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