(In case you were perplexed by the picture, Skalbagge is a stuffed pillbug, one of my growing collection of Ikea creatures. Its mouth unzips to hold pajamas or whatever strikes las hermanitas' fancy.)
The carpet is gone, the tile is in, and we are beginning to put the house back together again.
I survived my tests, thanks in large part to the cookies my History of English teacher provided. By the last one, though, I was starting to get a little punchy. I was actually doodling in the margins of my test. I don't know what got into me. I'm not a doodler, and I can't draw to save my life. Maybe it was the pen. That particular professor makes us do our tests in pen, and I must say, I do love gel ink. Whatever the cause, I hope the TA finds the little pictures of tarsier skulls and rockets and whatever else I put on there (I don't even remember) endearing rather than distressing.
Anyway. Knitting. I swear, I really and truly have been knitting. What I've been knitting is really proof of the way my mind bends:
Yes, it's another Icarus, in more Malabrigo. Doesn't anyone else knit lace to unwind? If you check out the Icarus knitalong, every other post contains a comment askance about how boring knitting the body is. Maybe to the knitter in a better frame of mind, it is. For me, nothing is more calming than those orderly quills of stockinette. I memorized the pattern working on Hermanita's Firebird, and so now, I can pull it out in class, in between class, or while reading
and zip through a row to keep from going right off the deep end.
This weekend, I have a feeling I'll get a lot of knitting done. I have two presentations, due Tuesday, to finish. One is on interproximal grooves, and the other is on the Spanish conquest. Given a choice, I'd do the former twice and say to heck with the latter. I mean, honestly. Grooves in harmless little teeth or the bloody initiation of three centuries of genocide, cultural destruction, and oppresion--do you really even have to think about that one?
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