So.

The closing on Dad's house came and went...a lot like a drunk driving a wheelbarrow...but now it's over. A tip, my friends: even if termites are long dead and gone from the house you're selling, expect to have the place inspected in triplicate--at least once ON THE DAY OF CLOSING--and that you have said inspections ON THE CORRECT FHA FORM. Nothing else will do.

It's nice to have standards that raise the bloodpressure of law-abiding and otherwise non-murderous citizens. But, mostly, it's nice to have the house sold, considering the real estate market everywhere else.

I am itching to show you a couple projects I'm working on. But I can't show you the projects I'm working on because one of them is for a knitting swap partner (a bag that is turning out narrower than I'd anticipated...um, the project, that is, not the partner) and it must remain in the blogosphere shadows until the partner has recieved it with all manner of neat stuff inside.

And the other project... Well, I don't have a picture of it.

Okay, I have a picture of my first crack at it, the Fire on the Waves pattern in fingering weight yarn (sock yarn) and needles that were much much too small in gauge...US 1s, I believe.



It's supposed to be a stole when it grows up. Knit as tightly as shown in the picture, however, it would require roughly a bazillion repeats of the pattern to make it long enough. On US 4s, which is what I switched to, I need to do just a zillion. In real numbers, that's 15. I'm almost a third of the way through, but I took a break to make things with thicker yarn. Like a felted bag. And, hopefully, a "helmet liner" mask for THOMY for when he is out defending our driveway from snow. I say hopefully because I still need to acquire the yarn.

So these things are keeping my hands busy while I live in my house with no heat.

Oh, that's right. We have no heat until next week. Our furnace is old enough to drink now but has decided to retire instead. Guess what our first major purchase is going to be now that Dad's house is sold.

Let me assure you that I'm feeling the irony here more than sarcasm: I'm thrilled beyond reason to have this happening this week and into next week instead of when it's ten below zero outside and the budget is at its normal snugness. I keep telling myself this, anyway, while I wear my beloved fingerless mitts and felted slippers which I completed last winter. I'm feeling so much more like the ant than the grasshopper right now, and I'll enjoy the moment until it passes. It shouldn't be long...

Uh, no, I'm not smoking. That's just my breath.