Knit or Perish

As with so many others I know, if I am to maintain an even strain, to gainsay insanity and the darkest of depressions, I must have multiple projects cooking. One project in the noodling stage (oooOOO...THAT's an interesting idea...how would it work?), one in the planning stage (If I added a gear here and then pulled that wire taut...), and one in the work stage (click click hammer brush brush brush). Of course I usually have far, FAR more than a mere "one" in the first two stages, and frequently more than one in the final, DO IT stage, too. Not to mention all the ideas that fall outta me like endless rains, resulting in mysterious muddy footprints wherever I walk. But you get my drift.

In various baskets throughout the house are strange piles; knitted/crocheted THINGS.

**RATHOLE: no real idea what they are beyond expanses of lovely fibers, though I believe those two oddly compelling wine-red pieces are slated to become the luscious dripping sleeves of an equally odd garment for which I'll end up having to CREATE the event that will command said apparel**

Anyway, I turn to those piles of needle-knotted fibers when bogged down or bored with everything else on the Project Stove. I seldom actually FINISH any knitted thing, probably because of the aforementioned lack of direction with my odd objects, but also because I'm a VERY pedantic technician with needles and hooks. But even with a mere set of two or three stitches, I find the act of knitting very satisfying all by itself. And so it is, I have heard, to my fellow wool gathers.

All that said, I now present a beautiful look into the heart and mind of the compulsive knitter...