Knitting: OK. I finished it. It really helped blogging about how long this project was taking me. Somehow it concentrated the mind. Watching the Masters with DH helped as well. If I couldn’t knit during sports broadcasts I’d go berserk. Is that how you spell berserk? I’ve never written it before. I don’t care, actually.
It’s true I haven’t blocked the shawl and the truth is I may never block it. Blocking is one of my many weak points. Also, I think it has turned out to be a scarf not a shawl. Whatever. It’s for me. I’m going to Scotland in the fall and it’s coming with me. Mostly, I’m planning to bring black clothes (black raincoat, black pants, black turtleneck sweaters) and this will give me a bright contrast. Bring out my natural coloring, which is. . . . . ?
Thinkering: When you get older, hairstyles become something you think about a lot. I was a teenager in the ’60s and I had the perfect hair. Very, very, very straight. I wore it long and aspired to look a little like Mary Ann Faithfull (yes, that’s how she spelled it) or Mary (of Peter, Paul, and…). Long hair made us all look earnest back then, and we were very earnest. “Where have all the flowers gone? Long time passing.” Our mothers had perms–not earnest-looking at all. Well, that was then. Now, like many of my age I’ve chopped all my long hair off. It’s still straight and therefore has a tendency to stick up like straw. Like straw, for some years it was golden. Now I’m letting even that go and it’s silver (this is a comfortable euphemism). My granddaughter only this morning, while ruffling her fingers through my hair, asked why I cut my it like a boy’s. Of course, she’s never heard of Dame Judi Dench. But then, I don’t actually look like Dame Judi Dench either. If I grew it, would I look like mutton dressed as lamb? Do I presently look like mutton dressed as mutton? I need to know. I need to know what to do with my hair. Am I over thinking this? Yes.