I'm knitting again.
I never gave up knitting, or anything, but in my 20-or-so months of knitting experience, I find that my craft comes and goes in a wave-like pattern. And it's no calm summer day at the beach, no, this is the wildest, deepest, mid-October storm on the Oregon beaches kind of waves.
When it hits, I'm knitting all the time, starting and finishing projects with passion and single-minded focus. I knit while watching TV, I knit while breastfeeding, I knit while waiting for meals, I knit at traffic lights when I'm driving. I've even knitted in traffic on I-84 (that day, I pulled up next to a policewoman, and put down my knitting guiltily. She was reading a book. I took the knitting up again).
Today, I'm knitting on the airplane, flying back to Newark for a couple of business trips. I'm wearing my new dark-green hat I just finished (to coordinate with my track coaching uniform). I started it Wednesday, finished it on Sunday. I've picked up the sweater I started in June (a modification of Trellis. It's for Truman and I hope it will fit some one of his little baby friends. He's far too big for it now - but it will be done by Saturday. The hat for which I brought ingredients, I predict, will be finished even sooner.
I haven't finished anything since Truman's blanket was finished in May. Then, as now, I couldn't stop knitting. I knitted through my contractions in a house at the beach with the Urban Mamas. I knitted through labor. I knitted in my hospital room. I knitted for days.
Knitting brings my thoughts into sharp focus and is great for my writing muscle. When I knit, like a knitting blogger I met last Wednesday said, I "brood." It's not a stress reliever, as often my thoughts are worries, but it's a crystalizer, vastly useful for a mind like mine, jumping from project to project like a triple-jumper warming up. Hop skip, hop skip, hop skip.
Back to my knitting.