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I woke up to sunshine on March 1st and knew deep down that February was over and life is good. I find it interesting that no matter how fierce or how mild, every winter gets to the point that it seems that it will never ever ever ever end. And then it does.

I really got back into Cromarty and the end fell off my circular needle. I stuck it back on and kept knitting. The cat stole the end of the needle while I was sleeping.
I ordered new needles. I got the wrong cord length.
I started a tank top instead.

I've been thinking about the pullover I sort of made back in the fall. It was knit in the round, so no seaming. Still, the underarms need to be sewn shut, the ends need weaving in, and I need to re-do the bind off on the neck - it's a little snug. It was done enough to try it on, and after blocking and growing it fits well. So why haven't I finished it?
I'm afraid I just don't like this sweater.
I am toying with frogging the whole thing and knitting something else.
The thought of undoing all that work (really it wasn't an epic project, but still. . .) makes me queasy, but I would be equally irritated having a finished object that I just don't wear.

I've got the bodies done on both the girls' dresses. Part of me wants to sew like mad and be done with them quickly. I could - I've got the time if I worked on them exclusively every evening. I can't sew when I've got no sewing mojo, though. If I'm not in the right frame of mind, I will screw up everything I do and spend even more time fixing it. That was how I rationalized working on the tank top this evening while the sewing sat in a pile in the corner.

Now if you'll excuse me, there's a little person sleeping on my left arm and it's making it hard to type.

I'm with you on always being shocked when winter actually seems to be ending. I am stunned every year when leaves appear on the trees.

And March always seems like the beginning of hoping for it, even though here we are slogging through a snowstorm this morning.

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  • I'm Sarah
  • From Pittsburgh, United States
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