We’re off to the TKGA Show in Manchester, NH at the crack of dawn tomorrow. We’re looking forward to the show and to take a breather from the day to day at the store. It’s been intense and both Steve and I are feeling a bit frayed around the edges. Not like this weekend is going to be a vacation or anything, but the change will do us good. Be sure to come to the show if you can – lots of great vendors, classes and knitting/crocheting fun. We’re in booths 409, 411, 413, 415. The lovely Cirilia will be hanging with us this weekend as well.
My sock is coming along quite nicely. I need to check the length with Jonathan, but I think I’m close to starting the heel flap. I need to make sure I have my instructions with me.
I started with a k2, p2 rib for the first few rows and then started alternating that with a round of knit. It changes the look oh so subtly, but you can see it in this closeup.
The top definitely has a more pronounced rib to it.
Also, don’t forget that this Sunday is our big Harry Potter event with Alison Hansel, author of Charmed Knits, The Blue Blog and founder of Sockapalooza. She’ll be at the store from 1-3 (we’re open 1-4). She’ll be signing her book, doing some knitting, we’ll have giveaways, great snacks as always and some Potter fun.
Lastly, but most importantly, this post is for Jackson. Today is his birthday. Somehow, someway, eight years have flown by. The thirty six hours of labor seemed to take an eternity, but eight years – gone in the blink of an eye. I know, experienced mothers always warn the new ones that it goes fast. You don’t believe it will happen that way, you just don’t until it does. I know I didn’t. It didn’t seem to go fast through the first nine months of projectile vomiting after every feeding. I did get smart and learned to put him in his bouncy seat, in the bathtub after every feeding and just wait. Then I’d change him, throw the seat cover in the wash, put on a fresh one, rinse out the tub and move on. It didn’t feel like time was moving fast as I logged miles of walking and rocking in the middle of the night, trying desperately to get him to sleep. Time stood still as I tried each day to get him to eat some solid food. That first banana, at eight months old, sitting under the kitchen table with him, was such a victory, but boy it felt like it took forever. And now he’s eight. I’ll spare you from more stories, but trust me when I say they’ve all been in my thoughts today. I’m horrified to think that the next eight will go by as quickly (and what it means to have a 16 year old), but I am realistic enough to know they probably will.
Happy Birthday Jackson. Take your time getting to nine, okay?