When I turned the calendar page to November, I performed the ritual count of weeks left until Christmas, looked at the to-do list in my head, and had my festive pre-season panic attack. How did it get so late in the year and why is the finished-project basket so empty? I glared at my spinning wheel. Seductive little tramp. I resolutely turned my back on the singles waiting to be plied and turned toward my knitting needles.
When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.
-Paulo Cuelo, The Alchemist.
When you wait until November to start your Christmas knitting, all the universe conspires to spit in your face, then it screws with your gauge and laughs at your expense.
I'm not the only one thinking about the dreaded "C" word. Can't even buy bananas with being assaulted by fake Christmas trees covered in fake Christmas snow and surrounded by happy little stuffed elves with happy little stuffed faces. (If they don't expect that kind of reaction from me, then why do they make those things the size of footballs and dress them up in red and white stripes like a target? I mean, really...)
But hey, it's not all bad. It's nog season so that's something. Eggnog takes the edge off while your knitting away the midnight hours. That or the shot of rum I spiked it with. Whichever. Wait... was that supposed to be a knit or purl?...