Last December I decided to learn how to knit socks to give as Christmas presents this year. Three pairs are going out in the mail this week. Accomplishing that must have ripped the top off my knitting impulse. I've knit as much this year, I think, as all my previous years combined. The socks, three hats, a wrap, wrist warmers for my girl, plus many many failed socks and mittens and an abandoned baby sweater or two. I've taught two more people how to knit. And I have a new wrap on the needles.

The first wrap was knitted while listening to Moby Dick and thinking very nautically. Very much holding the essence of whale skin, baby mermaids, and Dear Husband's sea chant in my heart as I knit. "You be the ship on the ocean. You be the ship on the sea. You be the cargo, let I be the wave, and I'll carry you safely away...from me." This new wrap is of the Pacific. Its dark and tangled with waves curling disorderly back into themselves, deep rich and unseen floating through me as I knit. At least, that's how it feels. And the feeling comes through knitting and the wool, more than through my mind. Which is curios to me. Before and always, I generally knit with a person in mind and every stitch is a wish. 

So, wooly land art aquatic. Meanwhile, we've been thinking about astronauts. Dear Boy read well into "The Right Stuff" before he lost interest. Then we watched a documentary about landing on the moon. Then we watched "Apollo 13". Don't know why, exactly, but I've been dreaming with an astronautical lean. At least we've covered this one point in history, schoolish wise.