Looking toward the ending rows...in more ways than one...
If I’d just done the can cozy, I’d be binding off now. Instead, I decided to include the lovely tapered “collar” that turns this into a bottle cozy. I love decrease segments, because they just go faster and faster as you head on down the final lap.
I’ve been doing a lot of knitting away from home--mostly sitting with an ailing elderly relative--and it’s wonderful how portable this project can be, even with its complicated pattern. There is something delightfuly soothing about being occupied in situations that require patience. More than once on my eldercare adventures this week, I have given thanks for my knitting.
And not just for my knitting now. I am thankful that someday, when I am old and frail, I will have my knitting to keep me company rather than old TV reruns or worse yet, nothing at all. Funny thing is, I don’t think I’ll even have to be knitting. As long as I think I am knitting, I’ll be happy.
If I loose most of my motor skills--or even most of my marbles--I still think I’ll take joy from having yarn and needles in my hand. My husband and I joked that if I am really far gone, if someone just does a few rows for me when I fall asleep (removes my tangles and errors as he or she goes) and then slips it back in my hands, I’ll probably be happy. My muscles will knit, or come close to knitting, or perhaps only immitate the joy of knitting, even when my brain loses the capacity.
Of course, I remain optimistic such measures will never be called for. Knitting keeps me continually learning, continually curious, and those feel like mental vitamins to keep my brain cells nimble longer.
I always joked that knitting is my “drug of choice,” but lately, I’ve discovered how deep the truth of that statement runs.
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