Second sock syndrome, conquered
I woke with a start at a quarter to six this morning. Thought, as good a time as any to write a blog post. I’ve been walking to work recently, which takes an hour at a fast-ish dawdle. I’m very glad it’s possible, because even ten minutes in a crush of pinstriped commuters begins the day on a slightly sour note. This way, I feel my kinship is with the dog walkers and early-rising groups of Japanese tourists. I cut through the back lanes of Richmond over to the MCG, through the Fitzroy Gardens and past the cathedral. I think about getting a bike, and mentally cheer every time I see someone riding in his or her regular clothes. I understand the practicality, or necessity even, of showering and changing at work, but I hate the idea. I plan to ride slow.
Slow’s been on my mind. I’m still digging out from under a To Do List laden with responsibilities stretching back to last year. Unfortunately, I’ve let whole slabs of life fall by the wayside (correspondence for one.) I’m ashamed to say that the e-mail contact to the right there wasn’t actually set to forward to my main account until a few days ago. (I just didn’t realise, and am too embarrassed right now to tell you how I worked it out.)
Lunch at my new workplace is 45 minutes long, which isn’t quite long enough. Fortunately, they’re fast at Slow Food Piadina, which was where my friend (businessman/suit) suggested that craft is the secret to a happy life. I’d been explaining tasks at work: making boxes, sewing and covering books, cleaning photographs, sorting negatives. It’s calming, satisfying work, and if I can pull myself together, will be a good mesh with my own work. Small steps.
Even with my dismal posting schedule, I continue to receive wonderful comments, each of which make me resolve to post and comment more. I haven’t been thanking people individually (see above), but every comment is a small paper plane into my world with the word encouragement on it. Thank you.
Which reminds me: D posted a brilliant treatise of a comment on my post about bircher museli, exposing me as the dimwitted food dilettante that I am. I’d never heard of a piadina until a few ago, and my only thought on encountering them was, D, what do you know about this? Do write and tell.
Finally, in celebration of slowness, see the above finished lollipop socks. Long-time readers will remember that I wasn’t convinced that I was knitting these the right side out. I’m still not sure. I presented my mother with one sock last Mother’s Day. This year, she’ll have a pair.
Labels: knit
10 Comments:
The socks look great :) Good to see you back in the blog world
I ride to and from work every day in my work clothes, which sometimes includes high heels. Non-lycra commuters have a friendly camaraderie - I often exchange a smile and nod with others in office attire. We ride slowly and are friendly. Do join us! Nice to read a post from you again, hope all is well.
i remember enabling you with the yarn for your lovely socks and it is wonderful to see them finished. i bet your mum is going to be thrilled!
I remember reading somewhere that when riding a bike you are supposed to think 'stylish Parisienne serenely making her way to the boulangerie' rather than 'lycra-clad speed demon'. Although don't listen to me, I biked to university daily for six years and hated every minute of it.
PS. Two Kates and two Jacquelines! We run in packs, obviously.
Welcome back to blogland.
Nice thoughtful post.
Sending you another *paper plane*
Congratulations on getting them finished- I'm sure your Mum will love them.
Sounds like you're settling into a lovely routine with morning walks and work that you enjoy. I'm happy for you. We should catch up soon.
HI,
I WAS READING SOMEONE ELSE'S BLOG THE OTHER DAY AND THEY TAUGHT THEMSELVES TO CROCHET FROM A BOOK CALLED CROCHETING FOR DUMMIES, I AM LIKE YOU CAN DO EVERYTHING BUT CROCHET
SO I HAVE RESERVED IT AT MY LOCAL LIBRARY, MAYBE YOU COULD CHECK YOUR LOCAL LIBRARY OR SECONDHAND BOOKSTORE, AS NEW THEY ARE OVER $50
Sometimes I think the final chain of the row below is a mystery that will never be solved. But I keep trying. Someday we'll figure it out!
I am just so mortified by that surly and pompous post, I hardly dared to even come back and peep at your lovely blog. Please accept my apologies and the wan excuse that I'd had a glass of wine on an empty stomach and was at the tail end of a very bad year (the year got worse, but since I'm measuring them solopsistically from birthday to birthday, it's thankfully over). I'm also something of a pedant when it comes to such things and not so good at sharing in my obsessions - but hopefully getting better at doing so. As for piadina, all I can offer is that I first spotted it in Melbourne perhaps six years ago, vacpacked and imported from Emilia-Romagna by Enoteca Sileno, in the days when they still had the plastic fly screened warehouse setup around the corner from where they are now. I suspect it was part of the whole trendification of cucina povera and various regional stapes in Italy itself, and that inevitably spread here. I asked my Puglian husband if he can remember eating them on holiday in Rimini and he can't. But that could just mean that his mother did her own Ligurian thing. There was an article in Epicure last year about them which I recall had a recipe - worth a search? Anyway, thank you for your generosity and for being one of the most thoughtful and stylish bloggers around.
D
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