I have been making creeping progress with my Alhambra scarf. The pattern is not thrilling, but it is satisfying in a geometric way to watch the yarn overs and decreases curl apart and curve back together. Since I memorised the lace pattern, I can easily pluck it out of my bag to work on it in snatched moments waiting to get somewhere, waiting for people to arrive, or waiting to go onstage, such as here, in the peculiar Green Room-cum-nursery we used for the Vagina Monologues.
All of those moments have added up over two feet of scarf.
The last scarf I made was right at the beginning of my knitting career, and was an agonising 2x2 rib that so tested my newly acquired skills it made me want to garrotte myself with it. This is an altogether more mellow experience, partly because it is probably for myself (I am not sure it is a good colour on me, so it may end up around the neck of a more autumnal friend) or at least does not have a deadline, and partly because, well, I have just got better at knitting since then. It is nice to feel I am making progress over all in this craft, even if the foolish mistakes I still make sometimes obscure this fact. It is also nice not to have to worry overly about gauge - as long as I end up with a rectangle long enough to wrap around my neck who cares about the exact dimensions? Talking of gauge and mistakes, I have another tale of woe to blog about soon, but for now I think I shall just revel in simple, forgiving scarf-making.