Unstartitis

In the knitting world, to be struck with "startitis" is to be enamoured with the thrill of starting more projects than being able to complete.  I seem to be currently afflicted with quite the opposite because I  can't decide what to start next.  Am I so intimidated by my yarn's beauty that I'm afraid to crack it open?

Back in December I purchased this:

It's Cosmic Label - Cosmic Night, from Tanis Fiber Arts' now annual Boxing Day Etsy Sale.  The now discontinued Cosmic Label has sparkles and I was lucky to be able to snag a few skeins before they disappeared.  

I'm thinking of making a Sunrise Cardi by Cecily Glowik MacDonald.  A few weeks ago I purchased "Swoon Maine", a pattern collection of knits by Carrie Bostick & friends inspired by the Atlantic Coast.  Every pattern is unique and has a modern understated style to it.  Most of the sweaters are worsted weight, but luckily I found this one in fingering weight on which I could use my prized Cosmic Label.  

I"m looking forward to knitting with this yarn again because the sparkles in the last project made with this yarn had me giggling all the way.  That alone should motivate me to start swatching, shouldn't it?

http://www.ravelry.com/projects/zenasmillet/wex

Scrappy Socks Rain Dance

Here on the Westcoast, 20 is a good number.  20 degrees C, warm enough for shorts, pleasant.  20 km/hr winds, not enough to cause damages.  So when the thermometer climbs to 30, 35+ as it has for the past few weeks, we're just not  equipped physically or emotionally.  Honestly, we're not whimps, we can survive months without seeing sunlight.  That takes some kind of courage too, doesn't it?

So we have been without rain since June.  Lawns have turned into yellow hay.  Jurisdictions around us have been implementing water restrictions.  Wells are running dry.  Around the province, fires are igniting spontaneously.  Fear not West Coast Aquarians lovers of water, I have found the equivalent to an old-fashioned "rain dance".  This is what I did yesterday:

First, I bathed a newly finished pair of scrappy-socks.  Next, I blocked them outside on a chair so they would dry in the breeze.  Then they were promptly forgotten, as they lay basking in the sunshine.  In the middle of the night the unfamiliar sound of raindrops on the deck should have triggered the memory of these poor beauties in distress.  Around 10am, the now soggy socks returned inside where they are still trying to dry-out in the 20 degrees kitchen.  Here they are in their soggy splendor:

So it rained and you're welcome.  We had a bit of rain today, perhaps thanks to the socks so bravely overnighting on the deck?  I hope we're finally back to our normal temperatures because it feels good!