Overwhelmed

I am having one of those weeks where the brain is overflowing with possibility and promise, and the hands are paralyzed with where to begin.

The sensible solution is to finish all those poor bedraggled projects lying around, yet to reach their potential as usable things. I am almost finished with a jumper for butterbean, which may be a bit large for him. It is a bit of a sad case, as it was knit over months of trying to get him to learn how to sleep properly (rockin' the overnight, still angry about day time naps)., teeth, colds, etc. For such a simple little knit, it looks tortured. I also think my finishing skills have taken a beating in the hormonal tossed salad that is me, what with all the baby making. I was sewing up a big old Jo Sharp jumper for my husband (9 months pregnant at the time), and I swear parts of the seams looked like varicose veins. How I did that, I don't know. I became so despondent I put it back in the "to do" basket and it sits there still, winter almost over. Quite pathetic, really.

The spinning front is a bit better. Currently spinning up some decent gray corriedale, some of which I dyed hideous colours. I can't remember the MO for that. Anyway, it is to become knit and felted bunnies for all the bazillions of new and new-ish babies out there.

Have to gesso a canvas too, but I need a new big brush. Decided to oil the back deck with the old brush, and then leave it out in the sun. It will gesso no more. If you are wondering why the heck there is a painting reference on this blog, that is what I trained in at college, yet fled from it after art school, damaged, rocking back and forth muttering "sick of talking about Piss Christ, sick of talking about Piss Christ". Going to art school in the age of shock art sucked. But I digress. Now that I am ensconced in the mid 30's, I can happily enjoy painting without having to worry about getting into Art in America and whether or not painting is dead.