1982 - 2nd knit object, first pair of socks. Never learned how to darn. Knit in 100% wool, some hippy-dippy natural stuff. Of course the perspiration from my feet could rot out steel wool when I was younger. Loved these socks, wore them with holes for years, haven't been able to get rid of them, hoping for a "new" use - tea cosy, arm warmers perhaps?

I've been to two dances classes since I last posted. My newest bd teacher came to my house to look over the stash and to knit on the front porch. A bit of home-made chocolate cherry icecream, and the stripping down of stash and works in progress. Looking at it from an outsiders perspective, I am rather ridulous in my obsessions (for wool, rugs, fabric, books, music, movies, etc). But hey, I live alone, I pay my bills, the pathways are clear in my house. I finish the important stuff; personal hygiene, going to work (when I have it), staying in touch with friends and family. So what if there is an accumulated 6,000lb of wool, textiles, clothing and fabric in this house. Structural engineers haven't condemned it yet. Though it might not be so great for the allergies, and subsequent asthma. Ach.... and all I have to show for it is some holey socks!

Too too hot to knit. And I've been working. Trying to shimmy everyday, and just melt into it. Warm weather is apparently better to shimmy in, muscles warmed up and long, loose. So I try to go with the heat, play my Beirut and Cairo cafe music, close my eyes and go back to somewhere else, just to blur this feeling of heavieness and pressure on my chest into languid arms and hips, and accents with the barest shimmy. to bed, to bed.