Such are knitting decisions made. Last night I got tired of knitting thread (actually lace-weight yarn from Spritely Goods for a Whisper cardigan) so I cast on some Dream in Color Classy my mother gave me and began a Saroyan scarf. I’d forgotten how much I like that stuff – the Classy yarn has a smooth springy feel that just feels good in your hands. I remember how fast it went when I knit my mom a cardigan out of it. So I went and did some web research, found a UK stockist who has the colors I want, and have ordered the yarn. I think it’s going to have to be a Sekrit Project, though; even a peek at early stages may give away who it’s for. (I do need to post pics of the cardi and scarf, though. The DiC from mom is an especially pretty purple / blue mix.)

Saturday we had friends over for dinner and made fajitas, on the theory that finger food would be good for their little kids. I’m not sure it was an unqualified success – the 1.5-year-old started crying at one point, apparently because he didn’t like the hard mouth-feel or tortilla chips. He didn’t like a rolled fajita either, but I was actually expecting that his parents would just give him whatever filling ingredients he liked and was surprised that they even tried him with one. His sister (about 6) seemed to like them, anyway!

And on Sunday I did the first half-marathon I’ve done on the erg in quite some time. I figured it was an achievement that I had the energy to convert leftover shrimp from the fajitas into a Thai-ish noodle salad immediately after. I didn’t do much but knit and read the rest of that day! I finally finished Lies My Teacher Told Me, and was glad of it because while the book makes a lot of good points, all that repetition was getting a bit boring. Mostly I found myself more interested in the actually history related therein than in the criticism of how textbooks fail to convey it, which I suppose just makes me the wrong reader for that book. The next book, Marianne Curley’s Old Magic, was pretty good despite the “flashlight” blooper mentioned in my last entry. Only problem was, I kept wanting to grab the evil villain and point out that if you really want to bedevil a family forever, cursing their seventh-born son is perhaps not the most effective way to do it. Even before effective birth control, how many families got to a seventh boy? Also, does only the father’s line count? Given the high rate of maternal childbed mortality that led to (sequential) multi-mother families, if it had to be the seventh son of both parents the curse would hardly ever get a workout!