Home, sweet home.

So, I'm home.
I've been home for a while.
And it's been nice.
Oh how I enjoy the comforts of home while I am here.
Someone here (who could it be?) washes all the clean socks so thoroughly and properly, making sure that they are taken extra special care of.
See?


It doesn't happen like that at school. Believe me.

Anyways, the comforts of home have been nice and I am sadly finding that I must begin to gear up for the trek back. Sigh... Sniff.
No more clean socks for me.

I had a lovely Christmas.
It was one filled with knitterly joy as much knitting was done and many knitted gifts were exchanged.
I shall show and I shall tell.

First though, things that weren't knitted... but that relate to knitting.
You'll see what I mean.

See?


HOW NICE! It's a sock blocker. Clearly, I like to knit socks and clearly, this is something that every sock knitter would want to own someday... even if only in their wildest dreams.


OH WOW! I can't tell you how grown up I feel! I have my own WOODEN swift and wool winder. No more borrowing my mom's or relying on the shop owners to do it for me. I am so independent now, and cleary viewed as a responsible individual as it is WOOD and not just the nice orange plastic kind.


Now, as adult as I may be now, I am not a very organized one. These should help.

I must say, it's almost as though the giver of these nice gifts (that being the yarn shop owner of a mother I so luckily landed) wrote that post the Yarn Harlot posted on December 23rd regarding what to give a knitter for Christmas. Wouldn't you say?
Close anyway.

So, these lovely accessories were muchly appreciated and will surely aid me in future knitting endeavors. There were a few other nice little accessories tucked in as well including a "Knitting Pattern a Day" calendar.
Wishful thinking...

Not only did I get stuff to use in my projects... there were a few projects that were knit FOR me!!! It's true.
By, my mother dearest.


Mmmmhmmm...
Fleece artist socks and Morehouse Merino Bearpaw mitts.
It just feels so good to wear socks that you didn't make yourself sometimes.
I gotta say.

So, I'm one happy/lucky/spoiled girl, I mean adult.
Not only because my mom wrote that book on "giving-gifts-to-knitters" but also because she has a yarn shop, which I have spent many hours loitering in. I just... love it. I'd take that over school any day.
Really.

Oh, one last thing you have to see.


Don't judge because it's crochet and this is a knitting blog... just admire the beauty of it.
A woman my grandma knows made it and my grandma bought it from her and so kindly gave it to me for Christmas.
I could drink those colours right up.
I'm telling you.
It has my name all over it.

Happy New Year to you.

By this time tomorrow...

By this time tomorrow, I will be standing in front of this wall with my head in one of these little cubbies, breathing deeply.


Why?

Because by this time tomorrow, I will be done my last exam, I will be back in Ontario and I will not feel the slightest bit bad about doing things like that.
Not one bit bad.

Where did these come from?

Honestly now... if one of you people were to say to me "Lynn, have you been knitting much lately?" I would response with a slightly sullen tone in my voice "Nooo.... (sniff) I've been writing crappy papers instead.(sob)"
But as I was digging through my bag after class today, I came across these.


Hrm.
I clearly made them as I do recall buying the yarn a while back at The Loop... but it's funny how all it takes is a string of student seminars and oh yeah...
these.


(Watching all of these is considered "work" if you decide to take a film class.)
And so before I knew it, I had an almost finished pair of socks just my size to show for.
If only I had just one more paper to show for it too, then things would be lovely and I could knit in a far more conscious state.

Oh, and for those of you non-Nova-Scotians wondering what the weather is like out here at the moment, this is what greeted me as I walked out my door this afternoon.


How I love this city.
And all of its snowy whiteness.