Nothing ventured, nothing gained

We're halfway through summer here on Foggy Hill, a perfect time to sit in a cafe, hands in mitts to drink hot tea. I, with the pale face, raise my needles in fond salute to wearing a merino pullover in July. That is the beauty of mid-season in San Francisco. 

Here's my friend Cory, modeling the pair of silk bobble mitts I just completed. They are a gift for my fearless audio editor on the Eiderdown project. They were fun to knit, but I hope Pat doesn't look too closely at the thumb-gussets. They were sewn with love, but not much expertise. 

Gussets are not the only thing I've been struggling with. 

Writing is work for me. I keep a time-sheet. I stay off youtube and Twitter and Ravelry, or at least I try to. You may reward me with a yawn for this very boring routine, but without it nothing gets done.

I catch myself wishing there was something called Instant Confidence, perhaps in a discreet purse-sized mister. Of course, if there was such a product I wouldn't work so hard, but I wonder what it would smell like: new car scent, ginseng and ginger, or maybe that new book smell (in print not KIndle)? 

No matter. I hear the whip cracking over the laptop. For now, as in knitting, one stitch follows another as the fog rolls through that golden gate.

Comments

[Laura B.]

I bet it smells like Pride, the only rose-based scent I've ever really liked:

http://www.blackphoenixalchemylab.com/sin.html

Writing has such extremes. Write with confidence, edit cruelly, then submit with confidence again. I would like to read the result, whatever it may be.

[Janis Tester]

You are the most capable person I know. Trod on with that confidence.

[Kate G.]

Ahhhh, thank you, ma'am.