The blazing Prairie Fire throw is halfway done, and I still remain enchanted. I thought I'd be out of my mind with the knit one, purl one of the moss stitch by now. But instead, my fingers have started to move automatically and my mind can wander elsewhere as the stitches slip off the needle one by one.
I was, actually, going at a galloping pace with nary a slip-up, until the evening I was in the passenger's seat of the family vehicle while Oldest Son practiced his parallel parking and I was a-knitting and a-purling. Parallel parking just wasn't going right for him, the test was in the morning, he was stressed and frustrated, I was stressing and worrying for him, and before you knew it, the even bumps of the moss stitch had turned into the beginnings of some unwanted ribs.
Of course, that meant ripping out rows and backing up to the pre-parallel parking stitches. Most frustrating to be sure.
So, we're back at it. Knit, purl, knit, purl. There will be some lovely warm toes this fall.