Then came the goldfish. Innocently enough, I spotted the pattern, and thought ‘Wow, I know a few pint-sized people who would like those.’ So I knitted orange goldfish and dropped them in the mail to swim their way around the country.
Apparently, knitting four goldfish didn’t get them out of my system, so I knitted two more, one in the last of the orange, and one in purple, because really, what small fry is going to complain if his goldfish isn’t regulation color? The more obnoxious the better, when it comes to kids and stuffed animals.

I could say all the knitting cuts into my writing time, but frankly, I can’t do one thing continuously all day, even write, as much as I'd like to. I knit when I have a free moment; before work, after dropping Son Two off at the high school - they start earlier than I do, waiting to see the doctor, dentist, etc., before bed in a vain attempt to relax, (Ack! I followed the wrong line on the chart and the pattern is off… eh, no one but me will notice) and while waiting for dinner to cook... instead of washing more dishes. (That’s why doG made paper plates…)
Knitting is a great way to two-track your mind, I can ponder character motivations, or poetry revisions while adding a few rows to a project. And I’m never without a project to knit on, at last count, I had nine UFO’s. (Unfinished Objects) Well, nine that I'll admit to...
The drawback to this method is forgetting about a project for say, oh, a year, and picking it up again and having to figure out where I left off in the pattern, because I am not all about notes and details like markers, you see. The advantage? I’m a much better knitter than I was a year ago, so I’m quicker to figure out where I left off. Just think, in another year or two, I might be able to knit a project straight through, without dropping it for a neat sock pattern I just found on the Internet. (Darn you, Ravelry!)
I’m sure there will be loads of other distractions to keep me from doing what I should be doing at the time. And for the record, yes, I wrote a poem today. A rather harsh poem about my intense dislike for telephones and their annoying rings, and how I should yank the darn thing right out of the wall, and just keep my cell, which I can put on silent and ignore if I wish. I know, I know, I could ignore the landline, I should ignore the landline, but I can’t ignore it … and that’s a whole 'nother fish story.

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