Oooh, so I went out gallivanting last night and missed yesterday's post. I had fully intended to be back at a reasonable hour, but that did not happen. There is a group of people who meet once a month to read their own prose and poetry, which I've attended off and on over the last few years. It's such an interesting mix of people who attend, with a broad variety of skills. I've been reading a few pieces here and there, all poetry, and I have mixed feeling about doing so. There are usually a few colleagues from the university there, and usually a few current or former students, as well, and it intimidates me to read in front of them. (More the colleagues than the students, particularly since there are a few whose opinions I value highly.) I am also intimidated by some of the bad work that gets read; I can't stand the idea that my writing might be that bad and that I might not know it. (This anxiety is a big part of why I haven't written much in the last few years; I am going to do my best to ignore it this summer and just write anyway.)
I've been working away on the Craic Socks pattern that I got ages ago when I was in Three Irish Girls Sock Yarnista club. It's a beautiful sock, and I'll be quite excited to wear them, but I have an early edition of the pattern that isn't anywhere near as clear as it needs to be. (There's one cable in particular that is totally counter-intuitive to me; I've screwed it up at least twice so far, but because of the type of cable that it is (k1p1k1, but the k1s are twisted) it's just not worth it to drop it down and reknit them. I am going to cast on a February Baby Sweater for a colleague who is due any moment now; there's a five hour department meeting tomorrow and I just don't think I can do it without something to knit.
I feel a massive cleaning campaign coming on, which should take up my afternoon nicely, and then I think I'm going to see The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo tonight.