Listening to Brahms' 2nd Symphony and feeling uneasy, I decided to ditch anxiety and start knitting. I picked up an old scarf that I started eighteen months ago. Yes, I knit a little. I'm not accomplished at it or anything, but I do enjoy it. My trip out to Persephone and Bunyan's place reminded me and since I couldn't decide what to do with my Monday evening I picked up the needles and yarn.
Last night I finished the tag team crossword puzzle Persephone sent me along with the myriad toiletries and night clothes I left over Thanksgiving. Crossword puzzles seem to pick up steam for me. The first ten minutes I spend staring at the squares wondering how anyone completes these things then little by little I find clues that could be for me. Chipping away the puzzle eventually fills in like a reverse sculpture; the whittled away bits are what's interesting not the stone left behind, and I can't believe that I got through what was once seemingly impossible. Crosswords are kinda weird that way. Persephone is write: it is easier when someone starts it.
Crosswords and knitting. Sheesh! Winter is a part of the life/death/life cycle, and that's all fine and good, but do I have to turn into an eighty-year-old grandma during December?
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