Something like endless shrimp...

Some years ago we dined in Wethersfield, Connecticut, because H had been seduced by incessant t.v. ads for a restaurant promising a meal called "endless shrimp." We drove 71 miles--that was the closest franchise (go figure), and as you, gentle knitters, may already suspect, the trip was a waste.

Was it terrible food? No, it was actually much worse than that--gritty, dessicated little pieces of crustacean crud, coated with fried gunk or drenched in congealed butter. Endless shrimp seemed a very bad idea from the minute we were served. Yet many of the morbidly obese diners near us were happily shoveling in the unlimited fare. Some people really want the most bang for their buck, even if it's a heart attack on a plate.

Similarly, there are people in this area of New England who profess to enjoy the endless snow that Mother N has been sending our way. The latest "event" was today, a threatened one-to-three inches. Fortunately this did not come to pass, and we received only a dusting.

Lest you think this is some kind of rant, I'll share a Shelleyan vision:

 Yes, snowdrops have emerged, promising that spring isn't far behind.

Despite spring's inevitability, it doesn't feel that way, and I've been knitting accordingly. The latest project is a medium-sized afghan, intended for the my grandson and granddog, both of whom spend a lot of time on the floor.

Dexter and Max

Here it is:

It's a log-cabin pattern writ large--chunky yarn on size 13 needles. All it takes is four squares. (So very unlike endless shrimp. And endless winter. And all that endless nasty stuff.)

***

If you've got cabin fever and are looking for diversion and even a bit of knitting education, I'd draw your attention to Knit Nordic by Eline Oftedal (Collins and Brown, 2014), a book that crossed my desk recently. Ignore the unfortunate designs for knitted hotpants and racerback tank top; enjoy and consider making the more attractive patterns for cowls, mitts, hats, pillow covers, and the like. This nicely-written book eases you into the classic elements of Norwegian knitting design, and teaches you to create beautiful, strong (because of floats) fabric, and useful items. The yarn colors are uplifting, and will brighten up your life. It's clear from Knit Nordic that Norwegians understand how to rout the winter blahs.

The publisher has kindly offered one copy to my readers--so post a comment on this blog if you want the book, and let me know why. Giveaway closes at midnight on the Ides of March.

Sound and fury before the storm. A contest.

Sky Scarf, begun 2-23-13, showing only one day of blue sky since.

The current New England winter has organized life into milestones not dissimilar from Kübler-Ross's Stages of Grief and Dying: the Anticipation of Storms, the Fearful (and sometimes Angry/Fed Up/Curmudgeonly) Anticipation of storms (fomented and abetted by the Culture of Fear media, including and especially The Weather Channel and its team of storm-a-holic reporters), the Stoic Preparation for Storms (Bread? Check.  Milk? Check. Gasoline? Check.), the Experience of the Storm Itself, and the Passing of the Storm, when we all emerge from our hidey-holes and trade tales of what we endured during the storm.

Currently New England is in the Fearful Anticipation Stage, as the weather brewing is supposed to dump snow and freezing rain on us ferociously, starting any minute now or maybe tonight or maybe early in the morning; the tides are high and already eroding the beaches with surge; the northeast winds are gusting up to sixty+ miles per hour.

The wind-whipped Wood River, Woodville, RI, in Fearful Anticipation Mode.

So, to take our minds away from all the ominous, foreboding, depressing etc. of winter's last gasps (note to self:  Daylight Savings Time begins at 2 a.m. on Sunday March 10), I will draw your attention to a cute little book recently sent me by its publisher:

You might be wondering why I'm touting this, since this blog's focus is on New England--but, gentle knitters, I must confess that I was born and raised in New York City, and return there often. (In fact, I'm going to the Big Apple next week.)  And given that I'll be sitting around a lot during the next bout of Awful Weather, I'll at least start working on one of the clever designs in Knit New York.

British designer Emma King's patterns are all witty, but what really tickled me is a knitted Staten Island Ferry. It was my sad fate to spend my formative years on Staten Island, but my luck to commute from SI to New York on the ferry twice daily, whilst I attended Manhattan's High School of Performing Arts. Sailing past the Statue of Liberty every morning and afternoon, and Ellis Island, Governor's Island, and viewing the Verrazano Bridge in the distance, on the bright orange ferry with dark blue letters--there are many happy memories for me clustered around those commutes.

Furby's on the same page with me.  We will be knitting a ferry during the impending storm.

Other KIY NYC icons in the book are the Empire State Building, the Walk/Don't Walk street-crossing sign that all dyed-in-the-wool jaywalking New Yorkers ignore, and a red fire hydrant, etc.

The publisher, Collins and Brown, has kindly made a free copy of Knit New York available as a giveaway.  If you, dear readers, will post a brief comment here explaining why you'd like the book, I'll choose a winner--contest closes on Sunday the 10th at midnight! (Please note:  the contest is limited to people with mailing addresses in the US.)

O.k., time to batten down the hatches!