Cursed Gloves

It's these dang gloves. They're cursed! I procrastinated making the first of the pair before Christmas, now I find myself dragging along knitting up the mate. I'm just not feeling the love. Apparently, fairisle gloves are not really my 'thing'. Or maybe it's black and grey? Who knows. But I will soldier on, albeit slowly. I'm trying to decide on my next project. Also, I finished the Spidey mittens, but they made it out of the house without a picture. I'll try to snap one if I see them in use this weekend. Hopefully the Younger Celting will be happy with warm hands.

Cold! Cold here! But either someone's been messing with the thermostat, or the furnace has gotten its second wind. The house is surprisingly warm. I don't want to see the gas bill next month, though. But being cold burns up lots of calories! I've been training for this cold snap for months! And can I take a moment to sing the praises of wool? I walk to the bus stop in my wool coat, wearing my wool gloves (hand knit) with my big wool scarf (a very long not so wide Clapotis) wrapped around my head and I'm warm! The only fly in the ointment is my feet -- I need some wool socks. Maybe even (once the stash knitting is done) some qiviut ones. Although I do have enough dog hair (from Mulligan, my sister's dog. Does that make him my dog-nephew?) to make a pair of socks in the fiber stash. Dog hair is warmer than wool (I forget exactly how much.) Hmmmmmm.