Ten

It's a bit chilly so I'm sitting here typing with a afghan-throw-shawl thing over my shoulders to keep me warm and toasty. Made last year with three different colors of chenile yarn, a nice burnt orange, a burgundy and a chocolate brown, I didn't really plan on those colors. They were the only chenile yarn skeins I had and so in they went. I learned to knit, thanks to the never ending patience of my retired pal, Norma, so I could have a bit of active comfort. A way to de-stress after a long day with unreasonable parents and petulant children and the ever present landmines of high stakes testing. It is comforting. The rhythm of the needles, the soft feel of the yarn, the occasional gently worded stream of cursing when I drop a stitch. The click of the needles and the pulling of the yarn, over and over, repetitive and swift. It's a bit hypnotic and meditative at the same time.
Frankly, I think this is the kind of thing Enya does right before she records. She cranks out a nice pullover in a periwinkle cashmere and then in the studio she goes to lay down those first tracks. Sips some camomile tea and reads a little Beatrix Potter. Of course the twisted and perverse side of me would like it better if I knew that Enya comes in to the studio reeking of Stoli, fresh from a threesome involving Ross Perrot and someone from the Facts of Life wearing a Juicy Couture halter, Daisy Duke cut-offs and thigh high black patent leather stripper boots. I wouldn't mind knowing that any part of that was true.
That would be comforting, I'm not sure why.