How cold was it?
It was so cold I started knitting my Dale again.
The body is done, up to the point of sleeve attachment:
(admire the teeny, tiny ribbing under the massive sweater--why, why?? The whole sweater reeks of "what was I thinking?" It looks like an elephant's trunk warmer. A nicely-patterned, toasty trunk warmer, you know, for those chilly circus days.)
Upon investigating my long-abandoned Dale bag, I discovered that Sleeve #1 has only ten more rows of cuff pattern before arriving at the boring navy blue, knit-while-you-read part again. Which is perfect because I just started an Agatha Christie yesterday (Peril at End House) and I've gotten somewhat absorbed. I never realized before what an egotistical ass Hercule Poirot was; it adds interest and dimension to his character and frankly, I hadn't given Dame Christie credit for the writing chops before. I always thought she was kind of a mystery hack with decent plotting but not much in the way of characterization. Seems I was a bit wrong.
The self-striping socks are done and prepared for their trip to Philly--I just have to wait until their auxiliary gift is released and then the package will be in the mail. And I knit several pattern repeats of the Aran pocket shawl (an excellent knit-while-reading project)... but I haven't touched the Turkish sock. Honestly, it's kind of a pain in the butt.
Thanksgiving was fun and relaxing for once--instead of cooking I got the day off (well, I had to clean house and bake a gingerbread, but still). We went out to dinner with the SIL and then took the dogs (plural, we are dogsitting my cousin's hyperactive, OCD-afflicted black lab) for a run and swim at the beach, and then came home to share the gingerbread and cocktails with friends and their small children.
And now I sit in my chilly office (yes, had to work today), wearing my gauntlets for warmth. It's cold here, people.