Here are all my fishies, all spread out on the dining room table:
The end is in sight! I have six more to knit, plus a few that need to be re-knit for sizing purposes. Then they all need to be pressed, have their ends sewn in, and be sewn together. I do suspect they'll buckle some--they don't lie flat on their own, why would they sewn together?
I have to admit I have begun to tire of the fishies. It took a shockingly long time. I think it took so long to grow old because they are on big needles (excellent for resting hands), and it's an easily memorized, mindless pattern. But the mindless part is the part I'm tired of. I'm jonesing for something I have to pay attention to, like a lace shawl. I've been ogling other knitter's shawls, Googling "lace shawl pattern," and pricing KnitPicks alpaca. Shhh, don't tell the fishies.
But wait, it gets worse. I've done more than just lust in my mind. I cheated on the fishies by knitting a sock. See, Maggie gave me this Regia sock yarn, and I couldn't knit the fishies at SnB, 'cause Melanie was there (and it was still a surprise), so I started the sock. And then once I started, well, I had to finish. And sure, you can rationalize all that, but where it really gets to the assignation-at-the-cheap-motel-on-Route-1 point is that after I finished the first sock...
I started the second one.
Okay, okay, okay, I know it was wrong. But can I just point out two things? I tried two techniques new-to-me ('cause I've knit relatively few socks): Claudia's picot trim (since Maggie raved about it, and she gave me this yarn, I thought I ought) and the short-row heel. So at least it was an educational affair, like sleeping with your professor. Or something.
While the blanket won't be done by the end of the Olympics, and probably not even before the twins are born, it won't be too much longer. I have an ETA of mid-March--unless I keep knitting fishies until there's no cotton yarn left in my house. I'm pretty sure I've decided not to do that, but there's still a small possibility. I am, after all, in the winter of my destashment.