What now?

I ripped the mitts, but didn't have the energy to immediately cast them back on, and found myself feeling a bit indecisive and between things.

Last Sunday, at a beer drinking event, I'd had a very honest conversation with a very nice person (I have to say this, because without tone, she might sound like she was being horrible, or dismissive, and that's not what was going on). She asked at what point do you have enough socks and scarves and jumpers and so on? And I'm pretty close to that point. And then Kate and I were discussing Kate Davies' new book of haps. There are 15, designed by some of my favourite designers and I'd like to knit all of them. But I certainly don't need 15 more shawls, and I don't have that many people in my life who would appreciate or deserve a handknitted shawl. 

These are my hand knitted jumpers. I'm not going to be cold, ever again

So, I'm knitting a pair of sneaker liners, but that conversation is nagging at me. What happens when I have enough? My grandmother knitted us each a jumper every year. Maybe I need to be closer to the kids in my life. I don't know. I do know that knitting, for me, is about the comfort of having the needles in my hands, of looping those stitches, of the act of knitting, as well as the finished products. I'm sure this mood will pass, or I'll find more knitworthy people or take up sewing. These things do tend to resolve themselves, one way or another.