We are back from Boston. We had a lovely time; it was a wonderful day for a party and a wonderful day for a drive.
I had eagerly anticipated the drive to Boston even though my darling spouse wanted to do it all in one day and not stay over. I don’t mind, 4 hours each way is very drivable, and I looked forward to 8 hours of knitting time and the possibility that I would finish the back of the Phildar shell.
Unfortunately I did most of the driving and there was only about 2 hours of knitting time.
When we were first married George would always assume he would drive, I suppose it is the manly thing to do, and I would always ask if he would like me to drive and get turned down. Well, I love driving and this used to chafe, besides I am not the most scintillating of passengers, the motion of the car lulls me to sleep.
Then I took up knitting, and as I became more and more addicted to this pastime, I became less and less eager to drive. I still love to drive, but I love knitting more. Selfish of me I know.
As George gets older he does not always want to do all the driving, and there are times when I don’t want him to do all the driving either, although knitting distracts me sufficiently to keep me from harping on things best left unsaid. And I find myself in a bind because I really would rather have knitting time, but at the same time I think I should drive more.
So I had a wonderful drive on a perfect driving day. I got a little knitting done as well.
As I am sure you will notice there are a couple of mistakes, further down, made a couple of nights ago, late, when I should not have been knitting. The crochet hook will get its exercise today.