Regentag

regentag

New socks!  I was so pleased with how my last pair of Hundertwasser socks turned out that I cast on right away for another pair.  This time in Regentag auf Liebe Wellen: perhaps the most apposite of names considering Nashville’s weekend of flooding.  (Regentag = rainy day)  Given the damage around town, I’m certainly glad that my apartment sits at the top of a hill and not the bottom.

It’s a mess.  And from what I’ve seen, I’m very lucky to be suffering only the minor annoyances of low water pressure and cabin fever.

regentag

That’s where knitting comes in handy.  The bright colors are nothing if not distracting.  One of my hairbrained schemes to “improve” upon my go-to sock pattern — by casting on more stitches and incorporating calf shaping for a taller, and thus superior, sock — did not work out and I had the pleasure of knitting the cuff twice.

(It’s not that the plan is inherently flawed, just that the extra stitches were creating some funky pooling and I was beginning to worry about 1) the cuff being too loose and 2) running out of yarn somewhere in the middle of sock two.  More thought, and possibily a toe-up construction, is needed.)

regentag

Luckily, though it seems some rivers are still rising and I’ve heard it kind of smells outside, the sun is out and it’s not raining this morning.  The university’s central library is open and I don’t have to go anywhere near an underwater downtown.  In fact, I have to stay at my desk and write.

regentag

My favorite story of the flood is the one about Naomi Judd’s buffalo: Wynonna apparently Wynonna’s rep confirmed that Naomi Judd called up a local news station to inform the community that the fencing out at her mother’s farm had been compromised by the rising water and her buffalo were on the loose.  Yes, Naomi Judd’s buffalo made the paper.

I pretty much fell in love with living in Nashville — crazy apocalypto weather and all — at that moment.

regentag

And now it’s back to writing for me.  I’m attempting to work out a paper that just won’t cooperate.  It’s all stops and starts, banging my head against the (metaphorical) wall and worrying that midnight on Wednesday will, alternately, never get here and get here too fast.