I haven't been doing a lot of knitting, hardly any in fact.  It is not that I haven't thought of knitting, as I have, but somehow, my mind has been elsewhere.

When the weather turned cooler my mind started thinking of fall.  This made me think I should go through my projects, both knitting and sewing, and see which summer projects might still be worthy of staying on the list, and which would be consigned to the higher reaches of the closet to await the spring thaw.  This started a whole "fall cleaning" of the sewing room, bedroom, closets, etc. which is still ongoing.  Now that I can see what I have, and have gotten rid of a lot of things I don't want, I can think about what I want to do in the future.

This means more knitting.

I did finish the first sock:

I am not sure what I think of the way the striping of the yarn works in the sock, but the sock itself is nice and fits well.  I will make the other one.

I finished this while glued to the television watching the devastation on the Gulf Coast.  I couldn't sit there without something in my hands, it was just too awful to comprehend and come to terms with.  Looking down at the sock was a relief; still, I kept dropping stitches near the end, but it comparatively speaking, a minor tragedy. 

Strange, on a totally mundane plane, that on Sunday we were driving down to NYC with Susan and Louis and talking about going to New Orleans together in February.  The men would go to the Academy Meeting and Susan and I were talking about shopping.  That seems so distant now.  I wonder what will happen to New Orleans.  Will it ever be the same?  I know it is a shallow thought, but that is all I can grasp right now.  I can't imagine what it would be like to have to contemplate the possibility of having lost everything.

Susan and I talked and talked on Sunday in the car.  I did not knit.  Unusual for me, but George and I usually take the train into the city now, it saves arguments over who drives, or more exactly who doesn't drive.  On the train I knit.  I could have gotten a lot done.  Talking with an old friend was much more fun though.  We had a great evening.  Talking in the car, dinner in the city, watching Deema's professional acting debut, even in a small out-of-the-way off-Broadway theater with 50 seats.  She was Anne Frank in the "Diary of Anne Frank".  Another story of devastation and loss.  Different tragedy but the devastation is the same, and the incomprehensibility of it all.

Nonetheless I am progressing on posh: