So much for that

'So much for that,' said Sock. 'Another week nearly gone and I'm still staring down the Moggies. I'm still a half calf not yet down to the ankle. I wouldn't mind, but it's been this way since February. And, unless you find an amputee, I need a twin.'

'C'mon,' says Flourish. I could almost see it point its fingers to its forehead. Thankfully it does not have one. I knew I shouldn't have worked on it while I was thinking about tennis. 'C'mon. Only two more rows to go.'

Yeah, Flourish, but those rows are 240 stitches each. And you've had a good run for a veggie project. You're supposed to be a support act you know, not the diva.

'Ugh! No need for clipped language, Flourish. And you may look a bit Victorian Gothic, but you don't know Gothic like I do,' says Come Inside. 'Come on , come inside. You know you want to. I've hooked you with my ghostly opening chapters and I know that you want to know more.'

'Forget them! Where's our dinner and when are you going to get another job?' the Moggies demand. 'We need to keep eating if you want to get any sleep, you know.'

A book, a flourish and turning a heel - this week's projects

Part of the reason for my bags of UFOs (Unfinished Objects) has to do my need for a complete absence of distractions once I pass the 'veggie knitting' stage of a project.

So I've started a project that, to tide me over until I find a quiet, cat-free hour and good natural light to turn the heel of a sock that I want to finish. (Uh-oh!)

It's a crochet scarf with a splendid name - 'Flourish'. A great word that has the lush sound of the sensation that it is describing, so who could resist a pattern with that name?

But Flourish and Sock will be competing with an intriguing novel that I purchased last week - and my ongoing search for a career change.

Come Inside is the first novel of Glenys Osborne and is the product of ten year's work. Now that's inspiring. While she was working on the novel, Glenys found time to write award winning short stories. Two of them, 'The feeder', 2007 and 'A house was built around you while you slept', 2008 won second prize in The Age short story competition.

After receiving baffled looks when I asked for it in bookshops, I ordered a copy. Then I saw that Readings have it in stock. Next time I'll go there first.

Taking a deep breath - a project completed

Take a piece of lace knitting that you’ve sweated over. Perhaps a feather and fan (old shale) shawl that you’ve found a pattern for on the internet (thanks Sarah!).

Wet it in tepid water, squeeze the water out gently, spin dry (only recommended if it has the ‘memory’ of wool) or roll in a towel. Then… take a deep breath…peg it on the clothes line. Not just the top edge but the lower edges too. Move the pegs and smooth out to accentuate the 'holes' from time to time.

Hours of work down the drain? Yet another cat blanket? Exhale. It works. And it’s quick. But if you are working with fibres other than wool, stretching, patting and pinning on a bed is safer.

Maybe you are the kind of person who would try it if others had not done it? I’m not. I was encouraged by by Liz Gemmell at a knitting workshop in late February at Grampians Texture - a series of weekend and whole week craft workshops in a beautiful setting. The 2011 Grampians Texture dates are here.

The focus of Liz's workshop was feather and fan. From a feather and fan fancier, I became a feather and fan fanatic. It’s such an easy pattern. And pegging it on the line turned my shawl from a non-descript looking garment into a graceful lace adornment.

It’s good to take a deep breath and leap into the unknown once in a while.

A Quest

I’m on a mission. I want to be more obsessive-compulsive about order in my house and find good homes for the things that I’m clinging on to. Starting with my wool stash.

Trust me, you may not be able to see the Great Wall of China from outer space, but my wool stash is clearly visible on a clear day. If I were a Trekkie I could be the Klingon of Klutter. But I’d rather eat gagh than use a ball of my most precious stuff to knit a garment that is usually too big or too small.

When I enter a wool shop I develop an automated response like the Borg. I assimilate yarns that come before me into my pile at home.

A trip to the Bendigo Sheep and Wool Show is a trap. I tell myself I’m going just to look at the sheep. Before long, I’m disarmed by the lustre of English Leicester, the luxurious staple of premium mohair or the silky smoothness of alpaca. Resistance is futile.

I’ve known for years that this stuff is weighing me down, but I can’t put it in garbage bags. In fact some of it is stuff that has come into my house in other people’s garbage bags from friends and mothers who have gone to that big wool sale in the sky.

Is there a way of being more ruthless about these acquisitions? How can I tap into my inner Ferengi?

And then there are the books and patterns...

This is my quest. A project a week in the Year of Finishing Off.