Man Down

I'm not really taking part in the Knitting Olympics - apart from trying to learn to graft successfully, and we will draw a veil over that. However, I'm knitting the Spanish Christening Shawl with a bit of deadline. A deadline made worse by the fact that I recieved intelligence from Jane-in-Spain that she is soon to be a grandmother and would I please produce an heirloom?

So much pressure and the real Olympics to watch, too. So I spent the whole day watching the men's downhill; the snowboarding (weren't you all just "stoked" when that red tomato, or whatever, "stomped" the "front-side seven twenty"?); the speed skating (you're nineteen and you win an Olympic Gold? - go and lie down, it won't ever get any better).

A quick shot of my progress so far:



However, after that I went to cook Seafood Chowder and in my exuberance, I cut my finger. Index finger on the left hand; thanks for asking.

I didn't think the left index finger came into play all that much, but it does. It's the finger that I use to push the just knitted stitch off the left needle. (Who knew?) Even though the physio (#1 daughter) ran on with the magic sponge and the elastoplast, I feel my performance may be impaired.

There's a man down here.