As I get older (and as of last week I’m now nearer to thirty than to twenty, as the years on my face begin to catch up with those in my crotchety heart), I come to define luxury in different ways. For example, luxury is now being home long enough to see an entire load of laundry through from start to finish. Luxury is not having to iron that laundry. Luxury is a pretty yellow teapot for a hot cuppa in the evening. Luxury is the necessity of cleaning out my office every week to accommodate the many books I bring home from the library. Luxury is homemade NY style cheesecake. Luxury is the joy of a few hours of face-to-face chat with my brother (and Dad on speaker phone). Luxury is driving home on a snowy evening listening to the Hilliard ensemble sing Josquin’s “Ave Maria, virgo serena” (I’m quite sorry to link to Amazon for the 30 sec. sample, but I can’t find a good version for free online and it is too good a piece to link to a less than stellar performance. I’ll just buy you all this CD and have it shipped to you instead, mmmkay?). Luxury is being missed, and then being greeted accordingly upon a return.
Luxury is having a great scarf.
Lady Eleanor, modified (less two repeats and less a few layers of fringing) from 4 skeins of Debbie Mum’s Traditions, which presented no problems whatsoever after the initial 4-knotted skein.