Knottin Honey

Wow, what a weekend. I'm a knitting goddess. Not really, but I like to think I am. I've about decided I need to start a knitting blog just to keep up with myself. I've almost finished my third pair of socks. These are by far my favorite, but earmarked for someone else. I'm working on a sweater for a friend of mine, and I almost finished the back last night. I started a third sweater this weekend out of a fantastic alpaca silk blend. And then I ordered more yarn. Like I need more yarn. But in my defense it was on sale. Needless to say, with all the knitting, I've been stressed.

The move is quickly approaching. I'm starting to have second thoughts. But I packed, I sorted, I got my change of address list ready to go, I figured out the travel plan, and I generally made good headway on gettin out of Dodge. Stonecold was out of town for the weekend. It's the first time he's gone out of town since he found out he's leaving. I missed the hell out of him. He was supposed to be leaving again yesterday morning to be gone for the week, but it didn't happen. When I found out he wasn't leaving for the week I actually bounced. BOUNCED damn it.

It was kinda funny though. We hung out last night. He missed me too. There was this almost giddy despiration for the both of us to get caught up in the days we missed. We were both talking at the same time at one point. And then the conversation turned, as it always does, to the inevitable end.

As much as he is trying his damndest not to show it, he's having hell with me leaving. We did the "stare accross the pillow" thing again last night. It made me teary eyed. He wiped the tears from my face as they fell. He wrapped me up in his arms and burried his face in my hair. He told me that statistically it took half the duration of the relationship to get over it, and in six months I'd be all better. I told him it would likely take me longer than six months because this is different. And then I asked him, if he thought he'd be over me in six months. Almost inaudably he mumbled "no". He cares.

He cares more than he wants to. He cares more than he knows how to. He cares more than he can. But he cares. And the bitch of it is, he's leaving. So, in the little time we have left together I have to soak up as much of him as I can get. Because, as with everything, this too shall pass. But in the mean time I'll keep knitting. And when asked what's wrong, my reply will be "knottin honey".