I had big plans for this weekend.  I was going to bake a cake and braise some lamb shanks.  I was going to get all of my errands done on Friday.  But none of these things happened.

Friday was cold and rainy, and a quick trip to my LYS took an hour because I was racked with indecision over what my next project should be.  My passion for knitting has waned since I learned how to embroider, but lately I’ve been itching to play with woolly things.  Maybe it’s because everyone I know is having a baby.  More likely, it’s because I was hoping to have a baby too.

But I’m not.  We tried really hard this month, but I took a test yesterday, and I’m not.  So yesterday was a bad day for me, and nothing got done.  I spent all day knitting.  Knitting for myself.  Taking comfort in the rhythm of the soft gray wool looping around the smooth bamboo needles.  Taking comfort in the sweet little kitty curled up by my side.  Taking comfort in the steady, loving presence of my husband.  He’s carried me through this disappointment before, several times over the past two years.  He’ll probably have to carry me through it again.  And again and again.  But someday we’ll be parents, and I know that all of this waiting and all of this disappointment will have been worth it.

Today is a new day.  No more tears, no more broken heart.  My slippers are done, and they’re so cozy.  No time to bake a cake or braise lamb shanks, but maybe I can make some mocha pudding and chicken florentine.

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