How many tomatoes until Christmas?

According to my calendar, I have 8 more knitting days until Christmas. Nine, if I convince the scarf’s recipient that I want to give it to him on Christmas Day proper and make it a proper Christmas gift.

Except he reads this blog and will know I’m just making up things to stall for time.

The scarf is less than half as long as it needs to be. It needs to be 78 inches long to be of sufficient length. I’m barely managing a single pomodoro at a sitting when I’m sitting down to knit. If this continues, the scarf won’t be ready until Easter of 2018. I exaggerate, of course, but not much.

It’s this time of year that I really think of my Mother. Mama (pronounced like Morticia Addams talking to Grandmama) spent the entire time from Black Friday until Christmas Morning baking, and crocheting and knitting, and sewing, and generally making to produce the magic we saw each year at Christmas.

There were dozens and dozens of cookies. Construction paper ring garlands, popcorn and cranberry garlands, and cakes and sweet breads galore. The tree had to go up with enough tinsel and ornaments to keep the companies that make them comfortably in business until the next year. Lights to string. Clothes and toys to sew. The business of the season was endless and Mama worked late into the night to make everything perfect, though I think she thought we didn’t know. 

I have no idea how she did it all. My parents constant fighting didn’t let up. I think it somehow fueled the frenetic Christmas frenzy. What she did had to have come from somewhere. It was like magic. All these things she managed to do, some we helped with, most though seemed to appear from thin air. Sadly, the magic skipped a generation.

I’m going to be very lucky just to finish this scarf. It’s not made of magic, just yarn and tomatoes of time stolen from my novel. I should have tucked it into a small project bag and popped it into my tote bag cum purse, but I don’t have the right size project bag for it and I don’t want it to snag on anything.

I want it to be perfect, just like the magical things Mama created when I was a girl.

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