I am (still) working the borders of the christening shawl. They must be getting deeper, as I've put in at least seven dedicated hours on them in the past three days. Therefore, I will not let it worry me that they measured (unstretched) 4.5 inches on Sunday, 5 inches on Tuesday, and 4 inches a few minutes ago.
From the ménu fixe at Ye Sygne of Ye Boyled Asse*
Indeed, I have no reason to worry at all. Susan's baby was due two days ago, but is taking its sweet time to make an entrance. At first I thought it might have decided to hide until Bush is out of the White House. (Wouldn't you, if you could?)
But then I remembered Stephanie's dictum that "Babies always wait until their knitting is done" and it all made sense. My little niecephew, who obviously knows that it's the Fabulous Gay Uncle who gives the Really Good Presents, has decided with precocious tact and courtesy to wait for notification that the final blocking is complete.
This might mean a baby born in September, rather than May; but autumn in New England is so picturesque, no? In the meanwhile, Susan, maybe you could stuff some fashion magazines and a Sudoku book up there so the kid won't get bored.
Hey! Now I have time to go to the beach!
*It's a Rabbitch joke. You don't read Rabbitch? What the hell's wrong with you?