Bad Mothers

I can't help it, every time I bake chocolate chip cookies I think about bad mothers. My mother's definition of bad mothers, that is. I guess I was a pretty impressionable kid and a goody two-shoes, which is a very dangerous combination.

So you've got this kid (me, namely) who was very impressionable and seriously type A, and it was suggested (by my mother) that the consumption of raw cookie dough was risky business. More than a stomachache could result. ( I imagined sugar seizures, volcanic vomiting, and then a slow death in my mother's desperate arms. Hadn't she warned me?!) So I never ate raw cookie dough at my friend's houses, even though it was offered by their terrible mothers, and enjoyed, I might add, by everyone else.

Today I eat gobs and gobs of raw cookie dough every time I bake a batch of cookies. I feel smug, but I'm smart enough not to let my mother catch me.

Here's a project that's been lingering in my knitting bag for more than 6 months. It's a Blue Sky Alpacas pattern: Eyelet Cardigan.



I started it in a mad rush late last summer and just wimped out on it after a few weeks. I intend to finish it this weekend. I hope I can meet this deadline. I only have one more sleeve and the button band to complete.

front panels

The yarn is Rowan Calmer in Ivory, but the color puts me more in mind of raw cookie dough.