I finished my adapted cardigan in time to wear to my knitting meeting. Yes, I am now a part-time professional knitter. I am really, really excited about this. Got a couple of compliments on the malabrigo cardigan, which I love but would definitely change if I were to make another. The buttonhole is too low and I wish that I'd put in a couple of increases below the waist. It's not awful or anything. I really like it, but I naturally have a critical eye for my own work.

Lisa, the designer for whom I am knitting, is incredibly awesome. We hung out for a few hours and she showed me her portfolio and other artwork. She has a record player. That wins some major points in my book. I can't really talk about what I am making for her, but it is fantastic.
I am almost finished with the Tomato sweater. I slid a piece of waste yarn into the neck ribbing and tried it on last night. I really, really like it. I might make the sleeves shorter than the pattern calls for, as they are about the length that I want now, when I haven't touched them at all.

As I no longer need a major influx of black and white garments to my wardrobe, I am doing a bit of stash assessment. I don't think that I will make a scoop du jour in white after all. It just doesn't inspire me and white isn't a very practical color for me. The other planned projects are okay, but I think that I will shuffle the list a bit. Obviously, professional knitting (on a tight deadline) moves to the top of the list. After that, I think summery things with color.

I'll have to knit from my stash for a while. Yes, I know that I pledged to do that back in January, but that lasted as well as all those times that I quit smoking. Like that odd cigarette allowed when drinking, I found myself giving into temptation and going to the LYS. I stopped by the old employer to pick up my last paycheck on Friday. When they canned me, I asked them to mail my check, as I firmly intended to never set foot in their establishment again. Then I thought about how bad my boss is about those things and my desire to actually have my money. So, I called the store and asked them to hold onto my check behind the counter. When I stopped by, my ex-boss sassily informed me that she'd already popped it in the mail. Somehow, I'd forgotten that she's a full-time bitch. Now, I have to wait for the infamously slow Chicago postal system to bring my check.