To wit: Make sure that the only other project you have with you involves seaming. So, no progress made on Toby's sweater today but I am chugging along on the sock. Not at any great rate of speed, mind you. But chugging is taking place. I pick it up, knit two rows, put it down to do something else, pick it up, knit two rows. (Always two rows, as I am doing the decreases from leg to instep...and you have to do a row with decreases and then a plain row. By always doing two rows, I know that, whenever I pick it up, the first row is always a decrease row.)
Right now I am reading a book I picked up at Daedalus by Malcolm Pryce called Aberystywth, Mon Amour. (If the book accomplishes nothing else, with all the mentions I've made of it around and about, I am getting very good at spelling Aberystywth. Now, if I just knew how to pronounce it.) Anyway, the book is a sort of awkward blend of detective noir and comedy. Comedy that would probably be funnier if I were more familiar with Wales. As it is, the book just sort of comes off as not being half as cute as it thinks it is. I don't know that I'll be able to link this one, as it doesn't seem to be available at Amazon. Perhaps Amazon UK has it. (Edit: It was at Amazon. I must have been badly mangling Aberystwyth last time I looked.)
Yesterday I read Tim Cahill's Lost In My Own Backyard, a slim book about Yellowstone. I like Cahill's writing and this book, while only a small sample of that, is no exception. It makes me sort of sad that, even if I were to get to Yellowstone (before it explodes, that is), I don't know that I am capable of hiking to the places he decribes, which sound breath-taking.