So Far, So Slow

I've been working on Sabetta's sweater. I've got the back and front done and I'm working on the sleeves, both on the same needle. It's a tennis sweater from a Vogue Knitting mag, don't remember the issue. I'm using KnitPicks Andean Silk - 55% alpaca, 23% silk, 22% merino; and it's lovely stuff to knit, good stitch definition, soft and lovely hand. I'm using vintage Ber-Mel needles, size 7; they have nice pointy tips and metal cables. I really like them.

This morning, I was knitting in front of the SAD light, getting my 30 minutes before dawn in, and all I knit was 1 1/2 rows at 82 stitches per sleeve. I know I'm not a fast knitter, but this is ridiculous. I feel so clumsy, so awkward. My guess is that it's the meds that give me the tremor in my right hand. I used to be so proud of my manual dexterity. I used to be able to do lots of things other people couldn't or do them faster. Hubris. Never boast or the gods will get you, sooner or later. I've officially backed off on my Knitting Olympics goal; it's now *one* fairisle mitten, not a pair. I just don't want to drive myself nuts, well, nuttier than I already am. I'll still try for the pair, but Stephanie said to make the challenge achievable. And if I actually get the Bohus mitten kit in time, that will be more than enough challenge for me. 9 stitches per inch, indeed!

I still find the slowness rather depressing. I do want to be able to finish more projects, but it's the ego thing more than that. I identify myself as a skilled hand worker. If that is slipping away, what's left? A formerly skilled hand worker? Doesn't have the same caché. And if we start talking about memory, I'll really start weeping in my ale. Rats.