Today, I have made a goal.
No, that's an untruth: I made the goal yesterday evening. Today, I'm making a little bit of progress on it.
The granny squares I make will be stitched together, given a border, and given to my daughter on her birthday. She turns 25 late March.
Moo's 25th has been stuck in my head since she arrived, a few weeks after my 25th. When she turns 25, I realised, I will have just turned 50. 50. Wowsers. Nearly there, chaps.
Moo moved into a flat with a friend last summer. It's in a brilliant part of Manchester to be mid-twenties, in usual times. Still not terrible pandemically, however the pandemic is a cold metal restraint between here and her that we both feel. Sometimes she struggles and when she struggles, here should be a soft place to return to for a breather.
I'm doing my best. Last week she had a struggle and, whereas I could normally feed here, I jumped on d*liveroo and within half an hour had Booths feed her there instead: salad hummous wraps, clotted cream rice pud, fresh berries, that sort of thing. A mix of health and comfort to sustain. It worked.
This higgledy first try at granny square warmth will go to her to. It won't be as large as the one in the pattern, but I estimate if I make another 46 1/2 of them she'll have something large enough for her legs, which could warm something infinitely larger.