If you don't like the weather --

Wait a Minute! That's the motto for Wisconsin (probably other places too, but for SURE here). This picture, Ladies and Gentlemen, was the First Day of Spring here in Madison. Yes indeedy. Now, when the Scandinavian immigrants first settled and farmed these lands hereabout, they brought with them, among the hardanger fiddle and lefse and rosemaling, the Old Gods. Oh - I don't mean there are still ancient rites being performed in Stoughton. (Say -- if there are , can I get an invitation?) Nevermind.
'
What I speak of is the Frost Giants, those denizens of the icy north who cause the frigid winds, whirling snow, icicles. For the last few years, they've been pretty feeble. We've had a lot of thaws, a lot of "wintry mix", that combination of rain and sleet and snow which make roads hazardous and not even a North Face down jacket can keep you warm. I think it might have to do with the teevee. Once Frost Giants start watching, you know, Spongebob, it's hard to get them outdoors to work.

But this year? Well, maybe the Frost Giant Bubbeh came over. This has been the first truly fine old-fashioned winter in YEARS, and while it hasn't been a very popular viewpoint, I have LOVED this winter! I drive like a little old lady, wear more to bed than most people wear to go to the store and consume HUGE quantities of hot tea. But I love it, and being curled up on the couch under a quilt with a cuppa at my elbow and some knitting or a good book is much enhanced by a heavy fall of sparkling flakes outside the window.

ENOUGH! As I look outside today, there are only dirty vestiges of lumpy snow piles. And yes, even *I* am ready for something else. Here are some of the other things I'm ready for:

These are apple blossoms, maybe crabapple, at our Arboretum. This is from last year; in about three weeks I expect this little tree will look like this again. There are over 130 varieties of lilac bush in that garden as well and everyone in town takes an evening to stroll through, growing drunk on the heady fragrance of all those lilacs. NOTE: one cannot picnic in these gardens; no dogs are allowed in the Arboretum at all (it's an ecology laboratory for the UW). Therefore, they are pristine, and a more romantic place to stroll cannot be found on this continent. (It's perfectly all right to lie in the grass or sit on one of the benches and read or write or doze.)

OK, so they're not beautiful (yet). This is my beloved Hen-and-Chicks. They're always the first things up, nestled right next to my front stoop. Better yet, they came from the yard of my mother-in-law (of blessed memory) and they've been there a long time. They don't look so great just yet; they've been up, snowed on, frozen, thawed, melted, snowed on again, dripped on from ice melting on the eaves, snowed on....and yet, they prevail. Truth to tell, I love them.

If nothing else, they really are proof that, no matter the number of attempts by the Frost Giants to hold sway, their reign is virtually over. There isn't much threat in a Frost Giant who is 3" tall, whose icy breath can't even sway a dried brown stalk of grass from last summer, and whose feet are wet. They're done. Fini. Buh-bye.

I've been busy (sometimes annoyingly so, though it's all my own doing) but watch this space for an update. Just see if I don't!

Change of Plans....

I'm going to put a link at the bottom of this that I'm asking you to look at - but first, a warning (I guess, don't know what else to call it).

Now, I tend to the philosophical, and the older I get, the more keenly aware I am of my blessings. Compared to some of my fellow Americans, we live pretty modestly. But we, Mr Dearling and I, have NO NEEDS UNMET. I mean that literally, and ask you to just think on that briefly.

I read the blog of a woman I now call "friend", who lives in a tiny village way up in the Himalya. She's a knitter, by the way. And she and her housemates and lifemates spend their time providing such medical assistance as they can, there in the little village, and Joy (an apt name) writes about it, and shows beautiful pictures of her surroundings, and her posts literally fill me with joy.

Except that the people of her village are, in great part, Tibetan monks and nuns who escaped from Tibet, some with only the shreds of life, and some live now in the caves above the little village. They are pious, simple, beautiful people.

And at the moment, at THIS moment, their countrymen are being murdered, beaten, tortured in ways hard for myself to begin to comprehend, by the Chinese government.

China is preparing to host the Olympic Games very soon - and they have a small town surrounded; they're burning it down, killing its people - and not (TO MY OPINION) behaving as someone preparing to host citizens of the global village for an event intended to unify the people of the world.

I'm not asking you to do one thing more than to become aware of this, and then act according to your wishes. I do know, from having read Joy's words, that earnest prayers for those folks will make a great difference to them.

On this weekend marking, for our Christian globe-mates, the Resurrection, the beginning of new life, the start of Spring...I ask you to follow this link, and read:

Road Blog Ahead

"It was the Best of Days...."

I. Have. Met. FRANKLIN! OK, that's the gist of it, here's the story. We got up early (6:00 am) so that we could be out of here by 7:00 am; it's a three-hour drive to Eau Claire. NOTE: may I here acknowledge Mr Dearling, who drives for three hours each way for such an experience for me - he did it before, too, when we went to hear the Yarn Harlot in the same place. Throughout all of it he's delightful and merry, and he hardly even reaps the benefits from my knitting - he has toques (of COURSE) and likes our knitted dishcloths. He's not a muffler sort o' guy, doesn't wear shawls, and is married to someone too askeered to try a sweater. I am standing up and applauding Mr Dearling (who is, however, in the other room listening to his MP3, but I'll make sure he knows).

Having said that - it took us just about exactly three hours, and we found a good parking place pretty much in front of the Yellow Dog Knitting (have I mentioned my almost fail-proof Parking Karma?) Because we were early for my scheduled time (10:48) I was especially pleased because I'd have a chance to peek around and lay my very own natural eyeball stalks on one of my favorite blogwriters of all time himself. On account of, on-line pictures are nice, but you know, it's like movies made from books: the original is always better and more fun.

Also, I would have time to shop for some yarn. Red yarn (it's called "rouge" in French) for -- altogether now, another toque ! (Ignore that slight sniffle, I'm really not weeping. Really. Just sniffing.) I know it looks like I have it in a death grip, or that my eyes are closed because I'm wishing evil on it. Actually, it's only one toque, and I feel perfectly clear about knitting it in between other projects so no worries. For example -- I'm knitting dishcloths with the Ribbon pattern in them for a fundraiser arranged by Ryan of Mossy Cottage Knits .

It's an easy enough pattern - easy to follow and easy enough for even me to manage. They really are kind of neat: they can be any color (seems research for each cancer has its own color) and they'll be paired with ribbon-shaped soaps. PERFECT "I'm-riding-three-hours-for-a-ten-minute-photo-shoot" project, might I add. NOTE: I used Sugar'n'Cream and size 7 needles; I'm making another with Lion Brand cotton. Is it just me, or are all those "dishrag cottons" pretty much the same? They do make good dishrags, though - we use nothing else to home.

DALE-HARRIET, FOR PETESSAKES, TELL US ABOUT FRANKLIN!! Ooops...sorry. I digress. (!)

When we got into the shop I was handed the Standard Release form to sign; their back room had a chair with a sheet draped behind it and one of those big silvery things on one side. There was a table with chairs so we could fill out the forms - with bowls of M&Ms with little bunny faces, so cute! Someone said Franklin had recognized my name on the list!! And when I went in to fill out my form, well Ladies and Gentlemen - THERE HE WAS!! The really-truly Panopticon knitting, cartooning, blogging brilliant friendly funny lovely guy who has even been befriended by Dolores (no mean feat, I'm sure!). He's EXACTLY as I expected, handsome and friendly and nothing for it, we HUGGED!! And get this, because it's a BIG THING to me: he is not so much taller than I am. Do you know how cool that is? Some of us live (delightedly, might I add) surrounded by sort of giant-shaped people, and it's fine, but is it ever NEAT to find like-minded, like-sized folks. I could happily have just stuffed him in my tote bag....oh oh, I'm digressing again. Nevermind.

I filled out my form - I really did read every single word, and it was pretty much standard fare, I didn't agree to nude shots in the future or accepting calls from the Playboy Mansion. As I recall. Nevermind.

Mr Dearling asked Franklin if he minded HIS taking some pictures, and he said not at all! While I waited for my turn, I went back to the shop and found exactly what I needed, two skeins of Cascade 220 in a suitable red for (ok, say it with me now) the next toque ...and before I knew it? It was my turn!

I sat down and picked up The Scarf (dig this: ALL of the knitters are doing a few stitches on it! Franklin said we could do whatever we wanted - it is SO deliciously wonky...I do hope it becomes part of the exhibit, just draped around or something!) Now, I had big plans about doing something interesting with my stint on the scarf. What I wound up doing was quick counting the stitches (I think there were 25) so I knitted two together and did the single-row pattern of Yarn Harlot's.

All the while, Franklin was just snappin' away, and we were chatting...I only managed the one row, but that was OK! And then we were done! Which called for another hug. Now - I'm going to put some of the pictures Mr Dearling took and hope that they're not all wonkily-positioned because I'm still not very good at that.

"Yeah, I know - I'm actually making another toque!"

"Where are my glasses....oh, around my neck..."










Master Photographer!














Mr Dearling's impression.



Final notes and oddments: I was going to take off my apron, but the consensus was that I ought not, being as it IS "me"; I wear one almost all the time. I also did not remove my capaign buttons, and Franklin confirmed that Dolores was with him, but was out carousing with Harry and her ball band members at a local microbrewery.

I hate to admit that I don't remember the Proprietors' names (Cindi is one, I'm so embarrassed, although my kids have t-shirts with their names, I'm dreadful) but they were both efficient, kind, delightful - and DID have the very yarn I needed!

There was an extra fabulous treat! When we were done, we did run into Kathy, she of kmkat and her kneedles! We'd e-mailed and knew our times were close, but weren't sure we'd be able to connect. WE DID! And better yet, we waited a few minutes for her shoot and then had lunch together at a nice place across the street before she had to shoot back to work and we had to head home! (I'm forever in her debt: she got to B&N in Minneapolis early enough when Crazy Aunt Purl was there to save front-row seats for myself and the Lovely Daughter, and tbat was SO fabulous! Absolutely fabulous to see her (HI KATHY!!).

In closing - I had assured my fellow Hog-and-Bloggers I would greet Franklin for them. (Hard to see, but I DID have my Sow's Ear button on my apron...I gave it to Kathy after lunch, though.) So I mentioned the Sow's Ear to Franklin, and he indicated that some time he would certainly consider visiting Madison (said he has a family connection here, in fact); I mean to mention it from time to time! But being the Jewish Mother that I am, I had provided some tiny trinkets typical of Madison and Wisconsin, and I put them in a Hog-and-Blog bag with the names of us on it - here's what it looked like:



I won't say what was in it, in case he hasn't opened it yet and peeks in here (dare I flatter myself?) I'm chuckling. He did say he was looking forward to investigating it - and suffice it to say, one item included was a tube of that ever-popular excellent superb never-be-without-it-if-you're-a-Wisconsinite...UDDER BALM.

All in all, truly "The Best of Days"!

I am a...

WEINER! oh wait, no....just had an Oscar Mayer moment. What I actually am is, I am a WINNER! I always read my favorite black-kitty blog: Stumbling Over Chaos and one fun thing Chris does is, she keeps track of blogs who are having contests of various kinds. (She also posts the bestest pictures of her black kitties, Chaos and Mayhem, who provide droll comments on her life!)

So anyway, there was a contest on naming blogs that we particularly enjoy, and that was impossible -- very hard -- very tricky, on account of I read several every day and love them all!

NOTE: in fact, each of my faves has their list of THEIR faves, and I can spend hours linking and linking and laughing and enjoying and BOY do I lurve this whole innernets thing. But I digress. (No, REALLY, Dale-Digression-Harriet??)

So anyway, there's one blog which I've mentioned before, and Marilyn is not a knit-blogger but is an amazing creative artistic paper-toy-making children's illustrator, so I recommended The Toymaker . OH - the blog having the contest {New Favorite Blog Warning!} is Becka's Project Journal . She sews and knits and makes lovely things and has a shop and...well, don't listen to me, check it out!

So - I won a Shimmering Sheepy Pin, and I'm somewhat unaccustomed to winning anything, and this is Major Exciting, believe you me! Now that I've provided you with some terrific places to go play, I'll accept your thanks! I repeat, I LURVES ME SOME INNERNET!!

Wrecollections and Writings...

I've had this problem on my computer lately. Makes it hard....nay, impossible to blog. Darned nuisance.

Memories and Recollections: no idea why these random things pop into my mind. Mr Dearling says he figures the inside of my head must be like some kind of surreal carnival ride. I can't disagree, it gets pretty colorful in there. I attribute it to a) a profligate youth; b) diverse interests; c) awful lot of imagination; d) Advancing Age. Also a lot of faeries and elves live in there. Nevermind.

So, I heard some reference on This American Life (which I recommend HIGHLY, by the way) about recollections and memories. And listening, I suddenly had a recollection - actually, perhaps a flashback. I used to walk to school every morning with my BFF Fran. I haven't talked to her for years, but she is/was my Best Friend as only adolescent girls can be best friends.

Her mother was a treat. She was darling, short, and possessed of what she referred to as "my wide Dutch bottom." She was also kind, creative - and she made dipped fondants in the winter. Some people call those "creams" -- they're chocolates with a creamy middle in them. But hers were homemade, and when she made them, she put them on a slab of marble and set them on the enclosed front porch to cool. I used to go there in the morning, knock on the door, and while I was waiting for Fran, I would eyeball those fondants in their neat rows. My biggest regret at being lousy at math is, I could never figure out how to rearrange them so that it wouldn't be obvious that four ....uhm... two -- ONE was missing.

Now - Mrs Fran's Mom always did give me some, and they were indescribably good. I have absolutely no have rather limited self-discipline, but I managed to wait, every year, for my allotment. And they proved up the adage, "Anything worth having is worth waiting for." Why did I remember that? NO idea. It just bubbled up from the effluvia in that corner of my head-chamber.

On a Cat theme: How many cats are in this picture? Now, obviously this is something of a trick question, because you can only see Lilliane, nestled between Mr Da's knees; the fact that I'm asking would indicate that there must be some others. Well, there is ONE other. Evangeline is under the blue shawl on Da's lap. She looks like a lump (contrary to appearances, Da is not preggers). What is remarkable is this: while it's usual for Evangeline to be under my shawl, either behind me on the couch or on my lap -- she had never crawled up on Da before. He obligingly draped the shawl over her, and he and both cats spent quite some time happily watching taped motorcycle races. In case you can't make it out - Mr Dearling's sweatshirt says "Still plays with motorcycles". He does.

Glancing at that picture, I realize that there appears to be - something of a crowd of teddy bears on the back of the sofa. They are NOT there because we were expecting grandchildren. They were there because I was a pretty serious Arctophile (teddy bear collector) for some years, and during that time they all developed an unquenchable thirst for racing on the teevee, not only motorcycles but cars. All kinds of car races. NASCAR, stock, Formula One, you name it. (OK, the truth is, they tend to live there, on the back of the couch. Some day I'll introduce the more notable here...Miss Iris Von Heliotrope in particular would relish the notoriety fame.)

On the knitting front, I went to Late Night Knit last Friday night with the Lovely Daughter and had the unalloyed pleasure of seeing Molly Bee , although even though we were both seated in different places from other Fridays, we STILL had a post in our mutual line-of-vision, and also Beth (thanks again for the delicious writerly* books, Beth!). And guess what? I spent the ENTIRE knitterly time NOT knitting toques ! Actually I was knitting on the fingerless mitts I'd cast on for my very own personal ME, and a scarf which I think may be a belated birthday present for a friend from the Museum.

* Writerly - refers to the fact that along with signing up for the first Creative Writing class I've ever had (referenced previously), I've been a) reading the writing books Beth gave me; b) writing some every day; c) feeling more like a writer. I've found a couple more quotations (I LURVE me some quotations, goes back to my Calligraphy-teaching days). For example:

"I like deadlines - I love the whooshing sound they make as they rush by." Douglas Addams

"Don't look at your feet to see if you're doing it right. Just dance." Anne LaMott

And lastly - the other night I joined the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators!

This, on the recommendation of a children's writer whom I admire HUGELY - and if you like making absolutely cunning little paper toys (which even *I* can manage!), so will you: The Toymaker .


Yeppers, this is it - this is the year I become a Bubbe-Knitting-Museum-Guiding-Storytelling-Old-Ojibway-Woman-WRITER OF CHILDREN'S STORIES. (Uhm...ideally with the world "published" popping up somewhere in there, I HAVE been writing the stories.) That's my Birthday Resolution. Just sayin'.

Ed. note: had an e-mail from one of my toque customers - he'd like another, in red. I of course said........ sure

Crinklings~~

Columbines of summer...aaaah. Is this in my back yard? Yes! Now? Well...no, actually. This was taken in June of 2005. Now I'm NOT tired of the snow, I'm still enjoying winter, but it IS fading; there is a difference. The sky's a slightly different blue, the air, even in the single digits (like this morning) has a sweetness that really does foretell Spring. Now, the Frost Giants are strong in this part of the world and they never give up without a fight, but the Hoop is turning, and Spring IS just a little bit ahead.

(Remind me I said this, if I start mewling and whining about it in future, 'K?)

These ARE bleak days in Packerland, Brett Favre has retired. It's been even on the national news. Now, I'm not a sports fan, by and large, but you know, even I would describe myself as a Packer Backer. And even though I don't much know the rules of the game, I have watched - and the sight of a comely young man, clutching a pigskin, racing down the field lickey-quick with a lot of gargantuan behemoths thundering after him with pointy things on the bottoms of their shoes and death in their eyes right behind him....that's inspiring. And out of character as it may be, I'm going to say my short piece on the whole flap: at 38 years of age he's a young man; as a football player, that's a little long in the tooth. He's broken records, he's set the bar way high and polished it, and I applaud his wisdom in walking away as a hero. He and his wife are humanitarians, they have youngsters, and he can now enjoy the rest of his life, which is sure to include aiding other people.

Brett - you may have a #4 on your jersey but you're Number One around here.

If this looks a bit out-of-focus, it's not...it's the start of a fingerless mitt, and looks fuzzy because it's being seen through my misty eyes! Note, please - this is not, I repeat NOT a toque. At the moment, there are no queries, not requests, no commissions - for toques. Tonight is our Late-Night Knit and I'm officially moving back into my Rolling Yarn-y Knitty Thingie for the occasion. I have at LEAST three projects in there on the needles, plus a few delicious skeins tingling with anticipation. My current book fits in there, and so does the notebook with my Writing Class assignment begun in it. I am EXCITED! Well...I'm always excited about going to see the gang, so that's not new.

Now a few oddments to catch up: I saw, on television the other day, a story about a lady whose cat has a kidney transplant! (This was somewhere out east, sorry for the vague lack of details.) It was a boy kitty, and those in the know KNOW that boy kitties can have kidney problems. In itself I thought this was quite a neat story, but it got better! The donor cat had been in the shelter, likely headed for euthanasia, but one requisite was that the donor cat was also given a home with the transplant kitty's family. They both appeared to be Tuxedos, and the final footage showed the two kitties sitting close together looking out the window, and their "mom" talking about what a pleasure it was to have two healthy cats. Got to me, I don't mind saying.

As I finished the Last of the Toques I watched "The Shipping News". Is it just me, or do you find yourself knitting really FAST during tense parts in a movie? (At least on something simple like straight stockinette...) There is some knitting going on in that movie, a scene of the Quoyles dragging their massive house across the frozen lake on runners in a white-out snow which makes me feel blue in the toes even during the summer....and one of the best lines in any film. The manager of the newspaper states, "If I wanted 'War and Peace' I'd have hired William bloody Shakespeare!"

On the subject of wonderful quotations, from a writing book gifted to me by my friend Beth ( Chocolate Sheep ) is another: "It's teatime, and all the dolls are at the table." Love the image!

There was even a good quotation on Oprah (yes, yes, I know - but she's good knitting-watching). Bill Cosby was on, talking about the shameful parenting going on, particularly in the black communities {yes, I know it's controversial; we can take it outside if you like}. I don't recall where this originated but it's one of those "so simple it SHOULD go without saying" sayings. "Hurt people....hurt people." Of course, that's the fact -- the changing of it is a 'nother whole thingie.

And in conclusion - I had to take my beloved hiking boots in to Cecil-the-shoe-repair-guy because the sole was coming loose on the left one. Now, I did *NOT* pull and tug on it to loosen it up just so I could go see Cecil. I didn't. Really. HOWEVER! Cecil has a big ol' cat name of Felix, whom I think I mentioned before....he's the Shoe Shop cat and spends his day sitting in one of several kitty beds around the place or curling up among the plants in the front window or sitting on the counter watching Cecil (or if Cecil sits down, a rare occurrence, he sits in his lap.

Well, while Mr Dearling talked to Cecil about re-soling my shoe (Cecil put his finger in where it was loose....and pulled the whole sole off!!), I sat down in one of the waiting-for-shoes chairs, and Felix came over, stepped right into my lap and curled up , allowing me to stroke him and whisper to him and -- yes, I even kissed his ear! I would be there yet, but Mr Dearling finished our transaction, and it was time to go; I reluctantly put Felix down and he strolled langorously over and curled up in his window bed. I wonder if I shouldn't get my Berkies re-soled for summer?!?!?! When I go back to visit him Saturday I may take some treats. Cecil says that's OK.

"There are two means of refuge from the misery of life: Music, and CATS."

(I have been unable to find the source for this wonderful quote; any help would be appreciated!)

C'est...FINI!

I am un-toqued. I am Officially DONE. There will be packing up; there will be the printing of *included materials; there will be the Affixing of the Medals, the wrapping-in-tissue, the printing of addresses, followed by the Sealing of the Boxes - and the last three toques will be turned over to the Post Riders. One will be headed for Nova Scotia, two for Illinois.

*Included Materials: a copy of an article on Toques by Karl Koster, author of a number of monographs and articles about the Fur Trade; a sheet of washing instructions (!); an article about Ste Anne, patroness of les voyageurs; and a small Ste Anne's medal pinned to the toque with a replica of an 18th century straight pin.

I'll meetcha back here in a little while - I am SO going stash-diving, pattern-perusing, I am SO going to move back into my Rolling Yarn-y Knitty Thingie (which holds SEVERAL projects plus all toys and tools and extra yarn and patterns and assorted chazerai necessary to the game) (as opposed to my neat, efficient little one-project (read "toque") baskets.

I CAN tell you that the first thing I am going to do is resume that baby wrap, and its mate for the new sibling. Other than that -- picture me lying on my back on a sunny meadow, arms outspread, skirts gathered around me, GRINNING as I contemplate the future. Like I said, see ya back here in a while.

In Like a ...

Lamb! Oh...and Pig, of course. It's warm today (+20 degrees and not yet 10:00 am!) and by noon we won't even need jackets. Oh yeah, still need the knitted caps, mufflers, mitts - but no jackets. We're foolish hearty here in Wisconsin. ('Tis true, Friends - this time of year when it DOES get up to 50, we DO go out wearing sweaters, or perhaps a down vest; there comes upon us a serious hankering to dry-clean and pack away the heavy outerwear.)

Yesterday was, of course, Leap Year Day; I didn't post because I was very busy NOT celebrating my former anniversary. Husband #2 and I thought it would be kicky to get married that day; we were just going to the Courthouse anyway. We hippies didn't so much hold with Bureaucratic Recognition of what we were already diggin', dig? And the Husband said, laughingly, "Well, we'll no doubt have at least one anniversary." Oh prophetic one, we DID. We had ONE anniversary before...let us say...it pretty much disintegrated. I do not rue the experience, I gained valuable knowledge during that four years and had my splendid Son #2. For eight years or so I was deliciously content with my nest, my three little cubs-and-a-cat, and we had good times. (See February 14 for the next chapter.)

The loveliness of March "coming in like a lamb" does have its caveat , however - there's a real possibility for flooding, and my townsfolk are going to be paying attention to clearing out storm drains, &c because when our wonderful snows DO melt, they turn into water. Streams. Rivulets. Puddles you could surf in. And those can result in basements you can surf in; when one's stash is in the basement, one is not confident enough in the security of rubber bins to be blithe and careless about the threat of flooding. You know, just sayin'.

Now, it's a well-known fact that our sweet housecats are, in spite of everything, NOT truly domesticated; they maintain a connection to their wild counterparts. When Lilliane saw my sweet lambie sitting all unawares, nothing for it her Baser Instincts arose and she had to investigate. Oh, I know, she looks like the sweetest of brown tabby lapkitties.


The wild and fierce hunter pins her prey; her only prior experience involved a mouse, so she's never stalked anything this large. NOTE: it may appear that she's greeting the prey in a typical friendly fashion - the truth is, this sweet lambie is from Bath & Body Works (a birthday present to me, thank you friends!) and she has a lovely fresh-linen sort of scent to her.


The rest of the pride arrives to enjoy the result of the hunt and.......

"Lilliane, this is Mom's Sleepy Lambie, what are you doing? She's going to be mad if you get it all wet and stuff. If you have any brains you'll get out of here while you can and anyway, it's nap time."

Today I'll be finishing the blue toque and pinning it out to block. I will then work on the green one. Tomorrow I'l finish that one; by then the blue one will be dry, I can then pin the green one to block, and on Monday? On Monday I will go to the Post Office and send off the last -- read that LAST! of the toques to their respective owners. Then, nothing to do but wait for the payment....and knit anything else! Now - it may be evident that I'm easily distracted -- scattered .... totally undisciplined interested in a variety of things, so I'm going to put a movie in now, enlist the assistance of Evangline, and stick entirely to my knitting.

OK, Mom - BLOG THIS!

OK, Evangeline, I'm closing Daisy. No e-mail, no Neopia, no solitaire....I'm knitting. I've put in "The Shipping News", it has a knitting scene in it. Single-minded, that's me.