Planning is impossible, but I know later in the year, I’m going to need a metric buttload of scarves for a bunch of projects. Blanket yarn crochets up into scarves tickety-boo, because scarves are just blankets you stop stitching at an awkward moment.
Wednesday is a busy black cat hunting ladybugs in a dark kitchen. Glad I wasn’t wearing camo.
I find a rustic rosemary bread recipe. And the angels sing.
Today was the first day of spring and, tonight, the trees are so pretty they don’t even look real, which is weird because trees are pretty.
The tiny town recently set up lawn furniture without corresponding lawns. The town is so small, no one has much lawn. Thus, no one is jealous and anyone can take a seat.
Because I spend mornings in my house, I see light travel in places I don’t normally see it. This makes me wonder what else light is doing behind my back.
We are back from the post-surgical appointment. Everything was so positive that tonight we took an ambitious, long walk, but it was to the liquor store, so everyone wins.
Bad things happen when I am bored, so before the surgery, I lined up some projects and put together the materials. Here, we see some art supplies in the process of becoming a blanket for my husband, who asked for one. A blanket, not a husband. I couldn’t crochet him one of those.
Lovely Topaz wud like to be alone.
It snowed like a sonofabitch all day today, which is our new normal in New Jersey, but it turns out Miss Sasha is snowed in in Dallas. Dallas?
Poor Impulse Control 