stitchhead

The month-long hiatus. Yeah. I know. Bad. But I have been knitting. Productively. Actually finishing projects that actually fit the people they were intended for. HaveI done a bad thing by making monkeyboy a knitty addict as well? He actually climbed up into my lap this morning while I was (quickly) checking my email and said, "Hey Ma, let's look at some knitting!" (italics his). I kid you not.
So my current mess looks somethings like this. Snow melt and mud by the front door obscured by piles of bootshatsmittsscarvessnowpants. Dining table covered by Christmas gifts, wrapping stuff from last year that I want to reuse, half-addressed cards, bags of pinecones, The Trumpet of the Swan (our new chapter book) and a pile of ironing. Kitchen counter covered by good intentions ingredients (I keep meaning to get to some Christmas baking...) and dirty dishes (as usual.) Coffee table covered by upturned laundry hamper/kitty cage, goo-girl's beloved board books and broken crayons. The tree is coming in this weekend so soon all of this will also be covered by the ubiquitous, prickly spruce needle. And more snow. Monkey boy is addicted to Fraggle Rock and googirl just wants to keep changing her outfit and climbing up on chairs. And spinning on little rugs. A very good time.
Smith is cranking out the orders back there, lord love him.
I have to go back to work in a few weeks. I am ignoring this.
Monkeyboy and I are working on a big snow-sculpture of Herbie the Love Bug. We are just in the planning stages now.
Last night I went out for dinner for Willy's birthday. A New Zealand feast. I have always said that I hated lamb but I was wrong, so wrong.