It is a grey and gloomy day here in Houston, but I still can't believe that this is February.
Siamese Catfood Breath, about to leap to his death
Can you believe that we have a palm tree growing in our courtyard? Things are blooming, and I have had some seasonal allergies, in February. I'm sure all this ranting about the weather is boring all of the southern folks to tears, but when you haven't lived anywhere but Michigan, it is impressive.
Our bedroom view is not so picturesque, however.
If I were as awesome as Jason Bourne, I could easily leap from my window to the neighbor's window.
Christian claims that he sees a hidden head spying on us from over there sometimes.
Progress on Marina Piccola continues, despite almost being frogged yesterday because I didn't like the way that the ssk's were turning out. I have since stepped away from the ledge, and am back not loving it, but being able to live with the results. I actually tried to knit the pattern as written instead of second-guessing the intent, and presto!--things started to work. Plus, I love the colors and pattern together.
As much as I try to be, I am not monogamous when it comes to knitting projects, and as soon as this came in the mail, the sock progress ground to a halt.
It smells as good as it looks.
This is Sundara's new fingering silky merino, and it looks like she has just 2 skeins left on her website.
Since yesterday, this has been wound, and is beginning to morph into this:
It's an easy pattern to memorize, and it has tripled in size, thanks to the Oscars. I'd like to have it done before it is too hot here to justify wearing.