Upon hearing some disturbing growls and screeches that for once did not originate from my children, I discovered my zen/rock/succulent/garden was invaded by dinosaurs. The kids and I watched through our fingers as the fierce *Spinosaurus hunted the badly in need of an exfoliant Ankylosaurus. We couldn't take our eyes off of them, like a bad wreck on the side of the road. I am not sure who won since Clifford came on and stole all of our attention away.
I am on a hunt myself. It would seem I lost my knitting mojo somewhere between last Thursday and today. Can't find it for the life of me. I have the foot left on the second of the Charade socks to finish, but every time I pick it up the line, **"and miles to go before I sleep" runs through my head. ( Nothing against the pattern- it is now one of my faves)
I also cast on for the Woodland shawl and knit about 6 rows in pattern when I realized it was too wide. I am of the height that if I were a dinosaur, I would have been named Halfpintosaurus and would have evolved a permanent step stool appendage had that pesky meteor not killed me first. So, stoles wider than 18 inches tend to fit me like afghans. I'll cast on again soon when I dig my mojo out from under the couch cushions and lint roll the life out of it.
* Would my large paleontologist readership please correct me on the names? Thanks!
** Robert Frost's Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening