Busy little bees

Here's the post-felted bag, blocking itself out. I had to stuff it with books to get the proper dimensions for blocking. Oh, and one corner is going to be shaped like a jar of peanut butter. It is now holding my yearbook from high school, a developmental psych text from my college days, a museum guide book from the Louvre in Paris, and a jar of extra chunky. Psychoanalyze that, I dare you.

Got an awesome care package from the Swan a few days ago. Hand-dyed yarn, instructions for dyeing the yarn she sent me (Kool Aid, here I come!), baby pants I need to seam up for Walter, strawberry and apple syrup (we had French toast this morning, and it was pretty good), silly books of cross stitchery (my oldest and dorkiest hobby), and one more thing...

The alpaca finger of death!! She picked up a finger puppet somewhere, apparently, and I hope the baby doesn't mind that I stole it from her. Hey, man, I made the kid booties and a blankie, and she never makes me anything but poop. I deserve her alpaca finger puppet.

And actually, we aren't too sure it's not a llama. Oh well. Fuck it.

And I regret to inform the world, I suck. I have not actually cast on the Project Linus blankie. Sorry, peoples, I have a job. What's more, I went to a Playboy pajama party last night (no, you don't get pics of me in sexy jammies, you perverts), repotted herbs today, worked twelve hours yesterday and woefully neglected calling Mom and Dad. They've left me three voicemails and an email now, and I am just too tired. Sorry, Mom and Dad. I still love you!