My crazy small project obsession continues. I have EZ mitered mittens on needles. My flight for LA leaves at 3, and I can't decide when to head down to the airport. Somehow these issues are connected. I am not a fan of air travel. I need to refill my Starbucks card. I've packed not enough clothing, but five knitting projects. Priorities.
I made Korknisse, and they are adorable. The yarn is Valley Yarns Superwash handdyed by The Kangaroo Dyer. I need more of these guys, which means I need to drink more wine. Bummer, eh? I could start now. A pre-flight load.
Great. My Starbucks card will not reload. I shall die of latte-deprivation. Or, perhaps, I will just use cash? Annoying.
Katy just stopped by to pick up eggs for her weekend in Vermont. I have four more dozen that I am taking to Webs on my way to the airport. Maybe they'll make me late, and I will miss my flight, and then not have to fly at all. (recurring theme? melissaknits no like the flying game.)
I did a fridge clean-out this morning in the chickens' direction. All the things I know will be gross by the time I get home and I know no one else will cook while I am away. Depressing, sad, but not wasteful, or at least they don't think so.
OK. I need to get in the car and drive to the place with the large flying machines that make about as much aerodynamic sense as a bumble bee. Blogging right now is not responsible. It's avoidance.
Mr. Wonderful says how if I am flying now for work, I should therefore be willing to fly for vacation. He even has a few picked out. I say, if he loved me? WE'D DRIVE.
Find me if you're there:
Book Expo America
Los Angeles Convention Center, Los Angeles, California
2-3pm Saturday in the Author's Signing Area, right between Jamie Lee Curtis and Ray Bradbury - who thinks this stuff up? Is this a humor blog? Is there not some significant irony that they've put a chicken farming knitting author from the backwoods who cannot dress and does not read fiction (with a few small exceptions) in between Jamie Lee Curtis and Ray-Freaking-Bradbury? Is the irony of this not lost? Or am I the only one profoundly amused by it??