So the second day of my new job, I think I was paid to go on a day-retreat with a bunch of generally very intelligent people (theme: Forgiveness) and very, very good lamb for lunch. Despite my having successfully avoided theological situations for several years, quite a lot of my brain snapped to attention (it used to be quite good at that). So far I am surviving.
I suppose it might well be argued that if I was trying to avoid supernatural attention I shouldn't have made a dashboard Mary (Our Lady of Good Parking) for a friend in San Francisco who just bought a small beige Honda.
I am very happy he likes her, even if he does ask for her intercession under the name of St. Mary Boniface. Others invoke St. Anthony (lost objects), St. Jude (hopeless causes) and St. Deonotus ("to-be-named-later," a popular name for players destined to be traded in the major leagues). I figure Someone answers these calls, which can be pretty darn heartfelt (in this case, also needlefelt-ed).
It was fun to needlefelt again and I only bled a little.
Last weekend, Doug's friend took him away so I had to fill in for him at a rughooking/knitting class. I made a small bag. I do not think the design-color and the background contrast sufficiently (though it has that 'dead leaf' mojo) and the shoulder-strap hasn't felted enough, so I haven't attached it, Photoshopped in some contrast, and put that up -- but I have been doing fiberwork.
One pair of Christmas socks is done, another seriously started, and I avoided spending too much money online in Norma's yarn shop by going to mine and spending more there. Buying yarn and a pattern is the same as working on something, isn't it? I blame Norma, even if it was mostly for a Christmas present and therefore not part of any sensible person's yarn budget.
I ought to be complaining about the weather. It's the Butt-End of the Year, the Old God is dead (till New Year's, who did you think that baby was?) and it's !@#$%^& dark at 4:15pm. It did rain yesterday. Today, however, it was crisp and sunny and altogether bearable. Which is just wrong, but I am sure I will be complaining in January.