WHOSE Eyelashes?

But first, I'm sitting with the camera on the desk, the keyboard in my lap, and I hear a scratch-scratch-scratch on the door. "Would someone let the dog in, because I literally can't stand up right now."

"Why does he want in?"

"Because he lives here."

Kinda makes a girl feel useful, like she's earning her keep. What would they do without me?

Eyelashes. I won't mention any names or start a yammer about fussy or shot adrenal systems, but imagine the email exchanges between a couple of women whose thinkers are currently AWOL. Even now I don't know if I typed ELVIS, or a quick read dropped the "H" from the reader's eyes, but the results were funny, because someone thought I'd bought yarn named Elvis Eyelash. Would that be Presley or the rooster?

It's a novelty yarn, on deep discount (in other words, does this appeal to anyone? at any price?), and I snatched it right up. We'll blame it on my adrenal glands. It's ELVISH EYELASH. The cotton candy colors and silky softness were irresistible to me.

I had to add it to the 7 or 70 other in-progress knitting projects, because I was achin' all over to discover how it would work up. One day, it'll be a blankie for SugarPlum, and unless I miss my bet, it'll be a fine complement to the chest of drawers she and her Mama2 recently painted for her bedroom.


Almost makes me wish I was a little girl again. ºÜº
I hope I don't pet it bald before it's finished.


And this is the will of him that sent me, that every one which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day. ~John 6:40